WhatAsana Was It All About? [Jenny Bhatt review, Gallery Seven Art]

‘MokshaShots’ by Jenny Bhatt at Gallery Seven Art, New Delhi, 10^th March to 3^rd April 2011, was a colourful presentation bordering on the psychedelic. The idea that spiritual liberation may take many life-times, but you could get a taste of the sublime through Bhatt’s tongue-in-cheek exploration had the promise of a fun-filled experience. However, the interplay between liberation through consumerism and the spiritual aspects of moksha was confused. Bhatt’s attempt to paint a satirical view of urban Indian consumer culture, focusing on how art, spirituality, media and emotion have been packaged as commodities was also not really witty nor was her critique objective. The concept itself lacked clarity and depth of exploration.

 

 Bhatt employed an inventive visual vocabulary, creating deities called ‘MokshaPets’ such as ‘MokshaBuy’ ‘Mokshasura,’ ‘MokshaBum’ ‘Kundalini’, ‘Reverence’ and ‘Irreverence’, Third eye, Eye Ball and ThoughtPill. They clearly inhabited a world of their own and the viewing experience would have been more inclusive had the gallery space been used to present dimensions of this unique, not-seen-before world. The spartan presentation of a few painted canvassed on white walls with vinyl stickers sprinkled across the floor and ceiling did not quite evoke the necessary atmosphere to enable  viewers to participate in and engage more actively with characters that most people in Delhi encountered for the first time.

 

 The artist’s involvement with her unique characters was visible. Her sense of humour too was evident through titles devised for the different postures in which each character was depicted. ‘Gulpasana’ was a portrait of ‘MokshaBuy’, gulping it all down. There was ‘Oopsasana’, ‘Champagnepopasana’, ‘Thoughtpillasana’ and other such works that allowed the viewer a glimpse of Bhatt’s enjoyment in the process of creating them. You wanted to share in the laughter but were never quite sure whether you should, for it often seemed that Bhatt was laughing at you and the stories about the icons seemed more alive in her own mind than on the canvasses hung on the gallery walls.

In the ‘MokshaBuy Mandla’ painted with acrylic on canvas [191.92x191.92cms], a many-armed creature modelled perhaps on goddess Durga of the Hindu pantheon was seen with shopping bags, credit cards, currency notes, an extraordinarily long shopping-list, ice-cream, a blood-stained sickle and more. This creature with eight arms stood atop the philosopher ‘MokshaBum’, surrounded by other characters invented by Bhatt. She conjured up imagery depicting the life of this goddess of retail therapy who had drawn blood too. Cloud and fire forms found in traditional Tibetan Thangka paintings were also incorporated in the picture. The ugly, purple deity with three eyes, evil red lips and a tongue that extended below her feet, also held a ‘jap mala’. On the one hand the artist purports to critique consumerism and its excesses, yet she calls it ‘MokshaShots’ or “taste of the sublime”. At the same time she also uses items such as the ‘mala’ associated with spiritual seekers which have ascetic connotations, confusing the issue. If consumerism is her path, of what significance is the ‘jap mala’? Is it about the insincerity of the seeker? Is it about the general confusion around the idea of moksha? Or is it about experiencing the sublime through consumerism?

In the ‘MokshaBum’ Mandala [2009, 121.92x121.92 cms] a cute, all blue creature with arms folded in a lazy, thinking posture, with a pink halo which could have been the cushion he was seated on, looked starry-eyed into space. His eyes didn’t confront you; he was clearly in his own world. Through this, the artist intended to exemplify the thinker and armchair philosopher, who never got up and moved, achieved little but expounded a lot; but the visual did not convey this. Bhatt used the concept of over-indulgence to denote fulfilment where ‘MokshaBuy’ supposedly attained moksha through excessive buying. She then presented ‘MokshaBum’ as the philosopher and an escapist, doing nothing but thinking, turning the idea of indulgences around, to represent now, the futility of a single dimensional approach, thus contradicting herself. 

Bhatt had imagined an elaborate life for these characters. The artist statement suggested that ‘MokshaBum’ may even have a girlfriend, lending credence to the idea that the visual alone was inadequate to present the fullest extent of her ideas and philosophy. Much greater intellectual investment and involvement as well as creative thinking was needed to bring alive this world successfully. An animation film or video could have been a possibility. In fact her digital interactive video created a much more authentic world, where you could participate. As an application on social networking sites such as Facebook, it may succeed in providing the kind of experience Bhatt possibly envisaged. Her concept is individualistic and the characters quite original but they lacked depth of exploration and thus appeared too cartoon-like and superficial. In addition, Bhatt appears to take the spiritual idea of moksha or liberation on the one hand quite literally and then interprets it via consumerism using a rather ‘liberal’ interpretation, complicating the issue.  She is therefore unable to able to exemplify her point of view. 

 

 

Poised for Change.......? [Subodh Gupta review, Nature Morte]

The curious amorphous form printed on the card for Subodh Gupta’s 4^th solo show ‘Oil on canvas’ at Gallery Nature Morte, New Delhi from 9th December 2010 to 23rd January 2011, was intriguing. The exhibition presented a wide-range of ideas all executed in 2010, from fibre glass serpents, marble edifices of the ubiquitous tiffin-carrier; cast bronze canvasses, steel eggs and more, but no paintings. The obvious implication that art making is no longer about oil on canvas was non-revelatory.  We readily see around us a gamut of media which includes video, performance, installation, photography and more, all of which have also been part of Subodh Gupta’s art practice. So what was the artist trying to say?  

Tiffin

Two tiffin-carriers [47.5" high x 16" in diameter] carved in white marble stood tall on a cement pedestal. Titled ‘Twins’, these simple, white sculptures soulfully captured insignificant details of the humble, boxed utensil; main-stay of middle class India even today. We had to circumambulate this [65" high x 59.5" wide x 25” deep] artefact in order to view it, which heightened the reverential quality accorded by the larger than life scale and purity of white marble.  It felt as though one was walking around the sarcophagi of entombed tiffin boxes. ‘Twins’ was the most powerful work on view. Did this allude to an end of the ‘bartan bhandar’ that has become a distinctive part of Gupta’s creative expression? 

Out of Nothing

The possibility of this was contradicted by “Out of Nothing” – a  70" high x 144" wide x 240" deep installation that comprised a 21 headed serpent, cast in black fibre glass lording over a mound of shiny steel utensils which simultaneously entrapped a part of its body beneath its gleaming mass. Black contrasted against silvery steel was visually powerful. The serpent heads looked at us, above the mound of kitchen clutter, not threateningly, but a trifle strained.  This contemporary version of the ancient, serpent-like chthonic water beast that possessed multiple heads, who for each head that was cut off, it grew two more, seemed to say, by virtue of it's mythical implications, that these cooking utensils were now an indispensable aspect of Gupta's art.



Right: Sunset. Centre: Atta.  against the wall centre to right: Oil
on Canvas

The commentary became even more confused with the variations of cast bronze slabs titled ‘Oil on Canvas’. Slabs of cast bronze [25.5" high x 25.5" wide x 1"], painted to look like blank canvasses were hung on the walls or placed randomly on the floor, leaning against the walls, their back to the viewer. In the centre of the room containing these ‘canvasses’ was ‘ Atta’ the amorphous form on the card - cast  bronze placed on a wooden table, sprinkled with wheat powder, measuring 39" high x 47" wide x 25.5" deep. On one side stood ‘Sunset’ an elaborately carved white marble almirah, with a video projection on the back wall. The delicately carved lattice reminded one of Mughal aesthetics and craftsmanship and was singularly different from the other works on display. Some other exhibits included “Inside”, a white marble thali, and sixteen found and used shoes placed on the thali, mounted on a white marble pedestal and “Three Rounds” made up of three brass urns. 

Bird

In another room a Subodh Gupta signature stainless steel sculpture, 63" high x 81" wide x 119" deep, resembled a larger than life egg-tray with 3 equally large eggs positioned within it. At first it was difficult to determine what this was. Parts of the tray were big enough to be the replica of a Jacuzzi tub, but as you went farther away, the form became apparent. It was curiously named ‘Bird’ leading one to consider what kind of bird would hatch from eggs made up of steel tumblers, boxes, milk containers and other such utensils. The protruding eggs were skillfully crafted. Their smooth egg-shape was especially commendable. This had been achieved despite the ridges between the odd shaped and sized objects welded together. 

Gupta’s art over the years has transformed objects of everyday Indian life into artworks of global recognition. They became part of a commentary that voiced concerns of a country whose rapid economic growth fuelled an equally advancing materialistic mindset, impacting our visual and social culture. The contemporary climatic, social and moral turmoil, unraveled daily through news reports, are an indication that values espoused today need to veer away from materiality and scale as being the indicators of success. Having indulged both materiality and scale, along with his stature as one of India’s most celebrated artists, Subodh Gupta is well placed to introduce an altered ideal. The question is whether he can. The presented exhibition seemed indicative of some kind of transition but one that lacked direction. Its commentary, if any was confused at best.

An Inscrutable Legacy - Tyeb Mehta [Review] Vadehra Art Gallery

On a cold January evening, at the Vadehra Art Gallery in Defence Colony I was engulfed by large canvasses in warm hues of orange, reds and brown contrasted with white or off-white. In ‘Triumph of Vision’, an exhibition of works by Tyeb Mehta curated by Yashodhara Dalmia, his famous Mahishasura’s were well represented and of particular interest were the early drawings. In’ Trussed Bull on Richshaw’, 1994 [152.5 x 122 cms] Mehta’s almost ascetic approach to painting was striking with its almost imperceptible modelling of colour and stylistic rendition of the bull. The rest of the canvas was painted flat in colours of maroon and bottle green as deep umber surrounded an almost stark white bull, lying on the rickshaw, as if tied. There was nothing that seemed to tie him down except for the sheer agony that pervaded the entire contorted form. Intrigued by imagery that was so restrained in expression despite portraying a heartfelt angst, presented through the plight of a mute animal, I studied this canvas for a long time. The poster-like design and stark composition was inscrutable and the equally inscrutable catalogue essay did not reveal much either.

A retrospective exhibition presenting the work of one of India’s foremost painters, with a social, political and emotional perspective, far removed from the present, should have been presented as more than just an ordinary exhibition. The drawings did provide some context, but his early works, though printed in the catalogue were not on display. Besides this, there has to be much more archival material available that could communicate the significance of Mehta’s work, beyond its mere visual appeal.

On an adjacent wall, was a ‘Mahishasura’ painted in 2001 using acrylic on canvas[183 x 153 cms] in vibrant tones or carmine and vermillion with shades of beige, black and a rusted maroon.   Continuing my silent dialogue with the canvasses, I wondered how the artist had painted with such minimal fuss. Admiring the sparing marks I looked for references for evolution of his rather distinctive iconography. The catalogue text informed that Mehta renounced the family business to join Sir JJ School of Art, in Mumbai in 1947. This was also the year of India’s independence: a freedom hard won that paradoxically lamented the severing of the nation into two parts, where brothers once, now killed each other, believing they had a different God. I shuddered to think that not much had changed. It is January 2011 and similar battles ensue. Although these paintings are relatively recent; the drawings ‘Trussed Bull’ [1955] and ‘Bull’ [1955] indicate that the trussed-up bull as a metaphor evolved somewhere in the 1950’s. The forms then, were not angular but the economy of line that would become synonymous with Mehta is evident.

Contemporary Indian art is lush with opinion and expression. Artists have turned social commentators and performers. The diversity of ideas around us is chaotic, making the minimal marks of Tyeb Mehta appealing yet confounding. This is after all a part of our cultural and visual inheritance, so how did such ascetic expression, one that evolved at a hugely traumatic time for the nation, give way to such cacophonic confusion in the present time? There was clearly something to be learned as also something almost unreal about the work. Was it cold indifference and not emotional restraint? But the angst was also evident. I looked deeper. Was there more? ‘The Fall’ painted in 1974 [150 x 125 cms] seemed to be a turning point in Mehta’s oeuvre and thereafter the marks and expression were fine-tuned with an almost obsessive deliberation and unwavering discipline. On the surface it appeared that the artist had not explored anything beyond this phase. One wondered why.

Many have grown up in a time that did not see the traumas of partition and the agony of this has also been little spoken of by those who lived through that age. As a nation the collective pain was such that everyone seemed to have just put their energies into getting on with the business of building a nation, without looking back. Did they do us an injustice in not sharing in a personal capacity, what they saw and experienced? Were they right to shut out their pain? Could they have done it differently? Questions such as these that emerged as one looked at Tyeb Mehta’s works. I could not relate to them emotionally but when seen through the eyes of his time; through ‘Kali-I’, 1988 [150 x 125 cms] painted in a posture that seemed pregnant with abuse, realization dawned of what may have compelled him turn ascetic. Is it then, almost as a reaction to this that we are perhaps so verbose today?

The painter is significant for more than the paintings he did. This exhibition raised many questions and presentation of this body of work should have taken into consideration the value of Tyeb Mehta, not just in his capacity as a painter, but as an integral part of every contemporary Indian’s artistic inheritance. For appreciation by generations that come after the iconic times he and his contemporaries painted and lived in, this body of work needed to be presented in a manner that was accessible, de-mystifying the marks for cognition of their relevance in the larger context of Indian art as well as his own individual oeuvre.

A Lingering Fragrance - Ranjani Shettar [Review] Talwar Art Gallery

Walking off the dusty, noisy streets of Delhi into ‘Present Continuous’ an exhibition of recent works by Ranjani Shettar at Talwar Art Gallery [19th January to 3rd April 2011] one meandered through a bubble-like structure called ‘Scent of a Sound’ [224” x 190” x 30”] suspended from the ceiling. Its stainless steel armature was covered in the softness of muslin, layered stiff with turmeric and tamarind, enveloping you in its shadows of serenity. Walking through its wispy curves, escaping the mechanical cacophony of a city enraged, senses imbibed the aroma of its unutterable song. Nudging with its yellowed whiteness and ‘spacious’ crowding of form, her installation left a deep impression. It represented nothing I knew, but was familiar in its lightness of being. It was the most captivating piece on display and while the other works did provide a contrasting backdrop that enhanced its viewing, they lacked its elegance and engagement.

On another level of the gallery, ‘Aureole’ [2010] had similar lines. Cast in bronze [size variable], butterfly-like wings cast their delicate shadows quite predictably across the full length of the gallery wall. Missing the intimacy of fingers that wound and layered muslin around the metal, this ‘Aureole’ did not invoke the presence of divinity. It was not nearly as evocative as ‘Scent of Sound ’to which one returned again and again. Wanting to get close and inhale a little of its peace; un-wrapping the clinging layers of muslin, coated in a burnt sienna tanginess and warm stains of yellow, with envious eyes.

Contrasted with these works was ‘Stretch’ [2010] a sensuous but solid rosewood sculpture [9” x 61” x 16”]. The natural wood was highly polished to bring out each line of its grain, which looked like marks of a tiger skin. The shape was ambiguous, morphing from a spoon to pipe or could even have been a boat yet un-carved or something else. You had to use your imagination as the artist while alluding to form did not define it. In addition to this were three wrought-iron and teak-wood artefacts of varying sizes, called ‘Kinetics [2009]. Each was independently displayed throughout the gallery. Their forms were drawn from the lives and tools of folk living in rural India. The inspiration could have shears or cutters or just the wind. ‘Kinetics’ had a strong rustic quality that was brought out subtly through the use of rusted looking iron and wood, even as the relatively robust forms seemed to whistle in the wind with iron that twisted and curled.

Each work had been carefully displayed, there was no sense of crowding or rush as you walked through, returning again and again to imbibe their qualities. Relishing this reprieve from the pressures of urban dilemmas, one questioned whether their quietude could be a sustainable reality or merely a moment away to deliberate. The cutting edges of three twisted knife-like structures [Kinetics] hung on a wall: a sharp reminder of the paradox of a simpler life where the chaos of being, may not be as externalized as life in a throbbing metropolis, but in the relative quietude, could cut like a knife within.

‘Lagoon’ [2011] was an installation [72” x 72” x 98”h] using lacquered wooden beads, glass beads and fishing line. It lacked the wistfulness of ‘Scent of Sound’ and minimalism of ‘Kinetics’, evoking an altogether different rural characteristic, but one that jarred for its comparative lack of depth and finesse in exploration and execution. Shettar has used these beads more effectively in earlier works such as ‘In Bloom’ [2004]. In trying to create the environment of a lagoon, the beads were painted in shades of blue and hung from the ceiling of the basement gallery rather gawkily. It was disappointing to see this awkward sculpture/installation after the judicious forms and delicate lines of other work on display.

The artist worked across media, using highly industrial material such as stainless steel and also brought in the crafting skills of Karnataka via a rosewood sculpture. Therefore it was conceivable for her to have enhanced the environment of a lagoon by using digital media, especially lighting projections, to re-create the feeling of being inside the waters of a lagoon; looking at some coral or underwater, naturally sculpted forms. The piece as displayed was uninspired and hung heavy and dull.

However, as one walked out of the gallery ‘Scent of Sound’ came into view again. The artist’s engagement was evident as it drew you into its form which was ethereal despite the use of heavy industrial material. I’m a butterfly she whispered as you turned to the wall: See my wings, trace the lines of nature’s design. It just depends on where you choose to shed the light and how deeply you’re interested in my shadows. Then the white-washed walls met the raw grey of a cemented floor. Their shadows spoke to each other in differing tones of a gravity belied by the glistening waves that hovered above: shining under the electric light, somewhere orange, somewhere white; sometimes just disappearing under its gaze, its fragrance lingering.

The Dark Side of Devotion - [Review -Mona Rai [Verk], Nature Morte

Emphatic tones of red, black, orange and metallic foil confronted you as you walked through Mona Rai’s exhibition Verk at Gallery Nature Morte, New Delhi, from the 30th of October to the 24th of November. The abstract canvases, despite their apparent vibrancy, were dark in mood and texture. Some of them were burned, slashed and roughly stitched up and/or painted over with patches of fabric and foil. Created with a degree of honesty and exuding a sense of candour, these canvases had an immediate appeal.
Painted in silver with a few black patches in between, the central panel of the triptych Kaal had holes burned into the canvas from which black strings dangled, forming a loose web of sorts. Circular mirrors, similar to those used in Kutchhi embroidery, stood out against the black panel on the left whereas the panel on the right comprised red, gold and silver textile. The lush materiality was seductive but seemed to go no further than merely referring to velvety darkness.

The black, silver and white tones of Chandra & Prabha predictably represented a moonlit sky. Small golden patches on uniformly cut black fabric emitted a warm glow akin to that of electric bulbs seen from tall buildings on a dark night. Bageecha evoked nothing more than an aerial view of a massive flower garden, despite being built up using many pieces of multi-coloured jacquard fabric, pigment dots of various hues, and gold and silver rectangles with mirrors. Malaysian temple-kitsch inspired the two-panelled Shraddha. In the panel on the right, Rai created a geometric mihrab-like space using protruding black screws against a vibrant gold fabric-patched background. The rectangular arch-form was echoed in the panel on the left. Thread and fabric strips in red and gold dangled from both areas like rolls of sacred Mauli thread. There was something decidedly macabre about this depiction – was this Rai’s way of referring to the darker side of devotion?

As an exhibition, Verk hoped to explore the textures of life. Inspite of the largeness of scale, an extravagant use of material that called for tactile improvisation and all the glitter in works like the five-panelled Niyati or the eight-panelled Swarna Prabha, the show fell short of providing telling insights into issues of faith or fate.

Abstract ideas cannot only be presented through the mix of colour and texture. Installation and performance art have investigated complex themes like trust, threat and memory within and without gallery spaces. Rai did manage to create a strong visual and textural quality through her use of unusual materials, but the works remained largely decorative and failed to explore profound ideas effectively.