contact.laisulhoque@gmail.com
An Ode to All the Flavours
2023
The Purpose was to Document the Other Side
2024
I don’t Call Enough But I’m Here Now
2023
I Wish I Could Tell You Exactly How I Feel
Education
Philosophies, Central Saint Martins, UAL, London
Awards
Exhibitions and Screenings
(* indicates solo)(as part of CIRCA Prize)
Press/Reviews
The Daily Star (BD) by Tasrifa Trisha
Writing
Talk/Panel
An Ode to All the Flavours, 2024
wood, glass, mirrors, low-EMF sodium-inspired lights, artist’s father’s favourite childhood snack, simulated sodium lighting through video projection, brown noise
Audiences are invited to taste this memory that sits in silence, in place of the lack of emotive expressions and communication in hegemonic masculinity and artist’s own experience of paternal love—emotions expressed through actions and gestures, through expressions that are non-verbal.
As far as memory recalls, moments of my father showing his emotional side to me are scant. Our interactions typically consist of my mother sporadically passing the phone to my father during our FaceTime calls. He inquires about my well-being, and expresses concerns about my life choices, instilling more anxiety and existential dread in me. The conversation often takes a turn into ridiculing questions about the length of my hair or the presence of facial hair, delivered with a steady tone of disappointment. In response, I either lack a satisfying answer or offer silence. The interaction usually concludes with him saying, "Alright, talk to your mother," before handing the phone back to her. These exchanges oscillate between silence and heated arguments in defence of my agency and autonomy.
However, there is a memory from my childhood that stands out. During a visit to our grandparents, my father decided to take me on a walk through the village market, offering a glimpse into his upbringing. He led me to a sodium-lit sweet shop and proposed trying his favourite childhood snack: Jhuri Bundiya. This unfamiliar treat combined two separate snacks—Jhuri, fried gram flour flakes seasoned in spices and Boondi, small balls of fried chickpea flour soaked in sugar syrup. It was a revelation—a snack simultaneously salty, savoury, spicy, and sweet. I didn't know such flavour combinations were allowed.
As we walked back, I held his hand, overwhelmed with gratitude for letting me experience that part of his childhood. Much like the flavours, I imagined that his childhood must have been complex. But much like him, I didn’t express anything. The thought of being emotional with him scared me, partly because I was too young, and mostly because articulating these emotions felt too complicated.
The image of nostalgic yellow light, the sensation of experiencing new flavours for the first time, and his smile remain vivid in the back of my mind. It was an offering from him to me, an image I visualized as paternal love. An experience I wish others could savour.
Throughout my upbringing, the statements I heard the most were: “Don’t stray from norms and traditions,” “always try to fit in,” and ”what will people say?' The person I heard this from the most was my father. Yet, his favourite childhood snack is something unconventional.
In the aura surrounding this work are silent conversations on paternal love, patriarchy’s effect on contemporary masculinity, queer materialism and scope for newness in conservative cultures, and nonverbal ways of expressing love.
The event was held in partnership with Oitij-jo, with food provided by Oitij-jo Kitchen and support from the Mubarak Ali Foundation.
The photos above are from the exhibition that was held at Kobi Nazrul Centre, from 7th to 11th of August 2024, as part of South Asian Heritage Month.
Tower Hamlets Council
South Asian Heritage Month UK
Brady Arts Centre
Tamarind Theatre Co.
Oitij-jo
Oitij-jo Kitchen
The Purpose was to Document the Other Side, 2023
Digital Video, 15 minsPress
The White Pube
The Daily Star (Bd)
- A short film by Laisul Hoque, capturing the artist's mother's journey to London. The film is recorded on a camera initially purchased by the artist's father in 2004 to document his European journey when he couldn't bring his family along. Informed by the exploration of intimate conversation, the film compares the artist's upbringing with that of his mother, addressing generational trauma and confronting emotional distance from his father. Through this documentary, the artist engages in the powerful act of curating their narrative together—vulnerable and emotional. It presents a compelling example of reclaiming personal and familial stories.
- By deciding to record and hold these footages in the camera that the artist’s dad used, the artist gives his mother a space to place her narrative, where originally it would be only his father’s and the artist's. At the end of the film, the artist hands the camera to his mother, providing her with a means to contribute to the narrative.
Above are photos of the screening view from London’s Piccadilly Circus. Images by Ayushi Channawar.
Screening view of The Purpose Was to Document the Other Side at Barbican Cinema 2, 2024
Screening view of The Purpose Was to Document the Other Side at Zéruì, 2024
I don’t Call Enough But I’m Here Now, 2024
a solo exhibition by Laisul Hoque, curated by Jannat Hussain
Exhibition view of The Purpose Was to Document the Other Side (2023)
The Purpose Was to Document the Other Side is a short film by Laisul Hoque, capturing the artist’s mother’s journey to London. The film is recorded on a camera initially purchased by the artist’s father in 2004 to document his European journey when he couldn’t bring his family along. Informed by the exploration of intimate conversation, the film compares the artist’s upbringing with that of his mother, addressing generational trauma and confronting emotional distance from his father. Through this documentary, the artist engages in the powerful act of curating their narrative together—vulnerable and emotional. It presents a compelling example of reclaiming personal and familial stories in the face of external threats.
By deciding to record and hold these footages in the camera that his father used, the artist gives his mother a space to place her narrative, where originally it would be only his father’s and the artist’s. At the end of the film, the artist hands the camera to his mother, providing her with a means to contribute to the narrative. This action also serves as a nod to Cinematography by Runa Islam, the inaugural film/artwork where intertextuality was incorporated into the camera movement.
Exhibition view of How to Translate a Proverb (2023)
This work is composed of performance video documentation and an audio recording device. In the chest of drawers sits the recording device holding a compilation of conversations between the artist and his friends.
Four drawers are pulled out, indicating the four years of Laisul’s artistic practice present in the space. The top drawer holds the essay providing insights on the performance and instructions for using the audio device.
In How to Translate a Proverb (2023) the audience saw the entirety of your body in the space as you exerted yourself, breaking into a sweat. Scored by the audio recordings of the conversations, the documentation involved instructing the curator to use a camcorder tethered to a projector, directing the audience’s gaze to your forehead and your feet. So, what we see in this show is essentially something you extracted from the live performance that took place on that day. In a way, it feels like you made yourself the proverb.
- Excerpt from exhibition text: A conversation between Laisul and Jannat.
Exhibition view of I Wish I Could Tell You Exactly How I Feel (fluorescent tubes x2, coated in heat-sensitive paint, 2022)
The heat from the fluorescent lights causes the paint to disappear—revealing the original tube when turned on, and slowly turning black as they cool down when turned off.
The work is inspired by the artist’s inability to openly communicate with his family.
That’s where visible light and heat came into play… I noticed how the black ink was the darkest at the start of the day, and throughout the day, the light bulb gets lighter and lighter. It never goes back to the blackness it had at the start of the day. And I find that to be metaphorical of progress and how we see relationships.
- Excerpt from exhibition text: A conversation between Laisul and Jannat.
Exhibition view of Untitled, Dhaka (giclee print on archival paper, aluminium framed, 2019)
I Wish I Could Tell You Exactly How I Feel, 2022
fluorescent lights x2, heat-sensitive paint
8cm x 8cm x 125cm
11cm x 8cm x 128cm
The heat from the fluorescent lights causes the paint to disappear—revealing the original tube when turned on, and slowly turning black as they cool down when turned off.
The work is inspired by the artist’s inability to openly communicate with his family.
There will always be a gap in communication and our desire to completely express ourselves to others will never be fulfilled. The emptiness of the white walls on which the lights shine alludes to the absence of expression/image.
With the lights turning on and off, the work explores an abstract form of communication while delving into the paradox: trying to express oneself to the other, while recognizing its futile nature.
Exhibition view of I Wishi I Could Tell You Exactly How I Feel at CSM Degree Show, 2022