Art Illuminates Life: The Delhi Shilpi Chakra (Introduction Text)

Year 2010: Arguably the art capital of the country, Delhi has a plethora of art institutions. Artists studios, commercial galleries and even public spaces like malls now function as the locus of art making and display. More than six decades ago, a group of artists migrated from Lahore across the borders of the newly created nations. Refugees in the capital city of India, they attempted to formulate an artistic expression that would express the trauma of their displacement as well as serve as an exemplar for developing art traditions in the modern nation. The Delhi Shilpi Chakra was founded in March, 1949 by Bhabesh Sanyal, Pran Nath Mago, Kanwal Krishna, KS Kulkarni and Dhanraj Bhagat.

Prior to 1947, the Sarada Ukil School of Art and AIFACS (All India Fine Art and Crafts Society) were the only two functional institutions. In 1949, disillusioned by the centralised control of AIFACS by “non professional” “non-artists”, Mago, Sanyal, Kulkarni and the others decided to form an alternative organisation that would nurture the needs of the artist community. PN Mago writes¹, “It was clear that unless artists came together on the basis of professional interest and needs, free of the benevolently patronising control of non-professionals, no organisation could really become meaningful.” Soon after its founding, other artists, both residents of Delhi as well as recent refugees from Lahore became members of the Chakra. These included Harkrishen Lall, Damyanti Chawla, Satish Gujral, Ram Kumar, KC Aryan, Devyani Krishna, Dinker Kowshik and Jaya Appaswamy.

The motto ‘Art Illuminates Life’ underlined the ethos of the Delhi Shilpi Chakra. Its manifesto declared that “… art as an activity must not be divorced from life; that the art of a nation must express the soul of its people and ally with the forces of progress. The group recognised artists had to come together to work towards the progress of art and through art, help build a virile national culture and brighter life in the country”. In his memoirs, Sanyal, the first Chairperson of the Delhi Shilpi Chakra, reminisces: “In our manifesto, we declared that art and culture belonged to all and not only to the fortunate few, that the artist had a role in bringing the message of creative art nearer to the people and that in the developed awareness of the masses lay the interest of the artist for his own growth. The artist was not a parasite of the society nor was he an entertainer of the well-todo.”²

The intent of the group was inscribed into its name: ‘Delhi Shilpi Chakra’ clearly indicates the centrality of location, where Delhi became the site for its activities, not only as the capital of India, but also as the meeting ground of cultural activities and practitioners from both sides of the border. Mago elucidates that “The Partition also gave a new dimension to their work as they had recently passed through an upheaval of social changes and were given to include social realities in their work which would have ordinarily be confined to the new formal language of the Western art movement.”³ ‘Shilpi’ refers to the importance of crafts, where the Chakra artists made a conscious effort to move away from the stylisations of the Bengal School to seek inspiration from the “spirit of traditional Indian art”.

Without a dedicated venue, the members of the Delhi Shilpi Chakra met in parks in Connaught Place, in the environs of Jantar Mantar and in Gole Market at Sanyal’s studio. These meetings attracted the attention of young students, journalists, theatre people and writers, all of whom contributed to the potent discussions about art and its role in society. While membership was restricted to working visual artists, other cultural practitioners were welcome, indeed encouraged, to participate with the Chakra’s activities. Gradually, other spaces opened up as venues. The barracks of the Masonic Lodge on Janpath were used for exhibitions. Public demonstrations of art methods were conducted, where members explained techniques of water colours, fresco painting and clay modelling. Temporary exhibits were put up in residential colonies and “mohallas” like Karol Bagh and Chandni Chowk, in the cloth mill area and the university campus.⁴ All these activities, as well as their publicity, resulted in the Delhi Shilpi Chakra’s capturing of the public imagination.

The legacy of the Delhi Shilpi Chakra has been underwritten in the histories of Indian modernism. The first commercial art gallery in Delhi was started by the Chakra in Connaught Place, with the help of the Dhoomimal Dharamdas family, in order to organise the regular sale of the works of its members. In the annual exhibitions and other smaller shows, work was priced such that people across all economic classes of society could afford it, in an attempt to fulfil their mandate of taking art to the people. The audience was, for the Chakra, the prime focus of art: Mago writes, “Art was mainly the artist’s business, but its purpose was to communicate; its life breath was the responsive of its receptive audience, whether it was their condemnation or their praise, but not their apathy.”

In this survey of art writing from the 1950’s and ‘60’s, it is interesting and instructive to note the Chakra’s very self-reflexive position vis-a-vis art criticism. Mago declares that “When artists are enlightened enough to resort to self criticism, the task of the critic becomes easier. Not only that, there is at once an improvement in the work of the artist, for the artist accepts that he is not infallible. …The bourgeois idea of attaining perfection by the simple process of not admitting your errors has resulted in a great deal of stagnation in Indian Art, both of the individual artist and of groups.”⁵ One of the regular activities of the Chakra were weekly criticism meetings with critics such as Richard Bartholomew, Charles Fabri and Baldev Sahai.

Richard Bartholomew’s review of the Tenth Annual Exhibition of the Delhi Shilpi Chakra offers a formal modernist reading of the work. Ten years into its existence, the Chakra appeared to have lost its potency, as Bartholomew writes: “… besides formal affiliations, the members of this society do not possess a common conscious endeavour to struggle for greater articulations.” Other reviews of a Chakra exhibition in Mumbai in the same year were more generous with their praise. The Indian Express ‘Art Critic’ (not identified by name) writes in December, 1958: “An Eye Opener to Art Lovers”, where the distinct styles are described as the “several spokes that go to make a wheel” and that “the members of the Chakra are united by their aim of hoping to build a new art capable of expressing the emotions and ideas of our times.”⁶

References

1. “Introduction” in Delhi Shilpi Chakra- The early years, Exhibition Catalogue, NGMA, 1997, p8
2. Sanyal, BC, The Vertical Woman Vol. II, NGMA, Delhi, 1999, p6
3. Mago, PN, Contemporary Art in India, A Perspective’, National Book Trust of India, Delhi, 2001, p74
4. Op Cit, 1999, P7
5. Op Cit, 1997, p9
6. Op Cit, 1997, p.20

Richard Bartholomew:  Thought, Delhi, Shilpi Chakra Tenth Annual Exhibition

March 29, 1958

With eight experienced painters and sculptors as its members, some of them among the very best in India, and with the society itself now in the second decade of its existence the annual exhibitions of the Delhi Silpi Chakra could be, and should be, an art event in the city. But excepting some of the earlier exhibitions it has always been far from this. This year’s show, for instance, could have been one of the Society’s periodical essays at displaying the work of its members. As an annual show it falls short of the best that most of the responsible members could have produced. More than half of the show consists of inert stuff; some contrasting sizes confound the eye, (Kulkarni’s “Groom” and Kowshik’s “Landscape”) and odd company is unpleasant (Satish Gujral’s “Portrait of Krishna Menon” and Pran Nath Mago’s “Jalianwala Bagh” sketches).

Seeing this year’s exhibition one suspects that, besides formal affiliations, the members of this society do not possess a common conscious endeavour to struggle for greater articulation. There is no attempt as a community to disenchant some of its members of superstitious shibboleths. Nor is there the endeavour to guard one’s own frontiers against invasions. (One-man shows by painters from outside Delhi are more often than not art events in the city.)

Of the senior painters contributing to this annual exhibition only Dhanraj Bhagat and Ram Kumar have presented exhibitions of quality in recent years. And the exhibits in this show are certainly not the happier examples of their experiments. (On the other hand Kowshik’s recent exhibition is an example of what the society ought not to allow, at least from a responsible painter, and in its own gallery.)

Bhagat’s “Bull” has a monolithic quality, being a derivative from folk and primitive art, and some examples of classical sculpture. His slender “Drummer”, reminiscent in its elongation of Indonesian woodcarving, is less than static. It is limp, and folds awkwardly at the knee. It is deficient in body, stance and momentum.

Ram Kumar has acquired a brighter palette. His two pieces on show, “Portrait of a young Man” and “Two Sisters” reveal a violent reshuffling in the use of the background. The idiosyncratic, sparsely delineated background, once so organic to his work, has been replaced by a symbolic notation of the psychosis of the dramatis personae. One half of his compositional style, and his colours, have changed.

Satish Gujral’s only contribution to this show – “Portrait of Krishna Menon” – is in his characteristic style. This is a work which is impressive even if one does not accept it totally. The image is economically and strongly delineated and it emanates Mephistophelean aura. Gujral’s colour schemes are new and stimulating. The effect is impressive even if all the means are not conventionally sound. For instance, the hands are suggestively stanced but they have been painted carelessly. In this portrait, Mr. Krishna Menon’s eyes seem to blur with the radiance of his own glow.

“The Groom” by Kulkarni is drawn effectively enough: but the motif has been expanded in excess of the sensibility. Reduced to a quarter of its present size, it would be doubly effective. No painter can get away with splashdash technique when he has to handle a large area. We have had the groom theme once too often (from Gade in December), and Kulkarni’s contribution to it is an attempt at being macabre. His “Horse-cart” is pastiche.

Sanyal’s bright, crisply composed landscapes are primarily travel sketches – the record of visual impressions rather than of moods. Kowshik persists in his abstractions, the papercut creation entitled “Landscape” being (within its obvious limitations) a pleasant essay.

Jaya Appasamy’s simplifications and subtractions fail to evoke a mood and have yet to substantiate the fantasy which is her primary theme. Devayani Krishna has some abstruse work on show, technically good, and executed with the utmost skill. After these virtuoso productions she could well afford to sift and simplify. Of Pran Nath Mago’s two cartoons for a mural commemorating Jalianwala Bagh, the pencil sketch is the better, though the highkey, divisionist style will call for a very deft handling of colours. “Siesta” by the same painter, is a common theme rendered grotesquely through over-diversification. These three painters, each in his own way, have yet to achieve articulation.

Rajesh Mehra is still in an evolutionary phase. After the vigour of his work last year he seems to be experimenting with the softer forms of deliberate understatement. “Wilderness” and “Moon,” two tonal compositions, grow in fascination with familiarity.

Kanwal Krishna’s four graphics reveal this painter’s mastery over a medium with which he has been experimenting for some time. The technique is excellent, the prints possessing great purity of tone and a wide range of texture. These are examples of extreme expressionism bordering on the poetic. Using a personal metaphorical language, the ice and the snow of the Himalayas, which fascinated this painter till not very long ago, have been transmuted into pencils of light and the needle-like intersections of frost design. Conventional images emerge out of this private record of the mind, but only occasionally, to act as guides.

The Delhi Silpi Chakra should do better than this. It can do better if it makes an effort. It must, if it is not to be eclipsed by private shows, and if it is not to repeat, on a smaller scale, the random harvest associated with the National Exhibitions or become one of the many stereotypical societies.

NOTE:  The images are not part of the above mentioned exhibition and are only used to illustrate the article.

Article courtesy: Estate of Richard Bartholomew.