Art: M Reddeppa Naidu ~ The magic of the Mahabharata

(1932- 1999)

(Note: I interviewed Reddeppa Naidu twice ~ once for Indian Express in 1985, then for The Independent in Mumbai in 1990. This piece is a composite of the two sessions.  I haven't been able to source visuals from his Mahabharata series so far, but promise to share them with this piece as soon as they come my way. )

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        THE MAHABHARATA is open to interpretation by each individual Indian. What does it mean to you? An ageless epic? Classic rock sculptures in ancient caves? A popular television serial? A much-discussed, internationally-cast theatrical presentation? A tale related episodically by your grandmother?

        If you were a Madras-based painter named Mopuri Reddeppa Naidu, now 57, the Mahabharata would spell a series of 18 large canvases, one for each parva or canto of the epic, executed between 1972 and 1974. It would also mean a burgeoning friendship with M Deendayal, akin to him in age and social background, who encouraged the series as an admirer, patron and art gallery owner.

       Deendayal first exhibited Reddeppa’s impressive and stylized work at the Ashoka Hotel in New Delhi in 1974, then at his own Aparna art gallery in Madras in 1983. More recently, he hosted a retrospective of Reddeppa’s work in Madras.

       How did the great epic come to be captured on canvas? Naidu, relaxing at his modest home in Madras, replies, “Around June 1972, Deendayal read me a poem from the Stree parva ~ the Samsara Grahanam ~ which was translated into Telugu from Sanskrit in the 3^rd century AD by Nanayyabhatt. He then requested me to do a painting based on it. I did one, which both he and his wife liked very much. Deendayal then suggested that I might like to do one for each parva.”

      Reddeppa is one of the most respected contemporary painters in south India, a winner of the coveted National Award in 1962, a student of D P Roy Chowdhury and K C S Panicker at the Madras College of Arts and Crafts. He is currently Deputy Director (Design) as the Weaver’s Service Centre (WSC) at Madras (now Chennai).

      Does his work in textiles draw him away from art? “There are no two ways about it. An artist remains an artist. He never goes completely into any other work,” replies Reddeppa, thoughtfully. “But the creative mind is common to both the artist and the textile designer. One complements the other. So, my primary object in taking up this job ~ besides the fact that it helps monetarily ~ is that it doesn’t affect my creative painting. It never distracts me from my canvas.”

      Does the WSC re-connect him with Indian tradition? “If I had not joined the WSC, I would not have known the greatness of our tradition because our art schools are so western-oriented. Re-doing through the mind forms done by past people helps to contact the living mind of the past,” he responds, drawing lines in the air. “Contact with such textiles greatly benefits the creative artist. He is used to free-thinking on a canvas. The same application on paper ~ a bird or a flower or a design ~ is given the same aesthetic expression and gives the same joy. No doubt, in conceiving a complete plan for a saree, an artist cannot design as he likes. He has to think of how it will go on the loom. But after years of working towards this, he can finally bring his personality into the saree ~ in its colour, border, pallav, its totality. Ultimately, he may achieve a simplification of the process, as in a painting.”

       Here are excerpts from an interview with Reddeppa, done in the context of the Mahabharata series:

     How have your techniques and idioms evolved to bring you to this point in your art?

      In the early 1970s, most south Indian painters were going through a romantic phase, greatly influenced by the French school of thought. This was reflected in my first two Mahabharata paintings. Earlier, in the Deity series which I began in the 1960s, I used dull colours, sensitive lines of modern expression and bright patches for emphasis. In their midst, I scripted relevant Sanskrit slokas. These were authenticated by a pundit, Ganesa Sastri, hired by Deendayal.

      After the Samsara Grahanam, Deendayal suggested the Sauptika Parva as the next subject. After the final destructive battle, which nobody really won, Asvatthama watches an owl entering a crow’s nest and destroying all the young ones while the other surviving Kauravas ~ Kripa and Kritavarma ~ were asleep. Inspired by this, Asvatthama steals into the Pandava camp, encounters Shiva and obtains his sword, with which he kills all the sleeping Pandava sons. Then, he accompanies Kripa and Kritavarma to tell Duryodhana of the enemy’s annihilation.

      (Pausing to gather his thoughts) These first two paintings in the series continued in the style of my Deity series. The artist has to find a vocabulary and colours of his own for the characters, and a philosophy for each parva. The question of the entire Mahabharata doesn’t arise. I had to choose an interesting poem from each parva and decide how to depict it.

    In the third painting of the series ~ the Sabha Parva ~ I needed to depict Duryodhana, Arjuna and Bhima pictorially. At this stage, I moved away from my earlier romantic paintings and my colours became brighter. While doing the Sabha Parva, I had to search within for a way of portraying the attempted disrobing of Draupadi. I drew her praying to Krishna, and then a thought came to me. I drew Krishna’s Sri Chakra around her sari to protect her. It’s not very cinematic, but it’s very satisfying to have found such a solution. 

    You’d studied Telugu and Sanskrit when you were young in Andhra Pradesh. Have you always been familiar with the Mahabharata?

    Not really, although I had read it in bits and pieces since my schooldays, seen it on stage and in films. Which edition did I finally use for the paintings? One I borrowed from Deendayal ~ a Telugu translation of the Mahabharata by Sri Mantri Lakshminarayanan Sastri.

    The Mahabharata elevates and takes the mind to great heights. When you read all that philosophy, it is reflected in your lines, your colours. My challenge was to read the epic, yet to be free of the epic. Only then could I do a creative painting.

      Look, I didn’t merely read the Mahabharata. I lived in it. In recreating it in a different medium, I lived through it. Today, I can talk consciously about the line, the colour and composition of the paintings. But, while I was working on them, it was all  unclear in my mind. I was trying to bring the unknown to reality. (Silent for a minute) Normally, one begins a venture with some expectations. The mind always works with a purpose, but I had to set myself free. I wasn’t painting for an award, or even for a customer. I could rise to the creative challenge because my mind was free of all preoccupations.

      Was Deendayal responsible for setting your mind free?

       He gave me absolute freedom. I was totally responsible for giving of my best. For each parva, I chose the incidents or episodes to be depicted. He didn’t interfere, not even to check on the progress of each painting, though I did show him a drawing on paper before I began each canvas.

     After each of the 18 paintings was completed, he’d send a vehicle for it. Then, we’d sit together and discuss it.

     How did you first meet Deendayal, an unusual patron in our competitive world?

      In 1979, Deendayal came to see a mural I had done for the industrialist T. T. Vasu, in Madras. He appreciated it so much that he began to share with me his joy in Tanjore paintings and other art objects from his private collection.  We became friends. His faith in my talent saw me through the Mahabharata series. There was no commercial aspect to this, but total mind-to-mind communication, such as there is when you like a person very much.

    Strangely enough, both Deendayal and I were about 40 when the Mahabharata paintings began in 1972. I feel that was the right age to get to know the great epic. By then, we already have some experience of life. Like me, he holds the conviction that the series should remain intact. He will never give away the series or break it up.

From his 'Musician' series

     What were your first encounters with religion-based paintings?

      The inspiration first came from a Muslim friend, Wazir Rahman, my classmate at the Kakinada High School. He wrote Telugu poetry.  One day in 1962, he said to me, “Look, Reddeppa, Balaji at Thirumala draws millions of devotees every year. I’m surprised that he does not seem to mean a thing to you.”

     I began to paint Lord Venkateswara with the sankhu, chakram and naamam… I realised that there was immense material in Hindu iconography, waiting to be exploited by a serious and responsible artist.

(This piece is included in my 2004 book, 'Articulations: Voices from Contemporary Indian Visual Art, published by Rupa & Co.)

Books: Vidya Virkar ~ A page from an old book

(I did this piece in 2003)

It's tough to tread in the footsteps of a legend. It's equally difficult to partner one. The scenario acquires additional shades when the legend happens to be post-independence entrepreneur T.N. Shanbhag, who set up the Strand Book Stall in Mumbai in 1948 and was recognised for his contribution to the Indian book trade with a 2003 Padmashri.


But to Vidya Virkar, partner in Bangalore's eight-year-old Strand Book Stall, these equations with her celebrated father have never stood in the way of charting new horizons.

During her formative years, the book trade seemed a far cry from her future dreams. "My background has been very eclectic," Vidya explains. "I did microbiology in a Mumbai college, and later bio-chemistry research at Cambridge. I went on to mass communication and TV direction. I was a copywriter at J. Walter Thompson in London, Lintas in Mumbai, then J. Walter Thompson in Bangalore again, before I set up Strand. I tried feature writing, too... "

That takes her back to Shanbhag. "Right from the start, Dad had always said, `Vidya, you fly. The bookshop is always there, if it calls to you at some stage'. But I knew somebody was needed to take over the baton. It's an incredible legacy and should not be allowed to waste away."

Vidya, as joint baton-holder of Strand with its annual turnover of above Rs 20 crore, has recast the brand with style. Bangaloreans look forward to competitive prices, an illuminating range of titles, and meet-the-author events.

Such as a glitzy evening with quote-a-minute U.N. Under-Secretary-General for Communications and Public Information Shashi Tharoor, the author of Riot and India: From Midnight to the Millennium at the Leela Palace Hotel in August 2002. Or the quieter release of Sahitya Akademi winner Shashi Deshpande's The Stone Women, her feminist short stories based on Indian mythology.

Ever since Strand opened in 1995, Bangaloreans have an annual date they have sworn not to miss — with the store's mega-sale. That's when teenyboppers and bibliophiles alike stock up on Dahl and Rowling, Plath and Petrarch, and every title in between, at rock-bottom prices. The cult sale scenes are replicated on a larger scale near Mumbai's Churchgate today. However, in small-town Uttar Pradesh or Orissa, book-buyers swear by the store's two-year-old Web site (www.strandbookstall.com) , with its assurance of quality books delivered at the door.

"The annual sale was my idea because Dad keeps ordering titles, resulting in huge stocks. It's also a way to reach a wider customer base," she says.

What kind of managerial skills were required to run the Strand at Bangalore?

"All I had to begin with was great motivation and no managerial skills. Perhaps my eclectic exposure to media and even science prepared me to deal with any situation," Vidya confesses. "It took me two years to convince Dad. Because he had built up Strand with blood, sweat and tears, at great personal sacrifice. He was very nervous that I would sink the entire ship! I learnt managerial skills on the job."

What did she master en route to success?

Staff selection to ensure personalised customer service. Stock movement in tune with market preferences. Discount delivery within fair trade norms. Event management to keep the brand in the public eye. Media interaction to heighten market value. Intellectually-inspiring talks with a difference — including one by physicist Dr Manoj Samal, who studies spiritual phenomena, reporting it scientifically and another on Gandhi by historian Ramachandra Guha.

"I never think in terms of money," Vidya stresses. "Strand is an entity that's more of an ideology of book-selling than a commercial interest. It seeks to disseminate the reading habit. Over the years, we've made books cheaper in terms of percentages. When Dad started, he offered a 20 per cent discount, which we've improved on. If books are getting more expensive by the day, so are vegetables. But I've made an effort to see that our basic minimal business needs and beyond are met."

Bangalore welcomed Strand because its Mumbai brand was so well-established.

How was it built from scratch?

Shanbhag, who was studying economics at Mumbai's St. Xavier's College, was a scholarship student from Tekkate, near Mangalore. His single indulgence? One Penguin book a month.

But while the down-at-heel student was browsing at a large bookstore, an officious staffer humiliated him. That's when Shanbhag swore he would one day open a store that stocked affordable titles and encouraged browsing. Initially, the Strand cinema house allowed him to put up two bookshelves, which caught the eye of the city's elite as they emerged from the English movies. Later, the Strand Book Stall — all of 750 sq ft — opened in Mumbai's Fort area. The legend has grown ever since.

Taking her cue from the original Strand, Vidya ensures that almost "every hour, on the hour" new titles are brought into view. "I've imbibed Dad's philosophy subliminally," she states. "Like him, I remain accessible to customers. I know their interests because I've seen them buy. Sometimes, I try to guide them into different directions."

She cites introducing numerous software engineers in this IT hub city to fiction by Arundhati Roy or Shashi Tharoor, current affairs by Gurcharan Das, or motivational or self-improvement books.

How has Vidya innovated?

To expand the awareness of IT individuals, Strand opened a store at the WIPRO campus in August. "Azim Premji of WIPRO asked me: `Vidya, do you expect my people to be reading books other than IT?' The aim is to do just that. I think people want to be more complete. After all, the top IT managers, the ones with a vision, are extremely well-read," she chuckles.

Another Strand outlet at the Infosys campus is in the offing. Within the main store, she empowered her staff to set up a full-fledged IT section. She dreams of Strand stores in other Indian metros as well.

What's special about being a woman manager?

"I tend to have a softer approach. That really works in human relations. I've been able to choose a good team, partly by intuition. That's not so different from Dad, who's a people's person. But by and large, men tend to be less people-oriented, more work and bottom line related."

Personally, what makes Vidya tick, beyond her 10.30 a.m. to 8 p.m. store? A nightly read, especially science verging on spirituality, `The Celestine Prophecy,' or Japanese authors like Yukio Mishima, Yasunari Kawabata and Lady Murasaki. Or listening to Beethoven, Bach or Mozart. Or interacting with customers from diverse background as individuals, often inviting them to a literary soiree instead of cocktails! And collecting art originals, including S.G. Vasudev, Navjot and Milind Nayak.

It takes daring to innovate on the life of Shanbhag's Strand. But Vidya has left an indelible impression, thanks to her people-plus personality. And her unconventional approach to bookselling, unconstrained by wisdom between book covers.

That's why Strand belongs as much to its second home in Bangalore, as it does in Mumbai today.

(The Hindu Business Line 2003)

Books: Vikas Swarup: Q&A

(I interviewed Vikas Swarup, the author of 'Q&A', in 2005 ~ years before 'Slumdog Millionaire', based on his novel, became a runaway screen hit)

It’s quiz time, folks!

IS THE Indian Foreign Service (IFS) a fertile field for best-selling authors? Can the range of exotic experiences that come a diplomat’s way pave the way for fiction? 

Vikas Swarup’s 2005 debut novel, ‘Q and A,’ just launched by Doubleday in India, tosses up these questions. For Swarup, 42, is currently Delhi-based, as the director of Indian External Affairs Minister K. Natwar Singh’s office.

His novel, dashed off in a mere two months at the end of his previous London posting in 2003, has already sold translation rights in over 15 languages, including French, German, Italian, Finnish, Russian, Norwegian, Turkish, Serbian, and Brazilian Portuguese. Film Four in the UK has cornered film rights, though Swarup retains complete creative control over the screenplay adaptation by Simon Hooper, who scripted ‘The Full Monty.’

But what’s the story behind the novel? Vital cues surface from an innovative book launch at Landmark in both Bangalore and Chennai (Jan. 21 and 22), triggered by a rapid-fire, quiz-based evening with Navin Jayakumar, the original host for the lifestyle store’s annual quiz.  

Why a quiz format? Because ‘Q and A’ is a take-off on India’s most popular quiz show, but with a twist worked in. For its unlikely winner is Ram Mohammad Thomas, an 18-year-old, impoverished Dharavi-based waiter. How did the hero ~ an orphan who has never been to school or read newspapers ~ know the vital answers that gave him access to a billion rupees? As he narrates his life story in 13 controlled, quick-paced episodes that link into each quiz query, the reader realizes that the implausible can turn plausible in life’s great game of chance. Ram’s is a seesaw tale underlined by hope, of a survivor in the underbelly of society, whose experiences provide the clues to Shakespeare and the solar system, the 1971 Indo-Pakistan conflict and Indian films.

“My wife and two young sons had just relocated from London to Delhi in June 2003. I wondered if I had it in me to write a book,” narrates Swarup, during an interview in Bangalore. “I didn’t take a day’s leave from work. I’d read or research the Chhamb sector conflict or the Taj Mahal on the Internet during weekday evenings, then write furiously each weekend, even doing 20,000 words once.”

This unfolded against the backdrop of a writing resurgence featuring his contemporaries. Swarup’s colleague Thirumurthi had just written the Chennai-based ‘Clive Avenue,’ while Navdeep Suri was translating his grandfather’s lauded novel, ‘Pavitra Paapi.’

“I wanted to see if I had a book in me, while I had time on my hands,” recalls Swarup. “None of my colleagues knew I was writing a novel. I did four and a half chapters, then began looking around for an agent. After all, Britain is really the literary and cultural hub of Europe. The first ten agents never got back to me. The eleventh, Oxford-based Peter Buckman, called me after he’d read two chapters, and wanted to read more. If he hadn’t responded, perhaps I’d never have completed ‘Q and A.’”

Nobody else read the completed novel until Buckman received it on Sept. 11, 2003. Swarup left for Delhi the next day. His wife read it on his return.

Confessing to admiration for writers like Raj Kamal Jha and Jhumpa Lahiri, he outlines, “My idea was to write a simple, readable societal novel, because I’m a big fan of the thriller genre. But no Indian has written a good thriller. So, I decided not to try one. It was tough to sustain the first person voice, though.” 

What of the theme? “I wanted to tap into the quiz show phenomenon. If a pauper wins a billion, the tension becomes palpable,” the Allahabad-born author, an avid quizzer himself, elaborates. “How could Ram know these answers?”

How impeccable is the fictional verisimilitude? “I’ve never lived in Dharavi, or even Mumbai. I accept any flaws that may have resulted because I wrote in complete secrecy, with nobody to guide me,” Swarup confesses. “But somebody in the army wondered if I’d had access to classified information because of the Chhamb story. I take that as a compliment.”

Did it help to be a career diplomat with 18 years of experience, previously posted at Washington D.C., Turkey and Ethiopia? “Once you know you’re going to write fiction, you look at the world differently. If I’d had the urge to write earlier, I might have done ten novels by now. After all, the pace in Addis Ababa was pretty glacial,” laughs Swarup.

Has ghostwriting his minister’s speeches, handling his correspondence, fine-tuned Swarup’s writing? “In the foreign service, we learn to use our words very carefully,” he adds. “One wrong nuance can lead to a rupture of relations. Brevity is as important. We’re taught to be good draftsmen. But for fiction, you need to have not just the plot, but the prose, too. Eventually, I see my book as one about storytelling.”

On the party circuit, is he seen as a good raconteur? “No, no, no,” he demurs. “I’m seen as a serious-minded guy, but also fun-loving… My colleagues are surprised that I have written this book.”    

What of the attendant literary hoopla? “All this has happened even before the English publication,” Swarup points out. ‘Even if the book proves to be a dud, I’d still be published in 15 languages. That means the publishers in Poland and Russia have liked the concept itself. That’s flattering.”

The movie tie-in came in through Random House/ Doubleday. “I initially wanted it to be a Bollywood film. So, Film Four put in a clause that if there’s a request for a Hindi remake, they will consider it,” Swarup clarifies. “To me, Mira Nair seems a natural choice as director because of ‘Salaam Bombay.’ The core of optimism in that film struck me. I believe the book has been sent to her.”

What about a second novel? “I’m under no pressure. First, I’ll allow this to sink in. All the hoopla comes as a total surprise,” he confesses. “I look at it as a very Indian book for an Indian audience. The idea is not to get overawed by the book’s success.”

Would a career shift be on the cards? “Thankfully, I still look at myself as a diplomat,” Swarup stresses, “while, to other writers, writing is almost like breathing.”

That’s the last diplomatic take on “Q and A.”

   (The Hindu Business Line, 2005)

   

Art: K V Haridasan ~ The Tantric Circle

Portrait by KN Raghavendra Rao

 (This interview took place in December 1980)

OVALS WITHIN ovals. Circles within circles. Flame forms. Bull heads. Lotus petals. Negative and positive mask heads. Floral motifs. Vertical lines. Triangles. Rectangles. Is there a correlation between them? Where do they mingle and merge and diverge? The interactions and balances between these diverse forms form the core of K V Haridasan’s paintings and drawings, which combine these elements with a mastery of colour and space. Composition and colour fuse through the artist’s penchant for philosophy.

 To Haridasan, Tantra is much more than the subject of his art. It is, indisputably, the essence of his life.

Born in the Cannanore district of Kerala in 1937, Haridasan graduated with a degree in psychology from Presidency College in Madras before opting for art. He earned a first class diploma in fine arts from the Government College of Arts and Crafts and bagged an Indian Government cultural scholarship from 1965 to 1968.

He was one of ten modern Indian Tantric painters in the Man and his World exhibition in Montreal in 1971.  Besides participating in the Paris Biennale in 1971, and the Second Indian Triennale (1971), Haridasan has held one-man shows in Madras, Calcutta and New Delhi. He has visited France, Switzerland, Germany and the Soviet Union. Awards and critical acclaim have come his way.

Ever since 1979, Haridasan has been editing Artrends, the journal of the Progressive Painters Association. Haridasan recently shifted to Trivandrum to teach at the College of Fine Arts.

When Haridasan speaks, his voice emerges as a whisper. He often pauses to think. The sea breeze at his newly-constructed cottage in the Cholamandal Artists’ Village wafts away some of his words. He seems a little preoccupied the day we meet him, the day of his grihapravesham or house-warming.

His words ebb and flow with transient moods. He laughs easily. A hand occasionally gestures to accentuate his speech. The other hand tames his grey-streaked hair and beard. His conversation, as it emerges, takes on a basic, timeless quality:

What was special about your formative years?

My childhood was not very pleasant. Perhaps circumstances have made me a little more introspective than others. My father was a very religious man, so that may have influenced me. It taught me traditional values. I also read a lot, particularly English literature. There has been a good mixture of east and west in my background.

I have had an interest in art since childhood. I continued sketching and scribbling even during my high school and college days. I used to frequent art exhibitions in Madras. After graduation, I was not really happy about getting into a regular job. I just felt it didn’t seem to serve much purpose. (Laughs) So, I entered the arts college. It’s a question of bent of mind. I was interested in psychology and literature, you know. I think these were complementary interests.

How deep was the impact of your years at the arts college?

For me, it helped a lot. It’s more an atmosphere, a world of its own. It is creative. If you have a certain amount of independence in college, it helps a lot. If someone dominates you a lot, it can be a hindrance.

How modern an Indian artist are you?

We live in modern times and are influenced by modern trends. We are also looking into our Indian roots. It is a combination of both that evolves into a style. In looking towards tradition as a modern artist, it has here become a breaking of convention because we had got used to the style established by the British. It is a contradiction in terms, but we had to do it according to the peculiar circumstances we were in.

In the traditional, codified system, there was little freedom to explore. Norms were laid down by the guru at the ashram. A modern artist is supposed to have a lot of freedom and his expression is individualistic ~ because there is a background of breaking conventions and introducing new elements throughout the history of modern art.

What Indian elements feature in your work?

First, you have to consider whether anything is valid. (Slowly, drawing out the thoughts) I find there are certain attitudes which are relevant to modern times, attitudes which have traditionally been in Indian society. Such as the Tantric approach to life and art that I have brought into my work because it is very characteristic of the Indian approach.

Basically, the Indian philosophical system is mystical and metaphysical. Tantra has the same basis. You can find Tantric ideology in most of our art, culture, manners, rituals, dance, even music…

What was it about Tantra that proved attractive to you?

Partly because of my inclination ~ like choosing to study psychology and literature. If you go deep into any aspect of life, you reach into the metaphysical. So, why not self-decision? It’s almost like coming to terms with abstract art. As you paint, you find objective norms. Then, you reach up to the abstract level. It is much like certain basic elements in the Tantric approach to life. I am doing basically abstract painting. Only, it has been given an orientation the Tantric way.

When you deal with a fundamental form like the square, you come to a certain level after which you can’t go any further. That is the essence of the form. Tantric diagrams seem to have a power of their own because the whole of the cosmic phenomena are created with the very elements fundamental to life. These run through existence itself, though on the undersurface things seem to change.

What’s essentially Indian about Tantra?

As I see it, there is no area of Indian cultural activity where Tantra doesn’t enter. Everything in which ritual is involved is Tantric. The rituals are to create a certain bent of mind in those involved in them. Tantra is a method of yoga. Its purpose is to direct one psychologically towards spiritual attainment.

Tantra is basically a Dravidian concept, which has been taken over and systematised through a method of codification, directed into principles. The intellectual approach must have been partly the contribution of the Aryans.

(Charged with emotion) I personally feel that Tantra has its roots in the phenomenon of possession, and in the folk traditions that we find almost all over India among the lower classes. The result of it has been observation of life, expressed in terms of metaphor. It is very Indian. There is no parallel elsewhere. The various ways in which a goddess is described is basically an expression of what is nature, made into a doctrine. The peculiar aspect of our Hindu system is that a basically intellectual concept is made into idols, then the idols are turned into identification symbols. It is psychologically very complex.

After all, reaching for a god is an attempt to get some of the power of that god. That is something which an average person cannot comprehend. But once you enter into it, the Tantric experience is as real as anything else.

Can you possibly capture the complexities of Tantra in your paintings and drawings?

At the yogic level, Tantra has no limit. But at the visual level, it has certain limitations because it appeals to one sensibility among various sensibilities that people have. You have to understand the medium itself, and put it effectively in terms of visual impact. It is also subjective. It depends upon the person who sees it.

Do you view your art as self-expression?

Sometimes, if the individual artist has anything to express. (Fervently) We haven’t created most things. Colour ~ it is there in nature. We are just trying to crystallize what is in a jumble in all that we come across. I would call it self-realization. We come to a sort of understanding with our surroundings, some kind of harmony. Through an object of art, one can say we are trying to communicate what we have found to be a pattern of life.

The very fact that one decides to become an artist determines one’s age. One tries to remain very vital and active. That’s one great thing that art does to a person. So, I have been cultivating an attitude of search and discovery. That has to be retained. That is the basis of my approach, which is puritanical and direct. I just try to discover the relations of colours, the essentials of form, certain images…

Have other artists influenced you?

I have trained myself to appreciate many of them and I am a product of works of art down the ages. There are quite a number of Tantric artists now. It has almost become a trend. There are some in Delhi. Even in Madras, most artists have been influenced by the Tantric approach.

How do you feel about pricing your works and being judged by others in the context of the exhibition system?

An artist, like anyone else, is a social being. It comes from a natural inclination to show whatever one has achieved and whatever one has come to know to other people.

Prices are generally based on how a work stands on par with other paintings. After all, a work is the property of the individual who creates it. Art is considered invaluable. You cannot really fix a price, though you can put a tag on, according to existing norms of art. After all, any judgement has to be in terms of comparison.

When it comes to exhibitions, one has to compromise. Somebody experienced in the field has to select some works out of hundreds that are submitted for an exhibition, but vested interests and personal attitudes often interfere. For instance, Madras art may have little exposure in Delhi. So, out of sheer unfamiliarity, they think the work is poor. (Laughing) When art is exhibited, it becomes an object of contemplation. But most people are not willing to rise to that level. No training is needed for appreciation. Only one must learn to look.

How would you sum up your life in art?

Tantra, at its best, is a practical approach to a spiritually-oriented vision. This creates an art of pure vision, fields of colour, rhythm and harmony in forms which were not there on the surface levels of nature. They reveal a visionary abstract reality.

Tantra is a whole attitude towards life. How you view life around you, how it has emerged, what direction it is taking. That is why Tantra is still valid today ~ because it is an approach to individual fulfilment.

(Indian Express, Chennai/ Madras, 1980)