Search results for: 'Place where captain Neil was'

The wash technique has come to be associated in India with the art of the Bengal School, but the story of its origins in India takes us back to an era of rich cultural exchanges. In the early twentieth century artists like Abanindranath Tagore were trying to imagine a pan-Asian cultural identity, and they turned for inspiration to traditions from across Persia to Japan. Rabindranath Tagore's friendship with Okakura Kakuzō occasioned the arrival of several Japanese artists in Kolkata, such as Yokoyama Taikan, Hishida Shunsō and Katsuta Shōkin. While the latter found inspiration in the Hindu epics, artists in Bengal adapted techniques that were used by the Japanese, such as the wash technique or the subtle use of ink and brush. Since then, the wash technique has been interpreted widely by individual artists, offering an ethereal quality of light to their works, or, in some cases, like for Gaganendranath Tagore and Prosanto Roy, new possibilities of painting in various shades of darkness.

'Home is a Place’ explores the visual world of the home as a physical space having both an exterior and an interior—with all its magic, hope and memories—in villages and towns. Our homes are central to our existence and society, being the reason for shaping towns and countries, civilisations and histories. The exhibition covers the complexity of lives within the jurisdiction of the home—women at their toilettes, women painted alone gazing out of the window or gossiping in a group; figures working in their library, engaged in household work, or as parents bathing children; a family posing together or feuding over a game of cards, food or egos; and those fighting tyranny or painted as embracing lovers. Altaf Ambika Dhurandhar Amit Ambalal Anonymous Anonymous (Kalighat Pat) Anonymous (Waring & Gillow) Avinash Chandra Badri Narayan Bijan Choudhary Chakravorty Chittaprosad Dattatraya Apte Dhanraj Bhagat G. R. Santosh Ganesh Pyne Gogi Saroj Pal Gopal Ghose Haren Das Hemen Mazumdar Hiranmoy Indra Dugar Indu Rakshit Jagadish Dey Jagmohan Chopra Jamini Roy Jyoti Bhatt K. C. S. Paniker K. S. Kulkarni Kisory Roy M. A. R. Chughtai M. Bulkley M. F. Husain M. V. Dhurandhar Madhvi Parekh Maniklal Banerjee N. R. Sardesai Nandalal Bose Navjot Nemai Ghosh P. T. Reddy Partha Pratim Deb Piraji Sagara Prabhakar Barwe R. B. Bhaskaran Rabin Mondal Radha Charan Bagchi Ramendranath Rekha Rodwittiya Roychaudhuri S S. K. Bakre Sadequain Sakti Burman Sanat Kar Shanti Dave Shyamal Dutta Ray Somnath Hore Subba Ghosh V. A. Mali V. Nageshkar Ved Nayar Abani Sen Paritosh Sen Sunil Madhav Sen Sushil Chandra Sen Nataraj Sharma Shuvaprasanna Muni Singh Paramjeet Singh Paramjit Singh S. G. Thakar Singh Sobha Singh Satish Sinha F. N. Souza K. G. Subramanyan Anupam Sud L. N. Taskar Vasudha Thozhur

Sunayani Devi picked up a paintbrush in 1905 when she was thirty years old while supervising her kitchen duties, self-taught, but with enough talent to attract the critical attention of Stella Kramrisch who organised an exhibition of her paintings in Germany in 1927. It was in her worthy footsteps that India’s women artists followed. Devayani Krishna was born five years after Sunayani Devi began painting; Amrita Sher-Gil already had a career in Paris by the time India’s first art school-trained woman artist, Ambika Dhurandhar, earned her diploma in Bombay. B. Prabha followed next, her work reflecting the realities of the marginalised in a piquant language. By the time Nasreen Mohamedi and Zarina Hashmi, both born a decade before Independence, established their careers, women were joining art schools in greater numbers, validating their practice not on the basis of their gender but on its context. Anupam Sud Devayani Krishna Gogi Saroj Pal Latika Katt Madhvi Parekh Mrinalini Mukherjee Navjot Rekha Rodwittiya Shobha Broota Zarina Hashmi

William Hodges (1744-97) was a pioneer in more ways than one. He was the first British landscape painter to visit India, and to portray scenery across the whole breadth of the Gangetic plain. As a writer, he gave the first detailed descriptions of numerous historic Indian buildings, and he theorised about the origins and evolution of Indian architectural design. His art illustrates his exploration into terrain which—in its breadth and scope—was at the time almost as unfamiliar to Indian as to Western eyes.

This is the first-ever retrospective of the Indian modern artist Avinash Chandra who lived most of his life in the West, in London and New York. The artist, who had trained in New Delhi, left soon after for London, and most of his practice was limited to London and New York, the two cities he called his home till his unfortunately early death in 1991. In the roughly three-and-a-half decades of his career, Avinash’s work changed amazingly, reflecting his environment and milieu as he grew and adapted to cities vastly different from their Indian counterparts, with their own sub-cultures. That this happily coincided with a discovery of India, however superfluously, as a land of spirituality and sexuality, seemed to serve him well as his muse.

Any new exhibition brings with it a frisson of excitement, but by any measure India Modern: Narratives From 20th Century Indian Art has been extra special. Most art lovers take Indian modernism for granted—but how many can truly claim to know what it really means. For too many years, the term has been loosely used, with very little awareness of what it includes, or omits. What the West understands and takes as a given is something that in India still remains a mystery, perhaps because art in India cannot strictly be viewed from the same trope as Western art. Perhaps this is true of most countries, but it is especially true of colonised nations where new engagements with art in the West were imposed without the benefit of growing their own local practices organically. This hybrid custom developed at various levels, which makes it exciting when viewed from some distance, but also imposes a challenge. Therefore the question: What does modernism in Indian art imply? Akbar Padamsee Ambadas Anjolie Ela Menon Avinash Chandra B. Prabha Bikash Bhattacharjee Bimal Dasgupta Biren De Dhanraj Bhagat Dharamnarayan Dasgupta F. N. Souza G. R. Santosh Ganesh Haloi Ganesh Pyne George Keyt Gieve Patel H.A. Gade Himmat Shah J. Sultan Ali J. Swaminathan Jehangir Sabavala Jeram Patel Jogen Chowdhury K. G. Subramanyan K. H. Ara K. K. Hebbar K. S. Kulkarni Krishen Khanna Laxman Goud Laxman Pai M. F. Husain Manjit Bawa P. Khemraj P.T. Reddy Rabin Mondal Ram Kumar S. K. Bakre S.H. Raza Sakti Burman Sohan Qadri Somnath Hore Sunil Das

In the articulation of twentieth century art, where does one place Altaf Mohamedi? That question has probably troubled more curators than we realise. Altaf, who studied art in London before returning to Bombay (now Mumbai) was following in the footsteps of his elder sister and artist Nasreen Mohamedi, but that is where all similarities ended. Where Nasreen was an abstract, sparse artist who created a distinctive language using, for most part, rigid, inflexible lines that nevertheless sang on the paper over which they were made, Altaf’s work was intensely political and social.