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Art

In sharp contrast to a superficial perception of the body is the Indian ideology, seeking almost to make the body “disappear”.

Dance as a form of yoga? Navtej Singh Johar explores dance’s capacity for different types of expression.

The dual concepts of “Spirituality” and “Indian art” have been entwined from times immemorial. In this symbiotic relationship one cannot be seen as apart from the other, especially in the areas of music and dance, sculpture and painting.

In the Origin of the Work of Art, German philosopher Martin Heidegger wrote: “Meditation on what is art is entirely and decisively determined by the sole question of being. Art is not taken as a special domain of cultural production, nor as one of the manifestations of the mind. Art comes out of the lightning flash from which alone the ‘sense of being’ is determined”.

This “sense of being”, defining a “sense of spirituality”, is that for which Indian art strives. And whether filigreed in its presence or bold, it runs along as a fine thread, holding together and expressing things that cannot be otherwise expressed. The intangible is often given a tangible form in Indian art.

Music can be said to come from the same source of inspiration as spirituality. In the beginning of creation, it is believed that there was just “pure sound” or nada brahma, which in a way is something that always exists, much akin to the Advaitic concept of god as an omnipotent, omnipresent energy. Our experience of this pure sound was and is through the vehicle of music. As opposed to nada there is also anahata or unstruck sound, a non-sound of the celestial realm. And music at times evokes this “non-sound” too.

The expression of mysticism in Baul music, for example, is an initiation in the pursuit of achieving identity with, or conscious awareness of, the ultimate reality or spiritual truth through direct experience, intuition, or insight. The musical tradition of Baul, being oral, encouraged connectivity and a building of bridges between people for ideas and ideals coming together in 16th century India. Spiritualism, through the medium of music, transcended literal, dimensional realities beyond empirical perception, logical reasoning or intellectual comprehension.

Madan Gopal Singh, an expert on Punjab Sufism, describes the Guru Grant Sahib, the holy book of the Sikhs, as a book of poetry and not religion. The medium of song became the foundation of self expression and song came to be needed for a larger sense of being a community. He speaks of Sufi music elaborating on the view of one branch of Sufism which had moved away from celebrating the body. The body is seen as a continuum undergoing constant dissolution. An interesting, but paradoxical thought emerges in the body being viewed as a room without doors or windows, with nothing being permitted in and yet being completely porous. In this context, the comparison to Western thought with regard to the concept of the body is revealing. Consciousness is important in Western thought, not spirituality. The interest in the body is almost paramount in the West. In pursuit of celebrating the body, sports gained importance and the “body beautiful” was showcased, as is evident in ancient Greek and Roman sculpture. Even more pointed, and in recent times, was the Nazi obsession with the body. Beauty, as indeed “superiority” of race, was perceived as being blond-haired and blue-eyed! In sharp contrast to such a superficial perception of the body is the Indian ideology, seeking almost to make the body “disappear”. Escaping the cycle of birth (nirvana or moksha) and breaking free from the shackles of the physical body is a constant endeavour. Prana — breathing in and out — is interestingly looked at as signifying both birth and death. Yoga provides the technique and the imagination, sensitising breath meticulously. Bhakti is thus a central point of existence, which is looked upon as cyclic, with death just being a transitional phase between one birth and another. The concept of “timelessness” is more important than the concept of “time”. Knowing thyself and eliminating the question of the body is paramount in the Hindu concept of sanatanadharma — a continuum in which there is no beginning and no end.

Navtej Singh Johar, renowned for his quest for new modes of expression through the medium of dance and yoga, has a most interesting view of dance being an outward experience and therefore the dancer as one who “abuses” the body. However, a dancer looking inwards for spiritual direction and quietitude is, in a sense, a yogi. Both deal with the body and though not complimentary, dance could become yoga. He asks a pertinent question. “How is it possible to express something outwardly if one doesn’t experience the inward aspect of it?”

A more “static” experience of this concept of spirituality in Indian art is evident in the sculptures of Lalitha Shankar. She explores the “sense of being” through varied use of space — architectural, natural and inhabited — capturing free flowing energy with simple lines, intended curves, colours and textures. All along, a rudimentary rapport with something beyond the physical world is implied. Her sculptures have a delicate regard for beauty in simple forms, sometimes goemetric, sometimes fluid. And the deliberate omission of titles seeking not to initiate a thought feeding process makes room for contemplation, a necessary requisite for the experience of spirituality. The artist, in this sense, makes her presentation and exits. The responsibility of finding inner meaning lies with the viewer. In one particular sculpture of Lalitha’s, in cast iron, the viewer can walk around the sculpture, enjoying it and then enter it to sit down and contemplate. The solid structure then becomes more transparent in a sense. It encloses yet liberates at the same time. It poses questions on the reality of the self and its transitory nature. Being enclosed within the curved seat and facing a wall of iron in front, one has only to glance upwards to catch a glimpse of a few strands of wispy shining copper suggesting a freeing of the spirit and perhaps the soul? One experiences here the concept of Tat twam asi — I am that — a mystical explanation of the physical body embodying the all-pervading energy of the universe.

Similarly, the works of Paris-based painter Sujatha Bajaj evoke a deep spiritual response. Her works grow through an evolution that is intuitive rather than organic. Nature is her vehicle as it uplifts and transcends, she says, and shakti that resides in prakriti is the vital process of dynamism. Sujatha’s use of ancient scriptures in many of her works reflect her moorings in tradition and a strong sense of spirituality that goes hand in hand with Indian thought.

So, does spirituality in art evolve under guidance from a guru, a personal spiritual teacher, who enjoys a special place of prestige in Indian tradition? Does the transition from darkness (gu) to light (ru) occur without mediation? The guru-sishya relationship is a special one where the sishya, or student, can break away his fetters under the protection and guidance from a master who allows him the space for intuition to be in touch with his consciousness. A guru rarely chose a sishya. It is the student who finds guidance under someone who responds to his satguru, or inner being. The notion of unconditional love, like one shared with one’s own mother, highlights this special bond. And it is a bond that exists for life.

Looking closely again at spirituality and art — not as two separate concepts but as one — one can see the threads of the two interweaving like warp and weft, producing a gossamer thin fabric, casting lightning flashes and revealing the “sense of being” which Heidegger spoke of so succinctly.

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