February 26, 2080: Struldbruggian and valetudinarian have swiftly become the two adjectives most readily associated with contemporary visual art as it were. Although the mandarin-keepers of this rarefied atmosphere have adopted several well-intentioned, albeit spurious, strategies to carry out the much-needed resuscitation, thus far no approach has hit the ground running.
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One of the primary responsibilities of a gallery is to position the artist and its work outside the commercial market. It’s the relationship with non-market entities such as curators, museums, writers and critics which is essential.
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The last decade has been the most tumultuous for Indian contemporary art. The 00s witnessed an unprecedented boom that lasted until almost two years ago, when the economic downturn and worldwide recession caused the inflated art balloon to burst with a spectacular bang.
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The first time when I visited Bombay as an artist I saw every nook and corner has an art gallery and was impressed till I was told; “Idiot all are not art galleries! All kinds of exotic shops are also called ‘Gallery’”.
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Bangalore is now seen as the third major art centre in India along with New Delhi and Mumbai: a city with scarcely an art market, or long history of professional modern art practice and few galleries. The Phantom Lady looks at the vibrant alternative art scene in the city...
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Galleries are the places where a work of art is presented in a supposedly neutral context for aesthetic appreciation in tranquility. In this ideal/idealistic definition what we fail to recognize is the ideological role of the galleries and their premises that comes to play a major role in the production of meanings, values and paradigms of monetary exchanges.
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In a country where art has been a part of life since earliest days of civilisation, professionally run art galleries came into existence post-independence.
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It all started with my artist friend Anjum Singh looking for a photograph of her mother Arpita Singh with fellow artist and friend Nilima Sheikh. The two had been friends for years and barely had photographs together.
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A Dream Villa photographer exchanged her dowry to study photography in America in 1988. On her return to India, she met a very unique eunuch in Old Delhi and 13 years later, they made Myself Mona Ahmed. Mona wrote her life story in the form of e-mails to the Scalo publisher, Walter Keller. The book was released by the Swiss ambassador in the graveyard where Mona now lives.
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The beauty of this whole project is that it does not lie within the confines of a sketchbook.
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