Remembering art world’s departed lights this Diwali

I am of the firm conviction that it is important to remember one’s gurus and loved ones during festivals and such happy occasions for they were once an intrinsic and important part of one’s life and times, and not remember them with sorrow but with gratitude for the meaningful and happy moments spent with them. These last few months, the art world has lost three important artists and during this festive period, I want to remember the happy interactions that I had with them. The trio I am referring to is Yusuf Arrakal, K.G. Subramanyan and Suhas Roy.

I have had many wonderful moments guzzling beer with Yusuf in Bangalore, where his wicked sense of humour and wit kept us in splits as it was irreverent and had no taboo areas — you could ask him anything and he gave a straight answer no matter how tricky the question and expected you to do the same. Despite royal blood from Kerala, his personal struggle was immense and instead of making him bitter, it only made him a person whose scandal meter was zero. Nothing surprised him and yet he retained his humour. Not only was he a fabulous albeit a dark painter, his writing skills were admirable too. Here the darkness gave way to satire and black humour.

He was very fond of plying one with wine, books — including some that he had written — and good conversation. He dressed young and in excellent if sometimes flamboyant taste in denims and corduroys and thought very young — no wonder that he had many young artist friends who rallied around him. One of his works in which he took enormous pride was the “sculpturesque” car and auto rickshaw he created from a real car and auto rickshaw. I loved his river series of paintings as well. Not the type to dwell on sorrow, illness or any other negativity, he remained cheerful till the end. “What is life if you don’t live it till the bitter end!” is one remark of his that is vividly stuck in my memory.

I remembered I once asked him why his series of faces was surrounded by black, and he had replied rather matter-of-factly: “I tend to paint towards darker tones; be it browns, blues or black. I am in a way aiming at creating very intense faces that I have envisaged and studied from life. To bring out that intensity, I do not think that any colour other than stark black would have worked. There are some periods when I am besotted with problems in my work and life in general, but I never get into a mood of despondency or dejection. I learned very early that if you have to sustain in life and in your chosen vocation, you have to stand up and sort out the problem, rather than getting into a mood of dejection and trying to run away from it.”

I accused him of being eccentric and pat came the answer: “It is news to me that I am eccentric! But I have always stood up to fight for issues I believed in, not fearing of the consequences!” And he guffawed. His opinion of which way contemporary Indian art was headed was equally candid: “Do you really want me to answer this question Frankly, I do not know where it is heading, if at all it is heading to any direction. I sincerely hope that it is not heading to disaster.”

On the other hand, Suhas Roy was this gentle soul whose tobacco- and paan-stained teeth would peep from behind his ever-smiling countenance. He was known for making portraits of Radha almost to the point where it became his signature. At an art camp in Shantiniketan many years ago, I asked him why it was Radha more than any other character that interested him. “Radha is not a person, it is a bhava — a bhava of love. That is my state for many years now and even if I want to draw something else, it is Radha that appears on my canvas.”

K.G. Subramanyan, fondly known as Mani, Mani sir and Mani da, meant many things to people and an ongoing exhibition at the India International Centre of his work curated by artist Vijay Kowshik explores his myriad dimensions. Says Vijay, “He would always be Mani Kaka ever since his visits to our home in Delhi in the 50s. He was very skilled with his hands and made small toys for us with paper, strings or whatever he got in his hands. We called him Kaka and his wife Sushila Masi since both studied at Shantiniketan during the time my parents were there.”

Later, as the reader and professor at the faculty of fine arts in Baroda, K.G. Subramanyan galvanised the department into a dynamic throbbing entity, encouraging each student to think independently and develop his own path. An art fair was started at Baroda and he was responsible for the development of very interesting toys in wood and clay apart from the paintings, graphics and sculptures. By this time, he had a large following of his students who had become established artists in their own right.

His deep involvement with crafts is well known and his work with the weavers and crafts persons has been much hailed. He was elected to the World Craft Council, he was a delegate to the Asian Assembly and World Craft Council, Sydney, and was member delegate, General Assembly, World Craft Council, Oaxtepec, Mexico.

“His work is evolved and there is a strange quality juxtaposing joy and sorrow in the environment and the routine projections of daily life in his paintings. His animal drawings were very strong with intense simplicity,” says Vijay. He used colours with great spontaneity sometimes as a backdrop to his powerful drawings. The content in his work had a lot of humour and often a satire of everyday situations. He liked to experiment with various materials and has made works in terracotta, ceramics, cement castings with sand moulds, bamboo and wood, and reverse painting acrylic paint on acrylic sheet among others.

His other strength was his writing. He penned and sketched a number of books for children, which have been very popular. He also wrote deep thought-provoking books on art, art education and attitudes to art. His thoughts were conveyed through these and the writing was clear and precise, conveying the essence with strength and conviction.

I will always recall Mani da as a slightly serious person wearing a south Indian lungi, who spoke little and saw much more. I had gone to meet him at E. Alkazi’s gallery Art Heritage and then at Amal Allana’s beautiful home he became more relaxed and talked about many issues and concerns about art in general and Indian art in particular.

And as I said at the outset, this piece today is all about cherished memories of our seniors who have been pathfinders of sorts. Here is wishing all of a wonderful Diwali! Dr Alka Raghuvanshi is an art writer, curator and artist and can be contacted on alkaraghuvanshi@yahoo.com