Thursday, 23 September 2010

TAKE - The Moderns I Issue 3 I September 2010

The Phantom Lady Strikes Again
The Phantom Lady looks at the role of the artist today and sees her as a messy archivist; as a detective looking for clues rather than a modernist hero…

THE ARTIST AND THE ARCHIEVE

Artists are like scavengers who use various kinds of references in their work, thereby creating their own archive out of disparate materials. They may in fact revive dead technologies to infuse them with new life, or experiment ferociously with the latest forms of media, or put together ordinary found objects and transform their meaning. They may accept no watertight boundaries between genres or disciplines. And the new archive finds creative connections between categories seen as opposed, mixing up high and low, central and marginal, insignificant and significant, questioning established conventions, in search for a more profound insight into what shapes our world today.

History of the Museum and the Archive
First, we have to see the public institutions of the archive and the museum as 19th century European constructs, which were created at the high point of colonialism, and closely connected to the disciplines of archeology, anthropology and ethnography. The Great Exhibitions that took place in London and Paris in the late 19th century were related phenomena, which were showcases of technology and industry as well as of colonial crafts. Native artisans were brought in from the colonial countries like India, and made to work on site making their “authentic” crafts and entertain the onlookers with exotic display.  (The real story was that paid agents got people from India who were not necessarily trained in that particular craft and made them pose in native gear.)

Museums were seen as repositories of cultural memory, where artifacts from past civilizations like the Elgin marbles, Egyptian antiquities, Medieval illuminated manuscripts or Mughal miniatures were stored and displayed recalling a sumptuous golden age, or ethnographic objects collected to reveal the primitive stages of human civilizations. These were always great inspirations to artists and poets besides scholars, and artists were allowed to copy the works inside the museums. Copying from originals has always been a traditional way of learning.

Museums and archives are based on the nineteenth century European mania for collecting, classifying, typing and listing, which was the base of all knowledge systems of the time. The explosion of new knowledge with the contact with new cultures with trade and colonization made it imperative to sort out all the new information, and certainly the idea of hegemony was very much a part of this. Many artists have critiqued the museum and its classifications in their work, notably Fluxus artist Marcel Broodthaers.

Historically, collections and collecting have always been contentious and dynamic in meaning. There is constantly a war between the old Western empires and the former colonies about the objects they have stolen for their museums – over the Peacock Throne for instance. In India, when J. Swaminathan, artist and Director of the Bharat Bhavan Cultural Centre in Bhopal, capital of the state of Madhya Pradesh, which has a large tribal population, created a contemporary art museum especially for tribal art and commissioned tribals to make new work for it, it created a huge stir. The tribal collection has a separate building right next to the contemporary art collection, making a very obvious attempt to move tribal art out of its status of timelessness and anthropology into the living present.

Museums and Archives as Cultural Memory
Talking about cultural memory, on the other hand, there is the Curious Case of Ananda Coomaraswamy and his collection. At the time of Independence, when the great anti-imperialist philosopher-art historian Coomaraswamy wanted the new Indian government to fund a museum for his vast collection of South Asian art in Varanasi, the government which had other priorities took no interest, and miffed, he moved his whole collection to Boston, where it is now housed.

In recent times, we have the scandal of the sack of the Baghdad Museum during the Iraq War, when the occupying US army allowed mobs to loot priceless and irreplaceable objects. The irony is that the collection was made by British and Western archeologists in colonial times, which then became the official heritage of the Iraqi people – which was then looted again to reach Western collectors no doubt!

Again, the notion of the archive as history, and as collective cultural memory is both contentious and dynamic as in the 2004 scandal of the vandalization of the Bhandarkar Orientalist Research Institute in Pune by a group calling itself the Sambhaji Brigade, offended by a biography of Shivaji  by American academic James Laine who had researched his book there ( Shivaji: Hindu King in Muslim India ). Rare manuscripts and materials relating to Maharashtra were burnt and destroyed in the process. Scholars have compared this to the sack of Baghdad Museum or Sarajevo, or the destruction of the Bamiyan Buddha – but perpetrated in this instance by misplaced nationalism. The stand of the Institute, the custodian of history, was very interesting. It was to call for a ban on the book, referring to Shivaji as a national “deity”, who therefore could not be historicized.

This brings me to my own current work, where I am using popular images of the young nationalist martyr Bhagat Singh. In calendar art, Bhagat Singh is shown worshipping the figure of Mother India, often portrayed like a sort of Hanuman, tearing open his chest to reveal Bharat Mata inside. The fact is that Bhagat Singh was an atheist and a Communist, but this fact will never be accepted in a “popular archive” of cultural memory.

Quotation
Quoting and referencing past works is supposed to be a post- modern phenomenon in art practice, but at every “original” and innovative moment in art history, either the past or foreign images are used and recalled. Self- conscious quotation it would seem comes after the emergence of art history as a discipline and the establishment of museums, collections and archives as institutions. 

Looking at Western high culture, we see that Renaissance artists and architects in Italy actually strove to copy Greco- Roman works which they saw as an ideal, while the practicalities and demands of the new age with the inventions of new materials and technologies like oil painting, perspective drawing and the optic lens transformed their work into an expression of their age. In fact, outdated forms and technologies are particularly rich mines for the artist’s imagination.

While discussing the idea of context transforming meaning, it is interesting to look at Jorge Luis Borges’ short story Pierre Menard Author of the Quixote. Pierre Menard, a 20th century novelist writes a word to word replica of the original 17th century Cervantes novel Don Quixote, which, according the narrator of the story, becomes infinitely more sophisticated because it has to be read in the context of the intellectual and scientific culture of the 20th century. To quote from the story, the narrator says:

“Cervantes’ text and Menard’s are verbally identical, but the second is almost infinitely richer. (More ambiguous, his detractors will say, but ambiguity is richness.)”

Exactly the same words take on a different meaning when read in a completely different context – in this case, time: reading a 17th century work as a work by a 20th century author, makes the meaning far more complex and subtle, according to Borges.

When collectors and traders started getting African sacred masks to France from colonies like Mali, they were a revelation to artists like Picasso, who saw in them a very different approach to reality and the human figure, than the conventions of Western realism. In the new context, the mask took on formal qualities it was unaware of. (Ironically, while the cubist style is seen as an “original” form, the African masks are doomed to ethnography, as repetitive cultural products. Their “authenticity” however, a French collector told me, depends upon their actually having been used in rituals. )

Quotation as Cultural memory / the Art work as Quotation
Quotations are not a recent phenomenon- the traditional concept of “copying” is in itself a form of quoting:  the new work is invariably different from the original. Copying creates continuity or a genre, and at the same time invariably breaks it, as in the very act of copying, changes become inevitable. The 16th century Turkish miniature painters in Orhan Pamuk’s My Name is Red are confused by the advent of Western realism. The Master Painter blinds himself with a thin needle, so that he can “ see” better. But does this mean that he will go on copying the old works perfectly with the most delicate inflections without actually seeing them, or that he will inevitably create a new work taking from the wells of his own experience?

The Arcades Project, Walter Benjamin’s monumental work about late 19th century Paris, is entirely composed of quotations. It is like a montage of views of the city, each view hitting off against the others to create an original cultural landscape of Paris, the leading European city. The book is a quest to define a civilization by putting together all the relevant and striking things about it, as an archive of found materials.

Mimicry
As post- colonials, we are constantly accused of “aping” and “mimicking” Western culture, denied “originality” but expected to be “authentic”. This denies us the right, as citizens of the world to make use of knowledge systems available to us, which is freely given to a Western artist, and puts us in the position of being “un-thinking”, “un- original” and “in-authentic”.

Interestingly now, with the coming of the world wide web, the archive itself becomes ephemeral, with a free- for- all access to unending images.
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The Artist as Flaneur
The artist is a flaneur… who walks through the labyrinths of the city with the amused and ironical detachment of the onlooker, yet with a strong empathy which goes to the heart of the matter. Filled with understanding, playing both protagonist and audience, the artist dreams, and becomes the characters in the play.  The street as an archive, the archive as performed, acted out…

The artist plays the detective probing the mysteries of contemporary life, scrutinizing the world for clues, a narrator familiar with the secret language, the hieroglyphs of the city. The artist is a carnivorous animal, imaginatively devouring life around, both the banal and the profound; a cook, who creates a fabulous new dish from the material she takes from the real world and her own inner life.

Artists are scavengers who use varied kinds of references in their work, thereby creating their own archives. If a traditional archive in society represents an accepted order and historical value, the artist may take materials from genres that are not recognized as of archival value, or invert accepted icons and redefine the notion of a society’s dominant history.  The new archive may find creative connections between
categories seen as opposed: such as high and low, central and marginal, insignificant and significant, in search for a more profound insight into what shapes our world.

The pseudo- archive is an archive formed from the artist’s own imagination. The parade of daily experiences large and insignificant all feed into the artist’s vision. From the combination of past images and present and imagined ones, new connections and insights emerge. The artists’ subjective experiences and her remembered past life and emotions form an archive from which images are drawn. These subjective, emotionally charged images melt into the larger cultural icons. Yet all the time the artist is rooted in the present, the urge to dive into the past is to find meaning in the present and to understand the future: in short, to search for a larger civilizational meaning.


Benjamin’s Arcades Project while being nothing but a collection of quotations about Paris is a revolutionary new work. It is a new work because of the painstaking and profound research that has gone into it, the texture and piquancy of the quotations selected, in the study of the most banal of materials- shops, streets, city plans, cheap entertainments- in order to discover a panoramic understanding of a whole civilization and time.

The artist as auteur uses subtle shades and complexities to problematize the present and the past. Art historical or other cultural references from literature/ music/ cinema / theatre become alive and throb in another context or location, when the present and past are both charged with new meaning. While rejecting the modernist notion of originality and formal purity as a primal quality, the artist frees herself to be inventive, play with genres, fill her work with political and social material, and address the contemporary directly.

The Phantom Lady

September 2010

Tuesday, 1 June 2010

TAKE - Gallery I Issue 2 I June 2010

The Phantom Lady Strikes Again
Bangalore is now seen as the third major art centre in India along with New Delhi and Mumbai: a city with scarcely an art market or long history of professional modern art practice and few galleries. The Phantom Lady looks at the vibrant alternative art scene in the city…

OTHER FACE, OTHER SPACES

Today, Bengaluru has five active artist run spaces ; Bar 1- Bengaluru Artists’ Residency 1 is the oldest, then there is 1 Shanthi Road and BAC ( Bangalore Artists’ Centre) , with the latest entrants being Samuha ( Coming Together) , which is a one- year long artist collective, and its offshoot Jaaga ( Space), which has been conceptualized as a ‘creative common ground’.

When I was back in the city in the last few months, there was an explosion of art, all happening in the artist run spaces in the city. Surekha, Ayisha Abraham and Bharatesh Yadav had major solo shows at Samuha, a project space initiated by Suresh Kumar Gopalreddy along with Archana Prasad and Shiva Prasad. Several artists  have contributed two thousand rupees a month for a year, with which a space has been hired above the ADA Theatre in the heart of the city, with S.G. Vasudev giving surety. After a year, in August, the collective closes the space and the technical paraphernalia will be given to Mysore artists who plan to set up community studios. Each artist gets seventeen days in the year, which they can use or give to others. Besides shows, there are performances, video workshops and other projects, where young unknown artists get a platform along with experienced artists. (Suresh Kumar usually dresses up as the Samuha  ‘Handyman’ in uniform and tool kit for the openings…)

Samuha invaded the staid Government Arts and Science (GAS) college in October 2009 with a month long workshop, Inter, with thirty artists from Bangalore and Mysore creating installations, performances, presentations and public interventions. During the show, collaborating with Bar 1, there was a tableau vivant in the college library by the artist Pascale Grau from Switzerland in collaboration with Smitha Cariappa, recreating a scene from Girija Kalyana, the wedding of Shiva and Parvati, from an old Mysore painting. Using painted backdrops and a cast from Chitra Kala Parishad art school, the half- hour tableau slowly subverted the original scene by introducing new elements like a figure with a computer and a rag picker. While I missed these, I saw an amazing performance on stilts by the Swiss company Trickster Teatro, organized by Bar1 first in the GAS College open courtyard with oil lamps, and later again, with an effervescent busload of artist friends going on a picnic to Adima at Antargange Hill near Kolar, a few hours from Bangalore. Started with a fund collected by a group of people saving a rupee a day for years, Adima is a Dalit Research Centre run by K. Ramiah situated on top of a hill above Kolar town, where a theatre performance takes place every full moon day against a backdrop of spectacular rocks.

Archana Prasad who was looking to create an alternative space, met American technologist Freeman Murray by chance who suggested that they build a free-standing modular pallet rack construction with walls made of recycled billboards, based on a model used earlier in America. Jaaga was built in seven days by a group of eight people with some more volunteers. It stands on an empty plot opposite the Hockey Stadium given by architect Naresh Narasimhan, who by the way, has designed the National Gallery of Modern Art in Bangalore. ( The NGMA itself came to Bangalore after more than twenty years of lobbying by the artists here.) As a blogger writes “The exhilarating range of activities at Jaaga map how much international public media and activism has changed in the last five years: a Facebook developers group, a photo exhibition, a brinjal (eggplant) four way cooking contest, an experimental film festival, a dance event, an entertainment industry meet up, activist circle sessions on Indian microfinance.”

What is interesting about the groups is that they work together constantly, collaborating together, rather than being at war. Suresh Jayaram built a space above his parents home in Shanthinagar in the centre of the city while he was still teaching art history in Chitra Kala Parishad, with a small space for himself to live and a gallery/studio space next door, divided by open terraces, an award winning design by architect Meeta Jain. It is named after its address, 1. Shanthi Road. Many artists have had preview or first ever shows there and it is a hive of activity with continuous talks, residencies, shows and performances besides being a general adda. Last time I walked in after buying some props at the Sunday market, there was a ‘drawing marathon’ going on. We have just started a monthly lecture series on art: Re-Look, which invites scholars doing the most exciting research in the country.

Bar 1 in its earliest avatar began with the Bangalore based Swiss artist Christoph Storz initiating six month residencies in 1997 for young artists from Bangalore to the Guest Atelier Krone in Aarau, Switzerland, a collective of which he was a part. K. Raghavendra Rao and Surekha who were the early recipients started the Indo-Swiss residency in 2001 in a flat in the Malleswaram area. Lately they became a registered trust with the support of Pro-Helvetia by which time the artist volunteer base had expanded , including Sureshkumar G., Smitha Cariappa and Prabhavati Meppayil. Bar1 has had the earliest peer residencies in India. They told me that this year they had got hundreds of applications for the Indian artist residency funded by India Foundation for the Arts.

Artists BJ Shamala and Nandesh Shanthi Prakash who had an advertising company, started BAC some years ago in a furniture factory owned by one of their clients outside Bangalore on the Hosur Road, and gave several young artists residencies  there. This has now moved to their old studio in the city. Nandesh recently made a site- specific work of a large butterfly out of discarded paper cups in the lobby of the popular Forum Mall.

There is so much experimental, new media and performance work that has been going on in Bangalore since the 1990s that the joke is that the word “installation art’ ( and anything other than painting or sculpture is called that!) has even entered the vocabulary of our visually illiterate Kannada writers and intellectuals. I recently had a huge argument with theatre director Prasanna who sarcastically asked me whether “you artists are still doing this installation art” which is a bit like asking if poets are still writing blank verse.  The fact is that artists are the most open, contemporary and lively creative practitioners in Karnataka, while Kannada literature, film and theatre are in a sorry state, having fallen into a mentality of frogs-in–the-well after the influential days of the 1970s and ‘80s modernist and revolutionary literature, new theatre and new wave cinema.  The culture tends to be predominantly literary and patriarchal, with the writers closely connected to state politics and patronage ever since the days of the state formation movement, when Kannada writers were crucial in putting together the Kannada speaking areas which existed as fragments under different states.
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To go back and give a context for the art scene, Bangalore was a small city with a provincial art scene, compared to the metros. ( In fact, till the 1980s there were no full fledged art schools in the state.) It has always been a defence centre, with public sector industries and science institutions, and a population of salaried employees on the whole. There has been no landed gentry, or private industry with a rich bourgouisie to collect or patronize art, which holds till today, nor was it the capital of the Royal state. The much talked about new IT crowd have no deep interest in art or culture. Yet, Bangalore has always been a hub of intense avant- garde cultural activity at different periods. Besides literature, film, street and proscenium theatre, it was a major dance centre before Independence, with legendary dancers like Ramgopal, Shanta Rao, U.S. Krishna Rao, Ragini Devi and the critic G. Venkatachalam living there, and others like Mrinalini Sarabhai coming to learn (where she incidentally met Vikram Sarabhai, at the Indian Institute of Science!). Ayisha Abraham’s recent video installation Subterranea uses found film footage on dancer Ramgopal. On the other hand, the contemporary dancer Tripura Kashyap has closely collaborated and performed in several art projects.

An interesting focus in many artists’ work is a kind of archiving of the city. Perhaps the city itself is sprawling, indefinite, amorphous, yet a magnet for many things new. Sometimes it seems like a blank canvas without the weight of a grand tradition or oppressive ancestors. Surekha’s recent show Unclaimed was an extended video archive of marginal trades, and the new roads and landmarks of the city looked at in terms of their changing connotations, economics and politics. While Ayisha Abraham collects found footage of local home movies and re-edits them, Abhishek Hazra has been working with scientific concepts and histories for some time and Naveen Thomas works with sound, satirizing the IT and call centre scene as a culture of parroting. Or the Oarsed (Christoph Storz’s nom-de-plume) show at Samuha, which was a compilation of cheaply printed found film posters interspersed with his own commissioned pictures of past Samuha shows. As I write, an exhibition on the German horticulturist Krumbiegal, one of the chief architects of the Lalbagh gardens in its present avatar, called Whatever He Touched He Adorned is going on in the Max Mueller Bhavan, curated by Suresh Jayaram, who comes from the Thigala caste of market gardeners and has been long interested in the horticultural history of Bangalore. He has also initiated the Mapping Bangalore art project.

The public art show Sthala Puranagalu (Place Legends) that I curated in 1999 was an exploration of the history of the city through three artists creating large site-specific installations around three important sites, after half a year of research. Ramesh Kalkur’s work The Royal Feast was a large hoarding using images of public statues around the Queen Victoria statue on Mahatma Gandhi Road, while Shamala B J did a floating sculpture on the Ulsoor Lake, the oldest tank in the City of Lakes, which you had to visit by boat. Srinivasa Prasad built a structure of construction poles of several levels with live animals, music and interactive happenings around Samudaya’s old office and rehearsal building, recalling the history of the legendary left theatre group. The money was raised for the show and catalogue by asking a range of artists, theatre people, writers, architects and other friends to contribute five thousand rupees each.

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Talking about the gallery scene in the city, I remember that musician Konarak Reddy and theatre director David Horsborough had set up a pavement gallery on a hoarding on Mahatma Gandhi Road for a few weeks in the early 1970s when I was a university student, outside the Revel Tours office, who had no doubt given them the space for free. There were no galleries at all in Bangalore then.

I had my first solo show in 1983 in Venkatappa Art gallery, an adjunct of the Government Archeological museum which you could hire for 30 rupees a day. (The government built the gallery when artists protested vociferously for one.) The funny thing was that the show just before mine was the Self- Nude painting exhibition of the artist Savitri which had created a big furore, and people were pouring in to see her work right into my show. Those were the halcyon days of open thinking in India, when instead of violent censorship and court cases, there were heated debates in the press about her work, which continued for weeks.

Sara Abraham’s Kala Yatra was the first professional gallery to open in the city bringing shows of established Indian artists from outside, and later Sakshi Gallery. But the eccentric thing about these two galleries was that they had no interest at all in showing Karnataka artists’ works, though many of us were being courted by major galleries elsewhere, till Sakshi Bangalore had a takeover by Sunitha Kumar Emmert.  Sunitha’s Gallery SKE and Premilla Baid’s Gallery Sumukha are the two professional art galleries in the city. (There are others which I would call ‘non-serious’). SKE has got a critical reputation in a short period for showing conceptual work of mainly young artists and functions like a western gallery, while Sumukha is a more open, eclectic space where there are talks and workshops, and artists have done performances and experimental works. Suman Gopinath and the architect Edgar De Mello have CoLab which is now project based; their ongoing programme Re- Presenting Histories curated with British curator Grant Watson, has recently mounted major traveling exhibitions of K.P. Krishna Kumar and Nasreen Mohammedi’s work in European museums. And there is art collector Abhishek Poddar’s gallery, Tasveer, specializing in photography.

But many of the most interesting projects have been done by artists on their own in unconventional places, putting in their own money or raising small sums from a range of sources, from friends, government departments and other organizations. John Devaraj did some public projects in the 1980s as also CF John, whose initiative Silence of Furies and Sorrows- Pages of a Burning City was a response to the anti- Muslim riots of 1995, with Raghavendra Rao, Shanthamani, Rameshchandra, Ambarish, Nandkishore, Ravishankar Rao and dancer Tripura Kashyap. The show of mixed media installations , held in the Venkatappa Art Gallery,  was based on a month’s research by the artists visiting riot hit areas and interviewing people, and finally creating the works in Sheela Gowda’s newly built studio. Sheela Gowda has long been a mentor figure to younger artists, while many have been strongly influenced by Vivan Sundaram’s early political mixed media installations. Umesh Maddanahalli has remained consistently out of the gallery scene. NS Harsha says he is like those itinerant Chinese artists, disappearing every now and then to Europe to work on projects, playing roles in Kannada films and serials when he is here. His one-and-a-half  acre land sculpture Earthwork of 1995, one of the most ambitious individual art projects done in India, has exerted a great influence on younger artists in Bangalore. It was a series of large black craters excavated in the ground, with live tethered cows, dramatically lit, as if meteors had landed on the earth. He also ran an art space, Shankara, in a factory shed given by the Hegde industrial family where they had workshops and public art projects like We- As In India, an Austrian- Indian art project there funded by himself and the artists, and Territories, a site-specific art show curated by C F John. Ayisha Abraham’s show Ends and Beginnings, commemorating her grandmother’s old house which was soon to be pulled down, ran for a month in 1999 with installations, events and works in progress. Two Khoj international workshops were organized in Mysore and Bangalore in 2002 and 2003, which was a Herculean task in a context where there is barely any patronage for contemporary art.

Many of us have exhibited in our own studios, an outstanding work being Srinivasa Prasad’s monumental project Known to Unknown in which he laboriously covered the entire walls of his studio with dot drawings made of human ash from unclaimed bodies that he collected from the crematorium, pressing each ash-dot with his finger. The audience entered with flaming torches to view the darkened space enveloped with soft map-like forms reminiscent of aboriginal Dreamtime cave paintings. It was a magical experience which I would rate as one of the finest shows I have seen in the world.

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There is a tendency for art writers and curators to assume that the Indian art scene is a shadow of the system in the west. I believe there is no ‘gallery system’ here for one thing: there are galleries, but no general system in the contractual sense as in the west. Indian artists happily move between gallery and alternate spaces or exhibit in all galleries in those wonderful events called ‘group shows’ (which is a way of getting access to artists normally represented by other galleries!). This is to our advantage because we have more freedom and a wider audience. In fact there is no defined mainstream as versus alternate art practice really, one finds the most successful artists also involved in artist spaces, doing experimental and collaborative work, initiating new media or new forms, and older artists sponsoring and helping out, while it is not difficult for new artists to exhibit or be written about. And of course, Indian artists are great organizers. Perhaps the notion of a professional gallery has never set in firmly, and many active artists do not have a representing gallery, preferring to show in rented public spaces, consulates or mainly in group shows.

At the same time, there is a need for good art schools, museums and professional galleries, biennales and art fairs to anchor the art scene in a way, draw large audiences, and to historicize art as well as make it commercially viable. One of the most remarkable aspects of the Indian art scene is that artists here have an audience, patronage, a history of critical and art historical writing, and a gallery scene within our own country, which does not exist in most post-colonial countries. When we showed in the first Johannesburg Biennale in 1995 for instance, India was one of the few countries in which both the curator (Geeta Kapur) and all the artists actually lived and worked here, while in the case of most African, South American and Asian countries, both artists and curators lived in western countries. This grounding I believe is crucial to the problem of address – who do we address, and from where do we address them?

The Phantom Lady
May 2010



(Postscript: Kannada poet Mamta Sagar and I are now preparing for a collaborative performance for my upcoming slot in Samuha…)

Websites:
www.1shanthiroad.com
www.bar1.org
bangaloreartistscentre@gmail.com
samuha.wikidot.com
jaaga.wikidot.com
www. blanknoise.org
World-Information City Exhibition, Bangalore

Photographs courtesy artist spaces and artists





















Monday, 1 March 2010

TAKE 1 - Black I Issue 1 I March 2010

The Phantom Lady Strikes Again
The air is thick with identity controversies which seem to manifest themselves over statues and monuments. The Phantom Lady ponders.   

HEROES

If you wander about the city of Bangalore, you will be surprised to find many of its public statues wrapped with cloth as if a local Christo had been hard at work. One of these was the statue of the Tamil saint poet Thiruvalluvar near the Ulsoor Lake erected by the Tamil Sangham. Ulsoor is a Tamil area, and hostilities have existed ever since the British, after the defeat of Tipu, created the largest cantonment in India in Bangalore and populated it with Tamils to counter the Kannada speaking City area under the Maharaja of Mysore. These hostilities have worsened lately with Kaveri water disputes. Kannada nationalists would not allow the statue to be unveiled, and Thiruvalluvar has remained a ‘conceptual’ work for eighteen years till a statue of the Kannada saint poet Sarvagna was put up in Chennai. Both were inaugurated in close sequence recently in a great demonstration of what was called ‘statue diplomacy’, and considered a momentous step in the strained inter- state politics by all.

The Tamils are great forerunners in many matters cultural, and the Dravidian and pure Tamil movements created a strong self-identity. Chennai itself is a city mapped by its statues of Tamil heroes. They say if you asked someone for directions there he would say - go past the Anna statue and turn left at the Kamaraj Statue - and so on. The Marina beach has large memorials on its sands dedicated to Annadurai, MGR etc. (On the pavement of the beach is also one of the most famous works of modern art in the city, Debi Prasad Roy Chowdhury’s bronze sculpture, Triumph of Labour). NTR as chief minister of Andhra installed a row of bronze statues of Telugu heroes on the Tank Bund Road in Hyderabad, and the joke goes that they all look like him in various roles as a film actor, including the woman poet. The twenty- two metre great granite Buddha which sank once, but has been safely installed now in the centre of the Husain Sagar Lake, is also said to bear a close resemblance to him.

Mumbai, being larger and richer than any of these cities, has planned to build a 350 crore Shivaji monument outdoing the Statue of Liberty, standing on its own island in the sea. The irony, as Girish Shahane writes, is that while Liberty is a universal symbol of freedom and democracy, Shivaji has been co-opted as a mascot for Hindu/ Marathi identity politics and has become a symbol of divisiveness. Mayavati’s agenda is more ambitious: she is erecting statues of herself and Dalit icons on twenty four memorial sites in the state of Uttar Pradesh. A front-page case has been going on in the Supreme Court to stop the construction work on public money. So what is the real opposition to Mayavati’s memorial building – its lavish use of government money, that she is a ‘heroine’ and not a ‘hero’, its Vanitas ; or the fact that it is going to be a place of Dalit identity, where there is none other? Or are these purposes so inextricably mixed like good and evil in our complicated times, that we cannot separate them?

After the first heady idealistic days of early independence, making political statues has become embarrassing for contemporary artists. The language of contemporary art is anti-establishment, while the public demand is for idealized neo-classical representations. Then who makes these statues? The good sculptors are usually trained in the big art schools and specialize in making political portraits, or are from traditional families of sculptors. Some time ago I visited a factory near Gwalior which takes orders to make political statues from most of North India. As a busload of us approached, we saw acres and acres of spectacular rolling hillocks, set with dramatic groups of figures of political leaders all gesturing into the air in their characteristic poses: Netaji Bose, Rajiv Gandhi, Indira, Nehru, Dr. Ambedkar, Bhagat Singh, Jhansi ki Rani, Mahatma Gandhi. It was an amazing sight: the heroes, the vast sky, the bare landscape, and the larger than life tableaux in various perspectives in the clear light of the panoramic view. The factory makes fibre-glass casts first from the clay models, then takes moulds from them and casts them in bronze. The waste fibre-glass models are then placed on the site, making a kind of unmeant installation of dark post-modernist satire. 

Who then can be the heroes of our times, and how can we celebrate their lives?

I recently saw The Advocate, a film made by Deepa Dhanraj on the Hyderabad lawyer KG Kannabiran, one of the founders of the human rights and civil liberties movements in India, a man who has spent a lifetime challenging the Indian State to uphold justice. While the first part of the film is a biography and history dominated by his charismatic presence, the second half, with interviews with his wife and colleagues, contains a critique. He is never shown larger than life, but as passionate, hardworking, brilliantly analytical, firm in his beliefs and relentlessly persistent. His wife, prominent in the women’s movement herself, critiques him for his lack of interest in women’s issues as being central to human rights; his colleagues, for other weaknesses in his thinking and practice. But finally, the film in both its parts makes a monumental plea for a way of life that is serious minded and committed to social justice, lit up with an intense life-energy. At a time of extreme hysteria over icons and symbols, the biography shows that a reasoned analysis and historical sense need not belittle, nor aggrandize, an exemplary life.

The Phantom Lady
1 March 2010