How Pichwai evolved from idol backdrop to prized artwork in modern homes

The Pichwai has gone from being a mere backdrop to an idol to a prized artwork in contemporary homes. Nikita Puri reports on an exhibition that showcases its revival

A bunch of men, old and young, sit sprawled on a marbled floor in a studio located a little over an hour's drive from Udaipur, Rajasthan. Some pore over sketches that look like close-ups of a map. Others are focused on ensuring the uniformity of the dots they are making on cloth. While some have mastered making gopis’ faces, others say their expertise lies in creating cows, or mixing stone and mineral colours when required. 

These are Pichwai artists. The art form is best understood as a meticulously detailed, hand-painted textile hung behind the idol of Shrinathji, the incarnation of a seven-year-old Krishna, whose preeminent shrine is in Nathdwara in Rajasthan’s Aravalli Hills.

“I learnt how to make Pichwais from the elders in my family,” says one of the artists. When he found there wasn’t enough work for him as a Pichwai-maker, the 38-year-old says he switched to painting furniture. “Others like me who were trained in Pichwai started selling fruits and vegetables. Others moved onto working with marble.” But for the last 10 years, 35-40 Pichwai artists like him have been associated with Pichvai Tradition & Beyond, an atelier headed by Delhi-based art enthusiast Pooja Singhal.

 

“Now we have a steady market for what we make. We also get to work on new things often,” adds the artist. The “new things” he refers to aren’t just newer artworks, but a thorough overhaul of how Pichwais are made, seen and talked about. This is because of the many interventions that Singhal has made over the years to ensure Pichwai has a place in contemporary art. This includes the traditionally vibrant art going greyscale in a collection that’ll be on display at Bengaluru’s GallerySKE starting today.

“It’d be a big disservice to call this (exhibition) a Pichwai show,” says Sunitha Kumar Emmart, the founder of the gallery. “This show isn't about antiquities, the work is all made now.” A lot of the skills needed to make Pichwai came from lineages, she says. “But today we are also dealing with a society where a young person has a voice and they have the freedom to do something other than what their father used to,” says Emmart. “Other people who don't come from that particular lineage but are interested in things with traditional roots are also free to join that atelier. Besides the contemporary work, it’s the working of the atelier that interests me with this show.”

 

“The greyscale series is a perfect example of how contemporary these works are,” says Radhika Chopra, who has bought Pichwais from Singhal’s atelier, the main draw of which is the chowbees swaroop (24 divine forms of Shrinathji) in the Mughal miniature style. The juxtaposition of miniature art and Pichwai has no historical precedence, which is why Chopra calls this Singhal’s major intervention. This also explains why many in the art world know Singhal as “a Pichwai revivalist”.

Besides establishing a bar for quality, Singhal has since played with scale as well as the format of the art form. The current series is also significant in its departure from religious iconography. “Till now the work has always been about Shrinathji,” says Singhal, but the current series also sees devotees as standalone figures. The map of the deity’s haveli-temple is also seen in new compositions in the show, including a deconstructed version and another in a circular form.  

 

For purists who wonder if the removal of the deity’s figure means it is no longer Pichwai, Singhal says, “The minute we removed the Pichwai from behind the idol and started putting it up in our homes, it ceased to be Pichwai.” The word means “behind the idol”.

Why did Singhal find it necessary to change the very language of the art? “Pichwais had almost gone out of circulation,” she says. She discovered this when she attempted to buy a few herself. After seeing some that were “terrible in form, colour, balance, quality of jewellery (improper quality of gold foiling can appear yellow),” etc, Singhal realised there was a need for a revival. “First I had to bring back the old, then make changes so as to sustain it to for a younger generation.”

It remains to be seen if the evolution of Pichwai-inspired work is sustainable and its quality has merit, says Singhal. “The point was to ensure it becomes popular, which it has,” she says. While the show at GallerySKE has works from Singhal’s atelier priced between Rs 24,000 and Rs 3,75,000, one can buy a Pichwai online for as little as Rs 500. The quality of the former, although, speaks for itself.   
Greyscale Pichvais will be on at GallerySke, Bengaluru, from October 12 to November 16.