Don’t Look Away: Artist Shilpa Gupta Forces Us to Face Invisible Power Lines

The artist confronts systems of power, identity, and nationality in a practice that defies borders and boundaries.

Sarah Bochicchio

August 05, 2025

Of the traditional seven elements of art, line is sometimes said to be the most fundamental. Lines—implied and actual—are inescapable within the visual world. In Shilpa Gupta’s practice, she explores how lines dominate not just what we can see but how we operate. In her explorations of identity, nationality, and power, she thinks about the way boundaries are marked and the way those borders alter our perception.

Courtesy the artist and Tanya Bonakdar Gallery, New York / Los Angeles

Gupta’s exhibition, “Some suns fell off,” at Tanya Bonakdar Gallery in Los Angeles (February 15–March 29, 2025) deals with such invisible structures. The exhibition is filled with maps made from twisted copper pipes, embroidered flags, and repurposed, poetic timetables—all of which interrogate how the world is traversed, through transit and imaginations. Landscape and rights alike are mediated by the political lines that are drawn and redrawn.

Whitewall caught up with Gupta to discuss her own memories of such invisible structures, as well as her recent work. She gets into the details of her new sound installation, Listening Air, her engagement with text, and where she goes to escape those inescapable lines.

The Power of Lines

Courtesy of the artist and Felix König.

WHITEWALL: Your work engages with power and how it is articulated in daily lives. Do you have any early memories of becoming aware of the power structures at work in the world or your own life?

SHILPA GUPTA: Growing up as a woman in South Asia, one is aware of power structures early on. I remember going to a school excursion to Rajasthan and visiting this stunning temple where I was told to wait outside the temple as I was menstruating. I remember watching the entire group go in one by one while sitting by myself on the steps. It was unsettling to realize that something so personal could be governed by external forces.

WW: Can you tell me about the early conversations around “Lines of Flight”? How did the exhibition come into being?

SG: The curator, Sabih, has been familiar with my work for several years, which made our conversations both stimulating and fluid. We discussed themes of mobility, persistence, and resilience, exploring how these concerns emerge across different works. It was a wonderful surprise to receive his selection, which included several lesser-seen pieces, such as “6, 10.3, 2” and works from the “Bengal Borderland” series.

WW: In works such as “6, 10.3, 2,” time becomes a sensation, in addition to being a metric. How do you conceive of time, in relation to your work?

SG: My works often look at how our lives are dominated by lines—be it invisible markings on land or on bodies. Time is yet another form of measurement that we, as organic and fluid beings, often struggle with.

In this photo series developed during the lockdown, the body inhabits different planes within domestic spaces, entering into a dialogue with light—how our internal selves are in a continuous negotiation with the outside world. The title “6, 10.3, 2,” juxtaposes systemic values with those defined by our own bodies—where six represents the minimum social distance to be maintained in feet, 10.3 refers to the same distance measured by one’s palm, and two is its equivalent in meters.

Shilpa Gupta Puts Voices in Motion

Shilpa Gupta Installation view, Some suns fell off, Tanya Bonakdar Gallery, Los Angeles, February 15 – March 29, 2025. Photo by Jeff McLane Courtesy the artist and Tanya Bonakdar Gallery, New York / Los Angeles

WW: In “Lines of Flight,” as well as your recent exhibition at Bikaner House in New Delhi, you presented a new sound installation, Listening Air. Can you tell us about the work?

SG: In this installation, I return to the use of suspended microphones and lights. However, unlike in previous works, these elements are not static; instead, they move fluidly through the darkened gallery space, weaving between visitors. By subverting their conventional associations, the microphones—now transformed into speakers—emit words that have traversed diverse landscapes, from fields and forests to streets and universities. These voices, carried across generations, transcend borders.

The installation includes Bella Ciao, a song sung by women rice weeders in Italy’s Po Valley in the 1940s, which finds echo in the farmers’ sit-in protest around New Delhi in 2020; We Shall Overcome, a folk and labor song, traveled from tobacco farm workers in South Carolina, through the streets of the civil rights movement, and further to Tiananmen Square and beyond; Hum Dekhenge, penned by Faiz Ahmed Faiz in 1979 in Pakistan, transcended borders, echoing across Indian university campuses and serving as a symbol of hope during recent political unrest. No Nos Moverán, embraced by Mexican migrants and farm workers’ unions, continues to endure on both sides of the Atlantic. It speaks of the collective spirit of resilience and resistance against growing censorship and the abuse of power.

WW: The work you present in “Lines of Flight” incorporates a good deal of language. How do you think about the relationship between image and text? Can one exist without the other?

SG: Yes, of course, they can exist without each other, and I have often also used them independently of each other. Since I am interested in perception and shifts that occur when new elements fall in our vision, I am often drawn to juxtaposing the two.

WW: Your work contends with an unfree world and helps us to imagine an emancipated reality. How and when do you feel most free, in your everyday life?

SG: When I go on a walk outdoors, by the sea, or when I am immersed in a book.