Show and Tell

A singing voice greets me when I step off the bustling, dusty streets of Dhaka and into the hushed home of Nadia and Rajeeb Samdani. “I’ll just keep on, till I get it right,” it sings. There’s a pause, then it sings the line again. And again. The voice is not Rajeeb or Nadia’s, nor that of any of their three daughters—it’s a work of sound art by British artist Cael Flover that plays on a loop in the Samdanis’ entrance hall.

“When people come to visit, they sometimes get confused whether they’re in a house or a gallery,” says Rajeeb. That’s understandable. Flover’s voice echoes around a slick cube of a room filled with works of art from near and far. One of Anish Kapoor’s signature shimmering steel dishes dominates one wall, while a stone sculpture of a strange humanoid figure by Pakistani-American artist Huma Bhabha stands imperiously by the doorway. It’s so tall that visitors can stare directly into its spray-painted black eyes. “The only piece of furniture in this whole room is that chair by Zaha Hadid,” admits Rajeeb, gesturing towards a sofa that looks more sculpture than seat. “People ask us, ‘Why would you want to have a space like this in your house?’”

But to friends of the Samdanis, the fact that their front door opens into a gallery—devoid of family photos, furniture or any