If you collect art, you must extend your relationship with artists to more than just patronage.
Look closely at the picture of this series of sculptures, a set of eight: What do you see? Actually, let me make that simpler for you. Made of painted fibreglass and nails, the eight-set sculpture by Sunil Gawde is entitled Heart Beat - Beat Heart. Placed on the floor of Mumbai-based Sakshi Gallery’s booth at the India Art Summit, it drew some curious looks from the huge number of people who traipsed past, but few would have taken into consideration that it was a sum of ideas that was probably best explained by the artist.
I was fortunate in having met the artist and spoken with him shortly before I showed the work to my daughter, so I was able to tell her what it represented in more or less the same way that the artist had explained it to me. Gawde, whose participation in the 53rd Venice Biennale — one of the most significant art events in the world — has catapulted him into the premium league among Indian artists in what had otherwise been a bleak period, though he seemed largely unaffected by the hurrahs.
Very simply, this is what Gawde said, “If you look at the position of the nails in the Valentine Day balloons, which represents the heart, you will see that the nails are embedded up to different depths.” Somewhat mawkishly, he explained that the series showed the heart exhaling and inhaling, and with each draw of breath, the nails moved in and out. “The idea,” he said, “is to show that when you are in love, every breath you take is painful, but you don’t want to stop breathing because you enjoy the pain.”
I was lucky in that it was the ideal sculpture to use as a representation of art for a sophomore: usually, Gawde’s sculptures and installations are a little more complex with large bulbs, or tubes, or magnifying glasses, and, chillingly, even thousands of razor blades in seemingly innocuous works that hint at tragedy? violence? anger? irreconcilables? But Gawde aside, the more serious point is that to understand contemporary art — and not just your own response to it — it is important to understand what the artist is trying to communicate.
Today, more so than at any other time, engaging with the artist is critical for art lovers and collectors. When investing time or money, or both, one must be like a curious or even the disdainful teenager who does not buy into your argument easily. Which is why it is so refreshing to see art through a teenager’s eyes: They are not embarrassed to ask why they should like something, or what the art represents, nor intellectually stilted enough to buy into abstract arguments without seeming to understand any of it, as so many of our urban sophisticates tend to do.
Not that artists are always available for such engagements. You cannot hope to land up at their studios while they work, so it is best to seek them out socially, though, like lawyers or doctors, they might not appreciate spending an evening in a consultation. Your best bet is to look out for them through the galleries that represent them (galleries will only extend this facility if you are known to them, or can impress upon them that you wish to meet an artist to add to your knowledge, not for buying at a discount), at art events like openings (even of other artists), or large gatherings such as seminars, art fairs and summits. But before you do, it might serve you well to read up comprehensibly on the artist.
If, of course, you can court an artist, or artists, so much the better — there’s nothing like debate to stimulate conversations, interest and ideas. It’s even more interesting if you admire an artist’s work but don’t necessarily agree with his political or social arguments as represented by his works, or in a series of works — I admire collectors who choose to buy works they might not be in agreement with but are willing to listen to and accept that the artist too has a point of view which he can articulate according to the ideas and mediums available to him.
Why do Subodh Gupta and Bharti Kher both use recognisable Indian elements in their art (shouldn’t art break such geographical identities)? What are Ved Gupta’s social politics when he engages with politicians, bureaucrats and businessmen in his sculptures? Are Farhad Hussain’s works farcical or incisive? When do artists cross the fine line between design and art — and should there be such a line at all? While critics can debate these issues ad nauseum, it is the artists themselves who have the most logical, or sincere take on what motivates them — the aesthetic, or the market — and it is the artists you need to turn to when you want to understand what it is they are trying to communicate. Anyone else who does it for you is merely an interpreter.
