It is my long held contention that abstract painting, or for that matter pure dance or even classical music is like nirgun bhakti. Paradoxically enough, the “form” that emerges when a dancer creates patterns of pure dance or even when a musician paints an image with swaras, or when abstract formations are manifest on canvas, are a totally personal one. It is not necessarily part of a collective consciousness, but a completely relative and individual one.
In the Indian spiritual context, the Divine is someone who is part of us and yet someone who we want to be part of. There is an intrinsic relationship between “Thou” and “Thine”, wherein the human doer “I” stays out of this ambit. It is He, the Supreme Being who is the “doer” or “karta” and what is Thine is mine only in a limited sense and is essentially an egotistic manifestation.
When the wise man says, “Idan na mum” (this is not mine), for it is only a temporary charge that lets people say —“This is mine”. Of course, these connections define “I” and boost the ego. The wise, therefore, have denied that things belong to us and attempted to reign in uncontrolled ego, which is the perpetual cause of conflict both at micro and macro level. When an artist or artiste works with the premise of nishkama karma, or unattached karma, the art is bound to reflect it.
As Indian art stirs from it slumber of the summer and stretches out, one of the shows that deserved attention with its quiet of silence where each work is akin to an offering to Divine and in tune with the cosmic dance is Hemraj’s show titled Thou…Thou…2012. The artist contends that it is part of his spiritual journey where he is like the veritable flute that plays out the song that doesn’t belong to him. The flute merely transmits the song. The karma is the manifestation of His will. The interplay of colours that Hemraj chooses is almost lyrical in impact in this particular show.
On the opposite end of the spectrum was another show Jism, the Divine Truth that began from the basis of the body to attempt to scale higher. Identical fiberglass torsos were given to nearly 90 artists and their interpretations were a visual delight. From the very basal to the funky to the spiritual, the show had it all. Poonam Pratap, the curator’s vision was appealing, but a more judicious selection of the final works would have rendered the show more attractive and tighter. While some artists attempted to completely negate the body with their rendering, others chose to highlight its both spiritual and carnal means.
Sunayana Malhotra’s show Skin Deep too delved on the body and all that goes with it in a bid to share her inner yearnings. Painting by women and especially those painting the female form tend to either paint them with their warts and all, or falling into the trap of the familiar male gaze that is almost impossibly perfect. She tries to tread the middle path, but somewhere along, the line tends to get blurred.
It is said that the male “gaze” is different. Their fascination and fixation is with the form and to an extent even objectification. Men don’t essentially reverberate feminine apprehensions, while women tend to see things another way. They’d see the softness, fecundity, sensuality… Nurturing comes naturally, women are more multi-dimensional, they go into details, often their work is semi-autobiographical.
The zeal women bring to their work, thanks to the confrontations they have to endure, gives them a different viewpoint. What else then would we get our reference points to activate our creativity? The gratification that we experience in our work, gives us the energy to carry on with the humdrum. For unlike men, we can’t ignore the life around us. Sensibility is a very subtle thing. Difficult to describe, yet easy to perceive, for the execution makes it apparent. Emotionality can be used as a benefit or a drawback.

Alka Raghuvanshi is an art writer, curator and artist and can be
contacted on alkaraghuvanshi@yahoo.com