Resplendent, ferocious, formidable, and otherworldly. The Theyyam of South India’s Malabar Coast are astonishing embodiments of gods, heroes, and monsters. Mortal bodies are transformed through embellishments of the human form that defy possibility: meticulously refined makeup, bolts of sumptuous cloth, dazzling reflective panels, structures that extend in all directions, spinning weapons, and blazing torches. Theyyam serve as mobile shrines, bringing the presence of the gods into the midst of their devotees for visual and embodied engagements. The extraordinary nature of the Theyyam make them quintessential symbols—standing in for the individual temples that host them, their neighborhoods and cities, the state of Kerala and India at large—and their images pepper the landscape through icons, advertisements, tourist shows, and reality TV competitions. Yet Theyyam mediums recognize that divinity arises not only from extravagance, but even more so from exhaustive preparation.
Anthropologist and art historian Neelima Jeychandran and I are collaborating on a series of films and visual anthropology interventions. The central conundrum that drives this project is how to present these fantastical visions not as exotic curiosity, but through the local idioms that bring together work and wonder. As the heart of this approach, we determined to showcase the intricate processes of preparation for Theyyam ritual. There is no backstage or screen for much of the work, no effort to disguise the process of turning men into gods. The divine impact of the ritual derives from the display of the meditative and redundant labor of its making. For example, performers of the Theyyam Gulikan meticulously carve hundreds of palm fronds, ephemeral elements that will not last to the next performance. The use of fresh leaves is required in order to signify that the particular devotion is for this temple in this moment and no other. The labor is only superficially sacrificial; it participates in a whole series of exchanges between different classes of gods and humans, in both material and immaterial planes.
The theme of labor runs throughout the milieux in which they are performed. Theyyam adepts are low caste, and Theyyam ritual is often described by local and foreign commentators alike as a subversive inversion of hierarchies, since it ostensibly represents a moment in which higher castes revere those below them. However, the extensive physical and spiritual labor the Theyyam adepts perform for their clients demonstrates that the economy of Theyyam mirrors and perpetuates rather than challenges the conditions of wage labor under which most performers live outside of the ritual space. In fact, the Theyyam performers are also unionized, organizing themselves as much through bureaucracy as kinship or spirituality. Such attention to workers’ rights participates in Kerala’s statewide celebration of communist politics, and furthermore, the resurgence of Theyyam is directly tied to the influx of cash remittances from migrant laborers working in the United Arab Emirates. The imbrication of labor, religion, and art within Theyyam is therefore fully self-conscious.