We know, the publication of Vrishchik has been delayed again, but we hope to catch up with a double number on mediaeval poetry next time. A special number to look into the affairs of Lalit kala Akademi is on the way. We are collecting details of its objectives and acbievements from which we shall evaluate its contrib.ution in the furtherence of art in this country, or if it has become a dead body (as some of our friends consider it) we might even try a post-mortem. Mter tbe news or first days of flood, much more bas been reported about the havoc. Besides Broach, various di.tricts in Saurashtra have been badly affected and lately there are news of flogds in West Bengal. Artist community at the Faculty of FIDe Arts, Baroda has collected information of d~vastation by visiting the fioodravaged areas of Narmada region whicb will be displayed in the form of an exbibition to collect funds. (Mter the visit they have helped about hundred families with utensils and other' usables.) Art organisations of other cities ma')' arrange this exhibition and donate generously where the need i. urgent.
LmO' '
in this.
nwn~ by K. G. SUbramanyan .
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VRISHCHiK July-August 1970 , Year: 1. Nos. 9-10 Editors : Gnlam Sheikh Bhupeu Khakh ar
,
4 Residency Bungalow University Office Compound Baroda 2. Gujarat. India. Space donations in this nnmber : I
Bharat Lindner Pvt. Ltd., Baroda.
2 . Dynamo Dilect,ies, Baroda. 3 MeleurY' Paints and Chemicals I.td" Bombay 4 Chik. Ltd., Bombay. Published by Oulam Sheikh from 4 Residency Bungalow, University o~ce Componnd, Baroda-2 and printed by A. N. Joglekar at 3-A. Associates, 4-S Laxmi Estate~ Bahucharaji Road, Baroda.
Song of The Rolling Earth Arvind M ehrotra
"/ believe rhat I have found a source of inspiration in prospectuses . . catalogues. posters, advertisements of all sorts. Believe me rhey contain the poerry of our epoch." Guillaume Albert !Vladimir Alexandre Apollinaire de KosrrolVitzky
sa me sa me same same same
sa me you s am~ we same us she same he same th ey same them come same go same yes same no dust storms in the mind shifting dunes of same impre ssio ns
same dawn croaking hoarsely in same light- rhythms same nightmare lifting its cloak, sbowin g the same mask same milkbuttl es singing in my bag, i
m~et
same coughin g and spitting at the milk booth same necks nod same worries
same irritations same yawn in g eyes brush me aside same tired legs on same win ding road, under the
same bridge same everyday like same every other day same incidents buzzi ng about my hive
same same same same
bones dripping wi th greasy numbness newsprint fed to same alphabets tree crouching under same bleached sky roots clawing for food
same branches same fruit same sickness creates same urge to vomi t
same poems same tablet to cure same black poetic dysen tery same cries same sound s same names same skin
same same same same
bulb on the streetlight watching sperm catch sperm dot beneath the question mark I life divided by bus Q's at same intervals
Same stumbling old Pa rsi woman asking whether this same drunk en bus goes where she wants to go same train halting at same stations same minute same announcements o ver the megaph one sam e crowd digests me every evening
..
same rubber shoes same oily hair same synthetic clothes same Z;ebra umbrella same Will's Filter Tipped ~ • ., . same SllOpS i pass thru same window ",~ same ads covering civilization like moss ..;s-~, ' r" same hard rain falling on my brain same sometHing on the verge of collapsing . same multisigns accost me wherever i look same jazz of my sadness in a tongue-tied cosmos same dumb ea rs listening to same hope i lost like a wave in a wave same cracks becoming crevices becoming valleys becoming pla ins. lost I same alcoholic face nOw an x-ray playing my canoe in concrete J .
•
same efforts towards the communication of same communication '. ~
•
same tobacco in same pouch "
same little rediscoveries about ones self same 'sati sfacti o n' for doing"same 'good'
same same same same
paleface all over god nowbere me entering tbe airconditioned books hop me identifying myself with the 'J ournals' of Gide and :Countern otes' of ronesco same hawker outside shouts ba nanas at twenty paisa per pair
same red bus
same ,intestinal realities
same crooked - eyed crooked - capped dri ver same busy-legged quick- fingered keen-eyed conductor same honkings of smoke and noise
same blinking Sa\novar s~me lonely beards same young rimbauds systematically disordering their senses
same same same same same same
bottle of sauce same salt and pepper lipstick mark on the rim conversations: what news /pulling along / soso food same waiter same bill same tip time to rush for the same local at the platform-point
lame executives knotting weak brows over
same Evening News plVlOl(S of same crosswords with same cigaret butts ~adlinl~s same derailments same gold haul same brawl same shopkeeper fined for not observing a sunday same wildlife now represented by the crow same cock awakens the same sun same house-sparrow watches me brush my teeth same earthworm i behead 2 same fly jumps into my milk same frog grunts beneath the table same woman limping in skirts and heels lame butchered hair same docked Dlpples same breasts flowering in fenced gardens same wanderings in same stillnesses same slumgirl bathing with dew same glassgirl who might break any moment same rupali, vinita, vandana
same juicy eyeballs same will of virginity same voice . voiceless as fan revolutions on the window pane same pulse threatening to strike same zest to die same time leaving fingerprints on same hours lame morning noon and night lame 30 days has september april june and november lame electrically driven cycle of Seasons t
Bombay 1967
Dog Adil lussawala " l'Ue,
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f Unstinting moon, to uninitiate ears , our monthly dialogue', always out of tune, a long-drawn howl on one side and you, sweet pudding, silent,
1
It's earth, my raw deal with just a bit of bone in it for all the bones it had that's proving lean and tough, Strange earless creatures go about their ways, hearing
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music, making none,
who find plain talk enough, And muzzled poets, who, unintelligible to the earless multitudes, turn to you, like me; but bark, bang chains, bitch like my best wives, as the whips get worse,
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News And Us 7-9-'70 While writing this, waters of Narmada, Tapti and Orsang have risen beyond the danger level. Broach being a victim of consecutive floods and earthquakes since last few years have had both of it this time. While no detailed reports available, news of a number of villages evacuated and snbmerged under the surging waters, are heard. Floods have reached Baroda too, wbere the tiny rivulet of Vishwamitri has inundated, covering all low-lying areas ' of the city under water. While rescue-operations are in progress and ministers are flying in helicopters to
But how many such cases to report to? Does this reach anywhere,-hurt the sensibility of anyone? A series of news every day. Most of them like curious columns of believe it or not. Either it is of awarding prizes to ugliest looking men and women or of a hundred year old man marrying an eighteen year old girl, whether it is from warfronts or ceasetire lines, newspapers-cinema without screens-present a spectacular saga of events every morning while we sip our tea In armchair. News of, otherwise timid
Gujarati beating to death a stranger, chopping him to pieces and burning it until the flesh got roasted-during the riots
inspect the situation, tbere is a vague uneasiness in the
at Ahmedabad or beyond the iron curtains, writers who
air: echoes of a huge cry of multitudes being swept away across the unweildy spate of rivers. All India Radio, Baroda, last night proved to be an example of inefficiency by not being able to report' details of havoc and by switching off its operation at II p. m. At the time of severest imergency it wore a criminal silence over 'the fate of victims of the flood in remote villages of Broach and
differed in view' against Kremlin punished by being tied up tightly in wet canvas for an unknown period of time, reach us daily in all colour and drama of unbelievability.
Surat districts whose only communication with the
outside world was through the radio as all other means of communication were disrupted. Be it public or private organisation, we directly or indirectly commit cold-blooded murders. A welkn own doctor in Baroda recently let a patient die because the patient could not pay his fees in time. It is reported that a lower-middle class man was admItted to the ward after a serious leg-injury, whose family were trying to collect money for paying the doctor, which did
We seem to have come to live with anything or every thinguntil the flame reaches our ass and hurts uS physically . Communalism, hatred and frus tration have crept into our blood that rises and falls whimsically at any hour. We eat. drink, hear th e news and spit our souls out on
p.n-ements at any available opportu nity. The mo vement against communalism hasn ' t gone far. News of Hamid Dalwai beaten up by muslim fanatics in Poona has not stirred sympathy of slogan raising anti-communalists, nor
the leaders of nation have considered it worth tak ing note of. We have other things to talk about, of grand alliance and privy purses, nun-traffic and B. B. C.'s policy. The worm of conceit has bitten our soul to such an extent that we are not able to face any criticism of
not arrive in time from the village hometown.
ourselves. Apathy has made us adjust to inconceivab le
Thc doctor reportedly had even neglected the initial treatment inspite of agonised cries and pleadings of the patient whose wounded leg had swollen and busted after two day's dangling in air. Doctor did not budge even after the complaints of other patients in the ward about the unhygenic stench of puss leaking from the dangerously infected leg.
misery that we have learnt to defend and even glorify the horrific spectacles taking place in front of our eyes. What we speak is unintelligible, what we hear is cacophonic. Yet we grab opportunities to pronounce judgements and give verdicts that ours is an age of
confusion and complexity-even when the problems are as st.ark as dayligbt.
Miniature Purana Art is one of those areas of human activity where mfnd strips itself off taboos and probes into the region of freedom. Whether this is done by painting a picture or writing a poem, or for that matter writing on art as Baudelaire,
Malreaux and Coomaraswamy have done at moments of compelling intuition. Unfortunately most writers on . Indian art have not only failed to illuminate the intrinsic character of a work of art, but have also made their words as uninspiring and their expression as verbose as possible. All this is well-illustrated by a number of volumes published on various schools of miniature painting. The editorials of Marg and most of the articles in Rooplekha too are specimens of this. Writi'1g on art in Tndia seems to have begun with the view
of explain ing to the world (or 'west' in this context) that we too are capable of producing a culture and art of our own. Thus accepting the premise of 'replying' that Englishman who did not hesitate to call Ajanta as specim en of barbaric art, or of certain miss Meyo's views that we arc an uncivilised race. we seem to have pleaded in the world
court of culture about our worth. At times we did this with our head high like Vivekananda and Tagore or Coomaraswamy, at other times, with our knees touching
earth. Inspite of all this and while J. C. Bose was lecturing in Paris, a spectacle was taking place in (he cities of Berlin
and Paris revealing the attitude of west to ward rndia and Indian culture as reported by Modern Review in August 1926. A number of Indian men and women were displayed in the cages of the zoological gardens of Berlin and Paris for the a mu sement of rncnicking public. That until today west has been intere stpd in the curious aspect of this country, be it showing of an exotic festiva l or a
macabre sight. Not that s路uch events do not take place in the so-called devel oped countries, but developed' countries would like to see them taking place in underdeveloped countries in order to gain a mischievous
hegemony over- them.
It is a matter of Iittle 路wonder路 tbat those' who pioneered the work of explaining Indian art and culture; bave been the writers whose'minds were sbaped by colonial diplomacy tbat even in their sincere ellorts to rescu'e Indian art frbm the shackles of EUropean cultural supremacy, th'ey unconsciously appealed to the same European atlth01ities for' recognition. These men were either tne ietired 路or practicing I.C.S. officers (tbe ramnants of 'jack-of-'all ' colonial tribe) or well-meaning Engiishmen who thought of a grea't cause ohhe uplirt of 'a backward race, ' besides their love of exotica. They all contiibutearto present the 'quaint' beauty of' Indian art with splasbes of examples from 1ndian mythology. (Our biue-bodied, yellow-garbed god was presented for the discriminating delight of top-hatted, arm-chaired 'connoisseurs'.) All this exotica somehow has not gone far and has succeeded to stir only negligible interest in Indian culture, let alone Indian art. After the great pop-craze over the strings of sitar India" exotica has promised to become a salable commodity in the west. Followed by the prices of Indian sculptures and miniatures rising, a fresh crop of contemporary painters have also proved to be a commercial success that the symbolism of ancient Indian art is splattered on canvasses in abundence !
We have tried to enter the pag.a nt of world art from back-dnor, yet historians of world art have not bothered to spend more pages on Indian art than they did before, nor have they considered its importance equal to their own . achievements.
It is significant how African nations and
Blacks alf over the world have challenged the supremacy of white history-an eductaion based on a viewpoint of focusing attention on the achievements of white races.
Some of the Latin American writers have likewise cballenged the implied supremacy of Anglo - Saxon languages over theirs and now translations of Paz and Neruda and many others have pointed a way to the reshaping of now dried- up English verse.
At home publications on art have not reached beyond the shelves of cultural snobs, that we wallow and deligbt in vulgarity of posters and calenders of all sizes and schemes, These books, when big are so expensive that they remain prohibited to a middle class Indian. Besides, though they are supposedly designed to reach Indian market and a 'general reader', are full of bombastic philosophy of divine inc., that not only a general reader but anybody wHo wanfs to' know a little mote about the paintings concerned returns frustrated. Tbese books, inspite of containing lome of the greatest paintings ever produced (and beautifully printed too) fail to appeal to sensible ' people because of their long and boring discourses (If these books are admired in sensible quarters, the admiration is for the "paintings reproduced and rarely for the texts). we believe that the gbost of a connoisseur sahib is still sitting in front of tbe writers of these texts who go on repeating tales from Indian mythology which many Indians 'know by virtue of being Indian. Besides this, what remains of the text is a long discussion of deciphering of lome illegible scribbling as a possible clue to find out the name of the artist.
It was recently pointed out by Dr. Goswami of Chandigarh University tbat writers on miniature painting have been obsessed with the idea of discovering new schools of painting without having necessary, convincing evidence. As a result of this lust of posterity we have a number of schools named after patron cities, the authenticity of which is much in question . Much of the 'discovery' of a state-school seem to rest on the fact tbat the paintings were found in possession of a particular state, thus the writers christened the set of paintings with the name of the state. While truth is that the style of a school had little connection with tbe patronage 'of a state but its shaping was due to the existence of various families of painters who strictly followed the discipline of painting in a particular manner. The writers in question have hardly looked into the pictorial characteristics of a painting in order to discover its intrinsic uniqueness, but have busied themselves to distinguish one style from another by measuring the lengths of jamas worn by royalties in the pictures, or by identifying a particular prince by the width of his turban and the twist of his moustache.
Moreover, snobbish interpretations of themes (every Nayak compared with Krishna) with miles long list of footnotes and bibliography have obscured the possibilities of better appreciation. Thus the said writers have cr.eated an imaginary territorial line of what they call an area of authoritative research. Anyone who happens to speak about these paintings without having qualifications designed by the authorities in question, is either ignored or frowned upon. That until today writing on Indian art has remained a lifeless academic exercise. One more thing worth noting is the translations of texts into English which accompany many a picture. These texts, usually some of the best of mediaeval J;l0etry, are translated in English without much sensitivity ",nd understanding of the medium of poetry. One would like to ask a number of questions~to these • authorities '. To what extent the information ( which passes under the name of research) regarding the ownership of a picture to a particular state Or it being painted in a particular year, help us get nearer to what. the business of painting is all about? Is it possible to build up a year to year history of Indian painting and if so, what purpose it is going to serve ? The fact tbat families
of painters carried out the practice of making miniatures without hardly defying the rules of family tradition, can be interpreted into' historical' terms as symptoms of
un-progress. In this manner the paintings could be classed as repetitive and nearly unchangeable, as folk art. It is true that in different regions artists sought to paint in different manners ( and there are obvious reasons for doing so ) but once the style or qulum was set to a code the cbange was either nil or negligible. What matters if Nayak was an ordinary man and Nayika an ordinary woman, and did not belong to the divine tribe? What if they were involved in a purely physical act of love- making and were not the symbols of divine communion ( as stated by Mulk raj Anand in his lengthy discourses on Khajuraho et aJ. )? To what extent the story of the picture belps us nearer to the vision of the painter?
designed by Michelangelo which never went off the ground), but we thought times had changed, until we came across the 38th volume of the said magazine. In tbe cause of Indian art, contribution of Coomaraswamy is unequalled and of great importance, yet his admirers have not made a great commomerative
volume. Dr. Randbawa, who is at tbe belm of affairs of that ageing institution AIFACS, the official sponsors of Rooplekha, has willingly let his admirers make a grand volume on his personal as will public life. If this volume was presented to him in the Indian tradition of celebrating his sixtieth year of entering Vanaprasthashrama, discretion on the part of his admirers
looking at these paintings only confined to pictorial properties and theme of the picture? Dose its
and humility on the part of Randhawa was expected. This could have served as an example of entering into the age of greater wisdom. The vl)lume in question defies all ideals of morality. There is a gallery of vintage and fresh photograpbs over forty in number printed on lavish art paper, witb over thirty of them showing him with a variety of people and in a number of poses,
significance extend beyond the sensibilities of time in
including a reproduction in colour.
which it was created? That when a painter began painting with literary material at hand, did he make illustrations of poems? Is it possible to appreciate such pictures without refering to the literary source? Would the kind and degree of such an experience be limited ? Or would it equal to the experience of poetry without knowing the poem?
in front, in profile and also from the back-is there an intended similarity with a photograph of Gandhiji ? His public as well as private life is glorified, with his wife and children and grandchildren featuring in them. In one picture his wife is shown bringing morning
Is there any significance of a miniaturist's attempt to paint sound, or musical modes? Is the experience of
etc" etc., etc.,
One of the self- styled writers on miniature painting, and particularly Pahari, M. S. Randhawa bas unashamedly published a special tribute to himself and bis glorious
He
bas posed
tea and in another evening tea or else shown churning
milk at dawn. On the cover he stands holding a branch of flower tree with his head specially lifted high in tbe manner of looking beyond borizons ... The fashion in which the volume has been prepared makes a halo over a man whose colleagues and predecessors have done greater services to Indian art. Why is there a conspicuous
contribution to Indian art in a special number of
absence of writings on him by Karl Khandalawala and Motichandra-what do thcy think about this volume after it is published? We think a more befitting tribut.e, if at all
Rooplekha, of which he is the chief editor. His admirers, friends and others-including Galbraitb, Patwant Singb, Mulk raj Anand and cO.,-have eulogised his role in the
republishing his best writings on art and an evaluation of it by scholars and students of Indian art in i4e light
was neces,sary, would have been in the form of .
cause of Indian art, We knew of an ancient custom of
of modern researches instead of wasting a nUI)1ber of
building one's own tomb during one's life-time ( welknown example being the tomb of Pope Julius II
pages to satisfy the narcissistic impulses of ihe 'chaIrman of the institution.
In Gujarat, we too have celebrations at the age of sixty, Gulabdas Broker is one such literary figure whose literary merits, when we come to think of it, hardly exist, except that he had been on important posts, has delivered lectures in P. E. N. conferences and has represented Gujarat in a literary conference abroad. It seems that awards and celebrations have become symbols of old age and extinction of artistic or literary activities. The
Gyanpith award winner Firaq Gorakhpuri while reading some of his poems on AIR spoke in a manner that smelt of self-love while the poems failed to support claim of
greatness bestowed upon him. A veteran poet and critic Niranjan Bhagat in Gujarat has finally accepted the much publicised gold medal (Ranjitram Suvarnachandrak) which he had denied for the last few years. His decision has surprised us as we do not know on what grounds the award has been granted to him since he has not published any significant creative or critical writing for over a
decade! He is supposedly had renounced from the literary world of Gujarat and had limited the sphere of his activities to teaching, and preaching a crowd of fans in a wellknown restaurant of Ahmedabad.
New Cinema Much is talked about the new wave in Indian Cinema (Times of India has published a number of articles flashing the glorious achievements of new film makers) and awards have been given to Bhuvan Shome, Sara Akash and Kanku on central and state levels. It is heartening news that Film Finance Corporation has, besides making monetary funds available to promising film makers, planned to acquire theatres in the major cities to promote the running of new, experimental films. And it is particularly noteworthy of the steps of the government to have recognised the efforts of the striving young directors. But now is the question of evaluating what has been produced instead of glorifying it under tbe pretext of new wave. There is much of run of the mill and trash along with the genuinely cinematic achievements in the films made by these leaders of new wave in Indian Cinema. Mrinal Sen's much-publicised Bhuvan Shome has proved to be commercially successful, but does it prove to be an adventurous experiment? Its amateurish enthusiasm of using a genuine locale of Kathiawar falls short of convicing detail.. The dialogues and characters are forced to fill in the otherwise a very short (perhaps very poetic in print) . episode that at the most needed a film of 45 minutes. What has come to Suhasini Muley is an artificial conversation in polished Hindi (the justification of which is
cooked up by making her a city-educated village belle) plus all the freedom of an urban girl forced into the character of a usually self-confined, shy village girl. She has a disarming smile and at times looks very attractive, but on the whole fails to live up the character with ease and authenticity.
While there are interesting
flashes of photography ( the tonga scene, or the swing in the desened bungalow) editing of shots is very poor, at times exceedingly lengthly shots like lhe cart-episode limps and paralyses the near-poetic rhythm of tbe story. The wi ..-cracking villager and buffalo-scene are totally ineffective. The other film Sara Akash is comparatively much authentic and genuine in locale and spee.;b with minor defects of
cinematic cliques of using hackneyed symbols (the swinging lamp scene). Its pace is slow and has a very ordinary theme. Except for the over-acring (influence of Gujarati stage) of Tarla Mehta, most of the cast are restrained and occassionally brilliant like Madhu and Rakesh in the main roles. Photography is clean but hardly outstanding, shots of Tajmahal in between the scenes are irrelevent, yet the film has proved to be an honest attempt of a new director. It may be even experimental compared' to the trash of Bombay studios, butthat's to give it undue advantage. In its own right, its a sensible but ordinary film.
Triennalia Gujarati film Kanku can not be called progressive, authentic, sensible or interesting in any sense of the words. In fact it's a boring, third rate film which has exploited the wind of progressivism so much in vogue to day. We do not know why the locale and dialogues of Pannalal patel's novel are changed from north Gujarat to Saurashtra ( Does it show the ignorance of the feel of north region of Gujarat or is it because the former stage actors and actresses so used to speak in rhetoric kathiawari dialect, could not speak in north Gujarati dialect?) Pallavi Mehta in the title role is lifeless, and her aceent is irritatingly urban and artificial. We have no clue why a second rate propular lyricist was assigned . to write songs in the sugam sangeet style (All India Radio fame) and wby DillP Dholakia was chosen to sing in playback in his usual pseudo-folk style. The splashing of still shots in the flood-scene showed inefficient handling of tbe medium of photograpby and pushing the cliches of the new cinema (freeze etc. ) to gain undue advantage under the name of progressivism. The only positive points of this othe1;Wise run Qf the mill film were some candid shots of village houses and lanes, besides brief moments of genuine acting by the minor characters, like the midwife etc., Those who have wriuen in press aboul these films seem to be sensible and intelligent people, but in then: over-enthusiasm to acknowle.dge a change against the monstrosities of Hindi cinema they have overplayed the importance of these films. Even Kanku has been acknowledged as an experimental film. We think this halo over small achievement would burst th" pre-mature baloon of -new Ci~ema. Let liS wait until we come across a genuinely.,xperimentai film. Adhe Adhnre shows promise. Uski Roti in the incomplete version we saw shows the coming. of a genuine cinema in this country after Satyaji Ray and Ritwik Ghatak, Visually it is most effective and moving ( the story set in a village in Punjab is visually re-evoked with ihe knowledge and sensitivity of the· paintings of Amrita Shergil) where photqgrapher Mahajan has excelled in collaboratipn with director Mani Kaul. It is more than a realistic film (a refreshing departure from Satyajit Ray) which usos extreme stylisation of movements of human body. But let us not praise it until we see it completed. *. * *
After our report over the fate of Indian section at the second Indian Triennale we have received letters from artists friends. Though the number of arrists responding is not grea! we would continue our protest agaist the beaurocratic policy of the Triennale committee. We decided there was no point in collecting signatures as a form of protest. A mass protest like this, though democratic, is more baza. dous and poses problems of involving artists of all kinds. We are trying to coUect a number of artists to launch a positive-protest in the form of a counter-exhibition inspite of the retiring attitude ( why to beat a dead horse of the Akademi ?) of some of our friends. We have also received copy of a letter by the ,ecretaries of Society of Contemporary Artists of Calcutta addressed to the chairman of the Lalit Kala Akademi, in which they have protested against the nomination of Ranu Mukherjee as the zonal representative of West Bengal. We reproduce here a part of the letter: 'We have also corne to learD, to our distress, that Srirnati Ranu Mukhopadhyaya (also known as Lady' Ranu Mookerjee), the permanent President and owner.,f the Academy of Fine Arts, has been given a big hand, in the activities connected with the preparation for the Second Triennale, in West Bengal. She, it seems , has been asked to prepare a list of artlSts in West Bengal who have won nati!JDal or international recognition by winning awards etc., for .,ventual participation at- the Triennale exhibition. May yte gently ask wielD will guarantee the veracity of such a list? Many artists of West Bengal would share our lack of confidence in Sm . Mukhopadhyaya's performance ill this respect. It also seems that Sm. Mukhopadbyaya h8& ... also been given di~retionary power to select · and recommend the names of five 'meritOl:iqus' and/flr promising artists of West Bengal, who though are not receipients of. awards etc., are quite competent. creative artists.
What is the locus standi of Sm. Mukhopadhyaya ·to perform the tasks Lalit Kala Akailemi bas assigned to her·? . She-would not claim berself to be a creative arrist of any ', sort. There is absolutely no evidence-to prove that·she . . .. had ever been an art critic or an art lIistorian. She had always been an impressario of visual arts and a . specialist
R. N. 15189/89
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in public relations. This s~rely does not entitJe her to 'sit in Judgement on the questi~n of the quality of art and artists. . The position she enj~ys as the me!1)ber of the Council of Lalit J<.ala Akademi was never the choosing of . : the artists of West Bengal. The choic~ some politician . ministers. of Bengal had made in selecting her to represent ;/ West Bengal in the Council of'Lalit Kala Akademi can not b~ a binding on the creative artists and art critics of Bengal who know a little bit more about the things and persons of the world of arts than the ignorant-of-art politicians. ' The letter further denounces the self-appointed authority of Smt. Mukherjee stating that her considerations arc ' extra-art. But nevertheless the writers of this letter seem to aceept the idea of dividing India into zones which is . ridIculous and banal. As the same words could be. used for other zonal representatives as used for smt. Mukherjee. Who are these repersentatives to sit in judgement over the works produced by artists who have no faith ) n them? Why not to have a similar jury like the last Triennale, chosen from different art centres of India with the clear understanding of giving them every right to " _choose what they conside.r worth. In order to avoid any . possible debate over the much-maligned issue of whether or not'a Commissioner should participate and compete in ., tbe Tri~~le, a clear policy ' can be adopted in advaiwe.
Instead .of making a large group of artistS, art historians, of the cOllfiicting views, a .small group of three 'o r four artists may be invited to be· on the jury• . But if such a thing takeS' place, m'ost of the ~in~ dia~onds in the gallery of eminent 'artists':"inc1uding new ~eciuits 'and many others who enjoy the privileges ' of being t,he sole representative artists of various States would not be able to get in. And how would they approve of an exhibifion sans the works 'o f Akademi-approved artist of eminence? , Thus, the idea of selecting artists than art. Awards, recognition than creativeability. So that all who hold distinguished chairs in the tWo Councils of the Akademi may also get a place of pride. They can perpetuate this system once it is implemented, and can continue to patronise 'young artists' fora numlJer of years. Most eloquent of the reasons presented ·by the members who have held chairs of the Akademi for 'nearly three ,terms - is by one of the eminent nava-ratnas that 'he is there. to look .after the interest of young artists :ofIndia.' .! !
We again~request artists friends in 'Madras, Hydrabad, Lucknow',-Delhi and Bombay and elsewhere to let us know their views regarding the policy of the Triennale com'mitte. We w'ol,lld gladly printtb'eir views in ' order to open up a cljpussion ip th!! interest of art an4 • . . artists of India. ' >'~ . . ' . . ':'., <t~""'1
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