Kolkata-based photographer Ronny Sen ruthlessly lays bare his inner and outer universe through images both

raw and stark. Armed with his personal visual vocabulary of urban tedium and the monotonous ordeals of everyday city life, Sen presents snatches of his reality through frames both breathtaking in their composition and shocking in their tactile honesty. Below are excerpts from an interview. Parni Ray: Lets begin at the beginning. How did photography happen to you? Ronny Sen: My introduction to photography wasnt very ceremonious and happened naturally, like most people from my generation, through parents etc. But around sixteen, seventeen, I went through a bit of a rough spell, a crisis period, if you will, and my father thought it suitable to have me sent to Siliguri. He had bought me a Sony point-and-shoot before I left and in Siliguri, amidst my boredom and the loneliness that soon ensued this came in handy. I started clicking photographs mainly to pass time, as a way out of boredom. I was always interested in visuals but now it became a means of relating to the world around me. I had no money and little to do and soon I realized photography allowed me to express myself with honesty. If I could write and be honest through words I would have written instead PR: How would you classify your works? If it were up to you, what genre would you club it under? RS: See, I find any form of genre classification of photography rather cheap. But yeah I guess you would call most of my work autobiographical. I usually travel alone, always have. I have often been penniless and forced to travel as cheap as possible. I travel often. Once I fled away to Nepal, all by myself, later I fled to Benaras. My previous series on trains emerged out of many such experiences. When you are crushed amidst the crowd in a general compartment often you find moments, scenes which you want to show to the world in an attempt to say "look I was here." PR: Speaking of your train series, interestingly enough, quite in contrast with the recent slant in urban photography, your works are full of people. There is a plethora of faces, portraits, character sketches. In the train series, for instance, people are almost brimming over the frame! RS: I have always been genuinely interested in meeting new people, speaking to them. I grew up in Calcutta and came to understand the city space in terms of the crowd and the chaos. I therefore do not quite relate to the "modernist" primness of the spaces usually featured in contemporary urban photography. They seem rather distant to me.

PR: In what way do you think this particular series differs from your previous works? RS: These works are much calmer. Since many of my other works follow on the lines of hardcore street photography they have a sense of spontaneity, a certain velocity. Comparatively, this series is more tranquil. Only the two of us inhabit the frames and are therefore more conscious subjects. There is also a sense of helplessness in the images. These photographs were all taken in these three rooms we had rented in Siliguri. It was the first time we were living alone. Of course, the conditions were nothing to write home about, as you can see, its all very makeshift and disheveled. But there was nowhere else to go. I had no money to come back home. These elements I think have seeped into the photographs. PR: Is this your first use of models in your photography? How does your former experience of direct photography differ from these model-oriented, choreographed works? RS: I wouldnt call these works choreographed at all. As for the models, there is just me and my partner, and we arent models. The photographs are rather an extension of the time we were spending with each other. These photographs are basically a journal of the time we spent in Siliguri. Its like a collection of a few snippets from January, a few from April, a few from May and so on PR: What are the implications of bringing a private intimate relationship unfolding in a private intimate space into a quarter as vigorously public as an art gallery? RS: There is always a thin line between what you can show and what you cant and that decision about which is which is always yours. But while creating a visual narrative these choices need always be made both as an insider and an outsider. When I choose the photographs for a series I have to be both the artist and the viewer. Its essential that I maintain my identity as a viewer because otherwise this can turn into a seriously narcissistic project. I think creating a mood is essential for visual narrative and it is what I ultimately capture through my works. I want those viewing my works to feel a connection with what they see, with my life as portrayed by my photographs. My photographs are for them; the viewer is always an active participant in my works.

PR: One of the works in this series is a nude shot of your partner. What are your thoughts on nude photography and of nude female photography in particular? RS: What can I say, I love women without clothes! There is a sense of exclusivity to a naked body, especially to a naked female body. PR: So you are saying photographing nude men is not your thing? RS: Not exactly. I mean there are possibly men that I would like to share that sort of exclusivity with and of course there is a difference in photographing a nude woman and the naked, sweat drenched chest of a working class man. But on the whole the female body appeals far more to me, visually. PR: Do you feel anxious about how your works, especially such works which are quite evidently deeply personal, will be received by the public? RS: As long as I am clear about my work to myself, as long as I am satisfied, I do not care what people say. But I am telling you honestly that these works do not satisfy me. They are not complete or concrete in any way that I want them to be; they arent the photographs that Id intended to take. But they try. PR: What kind of photography would you say "inspires" you? RS: I was absolutely blown away by Japanese photography, Keizo Kitajima, Nobuyoshi Araki. What they did in the 70s 80s, it was personal and honest. These photographers, Michael Ackerman, Antoine DAgata... what they did was move beyond the truth, beyond beauty. I have always been fascinated by extreme behavior. I am enthralled by that moment, that point of no return, when you touch fear. When you are weary, bored, you start squeezing life out of even inanimate things around you.