Performing ‘Now’

As I sit down to write the editorial for हाकारा। hākārā’s current edition, a recent incident at Bhima Koregaon in Maharashtra and its aftermath hovers over us. Bhima Koregaon obelisk was brought to the forefront once again with violent acts of caste conflict at the dawn of the new year.  It revealed the complex nature of contemporary politics focusing on entrenched caste discriminations, discourse on nationalism, and identity politics that is deeply rooted and is constantly being re-invoked in present times. One way of doing it is by using cultural symbols, icons and narratives to intensify these rhetorics. Although, my concern here is not if it is a myth or alternate historical narrative or whether the using of the myth/story is productive or counterproductive. Rather, what I would like to ponder upon is how do we perceive it today, 200 years after the actual battle and almost a century after construction of the event as an action against caste oppression. What kind of role does the victory obelisk play in this very moment, in constructing our ‘now’? What role does ‘now’ play in the creative construction of history or in challenging cultural supremacy by using such prominent symbolism or gestures? Does it register its presence in a performative mode that invites volatile identitarian tendencies or does it allow dalits to assert themselves in contemporary times?

Through such actions, the performative comes live through the temporal and ephemeral as it reveals itself in the present. It enacts and engages bodies across time and through memory.  This remembering manifests in documents and re-enactments which probably makes it ‘live’ or a thing in the present. In a way, it reestablishes the vulnerability of the socially and culturally engraved body but at the same time, radically interrogates modes of present structures, be it art or society, contemplating the present, the now. Though it is time adjacent to the present moment, ‘now’ requires historical explanation and a more external perspective. Here, it becomes our reality, either objective or constructed, but it does exist. It is laden with alienation, ugliness, fragmentation but also with belonging, re-interpretation and impermanency. As one realises that the ‘now’ is constructed by memories, emotions and aspirations, somehow, it almost becomes a performance of the past experiences. These experiences shape one’s beliefs that then affect one’s construct of their reality in the present moment, for example, through practices of history writing and myth making.





Another aspect of the performative in the context of our discussion on ‘now’ lies in its connection with the contemporary. It fuses time, spaces, and also realities around us. In the contemporary, the boundaries of time collapse as it is always ongoing, no sensation is the same as the previous sensation, the past lives on inside the present. The idea of performance or live art goes closer to the concept of ‘now’ where the subtle gestures, movements, or actions in a certain temporal moment and space generate meanings and provocations. An interesting example is Samuha Suresh’s walk to locate scribbling and marks by workers and inhabitants inside and under the flyovers in Bengaluru. He curated a walk-through at night where he carried a torch to show the scribbling and markings at one of the construction sites acknowledging the presence of migrant labourers while discovering drawings, texts, and stories of temporary inhabitants on the pillars and walls that create contemporary cities. The partially visible layers of histories and markings of the otherwise invisible or marginalized voices and images become evident through performative gestures in the ongoing discourse on contemporary art.

If we consider history as a creative act, then one would understand it through performative re-enactments. We realise that ‘now’ does not exist independently or by itself. The re-creation of our past moments and future imaginations conflate, preserve or disrupt its temporal and spatial groundings. Does the ‘now’ become a baggage of the past and the future? In the context of हाकारा। hākārā’s current edition, the politics of ‘now’ gets reflected in various pieces, especially Ramu Ramanathan’s play Comrade Kumbhakarna and Rashmi Sawhney’s critical essay on intersections of history, cinematic time and present moment. Located in the ongoing right-wing discourse on caste and religion, these two critical pieces unfold the layers of aspirations, conflicts, and social structures in completely two different contexts. They shape social interaction, create belief systems and social fictions that claim to be objective realities. Any alternative idea or construct ruffles these so-called ‘realities’ or ‘facts’. It becomes an all pervasive moment that swallows down everything including identities, politics, culture, language and history.

The immediacy of creating and maintaining certain dominant narratives of history in a way shape our identity and cultural ethos. Kumbhakarna, a young boy from a nomadic performing group whose name resembles a character from Ramayana, questions the mainstream version of Ramayana while claiming his own place in the historical narrative. The story keeps moving between the past and the present with reference to Ambedkar and Periyar and contemporary politics of the marginalized groups with their entangled relationship with the violent past of caste hierarchies. Here, ‘now’ becomes a site for subversive acts of re-telling the stories, reconstructing historical narratives according to their own politics. Rashmi Sawhney’s essay looks at the simultaneity of mythical, historical and technological times in cinema where a mythological character of Padmavati gets ‘historicised’ to reinforce the compelling historical narrative. It critically investigates the role of cinema in re-interpretation and valorisation of history in the midst of present-day aggressive religious biases that have implications on the unfolding of current socio-cultural and political scenario.

For Marathi editorial, please click here.  


 

Image courtesy for the editorial: Lamula and Punit Paranjape

The editorial was first published in हाकारा । hākārā: an online bilingual journal of creative expression published in English and Marathi in January 2018. Visit www.hakara.in.

Every stitch is a prick...

Her: Within and without, an ongoing exhibition at Monalisa Kalagram, is a collaborative project. A collaboration between a ceramist and a photographer. It is a collaboration between two generations, two approaches, two realities, two working processes. The journey began with a set of eight photographs that were to be archived or discarded. This set of photographs capture a woman whisking a quilt while standing outside her semi-pucca house. There is a series of photographs capturing that very moment. It gives an impression of a flip-book with a sequence of actions unfolding through these eight photographs. One after the other, the photographs capture the movement of hands, folds of the quilt, stitches on the quilt creating intricate patterns, the female body almost hiding behind the twirling quilt. The quilt becomes a site, to be explored, to be looked at, to be engaged with. It is a site of memories and stories, warmth and care, private space and community activity but also a trope of physical labour, perserverence and recycling.  

 

Old, fragile fabric is revived through the process of quilt making. Rather than merely bringing godhadi from private space to public viewing space, Ruby and Shraddha apply its technique to different materials while emphasising on essential elements and characteristic features of the process of quilt making. Though their journey confines to the exploration of mediums and techniques, a wonderful amalgamation of them takes the viewer inside the weaves and textures of these works. The weave is so seamless that one gets buried inside the spectacle of moving, wavy forms and lustre porcelain. They explore the interface between ceramics, photography and stitching, between two dimensional photographic prints on cloth, vinyl, paper and three dimensional ceramic tiles, installations. This process in a way negotiates hierarchies between sculpting, glazing, printing, knitting, sewing and photographing.

Ruby and Shraddha challenge themselves experimenting with various techniques from ceramics to photography to textiles. Even doing so they move away from conventional techniques of each medium. For example, Mirror Work I & II are prints on vinyl where the image of the woman with pink quilt is played with. It is blurred, diffused, pixelated, sharpened at varying levels. The image merges with the reflection of the viewer creating an illusion of mirror where the viewer can actually identify with his or her own self as well as with the 'other'.

The quilt itself becomes a motif that is replicated in various forms throughout the exhibition. In Kadappa, various shapes of the quilt are reproduced in ceramic along with enlarged photographs. These shapes take fantastical iconographic forms produced by undulations on the ceramic ware. These iconographic expressions employ anthropomorphic forms to emphasize metaphors relating to the organization of female body, its body parts, interrelated painstaking acts of stitching, knitting and weaving. Though, these forms leave doubts about the need to define the anatomical body, curvilinear shapes and their juxtaposition with the photographic images of these formations placed on a withering black kadappa.

Reflections that Dawn are digital prints on manjarpat cloth. A thin, coarse cloth that is almost perforated through which one can see the shiny vinyl sheet as a backdrop displaying layers of imageries of the female body and the quilt. This private array of dreamlike figures and symbols, are at once instantly recognizable and inimitably her own. What is interesting here is the use of manjarpat cloth which invokes colonial history and its connection with a particular class who could afford the cheap, not-so-fine manchester cloth. So ultimately, the focus of the artists lies on co-option of materials and mediums without probing into what the material actually conveys. 

Along with originals, different elements from those photos appear in the exhibition space – stitches, needles, footwear, quilt, threads, hoops, spools that are magnified on the scale of the installation titled The Fabric of the Day that occupies the central space in the gallery where functional and familial aspects of quilt and quilt-making are explored further through various mediums. The Fabric of the Day has three layers to it: Firstly, The Running Stitch is a repetition at regular intervals where the material complements the language of running stitch while creating a mesh of stitches made out of terracotta capsule-like channels and cotton thread hanging from the ceiling. The quilts could become a perverse inversion of the symbol of domesticity and femininity. Although the sutured lines of machine embroidery go up and down creating meander patterns on the delicate handmade rice paper do not allow those inversions to happen, rather they reinforce the delicate femininity even with the use of mechanised way of embroidering and pattern making. Secondly, The Hanging Needles is a symbolic representation of needles and homage to the craft of needle work. Though needles are present everywhere in the space along with photographic narratives, textile constructions, flowing quilts, they seem to be devoid of incisiveness. Finally, Y is a curvilinear installation suggestive of conjuring activities of stitching up wounds, memories, bodies, geographies, perceptions, viewpoints. It is a collage of myriad techniques, objects, shapes and forms that binds them together with a cotton thread while showcasing them on one curvy armature resembling a woven quilt. Joineries which bring together layers and colourful pieces of cloths, ceramic tiles, threads creating various patterns like godhadi bind generations together and the running stitch symbolizes this connection between people, human touch, shared spaces, memories.

 

Though the act of quilt making gets visibility through this project, the women who are involved in this work remain on the periphery. On one hand, their traditional skills are acquired and re-used by the artists while emphasizing the intricacies of it and, on the other hand, the role of these women remain almost invisible. Their skills acquire value of art but only through the works of these artists. So the questions that arise here are about the role of the artist, collaborative process, dichotomy between art and craft and, also between cerebral and skill-based art. Furthermore, quilts are social documents and embody the history and values of their silent makers. It is a way of reconnecting with the history but also breaking away from it and venturing into a new domain of contemporary arts while offering umpteen possibilities. I feel that some of the works are accompanied by explanatory text which may limit countless ways in which one could interpret and engage with them. Also, from private location when displayed in the gallery space, these elements acquire new forms as well as meanings. For me, these are representations of often disregarded bodies. The works lack that connection and a convincing link between the sensation of prick, presence of feminine gender and physical acts of producing large scale works that represent minuscule objects like needles, threads and buttons. Shraddha and Ruby attempt a strong reference by articulating the expressive possibilities of the quilt but they need to draw out visual connections that they wish to make in a more lucid manner. Language of fabrics and textiles, desires and body need to become more evident through these crafted arrangements. The painstaking acts of stitching, weaving, cutting, mending become metaphors for a labouring female body apart from tantalising and sensual beauty of these forms. Taking up needle and thread is a conscious act. Every stitch is a prick and each prick is a provocation.

Photo courtesy: Shraddha Bhavalkar and Bhushan Deshmukh

Right to Dissent

"if constructing the future and settling everything for all times are not our affair, it is all the more clear what we have to accomplish at present: I am referring to ruthless criticism of all that exists, ruthless both in the sense of not being afraid of the results it arrives at and in the sense of being just as little afraid of conflict with the powers that be."

- Karl Marx (in a letter written to Arnold Ruge, September 1843)

Radical Art Practice: Nature and Possibilities

Radical art practices intend to show atypical practices used in contemporary art context, and artists directly acting in processes in societies dealing with fundamental issues. Their works intersect, crossing traditional borders of collaborations and professions while relating it with collective action for a sustainable society on social, cultural and economical level. It acts on the world rather than merely representing it as it not only includes ‘politics’ as content or subject of the work but also acts on and intervenes into the conditions of its discipline. At the same time it is significant to consider how art practice engages with the different discourses of radicality - its histories and subversions. Radicality refers specifically to going to the root or origin of something. Art’s radicality requires a rethinking of both, the aesthetic and the social and through this two pronged revision that art may exhibit a certain political force. The radical form of the initiative titled ‘Right to Dissent’ convened by artist Tushar Joag leads to the politicization of his individual art practice as well as the art practice of the group of artists participated in this exhibition. The week-long initiative consisting of an art exhibition, film screenings, a panel discussion and performance in Mumbai from May 24 to May 30, 2011 was organized in partnership with the Committee for the Release of Binayak Sen, Clark House and the Mohile Parikh Center.

Do such projects address the criticality of art and theory? Can we look at it as an attempt to redefine and reconstitute the premises of art in today’s times? Is it an alternate way? If yes, then is it in terms of the institution of art or in terms of visual language?

Prisoners of Conscience by Anand Patwardhan

 

The Art of Dissent

Dissent is to disagree, a refusal to confirm to the authority and is itself a special expression of democratic and humanistic principles. The act of dissent invariably takes a critical stance towards the existing social system and imperious acts of the governmental agencies. There are numerous evidences where artists, activists, journalists have been charged with and convicted under rigorous laws all over the world for using their right to dissent; the recent examples are Ai Wei Wei in China or Kopa Kumjam in Chattisgarh and many others languishing in jails. Nevertheless, the idea of dissent is being universalized here with the specificity of the issue in the context of Indian state and judiciary. Here, it is also important to see what credence is given to the role of art(s) in the praxis of protest action and dissent and how imaginative art forms could help communicate ideas and information, both within and outside the movements. Tracing the boundaries of art of dissent has long been an area of discursive engagements in the history of modern artists voicing against the suppressions of various kinds in different parts of the world. Art of dissent, one of the radical forms of the arts, engages socially to bring about a change while pushing the boundaries in order to break monocles and making use of symbolic references to critique the anti-democratic attitudes. It portrays the injustice, making evident the dismay of these acts and their condemnation while interfacing with the surrounding material conditions.

Dr. Binayak Sen, a public health activist and human rights advocate, was erroneously convicted for supporting the Maoist struggle in the region and as a ‘fake’ doctor. The unwarranted arrest of Dr. Sen under the Sedition law followed by the sentence of life imprisonment by the government of Chattisgarh stimulated the social activists, students, artists, academicians, writers globally to come together to protest against this act of suppression in the largest democracy of the world today. As a continuation of this invocation worldwide, ‘Right to Dissent’ initiative occupies an important space in the contemporary art and culture as it bridges multiple disciplines while foregrounding various radical aspects through this process of intertwining of spaces between art and activism.

 

The Exhibition Route:

 
Right to Dissent exhibition at the Clark House in Colaba was a radical departure from the white cubical exhibition spaces where the meanings of the art works proliferate in the space in terms of - spatial/geographical as well as temporal/historical – the exhibition space is spatially grounded in the art district of Mumbai served as an old shipping office and a pharmaceutical research office. This two storied office space with worn out walls, muted rooms, and precarious staircases defies convention where the art works are intermingled with the already existing functional objects. Ilina Sen made a poignant comment after seeing the exhibition, ‘the emotion of indignation that is normally expressed in words gets distilled here in these works of art.’

Tushar Joag

Once you enter the narrow Nathlal Parekh Marg which is diagonally opposite the Regal Cinema in Colaba, you realize that the exhibition does not confine inside the architectural purlieus of Clark House. The pavement outside Clark House which would be normally occupied by street vendors is covered with a mat with multiple objects on it. The work titled ‘Walk Through’ by Justin Ponmany is a collection of found objects including torches, doll, spiderman, a stuffed hand with a broken voting finger, postcards and mugs with photographs of Ai Wei Wei and Binayak Sen on them, vehicle indicator light indicating ‘left’ turn. There is a handwritten note that says ‘dekhane ke liye paisa nahi lagata’ (To see, doesn't cost a rupee). Though the artist has freed himself from the physical restrictions of place through this act where the people passing by would stop and interact with him, the arbitrariness of these objects is unsettling.

The office space-turned-exhibition space without any air-conditioning facilities in the highly humid conditions of South Bombay creates a feeling of discomfort within you. This feeling keeps on growing with every art work that you come across as it talks about violence, state atrocities, and ineffective systems. Sharmila Samant’s etched brass plaque and a box of glass hammers at the entrance gives definitions of words like art, disaster, terrorism, revolution, Maoists in the form of mathematical equations. This set of definitions on the wall and the wooden box with broken glass hammers becomes a metaphor for the disillusionment towards the state and its policies. Atul Dodiya’s ‘No’ and Anju Dodiya’s ‘White Flag’, two watercolour drawings on paper placed on opposite walls are almost identical in nature and comment on the inequality, injustice and prejudice prevalent in the society. A wooden table with one crippled leg and an exhaust pipe impaling a brain is placed in the middle of the room. ‘Farm Land’ by Riyas Komu symbolizes the issue of farmers’ suicides, inactive policy makers and redundant systems. In Bose Krishnamachari’s ‘Long Live…!’, his self portrait juxtaposing with that of Mahatma Gandhi, one assumes the subtext is that the leader is no more and the follower is waiting expectantly, but the piece is too impetuous to give a serious thought and too besmirched to dismiss as trivial.

In the narrow corridor next to that room, there is a computer screen running a video in loop ‘About Body Borders’ made by Desire Machine Collective. This powerful video work is about the protests against the brutal rape and murder of Thangjam Manorama in Imphal allegedly done by army personnel. The audio-visual presentation showing women outside the Assam Rifles headquarters in Imphal holding placards that read ‘Indian Army Rape Us’ does point out the legal system that closes in on certain sections of society and clutches them. On the opposite wall, there are words like justice, freedom, representation, equity in the shape of a butterfly. At the end of the corridor, Tushar Joag is sitting behind the mesh of strings in a 5’x3’ room and filling up school notebooks with a one-liner, ‘I will not lose my faith in the Indian judiciary and democracy’. The 168 hour-long performance is evocative of a solitary confinement while creating a multi-layered reading of it including the physical incarceration of the artist, the idea of constriction of spaces, experiencing austerity like many others who believed in democratic values and principles. 

Shilpa Gupta

 

Reena Kallat

The inside room which was the main cabin previously has two rusty metal cages within a cage hanging from the ceiling made by Shilpa Gupta. The captivating shadow casts of the cages in that dimly lit room lock you up creating a feeling of uneasiness and suffocation. The room opposite Gupta’s work has another large work of the show, Reena Kallat’s ‘Preface’. It is a gigantic book placed on a prayer stand on which the constitution of India is projected in Braille. As a result the text is reduced to various unreadable dots that emerge on the page like a drop of ink, start spreading all over and then disappear and reappear… The use of Braille emphasizes the inability of the people to read the constitutional provisions that would empower them and make them aware of their rights.

One has to climb a precarious ladder to reach to the mezzanine floor. The floor is covered with green carpet; the room has old wooden cabinets, tables and also old photographs and certificates handing on the walls. Then you suddenly notice the green moss engulfing the walls is this room. Prajakta Potnis’ ‘Suffocate/humid/stagnant/law’ is a site specific work that evolves from the fact that she was not allowed to remove the carpet by the owner. The layers of moss creeping onto the walls comment on the dormant government, law makers and inactive representatives of the people. A corridor on the right had side has shelves stacked with the files and documents of the shipping company. In the midst of those heaps, there are two screens showing two videos from Kashmir Archives created by Majlis. This archive was built up as they realized the need to preserve, negotiate and re-define the contemporary images of pain, loss, betrayal, dissent and subversion in spaces beyond the 24 x 7 media inflow. ‘Rahi Zindagi Toh Phir Milenge’ talks about the intimidating presence of the armed forces in the valley which has been responsible for distorting the natural course of things in Kashmir. The other video is about an old man who has archived the deaths of young men in his area after his son was killed by the Indian army. This was created out of the fear that people would disbelieve them in course of time, these films gives us disheartening details of the victimization of common people in one of the most volatile regions of the country.

Collapsing the boundaries:

On one hand the exhibition rejected the commodification and isolation of the art works and on the other hand it involved competing forms of political activism that kindled the efforts of both organizers and participants to shape viewers' experiences. This initiative has enabled people from various fields and backgrounds to crossover and be part of the other, the alternate. There were lawyers, sociologists and activists who visited the art exhibition and there were artists, art students and filmmakers who attended the public lectures on the last day of the event.

On May 27, two documentary films were screened at the M.C. Ghia Hall at Kala Ghoda. ‘A Doctor to Defend: The Binayak Sen Story’ made by Minnie Vaid is based on her own book published this year. As a human rights activist Binayak was amongst the first to voice his concern against the state backed vigilante armed force, Salwa Judum which was created to counter the Naxalite Movement in the region. The narrative built up around his work in Chattisgarh displays his views interspersed with the events around him including formation of Rupantar Trust, clandestinely shot footage of Salwa Judum camps, closing down of his clinic in Chattisgarh, villagers demanding the release of the only medical doctor in their area. It captures the essence of his ideology, his belief in the work he and his colleagues have undertaken in the field of public health sector and human rights. As Minnie added later, the idea was to tell the story which was not taken up by the mainstream media at that point of time. ‘Prisoners of Conscience’, the term used for political prisoners, a film made by political activist and documentary filmmaker Anand Patwardhan, captures the arbitrary imprisonments without any trial during the emergency in 1975-1977. The film secretly takes us inside the jails where the political prisoners were confined for raising their voices against the authoritative regime of the then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. It is an account of the footage of civil liberties movement born out of the emergency period, interviews of the political activists and students who were captured during that period.

The initiative concluded on May 30 with a panel discussion and a performance at Kala Ghoda. The discussion was moderated by Jyoti Punwani, a senior journalist from Mumbai. Mihir Desai, a lawyer and human rights advocate, gave a historical overview of the colonial laws like Sedition law. He further added that it’s a restriction on the fundamental rights and has the potential of misuse for keeping the activists behind the bars for several years and demoralizing people who are in support of right to dissent. Flavia Agnes, a women’s movement activist, stated how the state can use power within the realm of law that suspends people’s democratic rights while taking note of the emotional and mental trauma endured by the family and friends during this period. Ilina Sen talked about the different perspective that was brought out by the artists participated in the exhibition in terms of democratic rights, violation of these rights, the way in which the idea of a nation and citizenship is conceived. Binayak Sen’s presentation was mainly focused around the problem of hunger, malnourishment in our society and ongoing campaign for Right to Food. He also criticized the ‘legitimate’ way in which the state hands over the commonly shared resources of certain communities to the national and multinational corporations in the name of development. 

Dastan-e-Sedition

 

On the evening of May 30, the audience was enthralled by the performance of Dastangoi, a revived tradition of storytelling in Urdu, performed by Mahmood Farooqui and Danish Husain. Dastan-e-Sedition, the tale of a ‘hakeem’ (doctor) narrated by the dastangos replaces the traditional stories of adventurous heroes, magic, romance and warfare. It encapsulates the important incidences from Dr. Binayak Sen’s life as he negotiates the rough terrains of the state of Chattisgarh while weaving in the details of his activism, his arrest, the role of Salwa Judum and his trial in the Chattisgarh courts. The layered and nuanced story of the hakeem told in a satirical and humoristic manner takes us into a magical land of fantasy, the ‘tilism’ of our times, while sharply cutting through the issue of undemocratic acts in a democratic nation.

This entire initiative received overwhelming response from the people and media and turned out as an answer to the constraints of government and the “powers that be” from around the globe. It contained an element of discord, an appeal to justice and an attempt to liberate some truth that lies beneath the surface of public discourse. While I am writing this piece, a couple of more activists are being arrested and perhaps trialed under the unlawful act or under the sedition law. The voice is being suppressed. This jarring insertion of extreme prejudice and brute force is being applied on to certain sections of the civil society. Subsequently, it becomes important to find a space for meaning political and cultural dissent that brings tangible results to people outside periphery of the gallery space. The role of the cultural practitioners becomes direct and confrontational. I believe that the political engagement of the cultural practitioners will eventually upset the paradigms of conventional art world and help them carve out a space for continued vigorous dialogue and dissent. 

Published in Art Etc, July 2011

Photo Courtesy: Chirodeep Choudhuri 

Making / Unmaking Art History

Art History as a subject has always been a distant ally for art students especially in the art colleges of Pune. The most important reason, we feel, is the lack of interest in establishing the connection between art history and art practice. This indifference is visible through the design of the syllabus, less hours of art history teaching and a firm belief that art making is only about spontaneity and has nothing to do with thinking and conceptualizing. The alarm bell rang for us when we actually started teaching in various art colleges and interacting with the students. These limitations provided a lot of space to explore and intervene in ways that would help us establish linkages between art historical studies and contemporary art practice. 

Presentation by Samudra Kajal Saikia
Photograph: Noopur Desai

  

A two day workshop titled 'Making and Reception: A Workshop on Art and Visual Culture' was one such attempt that would respond to these concerns. Hosted by Maharashtra Cultural Centre, Pune at Sudarshan Rangmanch, this workshop was conceived by Sudarshan Kaladalan team including Madhuri Purandare, Nitin Hadap, Rucha Kulkarni and me in collaboration with the Nine Schools of Art, New Delhi. The workshop was facilitated by Rahul Bhattacharya, Abha Sheth and Samudra Kajal Saikia of Nine Schools of Art. They attempted to address some of the crucial questions and issues that young artists face everyday such as meaning of art history, definitions of contemporary art, underlying connection between art history, art criticism and visual culture, artists' perceptions on these concepts, etc through lectures, discussions, games and exercises. The workshop received an amazing response from art students, professionals as well as practitioners from other disciplines such as architecture, archaeology and film-making. 

 

The resistance towards English as a medium of conversation mellowed down a bit when the Pune team realised that the workshop would be interactive, activity based and open to discussions in Marathi and Hindi. Though we understand the concern that conducting such sessions in Marathi would make it more inclusive and open to students from local language backgrounds. At the same time, it is also important to see that the contemporary art debates and writings are mainly in English and if the students are to get clued into it, we need to tap into these resources which would give the students a broader and deeper sense of contemporary art field. This workshop proved to be a great beginning in terms of both, the concept of the workshop as well as the interactive format.

Participants in intense discussions
Photograph: Noopur Desai

Activity based sessions:

The workshop began with a word-game. Based on the format of an antakshari, the participants were asked to come up with art historical terms along with their explanations. The game generated a lot of discussion around terms like expression, form, texture, taste, nude and naked, essence, gaze, space etc. This brainstorming session helped students define these terms in their own way and also understand the dictionary meanings of some of these words from the glossary that was provided by the facilitators. This initial warm up game opened up a lot of possibilities for dialogue about some complex concepts and ideas in the discipline of art history. This collaborative process continued in the workshop throughout. Along with in-between lectures and presentations, facilitators involved the participants in various such activities.

Break out sessions
Photograph: Noopur Desai

Participants presenting their work
Photograph: Noopur Desai

In one such exercise, the participants were divided into ten groups and were given ten images to describe and analyse. The images were accompanied by key words or terms which gave certain directions in which participants could read the images. What was interesting in this exercise was that the images were from popular culture and mass media rather than art history textbooks which in a way broadened the notion of art. It also equipped the participants with clues to read a work of art or image from different perceptions and come up with different interpretations. In another activity, Samudra conducted a session on what are the ways in which artists or art students could document their art works. This was followed by an exercise where participants were asked to revisit, document and re-present their surroundings with the help of a couple of keywords such as 'self', 'building', 'street', and 'memory'. The crux of this activity was to understand how one can create a balance between the objective nature of the process of documentation and creation of another work of art out of it.

Linking Theory with Practice:

The lectures/demonstrations focused on the different techniques and methods of reading a work of art. These lecture-based sessions deliberated upon various concepts like formalism, modernism, iconography, iconology, the contemporary, etc. Though the facilitators tried to explain these complex ideas in their presentations, some of the theory sessions were little hard to understand. Though the conversations during games and exercises were conducted mostly in Hindi, the lectures were delivered in English. But more than the language, the issue was that some of these concepts and authors' names like Greenberg and Panofsky were absolutely new to the participants. The positive aspect was that the participants got an exposure to these authors and their work. What we also feel is that if these concepts could have been explained with Indian examples or if facilitators could have connected them with artistic practices from Maharashtra or India, the participants would have found it easier to understand their positionings. The most interesting presentation was done by Abha where she chose two images, one from a sculptural relief panel from Mahabalipuram and another a folio from Chaurpanchashika. While comparing these two works from different regions, time periods and made in different mediums, Abha analysed them using various art historical methods including formalism, iconography, semiotics, feminism and Marxism. It was revealing for all of us how one image can be interpreted in so many different ways. 

Abha Sheth in conversation with the participants
Photograph: Noopur Desai

 

Presentation by Rahul Bhattacharya
Photograph: Noopur Desai

The process that was taken up by the facilitators was one that of an evolving nature. The facilitators discussed the terms through conversations where they sometimes brought out various aspects to take the discussion forward or sometimes built up on each others points or even questioned each other. The concepts that were discussed during games and exercises were elaborated upon during lectures and presentations, at the same time, certain complex terms which required more clarification after the lectures were explained through discussions during exercises and open sessions. The most important aspect of these discussions was that they were completely open-ended and did not provide ready-made answers to the participants. All these sessions equipped them with methods and ideas which they could take forward with their thinking and practice. Right from the seating arrangement, which kept on changing the whole time, the workshop defied the set boundaries of class room methods of art history teaching. With a combination of lectures, presentations, break-out sessions and exercises establishing connections between theory and practice, this format of the workshop, we believe, would emerge as an enriching teaching method and could, therefore, enhance existing methods of art history teaching in art schools and colleges.

Of cities, symbols and spaces

What are cultural symbols? How are they shaped, used and reused? What do they stand for? How do these symbols express ideologies, social structures and represent specific aspects of a culture? What happens when these symbols are used in an urban public space? What role does heritage play in shaping culture of a community/communities? These questions popped up in my mind while participating in the art events in the city last week as part of the second edition of Pune Biennale which is planned to open in February 2015. The theme for this year's biennale is 'Heritage'. A city's heritage. In this case, Pune's heritage. The Biennale was formally inaugurated by the mayor of thecity on November 22, 2014 which was followed by an illustrated talk by Bose Krishnamachari, the founder director of Kochi Muziris Biennale.

Since the focus of the Biennale is on site specific art practices, a day prior to the formal inauguration of this mega-event in Pune, a street art intervention was carried out by art students under the mentorship of four artists: Raju Sutar, Popat Mane, Rucha Kulkarni and Rupesh Hirugade. The intervention took place in the central part of the city and the site that was chosen was the outer wall of the girls' hostel of thegovernment engineering college near Shivajinagar. Five teams worked together to come up with narratives that were to capture the essence of the city. While representing the everyday life and culture ofPune, the narratives employed familiar symbols such as eminent structures, roads, hills, vehicles, attires etc. There were five such panels, each panel had a separate story to tell. A panel depicting superheros with traditional headgears is a humorous take on Puneri attitude that can not be surpassed by any other cultural community! Another panel showcases the traffic of Pune in the backdrop of historical structures and modern apartments while paying an ode to Puneri patis (boards that give weird instructions to customers, pedestrians and people in general outside their houses). The next panel portrayed a common city dweller with symbols such as PMT bus, cycle and autorickshaw and image of a carved wooden window reminding of old wadas (old mansion like residential structures) in Pune. Juxtaposing with that there was a city, uprooted, almost floating but with a series of solid blocks of high towers covering flattened hills. The work that was included at the last moment captured the divided self of the city; animal world, environment and the creative power of the nature on one hand and skull and guns depicting the destructive force and violence existing in the society.

Photo courtesy: Abhay Varpe

The process was laborious, in many ways. Initially, the Biennale team contacted different art colleges across Pune, interacted with the students and the faculty, called for entries for this specific art work. Students from Abhinav Kala Mahavidyalay, Vishwakarma Creative-i Institute and Bharati Vidyapeeth Fine Arts College submitted their drawings and sketches around the theme of 'Heritage' and five drawings were selected out of some 60 odd applications by the selection committee of the artists. It is exciting to see that students whose drawings did not reach the final stage, teamed up with the finalists in order to be part of the final act. Around hundred students from these three art colleges and Akanksha Foundation were present on the site. The site, a road side compound wall in stone, had to be cleaned off layers of dirt, washed and whitewashed to be prepared for the actual paintings. The participating students finished this task with unparalleled enthusiasm and then immersed into painting the walls with splashes of bright colours following the final drawings and instructions from the artists. It took them almost two days to complete the paintings and was taken note of by the artists community, general public and the media. Through this project, the students received a live experience of working in a public space which helped them formulate their thoughts on art practice as well as interact about their ideas, inspirations and thought processes with the artists, writers and general public. 

Photo courtesy: Abhay Varpe

Photo courtesy: Abhay Varpe

Given this context, it would be important to inquire into the impressions that this street art intervention had on the minds of the people. An art intervention refers to an act of entering into a location, situation or artwork in an attempt to alter the existing understanding of art practice and stir the present state of affairs in the art field. Therefore, such projects could have the potential of questioning the traditional boundaries of art practice but in this case what it brings forth are contestations and ideological positionings. Located in today's context, all these narratives dealt with a sense of loss,memory, in certain cases even nostalgia. But what happens in the process is that one realizes that this memory is selective in nature. The symbols that keep appearing and re-appearing in all these wall paintings represent a certain cultural imagination. There are some symbols which are universally accepted and acquired but there are many that carry meanings which are culture specific. The images of Shaniwarwada, Puneri pagadi or headgear, old wada windows evoke the memory of historical past of Brahmanical rulers, the Peshwas. The Peshwas, Chittapavan brahmins and the de facto administrators of Maratha kingdom, ruled for less than hundred years and have influenced the psyche of Pune city for more than three hundred years. It is, therefore, pertinent to see here what happens when these cultural symbols are placed in a public space like a citystreet and what roles do they play. For example, in one of the paintings, a PMT bus is shown with a reflection of Shaniwarwada onthe right side of the window and in the left side, a bus driver wearing Peshwai headgear. The image completely negates the caste identity of the bus driver who would mostly be from a bahujan caste. At the same time, the image of Shaniwarwada, residential and official quarters of the Peshwas, re-appears on the Shaniwarwada-bound bus,again as an architectural symbol of brahmanical rule and dominance. Historically, their caste status assured their supremacy over the institutions of religion, administration and landed aristocracy recruited from Brahmin caste and as a result they became the 'custodians' of religion, culture and power. The most perturbing fact is that even today the entire city revolves around these cultural symbols and it still captures the imagination of young artists. Why still this one-sided view of cultural heritage is preserved, practiced and passed on in the art field as well as art education system is the moot question. 

In this process, the dominant upper caste ideology appropriates the public space and popular imagination about the heritage of a city. A public space articulates complex dialogues of power, culture and social fabric while contributing to the discourse around the cultural history of the city. The way these predominantly brahmanical cultural symbols are produced and circulated also gets reflected in the works of art by these participating students. It tends to homogenize the cultural experience for a society with complex and unequal structures. This also raises the question why there are no other symbols that are considered to be representing the majority in the city and their culture/s. When the city has a rich history of different social and cultural movements, why can't we have/create new cultural symbols? The majority of the art students come from bahujan castes/communities so would it not be possible to go beyond these dominant cultural symbols? What are the alternatives available to us? Are there symbols which are more inclusive, representative and democratic?

(A longer version of this article was published in The Baroda Pamphlet, November-December 2014, Vadodara)