Some art reaches beyond the ennui of big
GAYATRI SINHA
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Recently, art made its way through the lanes and by-lanes of the Walled City of Delhi.
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A POINT OF VIEW Atul Bhalla follows the route of the now obsolete mashak, once used to wash the dusty streets of India.
Against the dominance of a market that seeks to dwarf every artistic discourse, there was a breath of palpable relief that blew in from the crowded galis of Turkman Gate. On the roof of the Al-Noor hotel, in the mid evening the skyline was dominated by brick-lined house walls, swooping pigeons and the sight of a hundred kites flying. Magically, with the call of the muezzin the crackling energy of the sky quietened and streams of white clad men disappeared into the interiors of the mosques below.
Acts of philanthropy
A Khoj-supported workshop had converted the Al-Noor hotel over a period of a month into a site for an arts residency. The element of surprise was perhaps double edged. Al Noor was as unprepared to become a site for art, as were the streams of visitors who negotiated its narrow and sharp angles to come upon a work here or there. Gigi Scaria and Atul Bhalla, the principal artists of the workshop, vivified the location for its cultural and economic practices. One particularly admired the disbanding of the conventional viewing practices and the absorption of the art object into the site that had yielded it. Bhalla's series of photographs on the piaus (traditional pots for free drinking water) of the area are thus hung on the water tank of the hotel, furthering his engaging discourse around water.
This set of photographs, all shot straight with the full face of the lens mark human presence of the crowded mohalla that uses the piau, in the garish decorative tiles, the accumulation of paan stains and the graffiti. But the piau is also reminder of acts of philanthropy that marked the sharing of water in Delhi, and the present-day act of withholding elemental largesse, through water for sale. The historical imperative, of a city that was razed repeatedly partly due to historical conquest and partly lack of water, is difficult to erase. Bhalla also follows the route of the now obsolete mashak, once used to wash the dusty streets of India. With a Qureshi, traditionally a butcher, he appropriates the ritual role of killing the goat, and then skinning and preparing and exhibiting the mashak.
There is a transformative quality to Atul's work that seems to float in and around the images, but not within them, lending his work its powerful nuances.
Gigi Scaria, through video works like "A day in the life of Sohail and Mariam", has used a deadpan, documentary style toexamine the economies of the street. Child labour constitutes a large work force that plays out a desperate dance for existence away from India's self congratulatory economic indexes. Scaria is particularly sensitive to its indignities and scavenger-like struggle.
The two films created during the residency and seen on the roof of the Al-Noor are "Picture Perfect" and "Search". The first is the promise of hope in the image of a young boy preparing calendars of Makkah for sale on the street. Gigi has shot this with a close tight frame that identifies the boy's small body, hands and feet intent on the labour involved. The other film "Search" shot at the crack of the dawn in the Daryaganj area reveals a boy with a tool that sweeps the street like a minesweeper. He scavenges for metal waste, mainly nails that he rips off the magnet with his bare hands in a gut-wrenching gesture.
The images are presented without sentiment and without closure. Both Atul Bhalla and Gigi Scaria, who work as schoolteachers demonstrate a facility to obtain powerful lens-based images. With minimal resources, Indian artists appear poised to work significantly with little but a fresh, vigorous gaze, and a slew of new urban narratives.
Already Gigi and Atul are in the vanguard of this movement, one that has its own impetus and integrity.
The final contribution to this atmospheric build-up was a dastaan or dramatic recitation from Dastaan-e-Amir Hamza, emperor Akbar's favourite text. Performed by Mahmood Farouqui and Danish Husain, the performance combines the recitation style of Parsi theatre, with a voluble poetic mix of Persian and Urdu, deeply sensuous and evocative in the narration. The performance is a powerful argument against cultural amnesia of a language and mythologicals that were once an integral part of North India - until recently the dastaan would be performed on the steps of Jama Masjid. The performance also affirmed that all too often, the most valuable art engagements are not a single solitary acquisition but a shared pleasure.
That warm evening, on the roof of the Al Noor, after a long time, an art experience brought with it the smell of roses.
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