(The Ramp by K.S.Radhakrishnan)
Art critics loot and they loot absolutely. I am talking
about those art critics who charge money and a work of art for their
professional services. If an art critic has a heavy load of works of art that
goes in the name of a personal collection, be sure that he/she is a pirate. I
have been active in our contemporary art scene for the last two decades and
many people ask me whether I have a good collection of art. If I tell you the
truth you may be shocked: I don’t have any collection of art. But I am the biggest
art collector in the world. You may find it very contradictory. On the one hand
I say I don’t have a collection and on the other I say I am the biggest
collector in the world.
(Chintan Upadhyay)
Let me start with my collection. In my studio, that is
exactly K.S.Radhakrishnan’s studio where he has allotted me a floor for my
private use and to develop an archives, I have a ‘Soonya Buddha’ by KSR
himself. When I bought my house in 2004, KSR told me to pick a work from his
repertoire of works. I told him that I was waiting for the biggest work of KSR
so that I can take it as my gift. Now his biggest work is a forty feet long
sculptural installation titled, ‘The Ramp’. That’s mine. Only problem is that
now my house is not big enough to accommodate that. Hence, with this my
aspiration level has gone high. Somewhere I have a feeling that I should have
such a huge house so that I can accommodate this Ramp work. That’s how I have
come to the conclusion that one day I am going to establish a museum of Indian
contemporary art.
(Manjunath Kamath)
And be sure I am not joking. During the boom days, at his
Juhu residence that looks at the sea from the drawing room, Chintan Upadhyay
gave me one drawing and one mask. I was crying inside his bathroom because
those were the days when the arrogant artists of the Indian scene were trying
to hunt me down. When I came out of the bathroom, Chintan gave me two works. I
did not know why he gave me those works. They are still with me. Manjunath
Kamat always wanted to give me a work. I always told him that one day I would
come for his work and I would choose the work that I want. Long back, when I
was a student Shibu Natesan had given me four works, which he later took back
citing the reason that my mother was not keeping them the way he wanted.
(Balabir Krishan)
Artists offer me works when I write a catalogue for them.
But I refuse to take them. Recently I wrote a catalogue for Balbir Krishan, an
artist who deals with gay issues. He did not speak of remuneration nor did I do
so. Later he sent me a two by two canvas, a very dear work. On my birthday,
Garima Jayadevan, a Mumbai based artist sent a portrait of mine made in her own
style. Later she brought the original for me; a small paper portrait of mine.
On the same birthday my son drew a portrait of mine; but he conceived me as
Ninja Hatori, a samurai cartoon character from Japan who is quite popular
amongst Indian kids. Shinod Akkaraparambil also sent me a portrait. I am
waiting for the original. Somu Desai, with his typical ammonia transfer on silk and canvas, has already created a hall of fame for me in my studio.
(Manisha Gera Baswani)
One day I got a call from Manisha Gera Baswani. She intended
to send something to me. Her driver delivered to me. When I opened the packet,
I saw a very good portrait of the veteran artist, A.Ramachandran with his
sculpture. If at all anything on my walls other than the scribbling made by my
children, this is the only one frame. Recently, art critic and painter
Shubhalakshmi Shukla carefully brought one painting for me. I have kept it here
and it will have a prominent place in the contemporary museum I am planning to
build in future. Then a couple of months before I walked into Chintan’s home at
Green Park and while talking he asked me what would I like to take home that
day. He showed me a few small sculptures. I chose one, a golden smart alec baby
with hands sprouting from different places.
(Shubhalakshmi Shukla)
You may still wonder why how I could call myself the biggest
collector in the world. Yes, I am the biggest collector in the world. But the
works are not with me. They are all kept in different studios of different
artists. I just need to walk in and pick up my work. Let me tell you with all
arrogance and confidence that I could walk into any studio in India and take a
work of art for myself. There may be twenty odd artists who would not give
their works to me. But when I have my museum in place and all your works are
displayed, how can they keep themselves away from such a museum? They too will
give their works.
(Shibu Natesan)
So artists of India, I am going to make a museum for you
because you have made me the biggest art collector in the world. The
overwhelming response to United Art Fair has made me again confident that we
could have the biggest museum of Indian contemporary art. And I am sure one day
the Government of India would recognize the need for such a museum.
Come, let me tell you how to become an art collector. United
Art Fair is the best platform for this. Tomorrow I am going to talk about it.
3 comments:
Thanks for your kind words.Sharing some words from Walt Whitman's 'Leaves of Grass'
SOMETHING startles me where I thought I
was safest,
I withdraw from the still woods I loved,
I will not go now on the pastures to walk,
I will not strip my clothes from my body to meet
my lover the sea,
I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other
flesh, to renew me.
How can the ground not sicken of men?
How can you be alive, you growths of spring?
How can you furnish health, you blood of herbs,
roots, orchards, grain?
Are they not continually putting distempered
corpses in the earth?
Is not every continent worked over and over with
sour dead?
Where have you disposed of those carcasses of
the drunkards and gluttons of so many gen-
erations?...
Thanks for your kind words.Sharing some words from Walt Whitman's 'Leaves of Grass'
SOMETHING startles me where I thought I
was safest,
I withdraw from the still woods I loved,
I will not go now on the pastures to walk,
I will not strip my clothes from my body to meet
my lover the sea,
I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other
flesh, to renew me.
How can the ground not sicken of men?
How can you be alive, you growths of spring?
How can you furnish health, you blood of herbs,
roots, orchards, grain?
Are they not continually putting distempered
corpses in the earth?
Is not every continent worked over and over with
sour dead?
Where have you disposed of those carcasses of
the drunkards and gluttons of so many gen-
erations?...
Thanks for your kind words.Sharing some words from Walt Whitman's 'Leaves of Grass'
SOMETHING startles me where I thought I
was safest,
I withdraw from the still woods I loved,
I will not go now on the pastures to walk,
I will not strip my clothes from my body to meet
my lover the sea,
I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other
flesh, to renew me.
How can the ground not sicken of men?
How can you be alive, you growths of spring?
How can you furnish health, you blood of herbs,
roots, orchards, grain?
Are they not continually putting distempered
corpses in the earth?
Is not every continent worked over and over with
sour dead?
Where have you disposed of those carcasses of
the drunkards and gluttons of so many gen-
erations?...
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