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<\/a><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\nJagdeep Raina, Paradise Lost, 2019, embroidered tapestry and
Punjabi phulkari border on muslin, 18 x 30 in. Courtesy of Cooper Cole<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cParadise Lost\u201d (2019), an embroidered tapestry made with Punjabi phulkari is the first work you see when you walk into Jagdeep Raina\u2019s exhibition I Promise<\/em> at Cooper Cole. Phulkari, meaning floral work, is type of South Asian garment, textiles embroidered with flowers made for everyday wear, like scarves and shawls. Phulkaris from the Punjabi region have wide edges, as in the diamond pattern dancing underneath this picnic scene. The material signifies its regional origin, establishing setting. \u201cParadise Lost\u201d, this image of a family before the rest of Raina\u2019s exhibition, which are mostly pictures of cityscapes, situates us in a story about migration, the feeling of moving away from home. Clothing is cultural, but it\u2019s personally meaningful too, symbols of private sentiment (this is what I wore when X happened, etc.) \u201cIn dressing myself, I embellish that which, by desire, will be spoiled,\u201d writes Roland Barthes in A Lover\u2019s Discourse <\/em>(1977). Dressing myself transports me elsewhere, like to a family picnic in my old backyard, a time I was probably happy. But the edges of \u201cI PROMISE\u201d are frayed, like the whole picture could unravel if you aren\u2019t careful. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Installation view with Jagdeep Raina, Paradise Lost (left) and You migrate, we migrate, you displace, we displace (right). Courtesy of Cooper Cole<\/p>\n\n\n\n Why would you ever make a promise? \u201cI promise,\u201d is one of those horrible declarations that, once spoken, foreshadows its own let down. You probably meant it when you said it. A set up for failure. In promise there\u2019s hope, trust, futurity, what Lauren Berlant calls cruel optimism. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Jagdeep Raina, Everything I Wish You Had Told Me, 2019,mixed media on paper, 30 x 66.5 in. Courtesy of Cooper Cole<\/p>\n\n\n\n Well if you\u2019re sentimental about clothing, you probably feel the same about place (this is where I was standing when you said X, and so on). \u201cEverything I Wish You Had Told Me\u201d(2019) is a painting of a building, on three sheets of paper. Found texts from flyers, pamphlets, and programs are pasted on as if they belong to this building like windows. They say things like: A presentation looking at the construction of identities by South Asian lesbians and gay men and how we use personal, social, and archeological histories in order to construct who we are and our desire for communities. <\/em>They\u2019re headlines about the AIDS crisis, and programmes from a queer film festival. You collect images of yourself, clues of a personal history found in tokens from public programming and clippings about politics. These are, to borrow a clich\u00e9, of course also personal. Collage is the sentimentalist\u2019s natural medium. The sentimentalist pockets things like flyers, movie-stubs, wrappers. And the sentimentalist, prone to endowing objects with magic, can be a fetishist. Written on the right side of the building is the phrase \u201cI WONDER HOW YOU MUST HAVE TASTED. THOSE DANFORTH, EUCLID, QUEEN WEST NIGHTS.\u201d I have streets too: Bathurst looking south, College facing east where the clock tower looks like the moon, the northwest corner of Bloor and Spadina. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Jagdeep Raina, Everything I Wish You Had Told Me, 2019,mixed media on paper, 30 x 66.5 in, details. Photo: Chelsea Rozansky<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c&\nI\u2019ve seen Paradise and it had four walls & man, we used to dance all night,<\/em>\u201d\nwrites Cameron Granger in his exhibition text. \u201cUsed-to-bes atop of used-to-bes<\/em>,\u201d Granger writes, naming buildings\nthat have been torn down, places long gone. For instance \u201cThe park where I had my first kiss is a used-to-be<\/em> now.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n One summer, now a long time ago, I kissed a boy at a construction site that used to be a playground attached to my elementary school. \u201cThis is weird place,\u201d he said, by betrayal. \u201cYeah,\u201d I jokingly agreed, \u201cmy childhood is ruined.\u201d One year later, I ran into him as I was on my way home to my parents\u2019 house. It was late at night and I was wearing my favorite pants and riding my old bike. We stayed up all night talking and laughing and making imaginary plans, and the whole time I felt so sad because I knew that night would end.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n