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Shadow Lines : India meets Indonesia
December 7, 2011
By Suman Gopinath
Jogja XI: Biennale Equator brings into focus two countries that lie alongside the equator – India and Indonesia – and is called Shadow Lines.
Taken from Amitav Ghosh’s book of the same name, Shadow Lines suggests many notions: it could refer to the imaginary line that runs around the earth, clearly visible from one perspective, non-existent from another; maybe to the creation of modern states in South Asia and the troubled geo-political borders or to the lines that draw people together and the lines that keep them apart. Figuratively speaking, Shadow Lines also refers to the overarching theme of the biennale-‘ religiosity, spirituality and belief’, and the thin lines that separate them. These ideas serve as a framework for the biennale, as also a lens to reflect upon contemporary concerns in both countries today.
While India meets Indonesia in a contemporary sense in this biennale, the links between the two countries go back several millennia, to the sea lanes and land routes that connected the two countries through trade and religion. Although Indonesia is a Muslim country today, the Hindu-Buddhist past that existed for 1400 years before the advent of Islam( in the 15th Century) has survived in many ways “half erased, slightly mysterious, but still awesome ,like Borobudur itself”[1]. At the turn of the 20th Century, the poet Rabindranath Tagore, regarded as one of the pioneer bridge-builders between the two countries, was one of the first Indians to make a serious attempt at establishing a two-way traffic in scholarship and the arts between India and Indonesia. In 1955, Jawaharlal Nehru and Sukarno, the leaders of the newly independent countries signed the ‘Bandung Treaty’ which is regarded as a watershed event in anti-colonial politics and modern international relations. This Asia-Africa conference had an idealistic vision for the countries in the region, which included peaceful co-existence, mutual respect and cooperation. Yet with de-colonization and globalization, the aims of this treaty have become less and less meaningful: the idealistic vision of multiplicity and peaceful co-existence has been severely threatened by fundamentalist forces that have a narrow reductionist view of the world – ‘Hindutva’ [2] as in the context of India, or ‘Islamism’ as in the context of Indonesia. India’s robust democracy and secular constitution however has been able to weather these upsurges more successfully than Indonesia where ‘‘democracy’ has intermittently made cameo appearances’’,[3] (Indonesia had its first democratically elected government in 1999).
The Oxford English Dictionary describes ‘religiosity’ as excessive religion; that has often resulted in war, violence and rage: the rage of the religious zealot who sees the world in a state of decay and wants to constantly re-create it in accordance with the religious text. The fundamentalist scheme re-establishes the divine precedent, ‘so history has to serve theology and law is separated from the idea of equity….’[4]
In relation to India, one can cite several examples of ‘religiosity’ and its aftermath, the carnage following partition[5] in 1947 being one of the worst in the history of the nation. The same frenzy seized the country when, on Dec. 6 1992, several thousand Hindu militants tore down the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, Uttar Pradesh, said to be the birthplace of the epic-hero and god-like figure of the Ramayana, Lord Rama. The Hindutva movement alleged that the Masjid was built on the place where Rama was born, 9000,000 years ago( before recorded history began). The resulting religious vandalism and sectarian destruction that followed the fall of the mosque was inconceivable. A mosque was brought down with the intention of erecting a temple dedicated to Rama in its place. The thin line that separates myth from history was completely blurred and The Ramayana was no longer allowed to be read as ‘a marvellous parable’ ( as Rabindranath Tagore saw it) but as a historical document which could not be questioned.[6] A decade later, the communal riots in Gujarat following the burning of Hindu pilgrims at Godhra [7] provoked a similar, anguished response.
The notion of ‘religiosity’ acts as a foreground to several issues such as lumpen fanaticism, artistic vulnerability, the mob-as-critic, censorship and the limits and borders of the ‘permissible’. A recent example of all these factors operating was the attack on the celebrated Indian artist M F Husain and his art by fundamentalist forces, for imaginary provocations. Husain, victimised by virulent intolerance and abuse, hate-speech and assault was forced into a self-imposed exile at the age of 90 and no law, ordinance, parliament, court, civil society or artists’ guild could create a sufficient safe passage to enable him a dignified return to his homeland, India and he died in exile.[8]
The artworks in this biennale engage with the theme of ‘religiosity, spirituality and belief’ and explore in different ways the close and tenuous links between religion and politics, religion and nationalism and the blurring of the lines between them.The subject matter of the works cover a range: religious iconography and national identity; the fetishization of objects; the belief in oneself; the search for a spiritual, cosmic identity that transcends the physical ; the syncretic and non-monolithic aspects of religions; and ways of reclaiming the ‘spiritual’ in everyday life.
Born in Kerala in 1971, artist Riyas Komu metaphorically came of age in 1992, the year of the Babri Masjid destruction. He uses the lamp, the wooden church and the carpet as symbols to represent Hinduism, Christianity and Islam in his work The Magic Landscape; Komu suggests that when the lamp that is the source of light and enlightenment is left untended, it can also be the source of death and destruction. He says, “An interpretation gone awry could upset the rhythm of choreography”. All his elaborate sculpture-installations of wood are meticulously crafted by traditional craftspeople, whose skills and livelihoods he sustains through his artistic practice.
A trilogy of films by the artist Amar Kanwar directly references the close links between belief, religiosity, violence and nationalism. The first film, A Season Outside, begins at the Wagah border – the line, the boundary, that separates India from Pakistan, and the film later develops into a meditation on violence. All violence is the same, it results in death and destruction, the only difference is the time and place. But how does one deal with it, by ‘arming your truth’ – with resistance or through non-violent means? The answer to this question is confronted and challenged in the second of his films in the trilogy Night of Prophecy, which discloses the underbelly of a democracy through a collection of popular poetry and folk songs of marginalized communities and ethnic groups that populate the landscape of India. These songs, political in nature, stress the irrelevance of religion in a country where the lines between the rich and the poor are ever increasing. Unlike the first film, ‘arise and resist injustice’ is the message of this film. To Remember is a silent film, shot in the place where Mahatma Gandhi was killed. It is ironical that Gujarat, a state that has one of the most successful right-wing parties in power today, claims the secular Gandhi as its son. Parts of the texts in the film are extracts from the testimonies of witnesses to the anti-Muslim killings in the Gujarat riots of 2002.
The recurring motifs in Shilpa Gupta’s work are the border, the map and cartography. No Borders, her wall- drawing with adhesive tape, is direct in its message: the ‘flag’ that should herald freedom, now limits it. The words in the flag that evoke a borderless sky are nonetheless framed within its confining borders. The text in Gupta’s flag changes register, from one of personal intimate experience- ‘My lover and I’, to words that evoke images of war and conflict –‘ territory, a wall, a trench’. Gupta views ‘borders’ as geo-political boundaries that exist between nations, as also barriers between people and communities, personal memories and historical accounts.
In The Chronic Chronicle, Best Cutting Sheela Gowda and Christoph Storz construct newspaper content that ranges from stories of exclusion and expulsion, of godmen and miracles, censorship, the Godhra riots, the Best Bakery case, to advertisements for real estate and tips for living a healthy life. In a sense, these ‘curated’ items highlight and complement each other: for instance, one newspaper carries news about the re-writing of text books by religious zealots- this is juxtaposed with stories of godmen and miracles and carries a headline which says A Hindu deity can own land and property, rules SC ( Supreme Court).The paper in its entirety forms the kind of paper-cutting or template that tailors use for fashioning garments.
Pushpamala N’s series of photo-performances called Motherland explores the notions of nationalism, nationhood, religious imagery and the iconography of the ‘motherland’. During the freedom struggle, the spirit of India was represented with the dual images of the god Shiva- the ‘ideal of Manhood’ and the goddess Shakti –the ‘symbol of eternal Motherhood’. Historically, visual and popular art have thrown up varied images of goddess Durga, which have been “re-worked’ by other artists. In the 70s, during the Emergency years in India, M F Husain portrayed the then prime minister Indira Gandhi as the goddess Durga riding a lion. In current iconography, the image of Durga as the Motherland has been used by the Hindu right- wing party in all its public meetings. Pushpamala casts herself as Durga in this series of elaborately constructed photographs.
Another set of photographs of ‘performative identities’ is the series called Ganga’s Daughters, by the artist Sheba Chhachhi .These are photographs of women ascetics who have re-invented themselves and taken on an alternate identity, an androgenous identity that no longer connects with the social world around them, but with the metaphysical one. These women take to the ascetic life after elaborate initiation rights at the ‘Kumbh Mela’ (a religious/spiritual event that takes place every 12 years at a ‘sacred space’ where three holy rivers meet) where they symbolically die and then re-emerge as women sadhus. In these portraits, Chhachhi has collaborated with the ascetics in the construction of their representation. Accompanying the portraits is a short animation film of found footage which discloses the political aspirations of a spiritual leader in the ascetic community. The film articulates the thin line between spiritual and political power.
Archana Hande’s archival project looks at ‘belief’ and the objects that are charged with meaning outside oneself; at the iconization of belief, of investing images, idols and objects with ritualistic and divine connotations. Over a period of ten years, Hande has photographed what she calls ‘Rejected Gods’ –photos or idols of the divine that have been found on the roadside, no longer worshipped, but not thrown away either because of their ‘sacred’ value. They are therefore laid to rest at street-corners, waiting to be worshipped by migrant labourers who might create temporary shrines and spaces of worship. This series also refers to images of the divine in popular and bazaar culture.
Sheela Gowda’s Ground Shift is similar in idea to that of the ‘rejected gods’. Traditionally, Indian kitchens were equipped with grinding stones that were sunk into the floor at the time of construction. With modernization, new apartment blocks came up in the place of the old homes and the grinding stones became redundant. The stones, also worshipped during religious rituals, were too charged with meaning to be thrown away, and so were laid to rest elsewhere. It is through the act of the artist’s intervention, that the stones are made visible again.
Belief and the ‘fetishistic’ object are explored in Sakshi Gupta’s installation Reality Bites. Gupta constructs an elaborate curtain made of red chillies. Chillies in India are said to keep the evil eye at bay and Gupta’s charmed chilli curtain works as protection and guarding object.
Anita Dube in her work suggests that belief in oneself is the road to transformation and change. In her monumental wall -drawing Neti Neti she uses the readymade ceramic ‘votive eyes’ ,( eyes that are used on the idols of the divine) to construct three realities that morph into each other – the past, the present and the future. She does this by superimposing three sets of drawings one above the other, a ‘rangoli’ drawing that refers to ‘tradition’ (the unchanging aspect), a map of the geographical location that she lives in (also unchanging ) and a random line that represents the future .She sees the future as a space for possibilities, things once considered unchangeable can be transformed. By using the votive eyes, traditionally used only for religious objects (which she sees as symbols of oppression), she creates works of art , thereby restoring ‘beauty’ to where it rightfully belongs, to the secular aesthetic world. This work also references ‘rangoli’ drawing which is a traditional decorative folk art. These floor drawings are made each morning with rice flour to welcome the new day and are half- erased or completely wiped away by the night. But every day brings a new drawing, a new beginning.
The ‘rangoli’ drawing also refers to a living tradition, practices which are very much still alive in countries like India and Indonesia. Old traditions and artisanal practices co-exist with modern day living and information technology. This idea of ’living traditions’ is explored in the works of Prabhavathi Meppayil and Valsan Koorma Kolleri. Meppayil extends the ritualistic process of traditional jewellery-making to contemporary use. Coming from a family of traditional goldsmiths, Meppayil uses the tools and the processes of jewellery-making to compose contemporary works of art. Her labour intensive and performative works contain the sounds of the jeweller’s tools- the hammer and the chisel—which are used to make patterns on gold bangles. The materiality of the artwork – copper wires embedded on gesso panels, create a patina of shimmering half- erased lines that slowly change with time and age.
The crafting of the object and the repetitive act of making the work is almost like a ‘meditative’ aspect of the artist’s practice.
Another artist whose work is closely connected with materials, folk crafts, rituals, performative traditions and ‘happenings’, is Valsan Koorma Kolleri. His inspiration for art-making is derived from nature, which he believes is the source of all spiritual knowledge. His work is deeply influenced by traditions like ‘Theyyam’ or “God” ( events of spirituality where people perform feats of endurance ) in Kerala where he lives. ‘Theyyam’ is a socio-religious ceremony and is a combination of rituals, vocal and instrumental music, dance, painting, sculpture and literature. Kolleri’s sculptural installations are constructed from organic objects, metals and found objects that will age and evolve with the march of time and in their ageing reveal their inner life.
Mythological stories from Hindu texts like the Bhagavad-Gita, or epics like the Ramayana or Mahabharata are insidious to the fabric of daily life in India. The stories are sometimes an encyclopaedia of ethical behaviour and codes of conduct; sometimes a thesaurus of allegories for all situations. Love, war, displacement or migration, anything can be traced back to these epics. KP Reji references the myths for the present project and makes some of the images part of the plot of his painting.
Atul Dodiya’s pictorial narratives are taken from a kaleidoscope of references including literary and spiritual texts. There are two bodies of Dodiya’s work in this biennale: while death, violence , mortality are the subject matter of Piero Pierced /Breakfast Project; mortality and the acceptance of death through the transformative powers of the imagination are the subject-matter of his other body of work called The Names of the Statues .
Piero Pierced/Breakfast Project consists of 30 frames of images and words hung alongside each other. The images are small reproductions of della Francesca’s paintings where the heart of the Madonna appears to be shot through with a bullet; the words are short terse headlines from newspaper clippings that announce everyday disasters. These are announcements of public disaster and death, but how does one confront one’s own mortality? The installation The Names of the Statues consists of gallows, a large watercolour drawing with a short poem by the 12th century mystic poet Allama Prabhu and a mirror. The gallows have always been connected with violent death, but in this work, Dodiya seems to suggest that with the help of spiritual texts and a bit of imagination, the gallows can be turned into an object of beauty. Death then is no longer a threat to be feared. Dodiya refers to the transformative powers of the imagination and the power of art, literature and music to help people accept death with a sense of equanimity.
But is equanimity and a sense of balance possible in the age we live in today? This is the question artist Sreshta Rit Premnath poses in his work Infinite Threat, Infinite Regress. Invoking the famous cultural icon Bruce Lee from the film ‘Enter the Dragon’ where the enemy hides in a hall of mirrors, Sreshta in this video loop ‘expunges the villan, so Lee becomes an interpellated subject constantly in a state of tension, unsure where to look, to end the nightmare of fear and unable to do so’. The challenge posed is then one of action. The Bruce Lee of “Enter the Dragon” breaks out of the trap by smashing the mirrors, separating the true enemy from this shimmering reflection and eliminating him. But the consolations of a different easier time are no longer available in a time of universal fear ( the war on terror) .The actor’s actions are controlled by a colour coded bar that indicates the levels of danger. Thus Lee finds himself in a constant state of neuroses and fear unable to act as he has nothing to believe in. Can he ever break out of this hall of mirrors?
N S Harsha’s work explores man’s ambiguous relationship with the cosmos and the mystery of creation. The artist’s work originates from a mark, a splash of paint on the floor of the gallery, from which emerge the stars, the constellations, the galaxies , the universe. And out of the universe are born the gods, the earth and men. This is a work that ponders the mystery of origins – of creation, the universe, gods, religion and beliefs.
This short hymn from the Rig Veda dwells on these imponderables –
Who really knows, and who can swear,
How creation came, when or where!
Even gods came after creation’s day,
Who really knows, who can truly say
When and how did creation start?
Did He do it? Or did He not?
Only He, up there, knows, maybe;
Or perhaps, not even He.
Rig Veda 10:129
This biennale brings together a varied set of artworks and perspectives. My interpretive commentary on the works by the Indian artists is not definitive, but provide points of entry, or departure for the viewer to reflect on the larger theme of the biennale – religiosity, spirituality and belief. I have attempted to define and illustrate the term ‘religiosity’ with a few examples, but have stayed away from doing the same with the idea of ‘spirituality’ and ‘belief’ simply because these words cover such a wide range of activities. I see ‘spirituality’ as being situated in the realm of artistic practice, cultural life, the everyday and ‘belief’ in the context of fundamentalism, communalism, religion, ideology, objects, the cosmos, literature and the arts , the powers of the imagination and oneself.
This biennale of the works of 40 artists, 15 from India and 25 from Indonesia are diverse and varied and together reflect the contemporary concerns of artists living and working in an increasingly radicalized world.
Suman Gopinath
October, 2011
[1] V.S.Naipaul, Among the Believers
[2] ‘Although Hinduism is an ancient religion, Hindutva is quite a recent political movement which sees Hinduism as a quintessential guide to ‘Indianess’
[3] Amartya Sen, The Argumentative Indian, Writings on Indian History, Culture & Identity
[4] V.S.Naipaul, Among the Believers
[5] ‘Partition’ refers to the division of the Indian sub-continent along sectarian lines in 1947, when India and Pakistan gained nationhood from the British
[6] Amartya Sen, The Argumentative India, Writings on Indian History, Culture & Identity
[7] The 2002 Gujarat violence refers to the Godhra train burning and resulting communal riots between Hindus and Muslims in many parts of Gujarat.
[8] Sadanand Menon in The Hindu, Friday June 10, 2011
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