Search results for: 'POLICIA E FIERIT ME MAKINE TE KONFISKUAR'

The Madras Art Movement that emerged in the early 1960s was a late phenomenon of modernity in south India within the national context. It developed as a regional phenomenon that began to take shape from the mid-1950s onwards as a search for authenticity in modernism derived largely from the region’s cultural heritage. D. P. ROY CHOWDHURY A P SANTHANARAJ ACHUTHAN KUDALLUR AKKITHAM NARAYANAN ALPHONSO DOSS C DOUGLAS C J ANTHONY DOSS J. SULTAN ALI K C S PANIKER K M ADIMOOLAM K RAMANUJAM K SREENIVASULU K V HARIDASAN L MUNUSWAMY M SENATHIPATI M SURYAMOORTHY P GOPINATH P PERUMAL P S NANDHAN PANEER SELVAM R B BHASKARAN REDDEPPA NAIDU Rm. PALANIAPPAN S G VASUDEV S. DHANAPAL S. NANDAGOPAL V. VISWANADHAN VIDYASHANKAR STHAPATI

An unassuming trailblazer, Gulam Rasool Santosh is the most important artist from the movement known as neo-tantra in Indian art, synonymous with masters such as Biren De and Sohan Qadri. Self-taught, Santosh began his career painting landscapes in his native Kashmir before being spotted by S. H. Raza, which enabled him to study at the Maharaja Sayajirao University at Baroda under the famous artist N. S. Bendre. After a few years of painting figurative and abstract works in the mould of the other Indian Progressives, Santosh’s art changed dramatically towards tantra when he had a mystical experience in the Amarnath cave in 1964. From then on, until his death in 1997, G. R. Santosh dedicated his life to the study and practice of tantra, a yogi as much as an artist.

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.

Jamini Roy’s was an art of quiet resistance that assimilated so seamlessly into the folk and craft traditions of Bengal that it did not cause any discernible ripples among the prevalent artistic mood. All around him, art was being nurtured, questioned, uprooted—it was, after all, a period when nationalist feelings ran high and a search for an indigenous lexicon was paramount—but Jaminida’s ability to look to tradition for a modern approach, though revolutionary, was instinctively natural and organic. It was art that everyone understood and wanted to take home. No wonder Jamini babu became a household name in his native Calcutta and went on to be honoured as one of the pre-eminent National Treasure artists of the country whose art has the greatest acceptance of any known Indian modernist.