Keya Sarkar: Eyes wide shut

PEOPLE LIKE THEM

I remember a few years ago in Mumbai, an art dealer had initiated and publicised a unique scheme. He was selling sealed packets of "art" at Rs 11,000 and buyers had to buy blind. If they were fortunate, they would get paintings that they liked and they could put them up on their walls, but if they were really lucky their packet could contain a name like Anjolie Ela Menon. While I thought it was the crassest way of encouraging investment in art, many of my investment banker friends rushed to try their luck.

At the beginning of this month, Santiniketan held its two-day Nandan Mela. Started in 1972, to coincide with Nandalal Bose's birth anniversary, this mela was meant to be where the students of Viswa Bharati's Kala Bhavan displayed their own efforts and admired and even acquired their teachers' works of art at affordable prices. It was their very own way of paying tribute to a giant of the Bengal school and outsiders who attended were normally the Bhavan's ex-students who came from far and wide to relive their time in Santiniketan.

Since then, of course, art has "happened" and every first year student at Kala Bhavan dreams of becoming a Jogen Chowdhury (a former head of the department). This attitude has brought huge changes to the way the mela is conducted. Appreciation is now a dirty word and acquisition is in. While the doors of the mela officially open at 5 pm, dealers and collectors gather there many hours earlier to get previews on what is available for sale and try to unofficially "book" those pieces.

Giving all of this an official stamp is an organised queuing up for "tokens" for buying Jogen Chowdhury's paintings (over 25 works were reportedly on sale this year). While the students and other less celebrated teachers of each department (painting, sculpture, graphics, print making, textiles, ceramics, and so on) are busy putting up their stalls, dealers are busy collecting their tokens. In the evening, when the mela officially opens the token holders get a chance on a first come basis to choose their "Jogens". The least price was Rs 6,000 this year and the highest (the bar is raised every year) was Rs 80,000.

Of course, all the money collected at the mela goes to Kala Bhavan Students' Aid Fund (set up to help students in need). So students displaying their works done at a recent art camp at the Nandan Mela had no qualms about quoting a price per piece of Rs 20,000 (in which other subject can students demand payment for their class work!). Thankfully, there were no takers at Rs 20,000, or Rs 10,000, or even Rs 5,000 and the future masters retired hurt.

For non-collectors like me some of the work on display was great viewing. Even greater was witnessing the interaction between buyers and sellers.

For the dealers and other buyers, of course, there was frenetic activity. They had managed to a take a day or two off from their busy schedules in Kolkata, Delhi, Bangalore or Mumbai and they were keen to make the most of it. Gallery owners booked students for future shows, collectors commissioned works and many deals were struck and much money changed hands even outside of the mela.

But in all the competing between departments to collect the maximum funds (aided by Jogen!), the students emulating their teachers in asking for a right "market price", gallery owners being wooed and collectors being sucked up to, the essence of the mela seemed lost. When a friend confided (albeit a trifle sheepishly) about how she had bought sculptures from seeing mere photographs, I was reminded of the packets of Mumbai. Finally, Santiniketan is getting there I thought. Bengalis need no longer worry about being weighed down by intellect!