A serpent has slithered into paradise, into the blossoming nouveau-world of artists. No, it’s not just that green-eyed monster — envy — and other deadly sins like greed.
This well-camouflaged little creepy-crawly seems to have planted the seed of suspicion and paranoia in many artists.
Just the other day one asked a painter — a close friend — if he could bring over a visiting European curator who may be interested in his work.
Normally, artists don’t share ‘contacts’. Our generous friend got a shock when the painter told him that he should send the curator over, but not accompany him.
He did not want the artist to see his new work.
It hasn’t even been a year since the two friends drank endless cups of tea together, showed their work to each other, often talking late into whisky-fuelled nights about ideas and work.
Today, it seems, the drawbridges are drawn up. An increasing number of artists make their studios ‘no entry’ zones.
The casual, just-dropping-in culture has evaporated, replaced by an increasingly secretive world that resembles the for-your-eyes-only habitat of spies.
Perhaps it is the frenzy that is now making the world of contemporary Indian art spin like a carrousel on Speed.
I am not talking about the prices that go up and down like a nervy stock market, but the insatiable demand for canvases from Indian artists. Each day sees a new art fair in some corner of the world.
Auction houses — for charity or otherwise — are in fourth gear; at this rate, poverty in our country should soon be shown the door.
Galleries are popping up in the country like mobile phone kiosks; many of our desi gallerywallahs are opening shop in New York, London, Dubai and elsewhere, and NRI gallery owners are setting up stalls in New Delhi and Mumbai.
International galleries have begun to fish in Indian waters for the Next Big Thing.
So with the invasion of all these art dealers, gallerists, curators and art writers on the prowl like treasure-hunters, the heat is now on the artists to churn out works as if there were no tomorrow.
The hunt is now on beyond the usual suspects: ‘emergent artists’ is the key word. Who will discover the next Subodh Gupta who can break through the international barriers?
No wonder the spirit of camaraderie, adda, and friendly competition has metamorphosed into one of deadly competition and suspicion.
Many artists’ studios emulate assembly line productions — they could just as well be making cars or toys.
Some big names hire younger artists and students to either complete their canvases (like fill in the blanks) or make variations of a painting they have done — like orchestra conductors wielding their brush-baton.
Take a closer at some of the recent art exhibitions: most of the works have been done in the year 2007, at times all in a matter of a few months.
Of course, this could be genius at work, or an exceptional period of creativity. But it is more likely, considering the quality of the work, the pressure to produce a large body or work that is unloading uninspiring and uninspired canvases on us.
The dictates of the market, or of the gallerists, have also led some of the artists to paint huge canvases, much larger than their usual trademark works.
Seldom do these blown-out-of-proportion paintings live up to the promise of the earlier work of the artist concerned; more is often less.
When, I wonder, do artists get time to incubate their ideas? I suspect when an artist thinks he is on to a good idea, borrowed or original, he shrouds it in a veil of secrecy: in such times you can’t even trust your mother.
So, alas, we have also come to the death of the adda.
Where artists come and go, talking about, of course, Michelangelo, and where they got those tubes of Japanese red paint, or a particular handmade paper from Nepal, or even how to make a good fish curry.
Today, conversations are more about the latest car bought, the merits of Basel-Basel over Basel Miami or their fave fashion designer.
Email: jain_madhu@hotmail.com
