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| Living statues |
| Anoothi Vishal / New Delhi Jun 06, 2009, 00:38 IST |
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Art is not inanimate - it is important to connect with the pieces in your home. Collector Tripat Kalra shows Anoothi Vishal the right way to display sculptures.
When art collector Tripat Kalra opened a gallery in the basement of her home some years ago, veteran artist Satish Gujral congratulated her with the words: “You are brave.” Kalra was opening with a sculpture show — an art form that not many in India appreciate or buy. Yet, it was natural for her to be displaying just that — works by a young, then unknown Rajesh Kumar Sharma — because, as she says, sculpture is her first love.
There is enough evidence in Kalra’s tasteful-but-not-ostentatious Anup Kothari-designed house to support that: A huge Paresh Maity Durga in the garden, all-seeing with her third eye; K S Radhakrishnan pieces, animating spaces with their fluid movement; even a fragile Laxma Goud in terracotta, left in a corner of the living room with an art book… It is difficult to choose a favourite. Indeed, it is impossible. There are, after all, 30 odd pieces.
But let’s begin with the column of sunlight (and fresh air and greenery) that forms the defining feature of this house. The shaft — dividing up the living space, letting in the outside indoors through large glass partitions and windows — is a signature style of the architect. And the Kalra home shows up all its advantages. The column descends the entire length of the home, two floors of it, right down to the basement — where it evolves into a water feature! As the water cascades down the outer wall, lulling us with its rhythm, this is the perfect backdrop for a sculpture on “creation”, referencing the imagery surrounding Brahma in mythology. “All the five elements of creation are present here,” points out Kalra. Air, water, fire (sun), earth and space. The panchatattva.
“The art was planned even before the house was built,” mentions Kalra. Placing sculpture is not easy but the pieces fit here perfectly. Greeting you in the lobby is a happy “tortoise-man” — a Radhakrishnan bronze, this one has spectacular calligraphy-like detailing on the shell. It’s an ancient creature in human form, symbolising perhaps man’s connectedness. Kalra lovingly caresses the contours, and says that the grandchildren in the family hang from the limbs! And this a precious piece of art. “But it is important to connect with sculpture,” she says, “or it could be just dead”.
The bronzes may as well not be dead. Radhakrishnan’s Maiyya is languorous and lounges with abandon next to a hurricane lamp in the verandah — overlooking the overwhelming couple of Paresh Maity’s imagination in the garden. In the evenings, lit up, so that just their faces get accentuated, the man and woman are arresting. “We invest so much in lighting for our art works. Similar care should be taken for sculpture,” says Kalra, pointing to yet another Radhakrishnan work (indoors) that gets dramatised with relief lighting. Halides are the best, she says, and while natural light may work in the day, at night, care must be taken to show up the intricacies of a work. Silhouettes can be framed for a more dramatic effect in the open. But within the house, the effect should never be “something that looms up and makes you jump”, she says, practically. Works can also be lit up at their bases. At the entrance of Kalra’s home, after all, is a huge “boat” by Subodh Kerkar; upturned and eye-catching, with just that kind of lighting.
Apart from the “mental conditioning” that prompts people to look at “art” as something on a wall, people, says Kalra, hesitate to buy sculpture because they fear a lack of space. “They would like to put furniture instead of sculpture,” she points out. In her case, it’s quite the reverse. But more than anything else what potential sculpture buyers must remember is the difference from a two-dimensional art form. “Since the artist has worked on it from all angles, it is important to display a piece so that all the sides can be seen,” points out Kalra.
The dining space is the most striking by far. On the walls hang Modernists F N Souza and Manu Parekh and then, in one corner, stands a dramatic Enigma 51 by Venkat Bothsa, in fibreglass. Visakhapatnam-based Bothsa is a young sculptor. His funky piece — composed after the artist projected his concept on to the figure — is just perfect. (Fruits painted on to the back, a butterfly on the waist, mechanised tubes running through the muscular legs.) “This bridges the gap between the Contemporaries and the Moderns,” says Kalra. The dining room opens out into a patio; a blue corner where Radhakrishnan’s Darpan — a work symbolising eternal love; the man gazing into a mirror seeing his beloved instead of his own face and vice versa, both oblivious to the humanity around them — assumes centrestage. The blue of the space and the green foliage offset the work — a backdrop, also, is often necessary to the displays.
Bronze doesn’t rust and artists tell you to just wash their works. But Kalra suggests wiping them — “the patina retains its shine.” Also, a base is important — though some artists like Paresh Maity do make their own. On the other hand, a fragile terracotta work like Goud’s — the artist makes originals in terracotta and then casts an edition in bronze — obviously needs special attention. “How do you look after it?” I marvel. “God does,” she says.
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