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The idea of primitivism centres on the wish to identify with, or respond to, elements of a society that are deemed ‘primitive’. In artistic terms, it is about rejecting realism, simplifying technique and reducing the formal means of expression to a ‘primitive’ state. The term itself is borrowed from discussions of Western art, where high-profile examples include the images of Tahiti and its people made in the 1890s by Paul Gauguin, and responses to African sculpture by Pablo Picasso in 1906-09. The second thread of primitivism—the reduction of formal means—is best exemplified by the ‘cut-outs’ made by Henri Matisse in the 1940s.

Rabin Mondal is like a striding colossus of our times, scorching up the firmament with images that reflect societal malaise and his own inner turmoil. His determination to paint in a market-unfriendly manner is characteristic of his resolve. His canvases provide no safety net for the unwary viewer. Here is a confident artist aware of his self and his role with no fig leaf to offer those seeking beauty in art—not that his work is unbeautiful.

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

Ramkinkar Baij is rightfully described as India’s first modernist sculptor for his pathbreaking use of cement and laterite as material, his choice of subjects and scale in public art projects, and his unconventional development of ideas.

The Poet is an abstract portrait of Rabindranath Tagore, imagined through negative spaces, concaves and convexes forming the eyes in a hollowed head, a masterclass in Baij’s cubist vocabulary. The portrait shared almost no physical attributes with the subject, instead focusing on distorting Tagore’s visage to give us insights into the state of his mind.

As printing technologies improved around the turn of the 18th century, a large number of cheaply reproduced printed pictures—illustrated books, almanacs and mythological images—became available to the common people. This became an important vehicle of social change because people could own, produce and disseminate images of all kinds—from their beloved deities and favourite fictional characters to political cartoons critiquing colonial authorities. Printmaking was equally treasured by artists for its aesthetic potential, as techniques like lithography, etching, metal engraving, viscosity, gave practitioners infinite opportunities for creative exploration. This landmark exhibition gives us a comprehensive overview of the history of the printed picture in India.

Henry Singleton’s The Last Effort and Fall of Tippoo Sultaun belongs to a genre known as history painting: the depiction of important historical events, usually on a large scale, as if they were playing out in front of one’s eyes. Author and parliamentarian Shashi Tharoor and art historian Giles Tillotson explain the lively imagination deployed in Singleton’s painting that depicts the British assault on Seringapatam and the killing of its ruler, Tipu Sultan—himself the source of so many stories that it was difficult to unravel the truth from the many falsities spun by the biased colonial administration and historians of the time.

In a career spanning four decades, Amitava’s location as an artist has determined the authority that he brings to his practice. As an artist studying and working in the 1960s, Amitava Das experienced a decade of fragmented locii. The ’60s, the period of his education at the College of Art, was the decade of wars, fiscal difficulty and an uncertain polity in the wake of the death of Jawaharlal Nehru. Further, as a second generation pravasi (non-residing Indian) Bengali, the roiling political violence of West Bengal’s Naxal movement came to him through the filter of poetry, film and art—much as he would have received the existential writing of Camus, Genet and Rilke. Through the 1960s and ’70s, small groups of artists and filmmakers in different pockets in India had a heightened response: the state of the nation found an uncanny echo in the language of modernism, of the artist’s isolation and purity even within a state of uncertainty.

The 1960s was a period of immense change around the world, and it had deep ramifications on India’s socio-political scenario. The country had left behind the jubilation of Independence and was feeling the pinch of a nation grappling with the issues of development that impacted society and environment. A war with China in 1962 and Pakistan in 1965 had far-reaching implications on the national psyche— the first of shame, the latter of pride. Crippling shortages and unemployment were impacting life, even as the country’s success with the Green Revolution was directed at self-sufficiency. Migration from the villages to urban centres was increasing. Disparities—economic, gender or class—provided fertile ground for the alienation of the other. The more anglicised among the youth found themselves being drawn into the vortex of a global hippie movement. A. A. RAIBA AMBADAS ANUPAM SUD AVINASH CHANDRA BIKASH BHATTACHARJEE BIMAL DASGUPTA DHANRAJ BHAGAT F. N. SOUZA G. R. SANTOSH HIMMAT SHAH J. SULTAN ALI J. SWAMINATHAN JAMINI ROY JERAM PATEL JOGEN CHOWDHURY JYOTI BHATT K. G. SUBRAMANYAN K. LAXMA GOUD KRISHEN KHANNA LAXMAN PAI M. F. HUSAIN MADHVI PAREKH P. T. REDDY PARITOSH SEN PRABHAKAR BARWE PRODOSH DASGUPTA PROKASH KARMAKAR RABIN MONDAL RAM KUMAR RAMESHWAR BROOTA S. H. RAZA S. K. BAKRE SAKTI BURMAN SATISH GUJRAL SHANTI DAVE SOHAN QADRI SOMNATH HORE SUNIL DAS ZARINA HASHMI

Most shows at DAG take time to develop because of the quality of research and scholarship they require to mount, but even by our own exacting standards, Continuum has taken longer than most. This, a retrospective in a sense of the six artists who formed the Progressive Artists’ Group, is seminal because it is for the first time since 1950 that the six artists forming the core group have been brought together in an exhibition of their works. The Progressives have become the rallying point for the modern movement in Indian art, and are considered among the most important artists of the last and current century. Of these, M. F. Husain, F. N. Souza and S. H. Raza dominate the market. Alongside, works by their contemporaries K. H. Ara, H. A. Gade and S. K. Bakre, who have largely been seen to have underperformed in comparison, will help re-draw such distinctions and place them on the same platform as their better-known peers. It will re-define their historical importance and gain them the recognition that is their due. Maqbool Fida Husain M.F.Husain Hari Ambadas Gade Syed Haider Raza Krishnaji Howlaji Ara Sadanandji k. Bakre Francis Newton Souza