Building Bridges - Exhibition Review - Ceramics

 

Neha Kudchadkar

‘Bridges’ was an exhibition of ceramics held at Stainless Gallery, New Delhi. This exhibition showcased the work of fifty studio potters who have trained with Deborah Smith and Ray Meeker at The Golden Bridges Pottery studio in Pondicherry.

 

 



Reyaz Badruddin

 

 

Playful porcelain and pen doodles by Neha Kudchadkar reminiscent of containers defied the weightiness of them. Reyaz Badaruddin had flattened the cup. A hollow container, usually thrown on the wheel had been painted on flat clay tiles.  Veena Chandran used a large, traditional earthen pot-form. But she flattened it out as if breaking the clay pot, and then smeared the moist clay with her hands in a gesture that sought to explore the potential of clay, beyond traditionally prescribed norms. Shayonti Salve’s thrown but altered forms were a reflection of the duality she experiences where, as she said: “my head is often tormented by the times we live in, while my heart tried to comfort it”

 



Veena Chandran




Shayonti Salve

 

 

Pottery is one of the oldest art forms in India. Known as Prajapati or Kumbhar, the potter played a significant role in ancient society. However, potters no longer command the same reverence that was once accorded to them, nor do contemporary potters continue the tradition of making pots for daily use. “Today our students are about as interested in making functional stoneware as the sons of Indian village potters are interested in continuing in their fathers’ footsteps”, say Smith and Meeker. This quantum shift from the traditional, ‘form follows function’ approach, towards the more ornamental and conceptual approach in contemporary ceramics, where ‘ideas’ supersede ‘function’, makes an interesting comment on the social and cultural values of our time.

 

 

Ray Meeker

 

Golden Bridges, now a preeminent centre for ceramics, was set up in the mid 1970’s by Deborah Smith with her friend Ray Meeker, at the invitation of ‘The Mother’ spiritual head of the Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry. Cited as an exhibition of ceramics rooted in the Golden Bridges tradition and a tribute to the influence of Meeker and Smith one expected to find a thread that knitted together the work on display. To the contrary, the diversity of scale and style belied the fact that each of the fifty potters had been trained by the same two ceramic artists and more particularly, were trained using a specialized wood-firing technique.  Among the fifty potters participating, were Anjani Khanna, Michel Hutin, Aditi Saraogi, Manisha Bhattacharya, Adil Writer, Kristine Michael, Nehal Rachh, P. Daroz, Vineet Kacker and Sylvia Kerkar. Although primarily trained in making wood-fired studio-pottery, working in an urban context many of them have

explored gas and electric firings to evolve a differing aesthetic.

 

 

P.Daroz, From the 'Sea Bed' Series

 

 

 

 

Michel Hutin, a Frenchman who has lived and worked in Auroville for over twenty-five years, joins soft, undulating slabs of clay such that the interacting lines create rhythm, melody and counterpoint. P. Daroz has a passion for seascapes. Drawing upon memories of trips to various coasts and cliffs, his ceramic pieces from the ‘Sea Bed’ series are abstract in their presentation. For Nehal Rach an advertising graduate, who found her calling working in clay, pottery is not just something she does, but says that clay-work defines her.  Reyaz Badaruddin responds to urban spaces by evoking the disappearing fields of the agrarian landscape he grew up in. Each of these potters has moved beyond making a conventional vessel, to present abstract ideas where it is no longer about pots per se, but clay as art.

 

 

Neha Kudchadkar

 

The local potter and ceramic artist co-exist, but the local potter is not an artist in the contemporary sense of the word. He is technically skilled but doesn’t employ self-expression which is the basis of much art today. Ironically, this facet once deemed “pitiable rather than heroic” in ancient India, as cited by Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, is what is being keenly explored by contemporary ceramic artists. Pottery is essentially a skill-centric craft where the kind of clay used, kiln and techniques of firing, as well as glazes, play a significant role in the eventual product and how it looks. The firing process can be as intense as eighteen to seventy-five hours, with potters keeping vigil and maintaining logbooks. All of which is rarely mentioned in relation to exhibitions of clay work.  In positioning ceramics within the context of contemporary art, the technical process employed is seemingly superseded by the concepts explored.

 

 That the medium has evolved to transcend its functional origins, is a tribute to the creative minds that work with clay, as much as it is a yearning to bring attention and value to hands that have moulded  earth into vessel for centuries. However, the expression of self in the works on display, did not articulate an exploration authentic enough, to speak the language of contemporary art.

 

Manisha Bhattacharya

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[This exhibition was held in September 2014]

Canvas of Thread - Monika Correa [Review]

I was first introduced to the tapestries by Monika Correa through the pages of ‘The India Magazine’ in the early 1980’s. Then, a student of woven textiles, I was awed by her audacity and ingenuity in removing the reed of the warped threads to weave those fluid yet structured, unforgettable images of the Banyan Tree. This technique, of removing the reed while weaving the fabric, has become Correa’s signature style. In the present body of work, ‘Meandering Warp’, exhibited at Gallery Chemould Prescott Road in Mumbai, the visual qualities of the woven pieces have moved away from representing any sense of the figurative towards a more abstract and philosophical exploration. The large woven pieces present a tactile sensuality that is evocative of a deep, intense questioning of something that seems to have no answer, because, a similar question persists throughout the works. Correa’s woven explorations meander but do not necessarily deviate from the essence of her intellectual preoccupation. The thread canvas is ascetic, yet sensual, evocative of the universal, yet intensely personal

‘Jamshedpur’ [40 x 53 inch], is woven with red-dyed cotton threads in the weft and an unbleached off-white cotton warp. This contrast both highlights the redness of the maroon and softens its bloody overtones. The warp begins, at the bottom, with a division into three, almost equal parts, where in the central portion the reed has been removed lending fluidity to the threads, while the outer ends of the warp threads, are fitted within the confines of a reed for a more structured weave. The basic construction is an open twill weave where the weft colour dominates. The artist has envisioned the work such that even though the magic of its construction lies in the way the warp threads are manipulated, the coloured weft provides the contrast in hue and texture to highlight the dancing movement of the warp threads. A quasi-Rothko-like sectional is drawn as the eye moves slowly from bottom to top, following the weft, but along the lines of the warp. Akin to a vertical river flowing upstream, the wavy threads culminate in a square of vertical waves - effortlessly contained. For, as the weaving progresses, they respond meekly to the discipline of the reed. As if a restless mind having expressed itself has been appeased. 

Each tapestry seems to be a continuum of such inner explorations. The trajectory is subtle. ‘Foggy  Day’ [40 x 70 inches] begins with the dark colours that underlie the dinginess of a day where the light is blocked by a cloudy sky. Gradually, as the weaver shuttles the weft in and out, light seems to penetrate the realms of a mind fogged out. A Black weft leads to a deep blue and then it gets lighter still until the unbleached cotton warp and weft seem to meet in a confluence of enlightened minds. There is an apparent resolution to this foggy day. However, Correa’s more successful works are those where the resolution is not quite so obvious and the warp distortions create deceptive illusions.

The optical illusion created in ‘The Sound of Silence’ [28 x 62 inches] is skilfully constructed. Woven with black cotton warp threads and a contrasting, unbleached cotton weft, the chatter of the unspoken voices seem to get louder and louder. This is denoted by a singular, precisely woven, steep chevron rising upwards, dissipating into a medley of confused lines. The chevron is still there, but the clarity of its form has dissipated. And yet only so much, for it cannot escape the essential pattern determined by way the warp has been threaded, a construction that is precisely articulated, with the help of the reed, at the commencement of the tapestry.  This piece ends with a black warp and weft woven together which obscures the detail of the fabric construction. And darkness descends, as it must when we give into the insecure chattering of the mind. The monochromatic colour-scheme and deceptively simple woven construct draw the viewer into their own mindscapes, looking for something familiar, finding it and then losing it, but without getting lost. There is clarity despite the conundrum.

The tapestries by Correa are highly evocative of the machinations of a contemporary urban mind. There is discipline, but restlessness too. There is structure, but yearning for freedom and fluidity - to just be. Sometimes there is resolve and often resolution too, but many times darkness descends before lightness dawns. The weaving is skilful. The ideas are subtle and not equivocal. Correa’s threads are open to interpretation. Each viewer must find themselves in these thread-ruminations as we do in the fluid, reflective surface of a deep pond. 

 

 I found the monochromatic pieces most appealing and the black and white ones most appropriate for the ascetic meanderings of a subtle and refined mind. The exhibition could have been more concisely edited. ‘Tree-One’, ‘Homage to Kepes’, ‘Purple Rose of Cairo’ and ‘Bethlehem’ brought much coarser elements into play. These detracted from the subtlety of the major body of work and I felt that had such works not been included, the song of Correa’s threads would have touched an unforgettable chord.

A Window of Perception - [Review, American Psyche, Religare arts i]

'Dyanne'. Beth Yarnelle Edwards

Photographs hold a special fascination for everybody, the world over. The facility to grasp a moment as it is; capturing the monumentality or poignancy of the moment with just a click of the camera is irresistible. Digital technologies have made this simpler than ever before, so what sets apart the artist-photographer from a doting parent or enthusiastic tourist?

Photography that engages beyond familial or familiar memories is about the quality of observation a photographer imbues their work with. It’s the measure of a photographer’s engagement with self and subject; exploring facets of looking which draws and sustains a viewer’s attention. This quality of intimacy and engagement noticeably pervaded almost all the images in the exhibition ‘American Psyche’ curated by Janet Delaney, at Religare Art.

'Paul' - Susan Felter

In addition, what made this exhibition a unique experience, was that the earlier construct of the West looking at the East with their limitations of knowing and desire to know, based solely on the narrow self interest of commerce and dominion, was turned on its head. The on-going shift in world economic power with its implications of change in how, once dominant cultures are now viewed by those they dominated, was evinced as we in New Delhi were invited to look at the ‘American’ psyche through the eyes of ‘American’ photographers.  

The selection by Delaney featured some known, predictable icons such as the ‘Cowboy’ from Susan Felter’s portfolio ‘Rodeo Work’, as well as lesser known facets of contemporary daily life, exquisitely captured by Beth Yarnelle Edwards in ‘Suburban Dreams’. This was added to by Brian Ulrich’s statement on the “American love affair with shopping on credit” and subsequent bankruptcy. Chris Churchill’s black and white images highlighted ‘Faith’ presenting a broad spectrum which included various organized religions and also spiritual practices. Leon Borensztein‘s series of commissioned portraits also in black and white, recorded ‘telling details’ and Jim Goldberg’s ‘Teenage’ narrative added a touch of authenticity to the presented socio-political commentary. Issues of governance and civic mindedness also formed part of this montage where Paul Shambroom brought us a close-up view of the American public servant. Mike Steinmetz stealthily captured candid moments of unknown people and Todd Hido kept driving and looking, photographing the outside of houses at night with people at home. Indicated not by silhouettes of them, but implied by the glare or soft haze of electric light shining through windows, that were curtained and sometimes not. He captured a sense of the quietude of night-life, imbuing it with a sense of knowing, despite the physical displacement of him being outside the frame.
 

In this vast panorama of life in America, it was the images by Beth Yarnelle Edwards, portraying the everydayness of suburban living with precision and sensitivity that left a lasting impression. These photographs needed no explanation. They had a timeless, universal quality. Akin to still-life painting of early Dutch masters, Edwards’s keen sense of observation posed not a critical view but provided a perceptive document. In ‘Dyanne’ [1998, 19/25, chromogenic print, 20x24 in], the quality of light and semi-completeness of attire, nuanced a level of tension. There was a sense of expectation, yet also of fatigue and on looking more intently, one noticed that the dinner was not yet over. The table was still set. It was not a sense of let down after the event, but a kind of resigned expectancy after long hours of preparation, that emerged. Such details reveal more than just a stereotypical view of the mundane. In another photograph, she captures ‘Susan’ at work, [2002, 5/25, chromogenic print, 20x24 in] her bejewelled hand polishing the glass top of a dining table. An Andy Warhol print hangs behind her and a large urn of artificial Hydrangeas and exotic Orchids rests on the centre of the table. A William Morris look-alike design on the upholstery of dining room chairs completes the picture of a home where everything is neat, clean, carefully chosen and meticulously arranged; a life-style of successful people residing in the suburbs. Edward’s success lies not only in capturing evocative everyday moments but also in the lack of self-consciousness with which each person appears in the frame.

 

Delaney presented a wide panorama, attempting to cover the breadth of a vast and diverse culture. This however detracted from the subtler perspective each photographer had presented. At times one felt that this ‘psyche’ was orchestrated to present more of a politically correct statement rather than a heartfelt one. This portrayal may not have been conclusive or entirely convincing, but in presenting a view through the lens of American photographers, of nuances most of us here would not be privy to, it opened up another window of perception.

 

 

Vivan Sundaram, Gakawaka: Making Strange [ Book Review]

Book Title:   Vivan Sundaram

                      Gagawaka: Making Strange

Published by:   Chemould Prescott Road

Paperback

155 pages 

Full Colour

Size – 8 x 10.75 inches

ISBN 978-81-908879-4-6 

Price:                Rs. 2,750/- [includes DVD]

When I saw the Gagawaka presentation by artist Vivan Sundaram at Lalit Kala Academy, I was perplexed. It was neither a fashion show, nor was it evocative of art traditionally seen within a gallery space. There were dancers performing and walking alongside professional models and artists too were participants on the makeshift stage cum ramp. The garments, if indeed they could be classified as such, were bizarre to say the least, yet they were crafted with finesse and some of them were quite marvellous to see. I kept wondering how to contextualize this presentation. It was neither art nor fashion and neither was it breaking totally new ground for in the two decades that I have taught at NIFT, I have seen design students create equally, if not more creatively bizarre garments.

With the intention of finding some context to place this artistic offering within, I picked up the book ‘Gagawaka, Making Strange’, published by Chemould Prescott Road.  A slim volume, visually lush with numerous full-page colour photographs of each work, it also includes a DVD of the performance/fashion show and essays by Deepak Ananth, an art historian based in Paris, Shanay Javeri who is a PhD candidate at the Royal College of Art in London and Gitanjali Dang, an “independent curator-critic and shape-shifter” based in Mumbai.

Ananth takes us through a rich, art historical discourse beginning with a rag picker reference citing Baudelaire and later with references to the Futurists, the Dada movement, Oscar Wilde, Arte Povera, Duchamp, Andy Warhol and more. He claims that “from the ragpicker to gladrags, from the lower depths to the bourgeois salon – the contrast will appear flagrant or incongruous only to those unaware of their co-presence in the inaugural texts on modernity”. Though erudite and interesting his essay does not extrapolate this “co-presence” with clarity. He also quotes lavishly from Roland Barthes and brings in references to artists who have made some foray into the realm of fashion, but never quite manages to present the evolution of the ragpicker-fashion designer with any level of conviction. He cites the ragpicker icon in reference to Sundaram’s “delve into detritus” with an installation ‘The Great Indian Bazaar’ [1999], which is followed by ‘The Brief Ascension of Marian Hussain’ [2005] and other works that incorporate trash. Implicit in the use of ‘trash’ is the image of the rag picker, but in Gagawka, Sundaram does not use items only collated from garbage bins and kabadiwala’s. A lot of them did not seem used, but newly bought. In addition, a twist to this argument emerges when Ananth states that the initial point of Sundaram’s departure for creating this collection was the body; more pertinently, the body’s distress, which arose from the artist’s own experience of a body “punished by pain”. The argument centred on trash then becomes confusing.

During a period of convalescence Sundaram was inspired to use medical paraphernalia to create garments, transposing materials used for healing the body to create another kind of body. This was done, perhaps, to cloak the presently dysfunctional one as a way of exorcising the body’s infirmity, to present the antipode of sickness through the glamorous dimension of fashion. This disclosure lends far greater authenticity to the body of work than the historical antecedent of detritus or the on-going relay between art and fashion. However, for this most pertinent revelation Ananth does not cite historical precedence or context. Neither does he tell us about Sundaram’s experience through this venture, which we are told was both therapeutic and cathartic. He does not reveal how it benefitted the artist, which could perhaps be the most significant contribution of this venture.

Shanay Jhaveri does not delve into detritus or history but focuses upon his viewing in four episodes, of the work as a moving installation cum performance cum fashion show and also a static exhibition, beginning with his anticipation before the preview, where he was invited to engage with the artist about the work. He describes the performance evocatively, brings films into reference and also mentions fashion stalwarts such as Miyake, Rei Kawakubo, Yohji Yamamoto and others who have used garments in an architectural and sculptural way, but neither of these two writers provide a considered fashion perspective. Jhaveri however, does not try and provide answers but raises oblique questions. In discussing one particular performance consisting of a single garment, where the performer had been internally ‘miked’ and every breath amplified and broadcast to the audience he says: “Did a force to know, and not forget, guide the performance? Did it precipitate a state of knowing?” After the four encounters he concludes that Gagawaka is an “expansive practice, a constellation, a set of platforms through which a series of questions are asked.”

 Dang’s essay is placed strategically between these two and is significant because she does not allude to the work but speaks tangentially of an improbable, bizarre situation, bringing an element of fiction into play. Her essay echoes the discomfort I felt in trying to contextualize the work within the parameters of art and fashion and made fascinating reading.

This volume does not provide a reassuring context to view the work within but raises issues. Is Vivan Sundaram charting new territory, where the cathartic and therapeutic qualities inherent in art-making are the key to understanding this work? Will the art of tomorrow emphasize what artists say, not so much about the world to the world, but what the process of art-making does to the maker, revealing him to himself? Ananth’s almost casual mention of Sundaram’s convalescence as impetus for Gagawaka, generates interest, more so than the historical precedence for this work, or lack of it.

The Art of Listening [ Review - Amina Ahmed at Gallery Seven Art]

Ave Maria Gratia Plena
- detail

How well are you connected? No, not on facebook or twitter, but to your soul; do you hear the call? New York based artist, Amina Ahmed’s recent exhibition at Seven Art Limited, New Delhi, drew inspiration from the “pulse of life” permeating all forms. Her father taught her that rain, trees and even their roots had a sound. She gives this communion a visual language in ‘The Call or ‘Bism’.

My heart is on Fire...

Imprinted on the gallery wall, a few words informed that while we live, there is a state of persistent longing. This angst, of separation from the divine, leads to bliss of oneness and separation again, in an eternal cycle. Through nuances of sound and shifting patterns of trees, water, roots and the logic of birds, the artist communicates with the divine. Seeing this connection in all things, Ahmed brought the language of birds, the subtlety of earth, and the rhythm of water, as drawings, installation and video, into the gallery space. The omission of any connection to other human beings was telling; speaking of the tendency to draw solace from aspects of nature that are unable to speak as we do, and thus contradict or question our assumptions about them.

 Most works were subtle and monochromatic, without overt messages or dramatic invocation of the divine. Haunting Sufi music that accompanied the two videos resounded in the entire space, adding to the serenity. As one walked through ‘Pukar’ with its numerous messages invoking the divine; over centuries and across cultures, imprinted under a beam and on the inside of its pillars, creating a sacred arch of sorts; you were compelled to ask: Am I in tune with nature? Have my senses been dulled by loudspeakers, hi-decibel newscasts and advertisements on television? 

Water

 In “Water’ a diptych [20.75 x9.75 inches, 2011, monotype] miniscule squiggly lines, form a longer one in a continuum , until the end of the narrow paper width; then the next line close to this and the next and the next; like an endless invocation, manically drawn with meticulous detail. If there was any definitive form to begin with, it merged into this ebb and flow, forming a ‘jaal’ that seemingly meant nothing and yet spoke of marks that make up our lives as we flow through experiences: the intertwining of cause and effect that entraps most of us.

Fine, silvered pins and photographic paper formed the ‘Rhythm of Fiveness’, a site specific installation on the wall [2011, dimensions variable]. Beneath this, a geometric pattern was lightly drawn in pencil over which the paper curled and twisted, forming protrusions on the wall surface. 

Rhythm of Fiveness

Even though the ‘pattern’ seemed to emerge from a calculated mathematical formula, encrypted in the underlying geometrical configuration, the result was chaotic. This was augmented by shadows produced through an overhead light source. The origin of the form seemed inconsequential, for the artist’s process of exploration had reduced it to an orchestrated presentation of chaos emanating from order; evocative of living, especially when our connection with the divine is impaired.

Oh, Subtle Earth

As a whole, the exhibition was soulful and evocative of some deep listening, but the unevenness in Ahmed’s involvement with the different elements jarred. Her invocations through water and birds had far greater depth than the rest. ‘Oh, Subtle Earth [tree]’ [30x18 inches, 2011, mixed media on paper] carried a texture similar to what had earlier been presented as ‘Water’. Its roots extended down from a rectangular surface with intense but tiny marks, like the tassels of a prayer rug. This work was hauntingly exquisite and worked much better without the title. And ‘Listening [Roots]’ [Charcoal on paper, 63x42 in, 2011] with its massive, black, typhoon-like swirl, brought in a bolder dimension and one lost the subtle thread of intensity connecting works like ‘Tree’, ‘Water’ and ‘River’. Adding to the confusion was another awkwardly swirling large form, drawn with charcoal on paper - ‘Listening [roots, weeds and trees]’. The paradox of oneness and the wretched angst of separation or subliminal glimpses of transcendence were better nuanced in ‘Water’ with its manic, obsessive line work and simple but effective articulation.

Ave Maria Gratia Plena

Listening[Roots Weads &
Trees]

In ‘Ave Maria Gratia Plena’ a site specific installation of variable dimensions [paper and pins, 2011] Inspired by a prayer to Mary, Blessed of all women, Ahmed created shapes, evocative of fallen feathers, from unusually textured paper. The pure whiteness of the paper against a white wall infused the installation with an aura, almost sacred. Was it a shrine to Birds? In the video ‘The Call with the help of Divine Nature’ birds are shown flying the sky. There is nothing subliminal about this flight; you can barely discern the form. The same movement is repeated in a somewhat deliberate, jerky motion. Birds shed their feathers. Birds fly. What is the logic of birds? Living in a multi-storey complex in Gurgaon, where pigeons abound, it’s impossible not to notice them. But the day after seeing Ahmed’s video; whenever I saw a flock mid-air, I stopped and wondered at the rationale of creatures that seem to do little else other than procreate at an astonishing pace and take to the skies.  The logic of birds seemed simple: be what you are, do what you are born to do. This is where Ahmed succeeds, guiding you to hear your own call.

The Call, Bism

When I saw the show, no literature accompanied the exhibition; the artworks also had no labels. It was an unusually calming experience: a silent communion, free of extraneous explanations. But later, reading the artists’ statement, I was disappointed. Her words obfuscated with formalized, intellectual ideas that detracted from the magical, personal connections made without them. If there is intention to lead the viewer, it would be useful to provide titles and literature at the onset. However, to connect with work executed with such heart and soul, a quiet mind, unhindered by jargon and politics would be more adept at listening.

To read a story inspired by this show read:
http://garammasalachai.blogspot.in/2012/03/darjeeling-tea-mendelssohn-and-flight.html