Art activism in changing times

Indian artists have always responded to pressing issues – from fighting for freedom to ensuring it stays that way, writes Barkha Kumari

Walls of Memories, a 2003 installation by C F John, Tripura Kashyap and Aziis T M. The public was invited to walk down the well and outside it – to rethink our changing relationship with water bodies.

A mural at Shaheen Bagh, the site of CAA-NRC protests in Delhi. It was done by The Fearless Collective along with women protesters.

C F John saw a shift happen in India's visual arts practice in the late 1980s-early 1990s. From being a pursuit of self-exploration via drawings, paintings and sculptures, it started becoming a voice for society, bringing multiple artists to set up evocative installations.

“It was a period of turmoil. The Berlin Wall fell. The Gulf War broke out. India liberalised its economy. In 1992, the Babri Masjid was demolished and communal riots ensued,” the 62-year-old artist from Bengaluru said, setting the context for our conversation on arts and activism.

The purpose of art, he says, is to find meaning in life, and the Babri Masjid pogrom left him thinking — “Who am I? What is the meaning of life? What is the meaning of one's relationship with the Other and the Earth? How could I express these questions through art?” The soul-searching led to his first installation ‘Cultural Spiral’ in 1993, which he executed with 12 other artists.

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“It was a labyrinth of two intertwining mazes, separated by plastic sheets. Visuals and texts, both in English and Kannada, were taken from counter-cultural/religious movements from history that countered the dogmatic religious stands of the time. Particularly with reference to Akka Mahadevi, Allama Prabhu, Basavanna, Sree Narayana Guru, Kabir, Buddha, etc,” he explained. As visitors walked in and out of the maze, crossing each other, it became a moment of togetherness and solidarity.

In 1995 came his next installation ‘Silence of Furies and Sorrows - Pages of A Burning City’ – an invitation to think about the consequences of the riot that rocked Muslim-dominated areas in Bengaluru in 1994 over a 10-minute Urdu bulletin. Visitors had to walk around melted plastic containers, burnt clothes, and broken pillars (all dummy props).

Eight years later, he unveiled a stepwell installation ‘Walls of Memories - An art event of unresolved edges’. Once the centre of civilisation, water bodies have been pushed to the fringes. The public was invited to walk down the well and outside it and rethink its place in our lives.

These works have been collaborative — he worked with multiple artists but also engaged deeply with the community whose story he was telling. “There was communal violence in 1992 and it exists even now. My art hasn’t resolved anything nor it will. That is not my purpose. Responding to societal and environmental concerns is part of my existence as much as hunger is," says the senior artist-activist, matter-of-factly.

Activism in Indian art has always existed, delving into subjects of freedom, socio-politics, gender, marginalisation, environment, etc.

H A Anil Kumar, art historian and artist from Bengaluru, gave us a lowdown of the journey: “Artist Nandlal Bose was invited by Mahatama Gandhi to paint artworks to go with the Congress congregation. MF Husain would paint about wars. So until the Independence, artists painted about their ideas of freedom and a free nation. Once we got free, they focused on ideas like 20th-century problems, alienation and human life. Later, as Indian artists found shows abroad, they started responding to globally-relevant issues like the Iraq War and Israel-Palestine crisis. Then the trend of curated shows emerged, where old works were dug up and placed alongside new works (to offer perspective on complex issues). Kochie Biennale is an example of that.”

He says that art activism has become more articulate and sophisticated in this day and age of technological surveillance. "The necessity to rejoice freedom, the core essence of artistic expression, is in a healthy discourse with the current political situation."

He shared some examples: A large boat filled with vessels and utensils by Subodh Gupta (a commentary on cultural displacement), ‘And Tell Him of My Pain’ by Sheela Gowda, which is just endless loops of thread on walls and floors (a take on women’s work), Tyeb Mehta’s ‘Durga Mahisasura Mardini’, where goddess Durga and Mahisasura are locked in combat (was painted as a symbol of hope), Nilima Sheikh’s ‘Terrain: Carrying Across, Leaving Behind’ (about migration and Kashmir).

In recent times, The Fearless Collective has responded to moments of fear and trauma with creativity and imagination, representing the voices of women and marginalised communities. Remember the 40-ft mural of a girl holding the Constitution of India in Shaheen Bagh in Delhi? It was inspired by Khushboo, a six-year-old girl who would visit the site of CAA-NRC protests, and was painted along with women protestors as a symbol of unity.

For skeptics who wonder what role art plays, the founder Shilo Shiv Suleman shares, “On the first day of the national lockdown, amid a global pandemic, all sculptures, library and tents were torn down from Shaheen Bagh except for our mural. A cop said to us as we were taking down scaffolding that this was a labour of love, and it was beautiful.” Leaving vignettes of love and truth in the midst of hatred is what the Collective is out to do.

Likewise, a 2016 public art of two gay men sharing a kiss in the Lebanese city of Beirut prompted the authorities to build a park on the opposite. “Now the park has become a safe space for the queer community,” informs Shilo, who divides her time between Jaipur, Bali and Bengaluru.

Socially conscious art is not without its risks in the age of fundamentalism and intolerance. “I mentor artists who had to flee Afghanistan and Myanmar after the Taliban takeover and military coup (respectively),” she admits. But with emotional resonance and creativity, it is possible to navigate these strange times, she feels.

And means it. Amid endless petrol lines and powercuts, the Collective painted a mural of the leaders the people of crisis-hit Sri Lanka would like to see. The four leaders hold fire, rice and other resources of sustenance at Gotagogama, a site of resistance at Galle Face Green. The mural says: “We are our own leaders.”

Another artist who has delivered public art for good is Baadal Nanjundaswamy. He has ‘moonwalked’ on the potholes of Bengaluru, painted a crocodile emerging out of a broken road, and had a mermaid sit by a street, all to grab the attention of the apathetic civic body. Result? The civic body fixed the neglected roads in no time. “One time, I was threatened to stop doing this,” he recalls.

Others have faced worse. Just this June, Kundan Kumar Mahato, a fine arts student in Vadodara, was rusticated for making a collage of newspaper clippings on rape and other crimes against women in the shape of various Hindu goddesses. Right-wing groups had taken objection to his work.

“Yes, I am scared to give voice to issues but I will take it as it comes," he said when asked if artists are toning down their art activism.