Friday, 13 April 2012

The Indian Dhobi Ghat : ART ETC - KOLKATA ART MAGAZINE



Most of my life’s experiences are related to the routine life of fast paced commercial capital, Mumbai. I love crowd and people with different level of understandings and views. As I travel in train almost every day, since so many years I have also been observing the never changed scenario of Mumbai’s most attractive (?) sites, which is evergreen. And that is, the public laundry next to Mahalaxmi station lovingly called – Dhobhi Ghat. It is not a huge, grand structure made by any ancient king or reputed business man of modern day, it’s a simple structure built for washing clothes. The clothes are brought there from all over Mumbai. I am always amused by the thought of how well managed, time- precise and logistically organized work process it carries out. It’s organizational set-up is  nothing less than the curriculum learnt at thereputed management institutes. Only differences between white collared jobs at management level and this age old attraction is the outer appearance and educational  degree, else the aim of profession for both is- Perfection. 

This Dhobi Ghat has become a kind of institute for me. I have learnt truths, pondered upon many economical, social and political issues. And I find, that up till now all the researches and analysis have failed terribly in each field due to one reason or the other. The state of India and world is just like the bundle of clothes that are brought at this Ghat. Every bundle has an identity of the agent or the main laundry from where it is brought here. But when opened  and left scattered all the clothes and lining are dirty  and crumpled which have to be laundered to look clean and be ready for use again. For this process a dhobi or a washer man doesn’t need a degree or big fat books to update his knowledge; everyday practice and sound knowledge of colors, clothes and their longitivity guides him to handle each of them carefully.  That's great! It’s metaphoric representation of today’s society.



I am also attracted to it due to its stubborn presence in the heart of the city since so long. Earlier it was the place where the clothes of most famous personalities and chief politicians were bought for washing. It was the most honored place. I think at that time politicians and leaders had clean personality which could also be seen in their clean and stainless dress code. But amazingly, times have changed corruption has entered the very root of the society. Every field is tainted. In fact we can see the mentality of changing world which says …Daag ache hai. It’s a simple statement with deeper meaning.
Whatever is the fact, this Dhobhi Ghat has not changed its value and still it works on the principle of ‘neat, clean and tidy’, with no Daag ever seen. 

So in this world where stains are good(?) Is there any one to play the role of washer man to clean our souls?  We all are waiting for the Godot and hope he comes.
I want to preserve and make this site know to people from every nook and corner of the world. This is my heartfelt attempt. I have given a real look into this maze where a novel ought to get confused and missing. My artworks are the actual photography of the site, washer men and thework process. The water outlets and inlets work as energy to revitalize the shine of clothes which can also mean that there should be some system in our society which would drain off evils and bring in purity and goodness of thoughts and actions. And this is not limited to any particular strata of the society but to every Indian citizen.  
  
I wish to make this place and the artisans here immortal. Like the washer men who clean the clothes, let our souls be cleansed too. As they handle each cloth without biased thoughts, so be our political theory be- equal justice to all. There is some power in their skill that people prefer to wash their dirty lining here than washing it in machines. Doesn’t this subtly mean cleansing society and self in most natural way? Hmm, a point to think over. Plans are on to make Mumbai a glittering city. So before this simple yet highly metaphorical site gets ruined or refurbished I have captured its originality and its very soul of dignified presence in this city of joy and progress.  

Most of my artwork is the four dimension extension of a digital photography. The bright colors are omnipresent along with pure white color on clothesline, well arranged to dry the clothes. The gushing water, slogging washer men, heap of dirty and clean clothes together represent a mini image of a society that we live in.
This unusual place of muse speaks volumes about society itself right from ancient times to modern day. In brief, washer men for dirty linings…anyone to cleanse the soul? This placid place with bustling activities and philosophical values be with us forever- Pankaja JK

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http://tathipremchand.blogspot.in/2012/05/blog-post_03.html

Wednesday, 4 April 2012

Join on 7th April 2012 - Curator by Pankaja JK



Exhibition view on
http://bhartitike.blogspot.com/

Tathi Premchand : Art and deal issue no 45/ Vol no 15/ feb -March ,2012.Like jalebi to Mill worker bones found at McDonald for Boneless dream of hunger steel- 2012

Why and how can we display a painting in our thoughts without buying it? If ever anybody buys this ‘Boneless’ painting then it is crucial for the buyer to know this because it is more than necessary to keep it installed in the mind but also to understand the depth of the painter’s thoughts poured in it. I have never thought so meticulously about any of my other paintings before this.


I am bit confused as to start from which angle about this painting. The thought of this painting   was lurking in mind since 2009. First  I had thought of making it in digital but as the days went on I doubted whether digital creation would really do justice to this painting; so I finally decided to work upon it in oil colors and was sure that this medium would justify the theme of the painting.

 I am more enthusiastic to share my experiences while I was developing this painting thought. Mumbai 1992- During initial stages I and my friend would seldom visit Colaba- Mohammed Ali road in Mumbai where you get delicious non- vegetarian food. We would go there during dinner time and order for boneless- chicken, bheja fry, kaleji fry etc. (I am deliberately using Indian names of dishes). The thought would cross my mind that may be we had ordered same separation of bones and flesh during Ram mandir- Babri mosque issue. The whole threatening issue was cooked up by separating bones and meat. Bones and flesh are bonded to each other right from the time living being starts existing in nucleus. I myself don’t know why I am giving an elaborate explanation of this painting when I am myself of the opinion that a painting does not need words. Now-a-days even ‘abstract art’ which does not need any general interpretation and every observer should have individual perception; has volumes of books explaining it and also ‘speaking talk series’ are held to discuss it. So I think I can write at least one or two pages on this painting.



I am still trying to know the reasoning behind this painting, why did it dawn on me? A thought struck me just like the bong of Mill labourers’ that would fill the air of Mumbai before mills were locked forever.

That was the time when Mumbai was bustling with mill- labourers’ crowd. The character of mill- worker was so influential that even the motion media especially films were based on life of a mill worker and heroes prefer to play the character of hard working, faithful mill-worker. It created a lot of good impression about actor and gained him popularity and fame. There was a competition to portray the best mill- worker. I think my ‘Boneless’ is based on bones of by-gone mill- workers which are separated from the meat and served in McDonald as ‘boneless chicken’ in ‘Phoneix Mills’ which was the only source of earning for mill- workers! Ironically, the delicacy is sold at Rs. 50 with free Coke! Are these the mill-workers who are completely wiped out from Mumbai’s scenario? If you happen to go to Phoneix Mills Compund just look at the chimney of the mill which stands high as the memory of the makers of Mumbai city or the people who gave identity to professional existence of Mumbai. You will have an illusion of it still ringing. And this would happen only if you have not yet tried to separate bone from flesh.

Now that area is residence of upper-class society and that chimney maybe the status symbol for them just like in earlier times the royal families would hand the hay filled dead wild animal’s face on wall as the pride of showing their hunting skills. Whatever it is, surely it is one of the ways to remember past. I thought like this one day there might be ‘a boneless mill’ as well, which would be addressed as Hutatma Mill.
I had not completed the painting in one go. There was a long break of a year when I did not work upon it; nothing instigated me to be drawn towards it. While I started painting it again, I meet Parbhakar Kolte Sir. Sir said something very funny yet critical. He said, “Now-a-days paintings are made like jalebis .The batter is prepared and kept overnight for fermentation and in the morning fresh and hot jalebis are fried. In evening the jalebis which become stale and not sold are thrown away. In this way today’s artists ‘prepare’ paintings and if not sold simply discard them.” And currently jalebis are sold on large scale in Delhi!
I related the above dialogue to my own paintings and thought that I have made en number of paintings in last 15 years but I have not yet thrown them away because for me they are still ‘fresh’ not yet ‘stale’ like leftover jalebis in evening. People have wrong notion,: ‘that which sells is the best.’

I have the word ‘steel’ in the tittle of this painting. I deliberated on it thinking of Subodh Gupta’s creation. It has steel utensils; symbol of kitchen ware’ food and hunger. Yes, his steel has severe hunger; hunger for Art! To rise higher, the highest It reminds of advertisement with tag line, “Have you made it large”. I am excited to see his creations. There is no much relation of my painting with his works; only for me steel represents hunger.Busy with routine life, one day suddenly world got the news of M.F’s death. M.F. passed away from this planet. At that very moment the bones in my painting seemed to be of M.F.; now calm and static! M.F.Hussain lived long innings keeping his bones fit. Maybe bones are resting in body in London. People opposing him might be waiting for his bones. There is no one who must have not thought of separating bones and flesh. This is traditionally followed and prevails even today.
( Boneless Dream of Hunger Steel Oil colour on canvas  Size : 60x84")
Bones in my painting are surely of M.F., because he was separated from his homeland like meat and bones as soon as ‘boneless’ was ordered with his reference. I feel the paintings which proved controversial were not at all ‘image spoiling’ The opposers of Hussain must have curbed sex drive for many years, so whatever they saw they conceived nudity in it. But our history proves to much modern in outlook than today.

Few months before Akbar Padamsee said,”I am Muslim but did not paint any Hindu God nude.” But Akbar does nude photography even at this age! It is one and the same thing whether you paint Goddess or a woman nude. Thankfully in my painting there is no flesh but just bones.It is not like I do not paint nude paintings; I do. But after painting this painting I realized that nudity lies in our thoughts and not the body of flesh that we see. Briefly, Hussain had to leave his country. I would stop here as the topic might get diverted from my painting and take another route.

The painting is still a mystery for me. Is there really ‘hunger’ in this painting? Once while painting this, it was mid night and mosquitoes were troubling me. While working I killed so many  of them with ‘Chinese bat’ which chaars mosquitoes even at the slightest touch. It reminded me of a film ‘Seven years in Tibet’. I felt the same atrocity of China over Tibet in which en numbers of Buddhist monks were killed. Even I was cruel with mosquitoes. At the very thought I stopped killing them.  At the very moment I saw an ant coming towards dead mosquitoes followed by many other ants racing towards their prey. Then I realized that ‘mosquitoes’ were their dinner party for night.  Did ants desire to have mosquitoes for dinner? But were they helpless because it was not possible for them to catch live mosquitoes. Was it a special treat for their ‘hunger?’ Thinking this I did not feel much bad about my act as I thought that I had become a mediator in providing them their desired food. But ‘Tibetian monks for dinner’ was for whom?  The answer is still unknown. The ants might have thanked me for the dinner and future generation of mosquitoes must have sweared to suck my blood. This is ‘the hunger’ in my steel tiffin box.

Then a final phase came when it was an apex of relating my painting to frightful reality.Once I was traveling in Mumbai local train. It was crowded and I was seating on the third seat. A family entered with wife carrying a child followed by her husband. People were making loud noise, fighting over trivial matters and like every day playing with words, when just my eyes goes on child, that child The face of a child was completely hidden and I wanted to see the face. But the face was fully covered and as it happens that we are more enthusiastic to know about the undisclosed secrets; so even I wanted t see the child’s face. Train started and suddenly there was cry of child.

The man sitting next to that mother had seen the child’s face and instantly closed his eyes. He was quiet frightened. I sensed something wrong. Another man in the compartment told to fed the crying child to which father said, he was not crying because of hunger. That child did not have eyes and ears and his bones had stopped growing. His body was not growing at all. But whenever he cried, he cried aloud. He gives proper signals when he is hungry. Hmm, so the hunger is involuntary even if the bones don’t grow. So this is the drive that everyone has. The painting has and it is the ultimate desire for which everyone lives. I did not dare to see the child after that but I salute the mother who was feeding the handicapped child. How did she dare to grow a child whose growth had stopped? The lifeless life only that breathe and hunger! Her hunger for motherhood!

Everyone has hunger. An ant hungry to have mosquitoes, China for Tibetian land, Hussain’s hunger to return to birth land, hunger of Babri Masjid to go back to Ram Mandir and Mill turning to Mall; all hunger in different ways of subject  and name of nominee.
It is hard to separate bones from flesh; when both  are born together, stick till end, they are inseparable. So also if Ram mandir is erected on ruins of Babri Masjid, then people will say, “This is the same Ram mandir which is stands on land of Babri Masjid.”

All these are the reasons for the creation of ‘Boneless dream of hunger steel.’ 

- Tathi Premchand ( Art and Deal - 2012)

Thursday, 29 March 2012

ISTRI - by Prashant Hirlekar

(Artist: Prashant Hirlekar)
This story is slightly different from a verse- it’s simple and lucid. It begins with a dawn in Pawar chawl. Morning, in chawl, has its own routine and pace, with people hurriedly moving carrying canister, some lingering souls, while brushing their teeth are busy peeping in neighbor’s house to know the morning current affairs, loud fighting noise of women at the common tap competing to fill the water for household, some sly lads busy in stealing other’s newspaper, Mr. Patkar from room no.07 sending his son to stand in queue of public toilet on his behalf to so that he reaches office in time and so on.

The other day, as usual Shantabai filled water, took bath and called out her son Madhav to wake up. Madhav woke up,  twisting the body he jerked his sloth. He folded sheet, yawned and ordered his mother Shantabai, “Aai, give me tea. So, Madhav of this story, is Madhav Vasudev Joshi, the only son of late Vasudev Joshi. His education was left incomplete, he studied only till second year B.Sc, as, two years back Vasu uncle had a heart attack in office and died. Madhav got the job in his place. All his peers were jealous of him because they had completed their education and it was almost two years that they were not having proper job; and here Madhav had such a good job with incomplete education. Father’s death had graced his luck!

http://www.prashanthirlekar.blogspot.in/
Shantabai gave him tea and khari biscuits. She was very proud of Madhav as he handled lot of work in the office and his boss would shoulder him the responsibility of important assignments. Till he got his tea, Madhav engrossed himself in the newspaper and read share prices on share- market page. Recently he had started learning about share-market from Jignesh, his office colleague. He would simply read out the share prices in newspaper to people in chawl and talk about it with them. He would tell about price hike in A.C. C and drop in B. C. C. Whenever he spoke like this, Shantabai would be delighted to hear it and start thinking of getting him married soon and having daughter-in-law. And there were many people in chawl who dotted Madhav as ideal bachelor. They were keen to anchor him to be their son-in-law. One among them on the forefront was Suma, daughter of Kirkire from room no. 27. Her mother encouraged her to rope in Madhav. Suma had two more sisters. The second one of them was Chima, a complete heroine package! Surpassing her sisters, she would always be decked with make-up, lipstick, powder, flower in tresses and always humming a film song. Madhav madly adored her. He often dreamt that he and Chima have been for a movie, sat close to each other and chatted in hush- hush voice in between the crackling sound of munching wafers.  

On that critical day, Madhav was as usual reading the newspaper while sipping tea. People were busy with their routine chores and suddenly they heard loud cry of Mrs. Kirkire from room no. 27. Patekar, Naik, Madhav, Shantabai and everyone else rushed towards the room no.27. What was wrong? Had something happened to Kirkire uncle? But he was fine till yesterday!
As people gathered there, they saw Kirkire aunty sitting down with widespread legs and Kirkire uncle was sitting beside her looking distressed with forehead rested on palm and a blank look. After all, why was she crying? The detailed reason was known to whole chawl later on.

 It happened so, that Chima had eloped with Rama Chaube’s son and Rama Chaube was taken into custody by police. Rama Chaube was Istriwala- man who ironed the clothes. He had his shop in a room under the staircase of chawl. Gopi was his son, young loafer, who usually broke pot on the occasion of Dahi handi. People in the chawl were totally ignorant about his affair with Chima. But her eloping was shocking to all the people. Every person was now busy in consoling Kirkire couple. Madhav was taken aback and his throat went dry, suddenly he remembered that his boss had demanded completed statements’ file of Blue Bird Company. In a hoarse voice he told Shantabai that he was leaving for office. He put on his shoes and with a sighing heart left to go.

- Written by Jayant Bahitat  Translated by: Pankaja JK.