Art for a Cause
Eight Indian artists who use the brush to make powerful pieces of work. They address pressing issues and raise awareness, one beautiful artwork at a time.
By undefined
27 November, 2019
Eight Indian artists who use the brush to make powerful pieces of work. They address pressing issues and raise awareness, one beautiful artwork at a time.
1untitled.jpg1. Jogen Chowdhury: Society and Politics
“My art, typically, contains poetry, fantasy, dream, satire, and sensuality to relay the message. The issues I work around are all related to my life and existence, and are automatically reflected in my work. My family came from East Bengal, now Bangladesh, during the partition of India in 1947. We had to face unprecedented economic hardships, and there was an enormous refugee problem. The prevailing social situation and depression at the time hugely impacted my early artwork. We had no electricity at home, I used to paint under a hurricane lamp—so black came to be a dominant colour in my art, and, oddly, still remains. ‘People’ have also been an important subject for me throughout. After I became a curator at the Rashtrapati Bhavan (1972-1987), I started including the broader subject of politics in my art, too—painting satirical, humourous, and critical works on political affairs, and corrupt politicians and bureaucrats. In the Tiger In The Moonlit Night [below, right], the toothless tiger floating on the black background, for example, is my version of the Indian Emergency. Similarly, I was deeply affected by the political killings in West Bengal during the CPI-M regime, and equally disturbed by the communal riots in Gujarat. All these incidents made me take to the brush and express myself. Social and human issues, sexuality, and poverty are some other themes I’ve worked extensively on. Try seeing art not just through your eyes, but also your heart and mind, and you’ll see what I am trying to say.”
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5img-5298.jpg2. Fawad Tamkanat: Poverty
“I have been painting for more than four decades now, and have worked around various socio-economic issues, albeit inadvertently. I grew up in Hyderabad, when it was just fresh out of the Nizams’ reign, and was still quite wealthy. Over time, I saw the old city deteriorate, and residents go from riches to rags. It left an indelible mark on me, and gradually reflected in my paintings, too. I wasn’t consciously looking to paint any specific issues or problems, I was just painting what I saw around me and the things that struck me. Like, old men pulling rickshaws at the Charminar to fend for themselves; young girls picking kachra [garbage] to earn a living; people begging to be able to put food on their tables. These are all folks who belonged to prosperous families once, but are now on the periphery of society, economically. I observe my subjects, even follow them around for days, to understand them better and be able to enunciate those issues through my imagery. Art is my way of venting and reacting to situations, to talk about problems that we know exist, but hesitate to acknowledge or talk about. Then I leave it to people to decipher or interpret the pieces; I don’t tell them what to make of them
6threat-26x620feet2c20oil20on20canvas-20192c20new20supreme20court20building.jpg3. Aparna Caur: Environment
“I began working on environment-centric paintings in 1988, when I saw Delhi changing drastically. People talk about all this in print and on the television, but few steps have been taken to do anything. My paintings may not be able to change anything either, but I have to be true to my conscience, and express my pain and worry. Only governments can act, not artists. But even the little effort we make isn’t without its own share of problems. I’m going through a court case, regarding a public park, for the last 17 years. The park, in Siri Fort, New Delhi, has been converted into a banquet space. The powerful connived, and are now earning a tonne of money through it. But it affects the peace and quiet of the area, and we can’t take it lying down. Even when more than 8,000 trees were cut down for a new stadium in the city, we went to court, for eight years, and had 2,500 trees replanted. My paintings portray all these issues. In one, titled Threat [below], I have shown elements like smoke, traffic, illegal mining, dead sparrows, and trees turned to skeletons. There’s a blue Buddha in the middle—that’s us, trying to preserve the birds and trees desperately. I must add here that I’m very thankful for my museum collections—they help preserve artworks, and relay messages much beyond an artist’s lifespan.”
710.jpg4. Veer Munshi: Human Rights
“I migrated from Kashmir to Delhi in 1990 due to the political disquiet there. Since then, I’ve tried to use art to reflect my anguish at the situation in my home state and to make a statement on human rights, rather than politics. I constantly seek to highlight the turmoil that comes with separation from my heritage, and to bring to the fore the increasingly narrow space that exists for culture and art in the state. I primarily work with my personal experience, which comes from the different interactions I keep having with the people back in Kashmir. It helps me understand different points of view, too, which also reflect in my work. Lately, I have started engaging other artists to be part of my projects, especially those who were born in conflict zones or had to flee because of the state of affairs there. I also collaborate with the local craftsmen to promote indigenous work through art exhibitions, dialogue, performances, and more. It’s important to be an artist-activist—to see beyond and express the social reality through art, and also to engage with this reality physically, and be able to contribute with logical solutions to problems.”
8tarinisethi_snakesandladders.jpg5. Tarini Sethi: Sexuality
“I am a storyteller. And the story, being in image form, is always open to interpretation. My work constantly revolves around the idea of ‘utopia’ and a world where we can live free and equally, without judgement from others and our self. These are over-the-top imagined worlds, where creatures and people of all kinds thrive together. This exaggerated and fantastical universe manifests itself in many ways. Anthropomorphic creatures crowd the corners of the pages, while masks and architectural forms keep things in place. Transgender women hold vases holding birds, while these birds turn into snakes and flowers. The idea of breaking the huge stigma behind the nude body is an important catalyst for my work. India has a long history of erotic art that has been documented and preserved for subsequent generations, so we, Indians, don’t lose touch of where we come from. Unfortunately, erotic art is now seen as pornography, and thus, immoral and depraved. There is such a coercive and desperate censorship, that most Indians are taught not to express themselves with their bodies. My work aims to start a dialogue about sex, identity, censorship, sensuality, sexuality, and societal constraints in an open and humourous way.”
9kn-161.jpg6. Kandi Narsimlu: Folklore and Traditions
“My first stint with art had started as a young boy making sketches of the daily scenes of the village I grew up in. I belong to a lower middle class, agricultural family, in a small village now in Telangana—we were a community held together by traditions and rituals. There were a number of age-old festivals that were celebrated with much joy and fervour. Kotta was one of them—it was during the time of the harvest, and after the crop came home. The first meal was a huge feast, attended by family, neighbours, and all the other villagers. Sadly, with modernisation and urbanisation, such rituals have taken a hit, just like the rich folklore of the rest of the country. No-one remembers the old ways of living, let alone celebrate them. My art is an attempt to remind people of that era, and to keep it alive in my work. The Telangana culture, the traditions I grew up following, and the rituals I remember from my boyhood—I want to simulate and preserve all of that through my paintings.”
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11the20nature20of20things-kota20neelima.jpg7. Kota Neelima: Rural Distress
“The mainstream narrative of this country excludes the poor and the downtrodden. Instead, it’s tailored for the top 20 percent of the population, which constitutes the influential, aspirational class living in the cities. This is because the industry that funds (and controls) the narrative doesn’t see the poor as ‘useful consumers.’ This elimination of 80 percent of India from the consciousness of the country is a matter of grave concern for me. My work on the problems that exist in villages, including farmer suicides and the state of women, is an effort to turn the focus towards people forgotten by mainstream India. As a nation, we may be proud of the wealth that’s visible in the high-rise buildings, swanky homes, and plush offices of the rich in the cities. All of it is well-earned and well-deserved, I’m sure. But, we also have to worry about the state of the poor. The roads that lead to their homes are never made, the education their children receive is never adequate, their basic needs for food and shelter are never met. All of us, not just some, deserve the good life. There’s a need to redefine ‘we’ when we speak and aspire as Indians.”
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1536x4820in2c201066_0.jpg8. Seema Kohli: Feminine Energy
“A lot of my work leans towards the transformational energies of the ‘feminine’. When patriarchy was at its peak, our rootedness to Earth diverged towards ownership, and wars over lands, waters, and skies. The first abuse of the ‘feminine’ took place when we forgot that the planet we live on was a living feminine entity, and abused it, causing countless environmental hazards. Assaults on the Earth in the form of mining, pollution of water and air continue to happen. And this inappropriate treatment occurs at the physical form of the female, too. It’s entered our society through our homes, and spread farther out. It happens when you’re young, and leaves you scarred for life—a bomb that tears through your mind, and leaves a crater you can never crawl out of. But the most insidious part of the crime starts later. Shock turns to guilt. Guilt to anger. Anger turns to tears. And soon, all that’s left is the shame of knowing that it happened to you. Finally, the reconciliation with the abuse. But should women still have to face it? Has nothing changed? These are the questions that trouble me, at both micro and macro levels. We come from one single womb, share the same single space...how can we despair that?”
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