Truly in the middle
KALA KRISHNAN RAMESH
|
The artists, whose works were exhibited in “Middle Path”, followed the old ways; much of the strength of their work coming from thus holding fast.
|
Representational: Examples of the work of Jayakani.
“Middle Path”, a recently-concluded group show featuring the works of Sam Adaikalsamy, P. Jayakani, R. Sundera Raju, T. Vijayavelu and R. Lokanathan, proved to be quite an interesting way to see into what a “middle
221; in Indian art might mean.
None of the work of this group of friends, not even that of Lokanathan who uses the digital medium, has been radicalised or pushed to the extremities of art making and showing, by new production methods or by constantly morphing exhibiting processes.
They follow the old ways, remain in the mid-regions of representational Indian art and much of the strength of their work comes from thus holding fast.
The work of Sam Adaikalsamy.
Sam Adaikalsamy’s work is complex, not so much in theme/subject matter as in format/organisation. The themes of his works are trite — loss of ‘home’, breakdown of relations between humans and the natural world, the compartmentalisation of life — but he manipulates the subject onto the canvas in a way that creates the impression of conscious distancing between painter and subject, so that the viewer sees the painting not as a depiction of reality but rather as the painter’s reading into state.
What he does is break up the canvas into sections, to represent the “plots” of human experience where everything, including land, is lived in distinct, separate self-contained areas.
Use of colours
The work of T. Vijayavelu.
This distancing is mirrored also in the artist’s use of colours with generous emerald and primean blue strokes creating a dream-like, Chagallian effect, counter effected by the equally strong browns, compelling a layered viewing, a continuous probing for unseen layers.
P. Jayakani’s long fascination with the cityscape is well-known, and the scapes he chose to show here are part of a series in which he explores a “reversal” of nature’s role in the city.
The city appears in monochrome pastel shades or in black ink lines and nature appears as a calamitous force slashed across the canvas, overlapping the city in contrasting shades. The city’s edifices — and they are edifices, not just buildings — have crumbled and are leaning on their broken skeletons: moving from one canvas to another creates a sensation of partly living in another time, like a parallel spatial situation. The colours, the texture and the compulsive force of repetition in these paintings create a palpable sense of imminence. Jayakani made the interesting observation that showing with a government gallery rather than a private one might serve to give an artist an idea of how interesting he is to a public unguided by promotions, PR and gallery compulsions!
R. Sundera Raju’s paper and ink works are pleasing, with clear lines and impressive details; his images are consciously modelled on some of the old traditions in Indian art in palm leaf, stone and murals (especially the murals of Kumbakonam where he lives). Sundera Raju creates this resonance by using colours, motifs, faces and detailing drawn from older works.
However, when annotated, Sundera Raju’s canvasses make it evident that the male gaze of the creator-artist conjures up women-subjects to whom he completely denies sight and it becomes a little difficult to accept “pleasing” as a category of critical viewing! The way in which a script (like his own Tamil writing, said the artist) has been constructed around the women’s entire being-on-canvas, curving around heads and torsos, suggests that their existence will never be permitted to go outside the overarching male–paternal cover-control.
Tantrik inspired
The work of R. Sundera Raju.
T. Vijayavelu had only two works at this exhibition, due to transportation problems, as his works are in heavy metal and stoneware. The two works on display were from his tantrik-inspired Owl series, in which the owls are owls and also “something else” as he circumspectly put it (the ‘something else’ being the visible male and female sexual organs, the convenient lingam and yoni symbols of every tantrik artist).
Clearly, two works are too few to judge a whole series by, but confronted with a massive phallus curving into the air and a reticent, head-down vagina made by two kissing owls, it is difficult not to be struck by the literalness of it all.
In India, the entire institution of tantra as art has been victim to this disabling tendency and we have artists forgetting that tantra’s circles, dots, triangles become simply too literal when used out of their ritualistic signifying context, unless the artist creates a frame for a redefined reading. And that’s more hard work than almost all our tantrik artists seem to be capable of.
However, Vijayavelu appeared to be more than aware of these risks, saying that while it is okay to use tantra, one has to move out of it, because it is “dangerous”. In a sense that’s when the concept of the “middle path” of this exhibition crystallised.
Lokanathan had a Ganesha series of digital prints on canvas. While the effects were sometimes admirable, the shapes sometimes marvellous for being impossible to the human hand, the series was not pleasing at all, and not new or worth more than a passing glance. This section could have been avoided.
“Middle Path” brushed out questions about the possible divides in art, about patronage and promotion and about the whole gallery system, about the cliques created by galleries, promoters, the PR system, as well as about a possible divide between Indian artists in English and Indian artists in the vernacular!
Printer friendly
page
Send this article to Friends by
E-Mail
Magazine
