Sunday ka Funda

"Most days it feels as if the world is whirling around me and I am standing still. In slow motion, I watch the colors blur; people and faces all become a massive wash."
- Sarah Kay

When I posted the sidebar image, I also found another one by Henri Matisse called Still Life with Dance. I was immediately struck, not so much by the painting as by the title. Dance is movement and fluidity; still life is, well, still. How and why did they come together.

I have been looking at it frequently, and the more I look the more I find the dance to be still and the still objects to appear moving. The flowers  seem to almost quiver, and the fruits glisten with new dew.

Naturally, then, I'd say the same about all that happens in life too. The moving and the static can interchange at any time.

Sunday ka Funda

“What do you think an artist is? ...he is a political being, constantly aware of the heart breaking, passionate, or delightful things that happen in the world, shaping himself completely in their image. Painting is not done to decorate apartments. It is an instrument of war.”

― Pablo Picasso

There is destruction everywhere. And I thought about Guernica. As those who visit here often know, I am opposed to posting violence porn, especially if the images have children. I explained my stance earlier.

Guernica is not just art; it is deliberate defacement. That becomes its message along with the motive and the inspiration. The realism lies in the unreal.

How would it be if that painting came alive not as faces behind the 'masks', but as masks? Here is one interpretation. In the robotic sinew one can feel the cracking of bones.

Umbrellas under the sky

The umbrellas are out, and the city weather is such that they only serve as accoutrement. Mumbai rains are more about tarpaulin sheets as awnings; water collected in little pools is muddy, dirty. Yet, there is something uplifting about grey skies and a downpour. I know this is a luxury only those who have homes and windows can afford. I know that newspaper pictures showing slum kids enjoying the rains are really about the water they rarely get to see. I know.

Back in the days, it was the mother of one such kid who sheltered me from sudden showers. I was walking to school, and had conveniently ‘forgotten’ to carry an umbrella. While raincoats were bad enough, umbrellas too conveyed a need for playing safe that my new teenage mind was naturally not inclined to. I stood beneath a tree as the downpour continued. She worked as a sweeper at the school. Hesitant at first (we are a casteist society), she finally asked, “Aaogi (will you come)?” Of course! In the seven-minute walk, she took care to cover me even as her sari was getting drenched. I still remember her face.

A painting by Leonid Afremov

I like faces under umbrellas – they look vulnerable, especially if the brolly is a foldable one. These became fashionable accessories, the two-fold and later the three-fold. Unfurling they looked as though a camel was getting up. Occasionally, they caused embarrassment when they refused to open up or the button got stuck.

My uncle once gifted me a fuschia-coloured one. It was a regular ‘ladies umbrella’, and it always seemed as though one was blushing. The flush of youth, the carefree gait as though one owned the damp roads that reflected light.

A scene from 'Shri 420'

Romance and umbrellas have a history. Two people sharing an umbrella signals proximity, and also the whole drama of wetness, hair dripping, faces aglow, and the low hum. This scene from ‘Shri 420’ epitomises it. Raj Kapoor and Nargis singing, “Pyaar hua iqrar hua, pyaar se phir kyon darta hai dil…(There is love, and an admission of it, yet why is the heart so afraid of it)” Perhaps because like the showers, there is no “manzil” (destination)?

Chaplin used the umbrella for other reasons

The large black umbrella is ubiquitous in the streets. They may come in different varieties, but the sturdy one with the curved handle stands for the person who has nothing to gain and nothing to lose. It was there is R.K.Laxman’s cartoons of the common man. And it is there in Chaplin, the tramp, the guy who does not think about winning or losing, and bumbles his way through life that is often slippery. And slip he does, rain or no rain. It also acts as a crutch, something to hold on to when things go a little wrong or one’s own resolve is a bit shaky.

The black stands out against the mélange of colours, not only of other umbrellas but also of the shades that dot the Indian landscape, from paan spit to dead flowers, to neon clothes, to kitschy posters.

Umbrella tree - street art

This piece of street art is not Indian, but such a fine tribute to the umbrellas that have been a part of my monsoons. Some were lost or got stolen as they stood propped up outside stores or in buckets…and some just closed themselves on me.

© Farzana Versey

In-Visible

They are everywhere. Hidden men. Hidden women. But if they are hidden, how are they visible?

When I read about traces of a bearded man, wearing a bow-tie, his chin resting on his hand, that was found in Pablo Picasso's 'The Blue Room' my first thought was that it was a mind trick. I still believe so, despite expert analysis. Is that a fairy in the clouds, or are feathers flying from pillows in the sky? Sand dunes look like women in repose, and try splitting a flower into two.

If blood flowing from the veins of a Christ image is a miracle, why is Picasso's work seen as a superimposition of one painting over another? If you look at the woman bathing, you might see other images — of touch, of gaze, of remnants. Beneath the skin there is a lot that is hidden.

Think about the hidden man and what it could mean as part of this painting. He might be watching her as she pours water. But he looks bored. And why is he dressed up? Is this a salon for men of leisure to slake their thirst, as water dribbles over body?

I am aware that he is not in the frame. They never are. Hidden men. Nobody draws them, or draws them in. They are scrawled over.

There are other paintings in the painting, there is a vase with flowers, a window. Different pictures. They are visible. The moment the invisible was noticed it took over, captured the imagination. 'The Blue Room' is now about the hidden man, the brushstrokes that covered him, who he could be and what he might have meant.

For me, he represents what the woman triumphed over. Can't you see her cleansing herself? Blue was Picasso's low phase, but the lady and her hidden treasure of emotions are best expressed in her nudity that reveals so much that her secrets ricochet off blank walls and imprint her belly.

She too becomes the hidden woman. Born.

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© Farzana Versey

The Artful Dodgers

If a celebrity sells a refrigerator to an Eskimo, it will be sold. We see this often in our society pages. So, why is it surprising if a painting by West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee goes for Rs. 1.8 crore?

Narendra Modi landed up in Kolkata for the BJP campaign and alleged:

"Your (Mamata) paintings used to be sold for Rs. 4 lakh, Rs. 8 lakh or Rs. 15 lakh, but what is the reason that one of your paintings sold for Rs. 1.80 crore. I respect art. But who was the person who bought the painting for Rs. 1.80 crore?"

The reason for his interest in art is, of course, to score political points. In this case, "the multi-crore Saradha ponzi scam". Sudipta Sen, the key accused, said, "I didn't buy the Chief Minister's painting."

A couple of points:

• Is there also a check on those who act as decoys for such deals? Does the reputation of a buyer matter?

• If it is alleged that this is illegal money, then all parties take donations that are not all above-board.

• The Trinamool Congress (TMC) maintains that all payments for the paintings are taken by cheque, and used for social service activities.

• In January last year, at Kolkata Town Hall, Ms. Banerjee did exhibit her works for polls:

The entire amount which will be raised from this exhibition will be used to run campaign of the Trinamool Congress for the ensuing panchayat elections.

The Election Commission is being called upon to intervene in such cases now and is wasting its time. If there was indeed such a transaction, it is not possible to keep tabs if some of the money was paid in cash. And certainly no party can take a moral position on this.

The TMC's Derek O'Brien repeated his bluster, seeing how his 'bravery' is appreciated by social media activists:

"Blood is still fresh in the hands of the butcher of Gujarat. If he makes personal attacks against (TMC chief) Mamata Banerjee, we can also ask tough questions."

Why is it a quid pro quo? Why hasn't the party asked those questions before their leader was the target of personal attacks? This personality cult stinks. The riots and killings are well-documented. A bunch of people capitalise on them only when it suits their politics.

Memories are evanescent. Or, perhaps, agenda-driven. If you hate Modi, forget Mamata Banerjee's track record in Singur, in rape cases, in dislocating villagers, in censoring, in not permitting any criticism of her?

This is what passes for liberal analysis.

© Farzana Versey

Camera vérité

Of all forms of photography, I am drawn most to portraits. Faces. Forms. Expressions. The result is less about technique and more about what that fraction of a second captures. Is it the essence or the superficial? Does it convey more about the photographer than the subject?

Today is World Photography Day and each of us with a smartphone camera can claim to be quite adept at instant access to what may be loosely termed history in motion. We see it when pictures about catastrophes and revolutions are uploaded. Then, there is the history of ordinary people, which is another story for a sequel.

Now that Princess Diana is back in the news with reports of another twist to her death, one cannot but recall her name without the mention of the paparazzi. Those men — there are few women giving the chase — who will risk life and limb only to snoop on a celebrity getting drunk, or involved in a brawl, or caught in an intensely private moment. They and the celebs feed each other.

However, some famous people do not quite get posterity on glossy finish prints. They are the characters that a camera waits to unravel.

It would be so predictable to mention the portraits by Henri Cartier-Bresson, and I have decided to be predictable. There is a reason: he photographs minds.

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It was not easy for him, it would seem, for he had said, “The most difficult thing for me is a portrait. You have to try and put your camera between the skin of a person and his shirt.”

We are so accustomed to seeing Che Guevara in the iconic posters, the pose of angst, of a rebel on his way to rebel, that this smiling man enjoying his spirits — two glasses at that...was there a companion, a comrade, a visitor? — comes as a surprise. It also makes us question our stereotypes. The revolution is indeed on as is evident, but surely a person is not merely one thing?

This is not a great photograph, but it is a revelation.

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Robert Kennedy lounging on a deck chair is expected. It is the contrast that is brilliant. Machismo against innocence. Or perhaps the innocence of machismo, if we look at Kennedy's almost meditative expression and even the hairy overgrowth that harks back to another age, less sophisticated than his lifestyle. His son seems to want to know what is in the balled fist. There is also a sense of detachment. He is not looking at the boy, who too has his face turned away, although his head rests on the edge of the father's thigh.

The connection established here is of give-and-take role-play.

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Cartier-Bresson believed, "Photography is an immediate reaction, drawing a meditation."

Carl Jung's portrait is nothing less than a fine piece of meditation. It is not candid and he might well have been sitting for an artist.

His own words somehow coalesce into this photograph: "As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being."

The use of light and shadow is always interesting and here it adds dimension because of Jung's own conflict theory about the conscious and unconscious. The trickle of light in the background, the ever-so-slight swirl of smoke that stops short of being cocky, the deep furrows on the brow and the compact manner of sitting are at once disturbing as well as almost holy.

For Jungians, this would make a whole lot of sense. And for others, it would still be about a man with several tales to tell.

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Henri Matisse loved colours, the more lurid the better. Cartier-Bresson used monochrome and even then managed to capture the shades.

This photograph is a bit of a tease. The main subject is not even in the foreground, but he grabs our attention. Matisse loved his still-life, and the birds do look like one of his works. That the cage is empty and they are poised atop it could be seen as the artist's own freedom from using standard templates for his art.

It looks like a scene from a film. This is not Matisse in a typical studio setting with painting equipment. He is surrounded by life, almost bare and rundown. Like a blank canvas in an attic.

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These are all famous names and we would have seen them in numerous pictures. It takes someone like Cartier-Bresson to not just transform them into subjects, but real people with more than the single dimension they became known for.

I'll have to answer my own question posed in the beginning and say that in complexity the superficial is also the essence.

© Farzana Versey

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Images: Magnum Photos, Washington Post Magazine

Love Anarchy

Kang Yi stripped down to a thong while a young woman gave him love bites. Performance art is almost always controversial. What was the significance of this one staged on a podium at a Guangzhou auditorium?

He said: 

“It's a critique of the concept of chaotic love. I hope that my art piece will call out to today's youth to seek out the excellent genuine love and feelings of traditional China.”

A young woman, a student, spent an hour and a half bruising him with her lips. His chest, abdomen and arms were soon covered with hickeys. It is pertinent that he chose to stand in a Christ-like pose. If we use this as metaphor, then he sees excessive expression of love as no different from hate, of being nailed to a Cross, all to save his people.

The report states:

He also donned tree roots in his hair to signify time and tied three roasted chickens to the plank across his shoulders that positioned his body into a cross-like shape.

Does Time here denote going back to an age where love was mostly devoid of feeling? The roasted chickens covey death as well as sustenance. It is about survival.

Chicken skinning, cooking, carving are as much part of modern-day culinary tradition as they were in rudimentary form in the early days.

By trying to demonstrate what is wrong about such love, Kang is in fact making it seem desirable. He is the centre of that universe where a woman submits to him. His stoic stance is less of a saint and more of a taker. The master commanding that his needs be ministered to. His hot flesh waiting to be bitten into. And his being tied up frees him from having any commitment.

The woman whose lips too would have tired after 75 minutes of such activity is just a tool for his needs. Had the performance shown her writhing or expressing some emotion, it might have been ‘chaos’. Besides, the nature of physical love is subject to how two consenting adults choose to ‘perform’ it. No one is privy to what the traditionalists did in their bedrooms. Chaotic love is not one-sided, unless it is exploitation.

Emotional love is more often about an individual pitted against another. Two people cannot feel the same for each other with similar intensity and the nature of that love will witness varied shades along the way. This does cause turmoil. Tradition cannot save it. If anything, people have been forced into dismal relationships because tradition left them with no option but to follow the rules of the game as reckoned by their roots. This happens in most societies even today.

Kang is merely a revivalist who is using exhibitionism, much like a man enjoying life in a nudist colony trying to sell clothes to others. 

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Images: Daily Mail

Manufacturing the Greatest Indian

Do we know about who is the greatest Indian before Mahatma Gandhi?

It does not matter. We live in iconic times with iconic figure who did iconic things and deserve iconic status through iconic surveys. So, the question for a survey (TGI) “Based on an internationally acclaimed format by BBC held in 22 countries” is “Who is the greatest Indian after Mahatma Gandhi?” It is no surprise that it is a media-propped poll and “the initiative is to select that one great Indian after Mahatma Gandhi who is the most influential, iconic & inspirational and has impacted your life”.

There could be quite a few or perhaps none of the fifty names mentioned. But why is Gandhiji the cut-off date? I can understand the use of a term like “post-Independence”. If he is the benchmark, then what are the variables by which we are to judge industrialists, sportspersons, actors, scientists, musicians, activists or even politicians? Do they have to be ‘Gandhian’? If not, then does it not nullify the yardstick of the chosen iconoclasm?

Besides, how do we define an Indian as great? Due to their origin or their contribution to what is the ‘essential’ India, and that may be far removed from those featured here?

Indira Gandhi

It is ironical that Indira Gandhi, who had declared Emergency, shares the space with Jayprakash Narayan, who bitterly opposed it and suffered for it? The acquisitive business people stand along with the ones who gave it all up.

Vinoba Bhave

How do we judge? Will the general pool reflect how people feel, and I am not taking into account those that cannot vote by giving a missed call.

The media partners will have a good time. They will be in charge of the decision-making process. Primetime and newsprint will bring you the ‘news’, and then there will be analyses. As for the token of the title, there will be comparisons and whoever makes it will in some way be given a Gandhian rubdown.

The India that existed and flourished in the past does not exist. The India where discoveries were made, art and literature flourished, and political strategy was as crucial as swordsmanship, that India does not exist in the finger-wagging and tapping world. How can they say your vote counts, when they have already decided on the broad spectrum of who matters?

The luminaries are pretty much great in their fields, but what was relevant in say the 50s does not apply to those who came in later. Is there no difference between scoring a hundred tons and working among lepers? Is there no qualitative difference between a Dr. B. R. Ambedkar and a Kanshi Ram? How does Atal Bihari Vajyapee feature for being loved by both admirers and opponents, when that is how politics works?

Achievements are now propped up by commercial interests as they were probably ideologically exaggerated in the old days. Today’s greatness rests on success; yesterday’s on making inroads.

Is Mahatma Gandhi in any way a unifying force? The symbolism of the name is, of course, canny marketing. But it leaves one wondering as to whether the greatest Indian – whoever she or he may be – will also be one who has been truly great for India. If so, then what aspect of India? Ask no questions. A pedestal awaits. Your vote will give you a chance to be part of the icon factory.

(c) Farzana Versey

Muslim Fire, Hindu Ire

No patakhas for Muslims?

Leading Islamic seminary Darul Uloom Deoband has issued a fatwa against manufacturing and sale of firecrackers, saying that it is against the Sharia law.

Manufacturing and selling of firecrackers is against the Sharia law, and firing crackers is a gross misuse of money, the fatwa said. It also said that that men who misuse money are the ‘brothers of devil’. The Islamic seminary issued fatwa on a query from a man involved in the business of manufacturing firecrackers. The news holds significance given that a large number of Muslims are involved in the manufacturing and sale of firecrackers across the country.

I just cannot understand this. Why would a person who is already involved in the business want to consult the seminary?

If firing crackers amounts to misuse of money, then so is placing flowers over tombstones at dargahs.

If those who indulge in this are ‘brothers of the devil’, are women permitted to play with phuljhadis?

Is there any evidence of the devil misusing funds? Did he not inherit hell, or should he be pulled up for spending a fortune on adding all those satanic thingies in there?

I do not see how there can be any mention of firecrackers in the Sharia. Did some of the Prophet’s opponents light up anaars on the desert sands?

If the Darul Uloom is so concerned, it should seek justice for children who work in these factories and are exposed to risks of extreme levels of pollution. Get over this fatwa obsession and do something that matters.

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Gays threaten Hinduism?

An artist holding an exhibition in the capital on the theme of homosexuality was on Thursday attacked and abused by an unidentified assailant, who also damaged one of the paintings on display. Balbir Krishan said the attacker entered the solo exhibition space at Lalit Kala Akademi with his face covered by a handkerchief. He pushed and kicked Krishan, a double amputee who has lost both his legs, while hurling insults all the while.

He has been receiving threatening calls saying: “Tuney Hindu dharam ko bigarne ka theka laga rakha hai (You are determined to ruin Hinduism).”

Someone should take these guys on a yatra where temple sculptures clearly show all kinds of sexual activities, including homosexuality. Will they dare to deface those? Will they dare insult the deities?

I am not suggesting that art should be irresponsible. In this case, he was only exhibiting works, giving expression to his thoughts and personal experiences. He was not indulging in criminal activities like paedophilia, for which a few good godmen have been caught. Why do these assaulters not land up in those ashrams and use their fists. Well, to beat up those holy folks...

No dharam can be spoilt. It is not perishable food.

Mona Lisa in the Lion's Den

I always suspected that Mona Lisa was a bit of a wild cat. Something to do with the Cheshire cat smile. Oh, I know, it has been analysed to death – from toothache to the pleasure of labour pains to muscle dystrophy to sucking on a lozenge. Okay, that’s not been explored yet. Anyhow, New York artist Ron Piccirillo is a guy I’d like to go on a safari with. It is so difficult to spot tigers in the wild, and I am quite certain that he will. He can see them. Just like that.

Piccirillo has transformed a yawn moment into something exciting. Leonardo da Vinci’s subject is surrounded by animals, he believes. Most people look at paintings as they are meant to be, but our artist here turned it horizontally and found a leopard, an ape, a buffalo and even a crocodile or snake right near the subject’s right shoulder. I suppose da Vinci maintained an element of delicacy and refrained from painting Mona Lisa horizontally.

I have tried to notice all those animals and it is the lady who seems the most beastly, because she is primal. Those other figures look like mushroom clouds to me.

But let it not be said that Piccirillo has not attempted an indepth analysis. What started as a “Geez, that kinda looks familiar” moment has turned out to possess some history.

Mani Kaul: Beyond the surface

Long before Cannes became the stomping ground of red carpet gowns, Mani Kaul had quietly made a mark. Even if his cinema was abstruse. He, in fact, seemed to revel in that. I admit that there have been moments during his films when I had wanted for something to shake, but he could not care less about audience expectations. He would freeze the frame on a chimney and, being ‘aficionados’ who had just been rendered ‘Breathless’ by Godard, one had to give due respect to our own avant garde, so one stared wide-eyed hoping not to miss a thing in a blink and were rewarded with smoke rising finally.

It was like a landscape painting in 3-D. Much of Kaul’s scenes seemed like still images. He was not a story teller, though his two wonderful works remain classical music biographies – Dhrupad and Siddheshwari. When you ventured into a Kaul film, you were supposed to know about the subject and then approach his cinema. It took me a while to understand quite a bit, except as brilliant visuals.

It was different with Uski Roti, a simple story about a woman who carries food for her truck driver husband to stop on the road and collect it. There was the sub-plot of a mistress and her own sister and even the idea of waiting on a road. But I recall a “proud heathen” friend once saying, “Woh roti kitni deir tak pakk rahi thi?” (How long does the roti take to cook?)

Indeed, the wait on the road was nothing as compared to the wait to get there. It was process. Had he been a mainstream director, it might be said that he was tantalising. In his case, he just wanted to see each frame as a vignette. For those of us who like interpreting, it could be fun, although occasionally tiresome.

I have read a few tributes and he is referred to as the “god” of cinema. This was the problem. Put a person on a pedestal or in a shrine and make offerings, but how many of these new wave filmmakers followed their god? I guess he had to die on 'ashaadh ka ek din' (a rainy day and the title of one of his films) so that people got their convenient headlines and quotes about cinema verite.

His guru was Ritwick Ghatak. Now, I found Ghatak accessible. Kaul not so much. Watching a Kaul film was like visiting a modern art museum, even if he spoke about real things. This was realistic cinema that was abstract.

His greatest contribution, besides the films on music, was the use of literature. He did that quite extensively and in Satah Se Uthta Aadmi (Arising From The Surface) he used the Hindi writer Muktibodh’s work. At a time when we are discussing issues of people’s involvement in the democratic process, some of the scenes are subtly political. The following extract has potently captured quite a bit of it – panning the panorama and then using the person, the transposition of a fight with the manner in which the observer just walks round as though circling a pyre or making mental notes without getting involved. Questioning the idealist - what have you done? The fog in the distance then completely takes over.

It is all about fogginess – of people, of ideas, of how we see and then watch the disappearance. Fade out…

Husainsaab, aren’t you disgusted?

He does not need enemies even in death; he has friends. A look at the tributes reveals just how everyone is riding on the secular gravy cart with their own agenda.

Isn't there any sense of proportion? Above its masthead, the Times of India has quotes from well-known people about the controversies. What about his art? And then there is the headline:

'Hounded By Hindu Extremists, Our Most Famous Artist Breathes His Last In London, A Qatari National
INDIA’S PICASSO DIES IN EXILE
M F Husain’s Death Stokes Anger And Regret Back Home'

Did he breathe his last because he was hounded? Where is the stoking of anger and regret? This has been expressed earlier, so what is new about it? This is irresponsible.

I am aware that the TOI has to keep its moneyed advertisers happy, and irrespective of what their political/communal views are in private, Husain was their idea of the perfect Indian, although they were happier in the Alps.

And I am quite sick of reading about "India's Picasso". On the one hand, he is called our pride and then they shamelessly hang on to some other crutch to validate him. Can he not just be Husain?

If he wished to be buried in India, I hope this will be granted to him. Many criminals are in our graveyards and crematoria. And that he was not.

I do not know the reasons and I do not care, but this from the same report stood out as the most sensible bit:

BJP condoled his death and said it was not the right time to comment on controversies that surrounded him. Shiv Sena chief Bal Thackeray said, “May Allah give him peace,” while MNS chief Raj Thackeray called for Husain to be buried in Maharashtra, the artist’s birthplace.

Compared to this, TOI used a wicked comparison:

Like Husain, he too lived abroad, but at 89, Sayed Haider Raza was back in India, the motherland he left 60 years ago. Regretting Husain’s death in exile, Raza, the last living member of the Progressive Artists’ Group, said, “If I had been in his place where some of my ideas or paintings offended the Hindu community I would have apologized, explained myself and talked it over. I don’t know if that was done…one has to be very careful in these things.”

Raza went of his own accord and there was no controversy. Why are they raking up the apology business now? Don’t you see? They get a Muslim artist to say it. The good guy.

Here are a few quotes that are revealing, and my response to them:

"The only way Cong can atone for not defending Husain is by posthumously awarding him the Bharat Ratna."

- Ramchandra Guha, historian

Of course, this is what governments do. It is puerile to suggest that an award is atonement enough, if any is required at all.

"The stupid controversy was motivated; it was created by bad politicians for publicity and to serve their own interest. One of these days, I’ll name those culprits."

- Anjolie Ela Menon, artist

Is she an investigative reporter? If so, it has taken her a long time to wake up. Is there any use protecting the dead?

"None of our supposed tolerance applied to Husain. We should hang our heads in shame."

- Shyam Benegal, film director

Did Husain need 'tolerance'? Did these people stop doing their work in a place where they want to hang their heads in shame?

"The manner in which Husain died reflects a false people in a great nation."

- Jatin Das, artist

A nation is made up of people.

"Being Muslim was only accidental…And that is exactly why he was so totally taken aback when the attacks on him began. Of all things, for denigrating Hindu gods and goddesses. He lived, breathed, talked about Indian culture all the time, and for him Indian culture was synonymous with Hindu culture. He was as Hindu as any one of us, in spirit if not in faith. His worked was steeped in our culture and mythology."

- Pritish Nandy, writer

Why is it so important to be a ‘Hindu’ when his being a Muslim was “accidental” as it is for all? And on what grounds does Nandy talk about Indian culture being synonymous with Hindu culture? Husain used mythology because he found it interesting, just as Raza uses the ‘shunya’. Indian culture is an amalgamation of various regional cultures and influences of colonisers. Had he chosen to paint miniatures would he be seen as Muslim? Does stained glass painting make an artist a Christian?

As for living and breathing Indian culture, perhaps one might like to check out how much of it our high society does so. Will they need a certificate for their Indiannness?

Leave him be...and if he wanted Mumbai falooda, then there are several Indian restaurants in London where he spent his last days. In his state, he might have been happy enough to get it...or from the several eateries in Southall, both Indian and Pakistani, that serve it. They also make it pink like the Crawford Market one. But then exile would not sound so romantic.

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My other views were expressed here yesterday.

M.F.Husain: Heaven can't wait...

There's no looking back

M.F.Husain has taken off on his paint brush into the other world. Age 95. Dead. Obituaries are tricky. I think about the ceiling of his house; he had sketched stars – black on white. I sat on a chair waiting for him to turn up. He did not. His wife said no one knows when he comes and when he goes. I disliked him, anyway, and my conversation would not have been about him walking without shoes.

He was surrounded by women, the kind we rather disparagingly refer to as society dames. What could he find so entertaining, forget enlivening, about them? For them he was Fame. At one of their homes I saw a painting by him that was unspeakably sad. Fine crystal shone below it on a mantelpiece. I smirked. Then one day many years later I saw shards on the floor…and experienced the sadness of broken crystal.

Husain, for reasons I have been unable to fathom, continued to look like an arriviste, despite all the celebrity, the money and the artistic talent. We all perceive art in different ways – for me he was more skill than soul, and not many possess that kind of skill, the adhesive-like hold on the imagination of the artistic fraternity.

Curiously, I got a note yesterday from a person of the rightwing persuasion questioning me about his portrayal of nude goddesses that I had tried to explore in an earlier piece. This is what he became known for – not the works, not the ideas, but the controversies. He was restless, but not a gypsy. He was the nomad who had luxurious homes everywhere he went. It won’t be much different now.

duniya ne hum pe jab koi ilzaam rakh diya

hum ne muqaabil us ke tera naam rakh diya

ik khaas had pe aa gayi jab teri berukhee

naam us ka hum ne gardish-e-ayyaam rakh diya

- Qateel Shifai

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Here is an old piece I had written in my Rediff column of October 27, 1997, well before they started stoning galleries where his works were displayed:

The unmaking of a maverick

M F Husain has a major problem. If we start with this premise it would be far easier to approach his persona. And the problem lies not with what he is, but what he is seeking to be.

Today, few talk of Husain as an artist – he is either the showman, the maverick, the risk-taker and, finally and conclusively, a product. His market value is under discussion rather than his palette's wild guesses and sometimes calculated conundrums. It is very likely that he feels trapped and is now seeking to assert his independence. No artist in his right mind would rush from one canvas to the other to show the onlookers the process of painting, as Husain claims to have tried to do. But, at this point in time, he is not in his right mind. He is on a binge to negate his art by harking to his hoarding-painter days of relative freedom. The days when he could paint the other icons of cinema, without having to worry about whether his unshod feet would gain celebrity status.

Husain' painting on the Mumbai blasts

The very concept of being a celebrity can be difficult to handle, its reality even more so. Husain's position as a product has to do with his being many other things. As a showman performer, he is expected to toe the classic 'I pretend, therefore I am' line. This includes massive image-building. But the man about whom it was made shows all signs of not being at peace with himself. The result is whimsical behaviour. The charitable will call it maverick moods.

But why would a man already on the pedestal want to be a maverick? It cannot be to get attention. Not a genuine desire for experimentation either, so the possibility of his sense of boredom at being 'known for being known' cannot be ignored.

To this end, the artist has begun taking risks, not so much with his work but with his reputation, which has been the cause of most of his ecstasy and all of his anguish. Kierkegaard put it beautifully when he analysed, "It lays a prodigious burden on a person to have to support the weight of everyone's eyes." Even a Husain work is merely a work of Husain. Snapping the chain with his offbeat acts, he has in effect put the ball in the court of his 'audience', the subliminal message being, "Since you have made me, you might want to unmake me. But before you can do that, I will do it myself."

Therefore, the new Husain is essentially the old one trying to come out clean, but not without attempting to kill two birds with one stone – by hankering after his freedom and at the same time (and perhaps because of it) making sure that the public does not run after someone else. This is the hallmark of a celebrity. Or an insecure man.

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Updated in new post here

Deos and Deities

Who’d have thought that the government move against deodorant ads would get a saffron person to state:

“I guess these guidelines do not apply when it comes to painting Hindu gods and goddesses in nude and/or erotic positions."

Well, that was what my Inbox had and it is something that keeps coming up in discussions too. 


My reply in full:

Dear X ji:

I do not believe these ads have much of an impact, but am I to assume you have no problems with such ads? Does the Shiv Sena not routinely tear up posters on hoardings that it finds objectionable? What about protests during Valentine’s Day? Most religious groups inflict such morality on people without even taking recourse to the legal process.

The analogy of paintings of Hindu deities naked or in certain positions is not quite the same. These depictions are there in temples and ancient art. Most of contemporary art does not demean the figures. And let us not forget that guidelines or no guidelines the people behind such paintings do bear the brunt. In our country we have a very strong unofficial system of policing. Sadly, it does not come out when the country is in real danger.

I can only guess that your next query or thought would be, ah, and what do Muslims do when there is a cartoon drawn about their Prophet? As a non-practising person with some basic knowledge, I think it has to do with non-idolatory. Islam has no visible images at all; we do not know what the Prophet looks like. So, like most vain people we’d want a more Christ-like or even Santa-like image rather than some skewed Aladdin. It has to do with aesthetics.

Now, you may well ask, what would a mullah whose face is covered with a bush know about aesthetics? And what is aesthetic about shouting slogans and doing other undesirable things?

Claudia and calligraphy

I agree, but in this respect all religious proponents have the same degree of enthusiasm. Recently an Australian swimwear company had images of Goddess Lakshmi; some years ago model Claudia Schiffer walked down the ramp wearing a dress with Islamic calligraphy drawn on the top; pop star Madonna used Sanskrit shlokas in some songs, someone else belts out some exclamatory lines from the Quran; there have been occasions when even Buddhists have been hurt because some wine was called Maya. There have been objections and protests.

The protestors showing what they do not want shown!

I think the oft-quoted bit from the Bhagwad Gita can be applied across the board:


Karmani ave adhikars te
ma phalesu kadachana
ma karmaphal hetur bhoo
ma sangostu akramani

“Thou hast power only to act not over the result thereof. Act thou therefore without prospect of the result and without succcumbing to inaction.”

Everyone acts the way they deem fit for fear of inaction.

Regards,
~F

PS: Sorry about the long rant but traditionally the majority has appeased the minority so I assume some indulgence! (Please take this in the right light spirit.)

- Note ends -

I did not copy the pictures in the email, though.My views on the deo ads have already been expressed here

Suck face

I am tired of kissing. First it was kissing as an art, now it is a science. Can people not just be left alone to do with their mouths what they wish to do?

How many of you have ever looked at the Kama Sutra for tips? I doubt it. Every glossy worth its smooth skin has covered this subject and I would in the past get terribly amused. To be honest, wouldn't you rather have a butterfly in your mouth than someone’s tongue fluttering inside in what is clearly a studied exercise?

This, however, is a subject that excites the intellectual. Sheril Kirshenbaum, a scientist at the University of Texas, has written a book The Science of Kissing: What Our Lips Are Telling Us. Did George Bush mean that? Anyhow, she has laid bare the whole shebang about how kissing evolved, why people kiss, why some kisses work and others don’t, why people have a phobia of kissing and others don’t, why it is okay in some societies and not so in others. You get the drift.

I understand all these are important aspects of any activity. Do you know the manner in which you clip your toenails can tell you a lot about your past life? You don’t? Neither do I, but I am sure it can be explored. The point is that most of the material is available, and that is how I found out stuff, and it does not even work as relaxed beachside reading. Like, are you aware about something called the ‘hickey kiss’ when all it means is that you get a blue mark that looks like some editing details in galley proofs of newspapers? Oh, ok, it is supposed to be more animalistic, an out-of-control body experience. Then there are all those different areas where a kiss can be administered, and the motives are quite clear. Does anyone need to figure out what a cheek peck and a foot lick really mean?

Way back in the 1930s there was a manual called The Art of Kissing that spoke among other things of the Vacuum Kiss. The man must position himself as he knows and then when his lips are where they should be he must get on to the task of "sucking inward as though you were trying to draw out the innards of an orange".

I have eaten oranges and as far as I know they don’t have innards. Unless someone means to defrock the fruit and then blow into it or rather from it; sounds more like a conch shell thing. Oranges have slices and the sucking of them is messier than empty or vacuum-like.

The part I dislike about the scientific study, though, is that it says you are more likely to remember your first kiss than losing your virginity. Kirshenbaum, in fact, believes that you can remember 90 per cent of the details of that smooch. I beg to differ and I will provide a counter-scientific theory. While the kiss may have some special memory, it could well have been unmemorable.

How many of you have managed to find a prince by kissing a toad? Or have experienced the kiss of the spider woman? As for virginity, it is culture specific and may matter a whole lot in some societies and not so much in others, and there is also the gender factor – men are less likely to be affected by the loss of virginity than are women, although I believe that men will remember it more clearly because it was a boy becoming man thing. Girls become women when they start menstruating and reading Maupassant after throwing off Mills & Boon. Virginity has a lot to do with giving up oneself and I do not mean to the horse you are riding or the energetic aerobics at the gym that may cause the ruptured hymen.

It has a lot to do with oneself for women and for the conquest by men. Therefore, it is unscientific to believe a kiss will be remembered more.

These theories do start a debate. Did you know that the ‘soul kiss’ is called so because the soul passes through the breath of one mouth to the other? I thought that was the job of resuscitation and the soul kiss, which is how the French got famous, although they call it the English kiss (maybe because you end up with a stiff upper lip), was to cure tonsillitis. But then I am not Woodward and Bernstein and know precious little about Deep Throat.

Venus and the Penis

The purists are puking. Venus has got a hand job and Mars can now boast of a nice little phallus. These ancient statues did not have the relevant body parts and had lived without them since 175 AD. Come end of 2010 and Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi has got them ‘restored’. This is not restoration. Any art work that had been altered from the way it was created is tampered with; restoration is a skill that stays pretty much loyal to the original.

The Italian PM is not known to be prudish, therefore these cosmetic additions seem surprising. Perhaps it has to do with the human idea of completeness. If he has to walk into his courtyard everyday, where the works are placed, and see a beautiful couple – the woman handless, the man penisless – perhaps it bothers him.

This raises the question about the perception of art in reality. What might be considered handicaps in life are often metaphorical or aesthetic statements in art. The license to distort is endemic in creativity. Unfortunately, such distortions in creation are looked down upon and rebuked.

Would the connoisseurs of such cut-off parts look upon people born with such disabilities as ‘complete’? I doubt it. I can claim to have an ‘eye’ and I understand at least to some degree the value of symbolism. My own conjecture about the handless Venus is to emphasise her beauty, exemplified especially in her other statue where she is lying in repose, curves accentuated, to concentrate on the feminine and only the feminine. A hand is genderless, so to speak. Regarding Mars, the god of war is probably considered so powerful that he can fight without a sword; his potency is not dependent on specific weapons.

Berlusconi has meddled with a work of art, but it is not unusual if we see it from the perspective of how art is perceived. The manner in which certain goddess figures have been decorously draped in our own temple sculptures, there has always been a progression-regression battle as to what is considered timely and timeless. What about the attempts to destroy certain works, maim them? Aren’t ruins a testimony to it?

There is in the realm of art also the question of how the real are portrayed. It is different from mythological figures. Do portraits of royalty necessarily reveal them as they were? What about the many ‘subjects’ that get iconoclastic status simply because they have been given a buildup over the years? Who were the people in Picasso’s distorted images?

Isn’t truth fabricated when famous works are replicated? Why, when a canvas is put behind fortified glass it loses much of its texture and becomes a mere desirable object. So, the purists need to ask and answer a few such queries. Meanwhile, since these parts that Silvio has ordered to be added are detachable, is there any scope of them being enhanced or inflated? Just wondering…

Pissing the point

Blood, perspiration, urine, tears. Another artist uses his bodily fluids. I can imagine the shock value, but they call it message. Or, Message.

The artist is not well-known, but even known names do indulge in gimmickry. Prashant Pandey wept and used exactly 20 tears for some works. Were they real tears of sorrow, of pain, of memory? Or did he slice onions? Then he collected 350 litres of urine, which must have been a bit at a time of course. Cigarette butts, expired chocolate are all there. He says:

“While these objects may be of no use to others, my work is about transforming them into social symbols and destablise opinions.”

Pakistani artist Tatheer Daryani who was in an arts college in India did pretty much the same thing. I had written earlier that I am all for such ‘subjective’ use in art and literature or any creative endeavour. I wonder, though, whether the avowed purpose truly manages to convey what it sets out to do. Blood and hair are universal, but would red paint and artificial hair not convey the same emotions. Had we not been informed would we even know?

Will the attention now not be on the artist’s blood and hair rather than the message she wishes to put forth? If it were about a personal journey, one can well understand. This is not to rebut such attempts but to question aloud about how much reaches how far. It applies to all of us who endeavour to do so.

The same would apply to Pandey’s works. Is the stench a reminder to us? Don’t we all live with our own smells and those of our surroundings? In a country like India what exactly is the purpose of such a wake-up call when we screw up our noses at the poor and homeless who have no choice to camouflage those smells since they have to urinate and defecate in the open?

Does anyone care to recycle their waste? There is plenty of it out there.

He has used a headless baby with expired chocolate to convey loss of innocence:

“Each chocolate square is a memory; it will keep melting and exposing the iron structure underneath.”

Chocolates can express memories, and expired chocolates are just those who have overstayed. What has the iron structure beneath got to do with it? I suppose it props up the sculpture in the gallery. You won’t hear this as a reason, though.

He has views on 9/11:

“It is sugarcane stalk that has been sucked off all its juices; this is how the victims and survivors of World Trade Centre attacks must have felt,”

What has been sucked off? It was an attack and human beings died. The survivors mourned the deaths. It isn’t that they stopped leading their lives. It is also pertinent to note that he comes from Gujarat where in 2002 the state government’s pogrom against its own citizens resulted in over 1000 murders (unofficial figures mention almost 2000) and large-scale displacement, and the culprits are still not arrested. He has no memorial sculpture for this.

I guess it would not be as internationally appealing. And a sheer waste?

Reclaiming Tagore

It’s happened again. After the get back Gandhi’s stuff that I discussed here, we are crying about Rabindranath Tagore’s paintings being auctioned by Sotheby’s. The 12 works fetched £1.6 million (about Rs 11 crore). They were owned by the Dartington Hall Trust in England.

I do not understand how activists who have been urging the government to intervene kept quiet all this while. Besides, how did those paintings get to be with the Trust?

In 1939, Tagore presented the paintings to a close friend, Leonard Elmhirst, who had worked as his private secretary both at Santiniketan and overseas, whose Dartington Hall Trust has been the proud owner of them since.

They plan to expand their artistic endeavours to charity work in the field and it will help many new artists.

The buyers do not belong to a consortium we are told and have made individual purchases. A report states:

An Indian diplomat familiar with the matter expressed fears of the set being “cannibalised’’.

We have scant respect for art and many of our museums are in terrible condition. Some years ago Tagore’s Santiniketan was no better and his books were not even available there. Is the big deal about heritage value or about the big money and how we rate our greats according to it?

Individual connoisseurs have often shown more respect and if the work is displayed for snob value then so be it. What do you think these precious art galleries are upto? They sell art as investment, anyway.

This business about reclaiming what is ours - a contemporary form of swadeshi - is getting to be a pain. If it could be ours in England with a Trust for over 70 years, then it can be ours for however long it exists. An expat Indian who has purchased one painting is being looked upon as a shining white hope who will bring it back to India. Art is not property. You can bring it back to India and pickle it for all you want but if you do not appreciate art, then it is worthless. If you do not know how to encourage people with creative talent, it is worthless. If art belongs to a coterie, then it is worthless.

Tagore will be rather happy that his works went for six times the estimated price. He was high maintenance and rather liked the regality of status.

Murder, she said

She is distasteful. She is dramatic. She comes on strong. Then why do people expect Lady Gaga to play Little Bo Beep?



In a performance in Manchester she recreated murder with scenes of her being eaten by a psychotic killer, fake blood on her body. It just so happened that there was a shooting spree in Cumbria hours before the show.

There are questions being asked. Most people are shocked. Shocked about what? This was part of the Monster Ball tour. Get it? The name conveys something. So, why was one mommy so agitated when she took her 14-year-old for the show? She said, “I was absolutely sickened at what I saw. We know Lady Gaga is not exactly mainstream performance for all the family but she really crossed the line this time.”

If they were worried about the 12 people who were shot dead or the three prostitutes a few days earlier in Bradford, then they might have chosen their entertainment more carefully. Were they not riveted by the news in the tabloids or on television channels? How does that imbue them with a sense of superiority? Lady G had planned this performance. They say she could have toned down the act? How would that have helped? It would have only drawn attention to what had happened and then there would be accusations that she was using the tragedy. Besides, if it is understood that she is not mainstream, then why apply those standards for her?

Here are a few comments that I completely disagree with:

"We're always saying, people who are icons to young people need to be aware of their behavior and they need to think about how their behavior influences young people.”

It is the job of the parents to ensure that young people are not besotted by glamorous images. These same young people read about stars and socialites in skimpy clothes getting drunk at parties and even stripping. Only because they have not paid for the show, does the responsibility factor decrease?

"Would she have sold less tickets without that scene in her show?”

Did she advertise that scene? If she did, then why were all these people there with their impressionable children?

“Murder is disturbing image to impose on young people. When young stars mention they've got a collection of knives and enjoy flicking their knives they're endorsing it. They're not thinking about what they're portraying to their fans. It's all for shock value.”

It is indeed shock value and they may be endorsing it. But there is a gun culture that exists. There are murders. There is incest. There are cases of monster dads and moms who have sex with their eight-year-old kids. They are not watching these shows. Often news stories and most certainly documentaries recreate such scenes. Do parents have problems with that?

Art, music, cinema and literature portray social evils or use them as metaphor. What if these people had decided to stay at home and watch one of those horror movies?

Mars and Venus – ecstasy or Ecstasy?

If you did not look at the fruit, you would think it was all about love. Now David Bellingham, a programme director at Sotheby’s Institute of Art, says the fruit was overlooked and so was the subversive message in Botticelli’s painting:

“This fruit is being offered to the viewer, so it is meant to be significant. Botticelli does use plants symbolically. Datura is known in America as poor man’s acid, and the symptoms of it seem to be there in the male figure. It makes you feel disinhibited and hot, so it makes you want to take your clothes off. It also makes you swoon.”

Is there another way of reading it? Mars is lost but Venus is in her senses and fully clothed. Why would the man decide to get high and feel uninhibited if there is nothing to gain? If it is for him to be put into a stupor, then again Venus gets nothing out of it.

Take one operative phrase – removal of clothes. This is also a giving up of a part of oneself, baring oneself to the other. Exposure is not without its fallout.

The National Gallery description of the painting notes: “The scene is of an adulterous liaison, as Venus was the wife of Vulcan, the God of Fire, but it contains a moral message: the conquering and civilizing power of love.”

Is this also a message of guilt? Is the seduction incomplete? Did Venus seduce him or did they get intimate and this painting is the post-coital depiction, where she is sitting dressed up and unsure?

Though many paintings do show her in splendid naked glory - was she high on drugs then? Was it loneliness and not love that drove her to it?

Can Mars pretend that he was under the influence and therefore he is unclothed? If the fruit is capable of making people go mad, then the madness could be a metaphor for losing one’s senses as sublimation.

The fruit is being offered to the viewer. Is it to tempt us? Is the precursor none other than the Garden of Eden?

The idea of drawing the viewer in is also part of the voyeuristic exercise where art itself needs an audience; the painting has other characters in the sublime love story. The satyr’s apparent insignificance – or invisibility – conveys a delightful tension that exists in relationships, among artists and interpreters as well as the person and the Self.

Of course, we can settle for a most pragmatic analysis and imagine that this was supposed to be an aphrodisiac that ended up working as a sedative. I believe it happens.