Oct 03 : The best part of a London life is the constant buzz of events and exhibitions. You are spoilt for choice over theatre, cinema, art, discussions, book readings — and, of course, these days there has been the "Indian summer": literally a brief warming up before the cold winter sets in. So while we have been treated to sunny days, coincidentally, on the streets of London there is a desi invasion, partly to do with the increase in the number of Indian events. Therefore, it was fun, just last week, to be walking between these "happenings" at various locations and bumping into old friends such as Suhel Seth and Malavika Singh on Piccadilly Street — all of us celebrating the spirit of India in London.
So is London now increasingly receptive to "Indian" events? It certainly appears to be. Till last year, I have to admit, I was troubled by the fact that there were many more exhibitions and events related to China — especially Chinese art. Even the auctions, where a Hussain or a Souza made headlines in India, were generally ignored by the mainstream media in London. And, in fact, at most exhibitions by Indian artists here would be only the usual suspects — there has been a Lakshman rekha which has carefully divided the "mainstream" art and the "other" artists, such as those from India. Which is why last week has been particularly delightful: there have been two major exhibitions by artists of Indian origin — and if the opening reception of artist Subodh Gupta’s exhibition is anything to go by, Indian art seems to have arrived in a big way.
Both the artists, Subodh Gupta and Anish Kapoor, are exhibiting in Piccadilly across the road from each other. Whilst Anish has a major exhibition on at the Royal Academy, Subodh just opened this week at Hauser and Wirth — with his very Indian tongue-in-cheek exhibition called "Aam Aadmi". It may not exactly warm the cockles of the Congress Party heart to see its slogan so depicted — but it bears all the makings of a confident, flamboyant artist who has arrived.
My favourite piece of art by Subodh (not at this exhibition) is of course "A Very Hungry God" — an amazing sculpture of a skull made entirely from ordinary kitchen ware from the aam Indian kitchen. It is stunning in its complex design and simplicity of execution. As they say, it blows you away. In this exhibition he has carried his reputation of being an "idol thief" to a new dimension. Again using ordinary material — tiffin boxes, steel spoons, plates, and even shoes — he has managed to imbue a sense of belonging, nostalgia and memory in disparate elements. One immensely beautiful installation is something we all have seen in our dilapidated family homes — or in khandahars which abound in India: the roots of an ancient tree growing out of a wall. But apart from this realistic depiction, Subodh also plays with the world of ideas: his aam aadmi, for instance, are painted bronze mangoes in hay, lying inert in a wooden crate on a wood and iron table. Does it remind you of anything familiar — or is it more polite not to mention it?
Perhaps even more irreverant are his phallic prints framed like delicate and rare calligraphy on an entire wall of white. It would be difficult to find a better representation of the aam aadmi than that! (As I mentioned earlier, a certain political party may lose its fragile sense of humour over this, once again.)
Yet there are also more sweeping and grand installations: for instance, the clever creation of a huge gleaming steel thali in which coins shine through a haze of oil. An Indian version of the fountain at Trevi in Rome. This seems almost like a recognition of the aam aadmi and his aspirations — as well as the economic rise of India as a global giant. And yet in another large, equally gleaming silver thaali nearby lie, ironically, a collection of worn out shoes… the smoothness of the steel is almost an unnerving contrast to the worn out texture of the broken footwear: could these be the trampled, discarded men and women trampled in our race for aggrandisement and personal profit? Like all exhibitions, it is much more interesting if the art allows you the space to ponder — and while we quaffed our champagne and mulled over the transformation of the aam aadmi into art, it was also a moment to celebrate. In the crowded gallery, not only were desis present in full flow — there were also art critics and gallery owners sizing up the event and the opportunities.
Meanwhile, at the Royal Academy Anish Kapoor, an artist of Indian origin who already has an increasing number of acolytes, has opened to reviews which will guarantee an intrigued audience. Anish too has been exploring the explosive world of ideas and his installations and sculpture are even more interactive than those of Subodh Gupta. Starting from right outside the gallery where reflective balloons fly up giving distorted views of the entrance, to rather more playful (and yet again phallic!) representations inside, critics and viewers have claimed to be both enchanted and startled at the use of materials, colour and form. Reviewers have excitedly written about the colours which appear to assault you, and how the show "begins drilling down to our next level, the subconscious, where it starts probing indelicately in the psycho-sexual area…" (review by Waldemar Januszczak in the Sunday Times). The critic goes on to talk about a "crudely masculine spectacle" of an "immensely phallic cannon". He also compares Anish to Antony Gormley saying he cannot make out who is Britain’s more successful public sculptor, since both are masters of "sexy audience manipulation". It is the last lines of the review which proved to me that Indian art has arrived. According to Januzczak, in Anish’s exhibition, "The biggest penis in the world was shagging the Royal Academy. That’s how weird a sculpture it is. That’s how good a show it is".
It is well known that as a country’s economy booms, so do its art and artists: let us hope this psycho-sexual titillation of the British audiences continues to prosper!
By Kishwar Desai
Links:
[1] http://103.241.136.51/content/kishwar-desai
