I am reminded of Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s poignant lines wherein the poet laureate in exile in London had said Na unse mile hain, na mai pe hai…talaash mein hai seher…baar-baar guzri hai…ajeeb rang abke bahaar guzri hai. Even though it is ostensibly about his beloved, but it is actually about his motherland and these lines ring clear to me to describe the art scene this season. Usually, around this time there is such a glut of shows that one is hard put to select the ones to see. This year there have been fewer shows that elicit great excitement. It is not as though there have been appreciable cancellations either. It is just the mood of despondency that seems to have enveloped the country in general and the arts in particular for they the first to be affected.
The economic situation of the world is directly related to the health of the art across the world. I think of the arts as akin to the Delhi weather which is ruled by the Shimla temperatures. If Shimla sneezes, Delhi reaches out for its blankets, and if Shimla muffles a sneeze, Delhi catches a cold, and if there is snow in Shimla, Delhi reels under a horrendous cold wave, and all the heaters are sold out!
At a time when such a large number of people have lost their jobs at the grass root level – craftspersons, embroiderers, printers on cloth, weavers have lost orders, artists have lost assignments, new assignments are
hard to come by especially in the so-called luxury segment that are related to the arts, there is an air of thanatos for the artists have lost hope that anything will sell this season. Imagine trying to put together a show sans hope for any sale. Often artists out of the purview of the gallery system put in their money to hold shows and the money invested in an art show are very precious and increasingly difficult to find.
It is the proverbial chicken and egg syndrome, there is gallery support for a miniscule minority of artists who too are dictated by the terror of the galleries in terms of gallery commissions, not being able to sell their works out of the purview of the gallery participation in the international arena including biennales and triennials and of course being featured in publications. Most individual artists are unable to do this at the national level, let alone handle international positioning.
Besides it needs deep pockets to be able to sustain their work and career over a period of time and hence continue to be ruled by the galleries. To top it all is the ever elusive and mysterious entity called fame and luck which too are two sides of the same coin – for one can’t come without the other and both, the money even for survival can’t come.
The reason for my disheartened frame of mind is my recent visit to a couple of galleries this week and the mood of the artists was worse, and my empathy for them was so acute that it lingers and affects me more than I care to admit. Also when I see the situation of my weavers and block printers, it fills me up with deep rage. As if life is not as it is difficult enough. Just when things start to look up in winter for them in the festival season, wedding season, they have been pushed into such a corner that post demonetisation that many have gone back to villages — although I wonder what they will do there. Yes, the luxury segment is the end product for a very small niche minority. But for the ones who create these luxuries, it is a matter of dal-roti.
Around myself, I see that my weaver from Chanderi is unable to sell his wares, my block printer has had to downsize to only his retired father and brother working as opposed to five other workers who worked regularly in his home karkhana. My maid’s husband an accomplished embroidery worker has lost his job. Two of my sculptor friends have had indefinite postponements of their works. These are first-hand stories around me. I am sure there are countless others that will die unsung.
Dr Alka Raghuvanshi is an art writer, curator and artist and can be contacted on alkaraghuvanshi@ yahoo.com
