"Death be not proud," poet John Donne wrote, a perfect anthem for art punters who hedge their bets on artists whose works are directly related to their (very senior) age. It is a truth rarely acknowledged that dead artists make more money for galleries than in their lifetime. The reasons are all out there - death ends the supply line, creates scarcity, bestows glory. Too many artists whose lives were penurious have found fame retrospectively. If Vincent van Gogh is the most famous example of an artist whose career was a lesson in failure in his lifetime, in India there are instances from Amrita Sher-Gil to V S Gaitonde who were dependent on the fiscal support of family and friends. How ironic then that van Gogh is now one among the most expensive artists in the world, Sher-Gil is a 'National Treasure', and Gaitonde is India's highest-priced artist.
It is no secret that values of artists' works are notched up soon after their demise. It happened with F N Souza after he passed away in 2002 - indeed, his pugnacity seemed to put off collectors in his lifetime - though it was also fortunate that the market was on a huge upswing then.
M F Husain's works have been on a bull run, though by some estimates they aren't as strong as might be warranted given his popularity, but, again, that might be because the market was still weak at the time of his death in 2011. Jehangir Sabavala's market has been its strongest in the last years, and Ganesh Pyne's value escalated soon after his mortality in 2013.
What might concern some is the preparation for the dirge before the certainty of closure. Certain constituents begin to hedge their bets in anticipation of such an eventuality - a feast of scavengers comes to mind - though it might be impolite to mention the artists whose works are now deliberately being kept underground.
But it also bears thinking why some continue painting for the market late into their old age because, of course, even these works have a market based on a likely posthumous surge. By any reckoning, this does more harm than good where an artist's longevity is measured not in terms of current bank balance as much as quality that must need survive in decades, if not centuries, to come.
Picasso's best years were over long before his final work was done. French-born Claude Monet continued to paint despite a failing vision, even though it was hardly as impaired as Ram Kinkar Baij's, or Tyeb Mehta's, neither of whom sought retirement on that account. But Baij entered a more tactile terrain where vision did not limit him as much, and Mehta remained a perfectionist who destroyed any works that were less than perfect. There might be some verity that experience counts for something, by which measure S H Raza's effort is to be lauded, even though he paints only a little, and then from a wheelchair. What brings it to mind is Husain's last big commission which goes up for show in the Victoria & Albert Museum this summer, a series of eight triptychs that present an overview of the Indian civilisation that he painted for Lakshmi Mittal who will loan it to the museum for public viewing.
Husain remained prolific till the end, even though he had begun to tire, but by any reckoning the Mittal collection - a rare glimpse into the art the Mittals support, their previous outing being the stupendous and very expensive ArcelorMittal Orbit gifted to London - is significant enough also to ensure that Husain's prices will rise considerably when it is aired. Reason enough for an artist not to hang up his boots?
Kishore Singh is a Delhi-based writer and art critic. These views are personal and do not reflect those of the organisation with which he is associated
