The Indian spirit of an emigre artist

Sohan Qadri passed away following a period of illness in Toronto in 2011, but his works continue to remain in circulation, particularly those made during the last decades of his life

A number of yoga teachers have passed through our house with their individual views and opinions — some more curious than others — but no one I know has shown any inclination towards art. Which is what makes me wonder what passed through Sohan Qadri’s mind as both yoga teacher and painter, and whether he gave precedence to one over the other. 

Actually, that is a moot question since Qadri was, first and foremost, an artist, even though his art was invested in spirituality. To the average viewer, it is Qadri’s use of colours and the textures he teases out of paper that draws them in to his work. Where the art critic sees in those ribbed extrusions the breath of life, or the chakras of the body, viewers see playfully ridged patterns where the inks have dyed the paper with a stronger intensity than the flatter tonalities of the main field. 

Born to a wealthy land-owning family in Punjab in 1932, from his early childhood he was drawn to the teachings of gurus and saints who visited his village and were patronised by his parents. He would later appropriate the surname of one of them — Ahmed Ali Shah Qadri — as his own (his own surname was the more prosaic Singh). Attempts to get him interested in farming were doomed to failure — the young lad would simply run away from home. His interactions with artists in Mumbai and Delhi, training in art practice in Shimla, and finally a job as an art teacher in Phagwara, failed to contain his desire to travel and explore the world for himself.

Sohan Qadri was, first and foremost, an artist, even though his art was invested in spirituality. 

He managed to inveigle a place for himself on a ship bound for Africa, making that continent his first port of call, where he both travelled and exhibited with success. Europe drew him next, and it was here, finally, that he settled down too — in Copenhagen. Here, he taught yoga and meditation and painted, carving a career for himself with European galleries exhibiting his works. By this time he had ceased to work on canvas with its heavy, encaustic reliefs, opting instead for jewelled tones on paper at price points that were commensurately lower. But it allowed him to pursue his various passions, including as poet. Between them all he found a common thread — that of spirituality and humaneness. 

When an Indian artist chooses to live and work in the West, it dulls his patronage in the country of his origin. This was particularly true of those decades when communication was still poor, as a result of which Qadri became more celebrated in Europe than in India. But the last decades have seen his popularity soar as much in India as in the West where he has been regularly promoted and represented. 

An interesting aspect of his work is the appeal it has across different geographies. While its mystic layers may attract those of us familiar with his life’s story, for most people, the striking nature of the colours and textures of his works allows no territorial limitations. It is art at its most liberated, which is why it finds as much resonance in New York and London as it does in Singapore and Hong Kong. It makes him arguably India’s most international artist.

Qadri passed away following a period of illness in Toronto in 2011, but his works continue to remain in circulation, particularly those made during the last decades of his life. But it is works on canvas from his early career that seem to have caught the attention of serious collectors. A retrospective on this talented émigré would go a long way to shed light on the exceptional career of one of India’s most talented artists.

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