Late evening on October 1, 2016, Swiss sculptor Bob Gramsma, one of the 97 participants at the third edition of the Kochi-Muziris Biennale (KMB), was beginning his installation, when the storm began. The pelting rain made it difficult to pour 110 tonnes of wet concrete into excavated earth, but the team couldn’t afford to stop. Shyam Patel, production consultant, KMB, recalls joining the team under a stretched tarpaulin all night, overseeing the difficult task at hand. “We could not defer the work as we were working with concrete and had a timeline. It was one of our biggest challenges this time,” he says. Incidentally, that was also the day Sudarshan Shetty, curator and artistic director of this third edition, unofficially declared the Biennale open. From then to now, with just a week left to opening day, this festival of arts has been a superhuman exercise in coordination, logistics, planning, discussion, feasibility and man management.
“The idea was to create an art exhibition inspired by Kochi, as historically, this is an international city, a port known for its spice and silk trade,” says Manju Sara Rajan, CEO, KMF, adding, “The event has an outsize ambition and is closest in spirit to The Havana Biennial. Its curators are given complete freedom.”
In the earlier two editions, the Biennale created a huge buzz but faced financial issues and criticism over delays. That said, it allowed the Indian and international artist community to congregate in one place and exchange ideas for many artistic collaborations. Bose Krishnamachari, co-curator of the first KMB and president KMF, knows well the impediments faced when putting together a mammoth art exhibition that will display sculpture, painting, installation, video work, graffiti, performance and other forms of art. “These are not 97 characters but 97 films, some feature, some documentaries and some short. It is a huge scale!” he says, using film speak.
Bob’s work is only one example of what Shyam’s team encounters and troubleshoots on a daily basis. Since the countdown to the opening began, with the finishing touches to works and venues underway, he and his seven teams have been on tenterhooks.
There are 11 venues this time and at Cabral Yard, the thick overgrowth of the past two years has been cleared in parts, to put up the Pavilion that will host talks, seminars and performances. Designed by architect Tony Joseph, its roof and sides are now being raised. It is here that the excavator unearthing mounds of loose soil to enable the work of Latvian artists Katrina Neiburga and Andris Eglitis unexpectedly met with buried concrete, causing delay and mounting expenses. A bamboo cocoon, built by 10 bamboo craftsmen will fill the dugout, and video art will narrate stories of human encounters with miracles. The venue, which still has relics from its Portuguese past and a column left from a previous installation by Valson Koorma Kolleri,(KMB 2014) is all set to become one of KMB’s favoured spots.
What has come as bolt from the blue, in the final run up to the opening, is demonetisation, a spoke in the wheel that was fast rolling to meet a deadline. “Panic starts when there is fund blockade, it is a big challenge and it is tough,” shrugs Shyam. Treessa Jaifer, CFO, KMB, is constantly fire fighting. “The Biennale has been hit badly. We are labour intensive and deal with informal labour that is paid in cash every day. The volunteers too are paid Rs.250 per day. I wake up with tension every morning,” she confides.
This is not her only worry. Cash transactions from sale of tickets for expected footfalls (usually to the tune of 3,000-odd on weekdays and 5,000-odd on weekends) now require complete reorganisation. The last Biennale had a record 5 lakh visitors. Additionally, a 15 per cent service tax will hit the Biennale hard. “The art expo should be treated as a special case, which it is,” says Treessa.
Building blocks
At MAP (Museum of Art and Photography) Warehouse, formerly the Dutch Warehouse on Bazaar Road, the scene is no different. An organiser is firing instructions over the phone to ship art works from Mumbai to Kochi. The 400-year-old edifice will showcase three or four artists’ works. Sophisticated electrical fittings are being put in place to accommodate high-end projectors, track and spot lighting. False walls, in front of sodden ones, have been erected for video art and a few walls left untouched to tell the story of their long abandonment.
A new venue in this Biennale, Anand Warehouse, of the same Dutch vintage, will display art alongside ongoing trade. Some of its irregular shaped rooms, sea-facing windows and narrow corridors will come alive with narratives that connect histories and people, the warehouse will acquire a new lease of life with the art show.
“The Biennale has brought so much change to places that were running to seed,” says a trader who wishes to remain anonymous. But the gentrification is not without its detractors. Labourers and trade unions have protested at the conversion of spaces, if not so much for art but the change in character that will eventually endanger their jobs.
Criticism about the changing nature of the Biennale itself is rising from some quarters. Bose dismisses the detractors, strangely many from within the fraternity, that criticism should come only after paying a visit to the Biennale. “How can anyone comment without even seeing the event? It is, I believe, imagined criticism,” he says.
On exhibit
Meanwhile Manon Gingold, who has been assisting Sudarshan since last October is pretty excited at the broad spectrum art show set to unfurl. The bandwidth this time will include some unusual acts. Sound artist Voldemars Johansons will work with over 100 rickshaws, creating an aural symphony with their horns, in the opening week, in a work titled Convocation. In ‘Bad Trip’, Italian painter Daniele Galliano will engage with visitors in an open studio in Aspinwall where he will paint every day, for the 108 days, over existing “bad art”. Australian linguist Chris Mann’s work with sound and language will find its way on people’s phones, in the form of an app. ‘The Landscape Novel’, by Sergio Chejfec will appear on 80 walls across venue sites, walking visitors through with a story.
Indian artists and local artists will add to the rainbow. Mural artist P.K. Sadanadan’s work in progress, up at Aspinwall, will display the nuances of a hallowed style that adorns temple walls.
Behind the scenes
All 11 venues, at this point, are spaces where work is slowly falling in place. The wall that was torn down to bring a large installation in place has been reerected, paintings and photographs are going up on walls that have been treated for dampness. Wiring, lights and audio are being rechecked. The noise rising from a medley of focussed fabricators, electricians, and carpenters is slowly fading, giving way to conversations of the creators of art, the artists themselves, who have begun to descend.
This will soon be replaced by visitors, curious, appreciative or critical of the works put up by the large team, many who will remain unnamed.
Meanwhile, the dust has settled on Bob’s work, Riff Off. The concrete has hardened and the cast scooped out from the earth. It is to be suspended at a 35-degree angle at eye level, offering the definition of ‘void’ to onlookers. Contemporary art at its fullest is on.
