A Belfast-based artist has spoken of the striking parallels between the Troubles in Northern Ireland and the civil conflict that ravaged her native Sri Lanka. This comes after her first return to the island nation in three decades.
Anushiya Sundaralingam, originally hailing from Jaffna in northern Sri Lanka, departed the country in 1989, during the peak of its brutal civil war. Since 1995, she has resided in Northern Ireland, having graduated in Fine and Applied Arts from Ulster University in 1998.
“Whenever I arrived here, even though Northern Ireland was ostensibly at peace, the presence of checkpoints was still a stark reminder of Sri Lanka,” she recounts. “There are undeniably parallels and similar problems that I’ve witnessed firsthand through my work with communities here. People from both places grapple with deep-seated trauma.”
She further elaborates: “It’s interesting because when people inquire about my origins and I mention Sri Lanka, the immediate response is often, ‘Why are you here?’ It’s as if I’ve simply moved from one conflict zone to another. However, I believe conflict is now pervasive, existing globally.”
“People are constantly being displaced, which has a ripple effect on crucial aspects like identity, memory, and culture. This displacement feels profoundly unjust.”
These very themes constitute the bedrock of Anushiya’s new exhibition, “Fragmented Crossings,” an exploration deeply rooted in her own personal experiences.
Like countless others who fled the conflict, Anushiya left behind not only her homeland but also the prospect of a swift return. Jaffna remained inaccessible for years due to intense military operations. When she was finally able to return in the mid-1990s, it was under perilous circumstances, requiring travel by boat through active conflict zones.
“When I returned in 1995, the civil war in Sri Lanka was still raging, and communication with family was incredibly difficult. Letters often didn’t reach their intended recipients, and mobile phones were not yet commonplace,” she explains.
“But I received word that my grandmother, with whom I was very close, was ill. So, I took my three-and-a-half-year-old son and travelled to Colombo, where I managed to connect with some people who facilitated my journey.”
The war had decimated the main roads connecting Colombo to Jaffna, forcing Anushiya to rely on a variety of transport methods.
“We travelled by van, minivan, tractor, and even motorbike,” she says. “We were uncertain if we would even reach our destination. At the checkpoints, both army personnel and Tamil Tigers searched us. I vividly remember a point where we had to board a very small wooden boat and silently navigate the sea because the navy was nearby and posed a shelling threat. The fear was overwhelming.”
“I had no idea that the journey would be so arduous. Had I known, I probably wouldn’t have gone.”
The emotional weight of that experience has continuously informed and shaped Anushiya’s artistic expression.
“Upon returning from Sri Lanka, I knew I wanted to create more work that focused on the situation there,” she says.
“There was a sense of apprehension because if my work was perceived as overtly political, I feared I might not be able to return to my country.
“But now, I don’t view my work as inherently political. I see it as a documentation of a story that resonates with people worldwide because similar situations are unfolding everywhere.
“My work explores themes of identity, culture, belonging, and the disorienting feeling of not knowing where to truly call home.”
Anushiya admits that despite the passage of 30 years, many of the anxieties she experienced in 1995 resurfaced when she returned to Sri Lanka in March of this year for a three-week residency.
“This time, the atmosphere felt more peaceful, but the underlying fear, grief, anxiety, and guilt were still present,” she says.
“Walking through places scarred by conflict stirred up emotions I hadn’t felt in years. While I was returning to my home, it no longer felt like home.
“For a long time after the conflict ended in Sri Lanka, people would ask me why I hadn’t returned or visited. I think it was partly due to the trauma – I would constantly offer excuses to avoid going back.
“I kept thinking, ‘If I go back, how am I going to cope?’ The country has changed, the currency has changed, the people have changed.
“But I think the fact that I was going for work this time gave me the strength to finally return.”
During her residency, Anushiya collaborated with art history students from the University of Jaffna. Together, they created an installation using locally sourced banana tree fibres, which have since been transported to Belfast to recreate the installation in “Fragmented Crossings.”
Revisiting crafts deeply embedded in her childhood memories, such as traditional banana fibre and palmyra leaf weaving, also provided her with the chance to retrace parts of her past. She revisited family and friends, her old school, former classmates, and temples.
“It wasn’t just a return; it was a full-circle experience,” she said.
“I stood once again on the same soil I left three decades ago. I revisited family homes, connected with local artists, and rediscovered parts of myself I thought I had buried.”
The exhibition aims to capture Anushiya’s return home by combining sculpture, printmaking, drawing, and installation. A recurring symbol throughout the exhibition is boats crafted from wax and paper, banana fibre, and glass and bronze.
“The boats have become a symbol of leaving, but also of return,” she explains.
“I’m still grappling with the same questions in my work that I had 30 years ago, only now I can see how they’ve evolved.”
“I thought I had moved on, but I’m still creating work with the same themes. It’s all still there – those memories, those movements.
“Now, for this exhibition, I’m bringing everything together – old prints, collages, drawings, textiles, bronze, banana fibre – reworking, reconnecting, returning.”
As Anushiya prepares to launch her exhibition in Belfast, she hopes that people will connect with her experiences.
“I want people to understand what is happening and empathise with those affected,” she says.
“It’s not just my story. It’s happening all over the world – you only have to look at the news today.
“I still feel like a refugee. Even now, people ask me here and in Sri Lanka, ‘Where are you from?’ and I’m not sure how to answer. I think we just adapt.
“My work has become a way of processing that – my story, and the stories of others.”
Anushiya’s visit to her homeland this year was supported by the British Council’s Connections Through Culture Grants.
“Fragmented Crossings” opens at Queen Street Studios on August 14 and will be on display until September 18.
44lwqu