Blame it on the economy, stupid

Ideally, creations by Indian artists such as Subodh Gupta's Cheap Rice should be a talking point within the bureacracy, but for most, Indian art begins and ends with Ajanta

This is what it all comes down to then after all the talking and posturing is done: Where is Indian art internationally? While those outside the universe of art - collectors, promoters, yes, even investors - appear aware of every tiny ripple and imagine it a tsunami, those on its fringes seem somewhat more sceptical about its lack of visibility.

For all the talk we indulge in and the back-patting and -scratching, Indian art is more talked about than seen. On global platforms its absence draws desultory comment but it isn't missed because it was never common currency.  

While its worth is laughable - single canvases by Western masters have sold for far more than the annual turnover of the Indian art market - there was always reason for hope as interest in India rode high following liberalisation and economic reforms. No more stronger link between the economy and art exists than the hype and hoopla that motivated the forward thrust of contemporary artists from India who, for a brief while, tasted the fruits of success with international buyers who were seduced by the India story in the 1990s and the turn of the 21st century. India's weakened economy has triggered interest in art from other world markets while its own sun appears to have set.

The link between a country's financial muscle and its cultural assets couldn't be more apparent. And yet, Indian food remains mainstream, Indian fashion may not be riding high but keeps recurring on global catwalks for its nostalgia about maharajas and lavish lifestyles (that included patronage of the arts), and its breakaway cinema, while not making waves, is at least managing boutique audiences. 

While recession took its toll on the art market and the lack of depth in contemporary art became responsible for the negative sentiments that surrounded it, the lack of a national platform has hastened any disinterest. A number of private initiatives did take off - the India Art Fair, a few private museums, even large shows such as Guggenheim's current exhibition in Hong Kong called No Country: Contemporary Art for South and Southeast Asia - but the government has remained outside such efforts. With no international support, Indian art - which many had hoped would grow the Chinese way - collapsed into a gooey mess. 

Who in government understands art? Once, the modernists who were invited to biennales and art events internationally, found the Indian embassies offering them bed and board. Often, they repaid their hosts with gifts of paintings which are part of India House archives and can be viewed as national treasures. They are certainly talking points. Today's younger artists prefer staying at hotels, thereby losing an opportunity to establish a relationship with India's spokespeople who, in any case, find it difficult to understand the language and meaning of contemporary art. And yet, can you imagine the impact of a stunning cascade of Subodh Gupta's steel utensils at the entrance to the Indian embassy in London or New York or even Beijing? Why is there such a lack of imagination among our bureaucrats? Jitish Kallat's depiction of Mahatama Gandhi's speech written across fibreglass bones should be a talking point in Parliament House or Rashtrapati Bhawan, but we have not been able to shed our sentimentality over a view of "Indian" art that begins and ends with Ajanta, and which had its moments of excellence (and, alas, mediocrity) under the revivalism of the Bengal School. 

Indian art cannot keep looking back to its golden age and past. If it needs to be taken seriously, younger, contemporary artists whose voices are steeped in the present need to be heard, and - more importantly - seen.

Kishore Singh is a Delhi-based writer and art critic. These views are personal and do not reflect those of the organisation with which he is associated