Transcending identities

By all accounts, Francis Newton Souza (1924-2002) was a notable, if contentious figure in Indian art. His artworks frequently included graphic sexual themes and representations of female nudity, which were condemned as unnecessary provocations and a troubling fixation. His paintings and notorious lifestyle sparked intense reactions— ranging from sheer adulation to outright condemnation.

“As a painter, Souza revels in shocking people,” observed the art critic Richard Bartholomew, way back in 1965. “The sheer ease with which audiences are taken aback by his representation of the nude seems to bolster his misguided sense of moral strength.” He characterised Souza as an exhibitionist, a showman, and a sensationalist, and accused him of objectifying the female form. He likened his artistic style to ‘muscling up to wield a sledgehammer on a slimy slug’.  

Nine years later, in 1976, the same critic hailed Souza as a legendary figure in Indian art while reviewing his solo exhibition in New Delhi. Emphasising the undeniable power of expressionism in his paintings and drawings, Bartholomew praised Souza’s profound understanding of femininity. He also applauded his ability to capture the essence of nature in small, spontaneously composed still lifes, and his skill in evoking the significance of a place and time in compact landscapes.

Souza rose to prominence (and notoriety) during his lifetime, and his paintings still command high prices in the art market. In contrast, his compatriot Avinash Chandra (1931-91), seven years younger, remains a relatively lesser-known figure. 

Common threads

In a handsomely produced book, ‘Contours of Identity: Francis Newton Souza & Avinash Chandra’, DAG (formerly Delhi Art Gallery) explores the legacies of the two Indian artists who made their mark abroad. Ashish Anand, CEO and MD of DAG, justifies the pairing by asserting that Souza and Chandra were among the best-known Indian painters of their time. Souza, born in Goa, moved to London in 1949. Chandra, hailing from Shimla, followed in 1956 after studying and teaching in Delhi.

“Both retained strong links with India, but it was in London that they first established their careers and formulated their artistic styles and sensibilities.” Anand also identifies a common interest in their artistic practice. “In different ways — Souza perhaps more blatantly, Chandra more symbolically — both used their art to explore the potency of sexual desire.”

While much is known and written about Souza, Chandra, who died in 1991, remains obscure, especially to young art lovers. Quite surprising, given that Chandra won the first prize at the First National Art Exhibition of Art in New Delhi in 1954; held his first exhibition in London in 1957; received the gold medal (first prize) at the annual European Prize of Paintings in Ostend in 1962; and was the subject of a BBC documentary that same year. Above all, he was the first Indian artist to exhibit at the prestigious Documenta III in Kassel. Despite these achievements, Chandra faced many physical and psychological challenges, including a broken (first) marriage and his failing health, which probably hastened his premature death.

Indian imagery

Besides Anand’s note, the book features essays by several art historians. Giles Tillotson discusses the Indian identity of artists Souza and Chandra, suggesting that the issue was (somewhat ably as well as regrettably) addressed not by the artists themselves but by English critics like W G Archer and George Butcher, who took it upon themselves to explain how and where Souza and Chandra relied on Indian imagery, and when they transformed or transcended it.

While Yashodhara Dalmia examines Souza’s perspective on women, Gregory Salter from the University of Birmingham makes some interesting observations on Chandra’s work in the fifties and sixties. “Chandra’s art was shaped by the processes and flux of decolonisation and migration,” he concludes, “but it also entwined those developments with shifting attitudes to gender and sexuality and the considerable impacts of technology and mass media.” The essays, though tedious and repetitive at times, do offer insights into their artistic journey.  

‘My Memories of Avinash’, an essay by Valerie Murray-Chandra, a British actress of Jamaican descent and Chandra’s widow, poignantly touches upon aspects of the artist’s life. “I fell in love with Avinash’s works before I met and fell in love with him,” she begins, recalling how, at that time, he was ‘licking his wounds from the failure of his (first) marriage.’  Later, however, Valerie reminiscences how ‘life with Avinash was never dull’.

A great mixer and enthusiastic cook, he attracted a diverse crowd of writers, painters, actors, and pop stars. Valerie explains that the fun-loving artist became introverted only while intensely and tirelessly working on his paintings. She recalls how after a kidney transplant, the artist began painting passionately and completed several pieces. Sadly, his body rejected the new kidney, resulting in his death shortly after turning 60.

What elevates ‘Contours of Identity’ to a collectable tome is the splendid curation of images, all immaculately produced.