A resident of Morang, Khatiwada studied mass communication while in college and worked as a journalist for nearly six years, but was quickly frustrated by the profession. In 1999, he had his first attack of paranoia, which was followed by a second attack in 2001 while he was meditating. Psychiatrists then diagnosed him with schizophrenia.
An individual with schizophrenia may have auditory hallucinations, bizarre delusional visions accompanied by disorganized speech and thinking. Some may become very violent while some may remain in extreme solitude.
Khatiwada chose to isolate himself from the world.
“I recall a fellow meditator at the vipasana center asking me why I had come to meditate, and I replied that I was doing a research,” says Khatiwada. “Then he warned me that I would get lost one day – and I did!”
Khatiwada would disappear for lengths of time when he had his attacks, which eventually cost him his job and much more.
“Over the ten years, I’ve lost everything except three things—my family, the land that my father gave me, and my experience.”
And it is his experiences, from being a victim of a mental illness, that have been transformed into works of art today.
“I used to document my dreams; I would get up each morning and write them down in detail,” says Khatiwada. The same habit proved to be helpful whenever he had his attacks.
“I started writing in my journals and making sketches simultaneously whenever I had these visions. After one point, I stopped writing and only drew whatever came to my mind.”
Khatiwada’s instinct to draw came naturally to him. In fact, he had always wanted to study fine arts but was unable to do so because of family pressures.
“I don’t believe that I suffer from schizophrenia—that is the doctor’s conclusions and I refuse to take any medication,” asserts Khatiwada. “I realized that drawing is my cure because it allows me to vent out my emotions and visions, after which I feel much better and relaxed.”
Art therapy is indeed a widely used practice in many countries around the world, and here, Khatiwada has exercised it in his own way.
In April 2009, Khatiwada decided to recreate his sketches from his journals into complete drawings.
“I felt the need to redraw them. But all I had was a marker, a pencil, a ballpoint pen and stacks of photocopy paper,” informs Khatiwada. In this way, of the 125 drawings that he recreated in 25 days, 72 of them were up on display at the Nepal Association of Fine Arts (NAFA) gallery from August 28 to 31.
“I wasn’t planning on showing them, but I got a lot of support from senior artists like Kiran Manandhar who encouraged me to exhibit my work,” puts in Khatiwada.
Khatiwada’s black and white drawings stood out against the whitewashed walls of NAFA gallery. For the conventional art we are used to seeing – landscapes, portraits and the like – Khatiwada’s images are almost way too out there: metaphorically and visibly. The contents of his works are hard to understand as well as to explain because they have been derived from a mysterious source deep within the artist’s mind.“Most of my works convey metaphysical notions and have symbolic allusions,” explains Khatiwada, and adds, “but there are many instances in my works that I can’t explain myself. They are spontaneous and sometimes mean nothing.”
His process is similar to automatic drawing developed by surrealists in the early 20th century. Artists let their hands move fluidly across the paper or canvas, thereby allowing the subconscious to make marks.
Khatiwada’s drawings question the nature of reality, allude to sexual perversion, and consist of repetitive symbolic motifs. They are blatant, jarring, confusing, and above all, nightmarish to someone who is attempting to understand where he is coming from.
An avid reader of philosophy, one can see that his conceptual ideas have transcended into his dreamlike images.
“Each of my pieces has a title, but I was advised not to put them up because I’m not obligated to explain my works to anyone, and moreover, they are open for the viewers’ interpretations,” says Khatiwada. The title for the exhibit, however, was “Protocol of Schizophrenia F20.0” which contradicts the artist’s denial of having the illness.
“It’s been hard talking about my mental condition to viewers for the past few days,” says Khatiwada, who remains in seclusion for most of the time. When asked if he would consider enrolling into a fine arts school now, he replies, “No, I don’t think I will, but I’ve started reading books on art and I want to continue that.”
In his most recent reading, Khatiwada learnt about Dutch painter Vincent van Gogh, who also suffered from a mental illness and was admitted into mental institutions several times, where he continued to paint.
“Van Gogh would never have made some of his most famous pieces had he not had the illness,” says an optimistic Lilaraj Khatiwada. “I have to deal with a lot of social stigma each day, but with art and meditation as outlets for me, I’m able to cope through it all.”
There is a Zen-like suggestiveness to this mental condition, and in the way Khatiwada deals with it, which is soothingly becalmed for bursting creativity by one’s own treatment by way of resorting to silence, separation and detachment.
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