
Installation view of Kirtika Kain, Pitch, 2026. Campbelltown Arts Centre. Photo: Silversalt Photography.
Pitch
by Siobhan Seeneevassen
Two scrolls are suspended from the ceiling: one is canvas, the other is hessian. Together, these scrolls comprise the titular work of Kirtika Kain’s exhibition, Pitch (2026), currently on at Campbelltown Arts Centre. Kain’s process is a recipe—one that has been experimented with to find the right balance. She describes her studio as a kitchen, filled with resins, pigments, seeds, cotton, and other ingredients. In Pitch, these ingredients (turmeric paste, gold leaf, tar) denote the complex social and cultural histories at the centre of Kain’s practice. Materials take on meaning from the ways they have been historically used, as markers of class, wealth, and privilege.
The way Pitch has come together at Campbelltown Arts Centre is quite different from its first appearance at Murray Art Museum Albury (MAMA) earlier this year. MAMA commissioned the scrolls that comprise Pitch as a part of nginha – here and now, which celebrated the institution’s commissioning of new art and ideas. At Campbelltown, Pitch has been expanded into an exhibition, occupying the central gallery upon entry. Pitch remains the centrepiece, with the addition of five wall-mounted canvas works to its left (i-v, 2026), and a series of four copper works (vi-ix, 2026).

Installation view of Kirtika Kain, Pitch, 2026. Campbelltown Arts Centre. Photo: Silversalt Photography.
At the opening of the exhibition, Kain noted that part of making works like Pitch is accepting and embracing they will change over time. By the time the scrolls were hung at Campbelltown, the vibrant yellow of the turmeric had faded due to exposure to natural light. The overall texture of the work had also changed; as it moves locations, flakes of the turmeric mixture will peel off and reveal a new skin underneath. Even so, the vibrancy of the work caught my eye before I entered the gallery, with flickers of gold set against black tar. As for the copper works, each sheet has aged into an intentional turquoise patina, which will gradually become more vibrant. Like sculptural monuments eroded by history’s weather, the works are suspended in time, as well as space. While Kain’s practice is methodical and culturally considered, she is playful in her approach to artmaking. She tinkers with materials and processes to create her desired outcome. Her work has evolved significantly in the past few years, with recent exhibitions including Adelaide Biennale (2026), Kochi-Muziris Biennale (2025), and the 24th Biennale of Sydney (2024). Change is central to the success of her practice, as she learns through a practice of enactment.

Installation view of Kirtika Kain, Pitch, 2026. Campbelltown Arts Centre. Photo: Silversalt Photography.
Kain’s practice is also a critique of and an inquiry into the Indian caste system, which is a hereditary social hierarchy. The artist was born in New Delhi, and now lives and works on Dharug Country; Kain’s family comes from the Dalit caste, which is excluded from the four official stratums of the Hindu caste hierarchy. This hierarchy is essentially determined by occupation and labour, with the highest caste being Brahmins (priests). Dalit people have historically been outcast due to the perception of their work being degrading, with many subjected to slavery. The word “Dalit” loosely translates to “broken” or “oppressed.” However, the works in Pitch refocus Dalit existence, offering a representational framework that pushes against that of historical victimisation. Kain counters any assumption that histories are static or pre-determined narratives. Instead, the works in Pitch are caught in the project of history—caught in a midpoint that can neither be fixed nor resolved.
When describing her artistic process, Kain explains that the scrolls in Pitch were originally joined, then “ripped off like a band-aid.” They are two parts that make, or at least suggest, a whole. Personally, before I rip off a band-aid, I brace myself for impact. It is a bodily act—one that pulls at hairs and leaves raw skin exposed. Pitch provokes a similar effect. By creating a rupture, the work allows something soft and sensitive to rise to the surface—something that may not ordinarily be visible. Kain has explained that she is drawn in by the endlessness and chasmic depth that tar suggests. Tar is produced through the distillation of materials such as wood, coal, and peat; it is the product of transforming organic materials into capital. For its medicinal properties, tar is used in Ayurvedic healing and ceremonies. However, it has also been co-opted for the purpose of the capitalist project. In this context, tar has been used for construction, masonry, and road paving: it is a material of labour. Bringing tar and gold into direct dialogue with one another thus speaks to the way that the caste system and capital are intertwined. In Pitch, tar becomes a binding agent that physically holds materials in place and creates a depth that brings all other materials to the surface. It comes to represent untold stories, or untold histories, that stick and linger. Up close, Pitch looks viscous, but the surface has hardened. Peering between the scrolls reveals a speckled shadow that hints at the porousness of what otherwise seems to be a sealed surface. The work has a fragile underbelly.

Installation view of Kirtika Kain, Pitch, 2026. Campbelltown Arts Centre. Photo: Silversalt Photography.
In his 2021 book Inferno, Andrew Brooks notes that he “fucking hate(s) it when structures of domination are confused with structures of belonging.” Kain’s work responds to this confusion by rejecting the idea that Dalit existence must look or feel any particular way. Artmaking itself is not typically associated with the Dalit caste. The caste system Kain responds to is innately prescriptive, a system that functions as a structure of domination to determine how a person may live. Creating work that is non-prescriptive turns this domination on its head, and by doing so, Kain suggests that belonging is something that appears in many forms. She affirms that what makes her work Dalit is simple: it’s the fact that she made it. Belonging is, perhaps, an act of recognition as much as it is a social structure, way of relating, or way of being.
Kain has noted in interviews that art is a mode of storytelling. Pitch, however, seems to reject a straightforward or symbolic method of narrating. Kain presents a narrative that cannot be read but must be inferred or intuited. Kain’s works are punctuated by textural layers, visual depth, and an intentional murkiness. They represent the concept of history as an act of creativity, play, and experimentation. Pitch seeks neither to tell a definitive truth, nor offer a holistic alternative narrative. Instead, it sits with ambiguity, and encourages its viewers to do the same. This entanglement of material, affect, and storytelling is part of what makes Kain’s work worth seeing, time and time again.

Installation view of Kirtika Kain, Pitch, 2026. Campbelltown Arts Centre. Photo: Silversalt Photography.
Siobhan Seeneevassen is an independent writer and creative practitioner working on unceded Cammeraygal land on the east coast of Australia. She is a graduate from UNSW with a Bachelor of Art History and Bachelor of Arts (Honours) in English and Gender Studies.


