Touch me not in hate

The worldwide Covid-19 pandemic has coincided with the rise of what appears to be a 'pandemic of hate' - ranging from murderous policing of Black people in the USA to the mob-killing of Muslim folks in India. Both pandemics have had implications for the ability to touch others, and especially to touch with love and care. The Covid-19 pandemic touched and entered the bodies of people who tried it keep it away by covering their faces, by 'shielding', while it deprived them of the touches of friends, family and friendly strangers. The simultaneous spike of racial and ethnic hatred led to the rise of instances of murder, lynching and assault, especially of individuals from vulnerable, marginalised communities, represented by Mr. George Floyd, killed as  he cried, like many Covid-19 victims: 'I cannot breathe.' Rising hate provided touch, but in ways that were injurious, humiliating and dehumanising.

The painting in acrylic on canvas backed with board depicts an image of an unarmed man being beaten by a large group of people. It is based on a photograph that became iconic of the anti-Muslim pogrom that took place in Delhi, India, in January 2020. The photograph was of the attack suffered by a Muslim man called Muhammad Zubair. Zubair survived the attack with serious injuries, but many others did not. The painting seeks to depict the horror of lynching, and see that horror as universally human, whatever the precise  dimension of hate that leads to it. To me, the attacked man's effort to shield himself is embodiment of the phrase 'Noli Me Tangere': Do not touch me, if you can only touch in hate.