There is an interesting scene in ‘Modern Times’, the iconic film by Charlie Chaplin. With no other means left to survive, goaded by his girlfriend, the Tramp, character played by Chaplin becomes a waiter in a restaurant where music and dance presented on special occasions attract many people. New Year comes and the restaurant is filled with merry makers. He is about to serve a person who has ordered some chicken and wine. Suddenly the clock chimes twelve and it is New Year and everyone erupts in celebration. Confetti flies, music blares and the diminutive figure of Chaplin is submerged in the waves of humanity on its feet. He reaches his client with the tray and another wave of people takes him away. The charade raises a lot of laughter among the audience.
In the galleries when I stand before the works of art
done by young people, proudly displayed in unimaginably ambitious scales, I
remember the abovementioned scene from ‘Modern Times’. They are about to reach
their destination, a point in aesthetical maturity and confidence, but something
else sweeps them away. For an artist, satisfaction comes in two different
forms; one, in the form of money and the other, in the form appreciation. Money
is blind; it lacks discretion, most often. In art, money floods in the least
expected terrains, causing cascades and landslides in the hillsides of
morality. Artists are just human beings covered in the garb of idealism. Who doesn’t
want a good flooding of money?
They are there, some works on the walls indicate. You feel a sense of excitement. You are about to find out a new artist from among the many aspirants who vie for the top position. Then you start imagining about the artist as a highly skilled, highly informed, highly vocal and highly savvy person. You think about him or her as someone who could sustain the level of excitement that he or she has just generated in you. As you move on you see more works that make you believe that you have really got gold on the walls. Your instincts are sharp and your fingers itch to key in some good words about those works. Suddenly something happens; the artist slips and falls in her aesthetics. From consistency she has just moved on to capriciousness. From determination, she has moved to the realm of doubts.
Could it be over confidence? That one could create works
of art in different styles; some in contemporary flat style, some in
impressionistic mode and some other in futuristic and cubistic. Is that the
flair of the artist in handling various art styles or the lack of understanding
about one’s own integrated intellectual and aesthetical growth that is displayed
naked there on the walls? I am not sure. The artist in question looks extremely
confident and she doesn’t have an iota of doubt about her varying styles. In
one of the recent experiences that I had in a gallery, the artist looked
extremely sure about her works done in different styles; a group show created
by a solo artist. She is educated in one of the good art schools in London. And
it shows in her ambitious paintings. But I just couldn’t understand why
suddenly a series of paintings that are absolutely different in style and
approach.
I knew that I need not look for an explanation from the artist. There were flowery words written about her by other people in her brochure. Besides, there was a statement by herself in words exuding overconfidence. I have seen such artists. They are child prodigies. Unlike Picasso who too was a child prodigy (an autistic person also, also revealed by one of his grandchildren, Marina Picasso), these prodigies are brought up in secured illusions in which they are the numero uno of art. Their proclivity in creating art is all about the skills shown in drawing something life-like. They draw and paint throughout their school days and are taken to various platforms where they come out as winners. This winning spree gives them the confidence to join an art school where their notions of art are shattered beyond recognition. By the time they gather themselves from the shock, they would have finished their graduation.
Out there in the world, with a fancy degree in art from
an illustrious institution they find themselves in a liminal space where their
naturalistic skills refuse to budge but their educational qualifications deny
the entry of such skills in their works. So they have to find a midway. They
try to do art that partly shows their naturalistic skills and their newly
acquired modern and contemporary aesthetics. They remain like oil and water in their
art which rest of the world knows but they themselves never acknowledge. Their egos
are further boosted up when their works on display are bought by their wealthy
relatives and friends. Once such favors are done they are irrevocably lost in
the wilderness of misunderstood art. Thanks to their wealth and influence they
are often treated as artists in the public domain and you could see their
pictures along with the political leaders, corporate bigwigs and art patrons!
In another exhibition hall I came across another
artist whose art is informed by the theories of feminism. In the wall text I found
the artist introducing herself as an architect whose passion lies in making paintings.
Somewhere I happened to see someone saying that the artist in her was awakened
when the world was locked down during the pandemic years. Many during the pandemic
years found out that they had an artistic side and when the world started calling
itself a post-pandemic world they left their art behind and thought that the
viruses at some point in their lives would give them another chance to be artists.
But there were many others, for no reason decided to stick to their newly found
self of an artist. Such people could cause more damage than repair when they
try to exhibit the artistic side of their personalities.
The feminist artist’s lines, colors, images and the
whole makeup of the painting betrayed her self-taught status. A little bit of
Gaugin here and a little bit of Sher Ghil there. Some Manjit Bawa here and some
Arpana Caur there. When none of them is around there were some elements from
Gogi Saroj Pal. It happens, I told myself and moved on taking interest in her
works. If she tries she could reach her destination, I thought. Then the Chaplin
moment came before my eyes. She suddenly presented a Durga and Lion, a Shiv and
Parvati and what not from the mythologies! Her secular thoughts seemed to have
a sudden confrontation with the mood of the times. If there are no mythological
works what would happen to my art, what would people think about me, she must
have thought. Result is disastrous.
For most of the artists these days Chaplin’s fate in
Modern Times seems to be an unavoidable existence. They want to reach their
potential clients. But they live in a time of flux. Everyone is up on their
feet and making merry. Artists struggle to reach their clients but they are
carried away by other concerns externally imposed on them. They move away from
the target and hit elsewhere. It is a blind charade where one could stick the
tail into the mouth of a donkey. Donkey in the picture doesn’t mind that
because he knows his tail had fallen long back. The blind artists try and
become a laughing stock before the informed audience.
-JohnyML
(All the images are from the Net and they serve only illustration purpose. They do not have anything to do with the content of the article)
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