Creativity unbound

Soon after Independence, Indian art showed a modernist influence, from where it has only blossomed

Anjolie Ela Menon

What a long way we have come! With Indian art going global, Indian artists are on an unprecedented high. Post Independence, when they were still struggling to find an idiom, ‘Indianness’ was the supreme preoccupation. The search for roots was part of the attempt to shake off the shackles of Empire. However, the  resulting rather mannerist work was redeemed by the advent of the Progressive Group, whose exhibition in 1948 opened up a new set of modernist influences.

Artists like MF Husain and FN Souza managed not only to bridge the east-west divide but also embraced contemporary trends. However, the JJ School of Art still taught drawing from Greek statuary, perpetuating the traditions of British academia which had been forced on Indian art students for three generations. In the late 1950s I held my first exhibition at the age of 18 in a Delhi garden. Those were days of a gentle amateurism, but art critics Richard  Bartholomew and Charles Fabri rode high on the scene as arbiters of taste for the new cognoscenti.

Bhulabhai Desai Institute was one of the few private organisations that sponsored art. None of the new cutting edge, ultra-smart galleries of today can match the electrifying atmosphere that prevailed in that somewhat run down building where artists like Gaitonde and Husain had ‘studios’ in a roughly partitioned veranda, dancers practised, plays were performed on the terrace, and exhibitions hung against chatais in the hall downstairs. Though the facilities were amateurish, the work being done there was historic and the interactions between artists, actors, musicians, dancers and poets created a fabric of excellence.

When I returned from my years in France in the early ’60s, there were few opportunities available here. My exhibition was sponsored by the Alliance Francaise and there was the occasional group show. Artists painted because they were driven to. There was absolutely no thought of money or success. There was camaraderie among artists and the atmosphere was charged with creativity. The cliché, ‘Art for Art’s sake’ perfectly describes the time’s artistic activities.

In the ’50s and ’60s there were very few galleries. Artists would leave their work at Dhoomimal book shop in Delhi in the hope that they could sell something. Chemould and Pundole in Bombay started selling art out of their framing shops. Art was not a lucrative enterprise, so they earned their bread and butter from frames or books.

Under Karl Khandavala, the state-run Lalit Kala Akademi established after Independence, got off to a great start, establishing itself as ‘chief patron’ and dishing out awards and honours that were sought after and cherished. Unfortunately, it has evolved into a huge bureaucratic elephant, a symbol of mediocrity, from which artists of repute now distance themselves. The National Gallery of Modern Art, however, maintained certain standards and is a force today. However, it has taken 60 years of Independence for it to acquire an adequate venue which is still not ready.

The ’70s and ’80s saw many changes. In Bombay, acquiring art became fashionable and corporations like Burmah Shell, Air India and, notably, the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research started serious collections.

In Calcutta, the Marwaris were furiously buying work from the Bengal school, with the great maestros of Shantiniketan giving an intellectual and romantic colouring to the pursuit of art. In Delhi, in those years, only the diplomats bought art and so we were generally impoverished, apart from the occasional windfall. Big buildings, especially five star hotels, started to commission artists, and consequently both ITC and the Taj have great collections of art which they had acquired for a pittance in the years before the big boom.

Unfortunately, the government’s efforts to promote art abroad concentrated on our ‘Ancient Culture’ and contemporary art was generally given the bum’s rush. The few exhibitions sent with the festivals of India were shown in substandard venues such as the open air gallery in Hyde Park! In 1988, The Times of India, celebrating its 150th birthday, held an auction of Indian art, with a professional auctioneer from Sotheby’s doing the honours.

For the first time paintings crossed the magic figure of Rs1 lakh. Now suddenly everyone wanted to get onto the auction bandwagon, notably, charitable organisations like CRY and Ashraya. Art was at last making waves in the media. Unfortunately, the interest was more in the event than in the paintings and continues to be so. But many people were being drawn into the fold, perhaps for the wrong reasons. The nouveau riche jumped into the fray
with alacrity. One woman asked me to change a blue painting to red, to match her new sofa, and everyone wanted a Husain horse.

The ’90s saw a proliferation of new galleries and for the first time, ‘selling’ was becoming less of a dirty word. The market was growing rapidly. Some artists made half-hearted attempts at installation art without understanding the difference between installations and assemblages. The big revolution came in the new millennium. Riding on the economic growth wave, Indian art began to be acknowledged on the global scene. The frequent auctions pushed prices so high that Tyeb Mehta’s busting of the Rs1 crore barrier created great jubilation among artists. What is of significance is that these truly international prices and the consequent publicity have at last urged the great museums of the world to consider acquiring Indian art.

Now the so called ‘masters’ are being displaced by a bright, well-educated, somewhat brash group of young artists whose buzzword is ‘cutting edge’. Finding new markets and huge prices, some of them ape the well-known gimmicks of the West, while some others, showing great originality, have found acceptance globally. Notable among them is Subodh Gupta, whose installations of buckets and tiffin carriers have drawn acclaim, as did a bold installation by Bose Krishnamachari in New York.

Indian galleries have mushroomed in New York and London. Artists are being pampered by dealers. The current boom is fuelled by syndicates and funds. These are not collectors — merely investors. Once they start to cash in, there is bound to be a slump. Union finance minister P Chidambaram took the wind out of their sails with his 20 per cent capital gains tax on art, but after the inevitable correction, Indian Art will continue to grow. There is no stopping it.

Anjolie Ela Menon is one of India’s prominent artists