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The Way Things Go: Theorizations and Resistances

A headline in an archived edition of The Art Newspaper caught my attention – ‘2,000 works by Hélio Oiticica destroyed in fire.’[1] Below the opening statement is an image of the artist lying on the floor of his studio in Rio de Janeiro, surrounded by his artworks. This particular image-text combination got me thinking about absences and resistances within critical discourses on Art of the 20^th century.

Often it is through microscopic observation that we begin to re-assess the conditions that produce and perpetuate larger trajectories of creative thought and action. In this case, it is the dialectic structure of this news piece, which I wish to address as a text rather than a work (i.e. finished object). While the article occupies web space, it also circulates as citation, as echo, as an intertexual being. The virtual presence of the artist and his work alongside the textual narrative on the destruction of his works in a fire is fundamentally a discussion on ‘the fact of being present.’ The photograph stands as documentary proof that Oiticica as ‘the artist’ who created a significant body of works exists. Conversely, the words that surround the image speak of loss – the destruction of the artist’s presence via the ruin of his creations.

Oiticica himself was critical of ‘authorial presence,’ he challenged established conventions by framing his work around presence(s) governed by interactive vocabularies and sensorial aesthetics. His works embraced conceptual plurality while appearing as body-centered environs probing haptic impulses. If we are to treat the disappearance of an artist’s tangible corpus as an erasure, then this explicit erasure is one that has a material cause – a fire; nonetheless, the effects that follow are not one-dimensional facts. They disperse and become part of a wider field of cultural inquiry.

This episode prompts a visit to other kinds of erasure that function in a convert fashion, often as sterilizing devices within canonical Western Art history and criticism. While related sets of practitioners and theorists are (self) assigned the task of sifting through hemispheres of visual culture to direct and assign a place to certain modes of art-making and thinking, there are many others that are left out – consequently, occupying a ‘no-place’ theorized by dominant institutional forces as periphery, outsider, derivative, exotic, subaltern and so on.[2]

One could argue that theorizing of this sort is most often a complex exercise in power-play and co-option; a mechanism that wishes to suppress retaliation by closing gaps from which self-assertion could generate ruptures.

(Article Excerpt)

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[1] Picard, Charmaine. 2,000 works by Hélio Oiticica destroyed in fire, The Art Newspaper (21 Oct. 2009, Published online)

[2] Ramirz, Carmen Mari and Olea, Hector. Inverted Utopias – Avant-garde Art in Latin America. Yale University Press& The Museum of Fine Arts , Houston, 2004.

Some Quotes @ Jaipur Literature Festival 2010

"Being confused means that different parts of your-self are arguing with one another. If that weren't the case it would be fascist."

- Hanif Kureishi (Discusson on confused identity and migrant writers)

"My India is starvation deaths, My India is no BPL cards for the poor, My India is destruction of the forests. Not enough has been written on (this) India.

- Mahashweta Devi (Video Recording - Discussion: Of Women, Rebels and Peasants)

"There is a difference between crimes of passion and crimes of logic...however, there is no such thing as a virtuous murder. The Maoist rebels and Bush believe otherwise."

- Dilip Simeon (Discussion: Of Women, Rebels and Peasants)

"The hunger for Millet is mine, the field belongs to the Thakur.
The hand on the plough is mine, the cattle belong to the Thakur.
The Harvest belongs to the Thakur.
The thirst for water is mine. The well belongs to the Thakur.
What is ours? The village, the city, the nation...?"

- Poem by Omprakash Valmiki (recited during the Bhaskar Bhasha series - rough translation)

Will YOU Come Forward...?

So here we are...

Someone has come finally forward - to speak up and participate, for real this time. 

Mallika Sarabhai's decision to fight the Lok Sabha elections in Gujarat in a constituency that has been a strong hold of 'prime-ministerial candidate' L K Advani, could be viewed by cynics as ridiculous spurt of idealism, by pragmatists as a lost battle and by fundamentalists as an opportunity to mud-sling. But let us not waste time and  look beyond the negativity to the larger public sphere that is displaying support in all forms. Let us believe in the new-found optimism and push ourselves toward positive action.

India First, Party Next, Self Last - says Mr. Advani's official homepage. The question is - which India is this leader talking about? A bloody Rath Yatra, an anti-people development model, a flawed and divisive vision is clearly not what India needs today.

To politicians who indulge in fence-sitting, back-slapping, and stuff their pockets while turning their backs on us and our issues - let us make it known that we believe in alternatives and the choice is no longer limited to 'the lesser evil.' 

Sleep/Awake

Violet bubbles strewn over a deep blue terrace.

Solitary steps, endless day-dreaming…

 

Red feather tickling forbidden temptations,

Sleeping soundly suspended along a milky-way…

A cinnamon sky reveals macabre dancers

Fishing on the moon as meteors slip past silver nets.

 Now, awake…..

Image Source: Salvador Dali - Sleep (1937)

Listening Camera - A Black and White Memoir of Jazz Moments

The genius of jazz lies in its spontaneity and rebellious spirit; so can a photograph honestly frame this ephemeral music?

As his lens travelled back stage and up-close, between wires and sound-systems and even into private jam sessions – to Philadelphia, New York, Berlin, San Francisco and then closer home to Mumbai and Chennai - Navroze Contractor made this possible.  

Over decades he captured impromptu jazz moments; inevitably constructing a series called ‘Listening Camera.’

The beauty of his photography lies in its rawness, sense of movement and rapture that typifies Jazz. Each photograph becomes a musical tableaux - one can hear Sonny Rollins play the Freedom Suite and Stan Getz’s commendable ‘Cool Jazz.’ As one travels from one image to the next, one piece ends and another begins.

A Keith Jarrett is literally off his seat; lost to the world as he hits a chord on his electric piano; a dashing Louis Banks sits at a desk with his back to the camera;  as his portrait hangs above – creating a surreal duality.

Listening camera becomes an enthralling journey into a past that seems more alive than the present. 

Kiska Ravan?

Vodafone sends me a Dusshera message: Burai par acchai Ki jeet! Dusshera lata hai ek ummeed, Ravan ki tarah hamare dukhon ka ant ho. Ek nayi shuruat spl. msgs & logos ke saath. SMS DUS to51515@Rs3/SMS

Today, the image-making of the villain is a highly manufactured socio-political enterprise. This message of the triumph of good over evil has been abused to spread hatred and create a rift between communities. The question here is - who is being labelled evil? And why?

Until today I had never watched Ravan burning. This year I decided to become a spectator in the Dusshera celebrations. To many in the city, this event has become nothing more than ‘an inconvenience’. It simply means more traffic, more smoke and more noise.

We literally followed the fire-works and the crowds to reach the site. The lane adjacent to the maidan was overflowing with people, children selling heart-shaped balloons and hand-carts displaying bright bow and arrow sets and Hanuman’s gada. It was impossible to enter the gateway.

Young men stood on traffic islands, children sat on car bonnets or on their father’s shoulders. Grandmothers chatted with their neighbours and relatives. They seemed oblivious of the blaring traffic and the DTC bus that was trying to get past them.

The crackling loudspeakers invited BJP leaders on stage between powerful dialogues threatening Ravan to prepare for his death. Calls of Shri Ram Ki Jai! rang through the crowd. A child was reported missing. Visitors were asked to remain calm and avoid climbing the walls to enter the maidan. Ravan stood tall - overpowering yet silent; his tummy stuffed with explosives.

Was it just me feeling a fundamentalist vibe in the air? or was this all just harmless festivity?

While hearing repeated chants celebrating Ram’s greatness; I couldn’t help wondering - What of Sita being rejected and punished for her ‘impurity’? And what about the disfigured Shoorpanakha? Where is Ravan – the scholar, the follower of Shiva, the gifted ruler?