The Tale of the Soil: Archiving a forgotten home through memory and absence

Many of us have left our roots – the homes where we were born, the rooms that hold our earliest memories, the very courtyards where we first started walking – in search of a 'better'life. As we move away, the spaces once filled with laughter and the constant presence of life are slowly left alone. Over time, these abandoned homes create a mechanism of their own. Dust gathers, plaster falls, and in the absence of humans, other creatures move in, slowly turning the quiet rooms into their natural habitats.

Years later, the house becomes something completely different from what was left behind. Yet, the remnants remain – perhaps torn, broken, or slightly faded beneath layers of dust. Even in utter silence, these spaces scream. They yearn for the life they once held and the people who once surrounded them, like an old woman reminiscing about her youth.

This profound sense of longing catches you the moment you step into Gallery 5 on the fifth floor of the Liberation War Museum. The space has been entirely transformed for 'The Tale of the Soil', the latest solo exhibition by artist Palash Bhattacharjee.

Supported by the British Council Bangladesh's 'WOW 2026' (Women of the World) Commission Grant, the exhibition runs from 23 July to 7 August. It offers a unique exploration of a specific place and time, filtered through memory, perception, and lived reality.

Bhattacharjee has filled the gallery with accumulated memories – pictures, video footage, physical installations, and even actual dust gathered from the remnants of his own childhood home. The background music, the grim silence interrupted by occasional chatter, the cooing of a pigeon, the moody lighting, and the manipulated images all work together to pull the viewer back to the roots they themselves might have left behind. At least for a while, it makes you think of the home you rarely remember while grinding through the mechanics of city life.

"Philosopher Bergson said that the past automatically preserves itself. In this exhibition I tried to explore this concept through my childhood memory surrounding my village" 

Palash Bhattacharjee, Artist

"Philosopher Bergson said that the past automatically preserves itself, and it flows automatically with time. In this exhibition I tried to explore this concept through my childhood memory surrounding my village" artist Palash Bhattacharjee shared while discussing his creative process. "The home and the village that I saw in my childhood, my perception of it back then, and the present situation of the same space have evolved in their own way."

To capture this evolution, he merged different timelines within the same frame. "Through the lens of time and memory, I compared two eras of the same space and its lived reality," he explained. "For example, I collected footage and pictures of the place from the nineties, including family programmes, regular daily life, and stills from certain spots. I then placed those old pictures in their exact original locations and clicked another picture. These are exhibited here so that one can simultaneously see what it was like back then and how it is now."

The exhibition comprises approximately 50 artworks, combining multichannel video installations, digital collages, and archival materials. However, "The Tale of the Soil" is not just a nostalgic throwback; it is an investigation into what the artist calls the "architecture of absence".

The focus is not on the physical structure of a conventional mud house in rural Chittagong, but on the gaping void left by the people who once inhabited it. The project highlights the disappearance of socio-cultural relationships among family, neighbours, and relatives, as well as the fading spiritual connection the inhabitants once had with local beliefs. It specifically explores the experiences of mothers and guardianship within these declining agrarian communities.

As independent curator and writer Sharmillie Rahman notes, Bhattacharjee weaves his narratives with cinematic precision, examining the absurdity of the present while paying homage to his sense of belonging.

"The homestead is revisited in a quest to find what has been lost. Instead of a dirge, what plays in the background is a voiceover delivered in a flat, almost detached tone, variegated only by the sight of a plethora of objects: relics of a past that now become protagonists in a story whose ending has already been presaged," Rahman writes. "Migration, dislocation, and the slow recession of what was in the light of what is are recurrent themes threading through his moving and non-moving images."