When I first see Nandagopal’s new series of watercolours, I am conscious of a faint feeling of disappointment. He has chosen to extend the same narration here that he explores in his fabulous metal sculptures. I had expected a dramatic shift to accompany the changed medium, a new leap in imagination perhaps. We are at the workshop behind his house in Cholamandal and I am taking a sneak peek at the works that were inaugurated at Forum Gallery last evening.
I wander about slowly, drinking in the colours and lines, and realise gradually that there is also a strong sense of pleasure that is simultaneously flooding my senses. It takes a while to discover that what I am doing wrong is to carry such a strong memory of the sculptures in my head. It’s when I close my eyes, take a deep breath, empty my head and look at the water colours afresh that I really see them for themselves. And that’s when their sheer, delicate beauty hits you. There is the upside-down monkey drunk on mahua, there is Varaha carrying Earth in a whirl of pinks and browns, a brawny Arjuna takes aim at a fat fish, as a bow floats overhead. The figures free-float in colour washes or are anchored in quirky grids that are populated by the artist’s characteristic squiggles and doodles.
Intellectually, we are constantly comparing, sifting, judging; but art must be allowed to assail the emotions and senses sometimes, to annex us and lead us down unknown alleys. After 1968, this is Nandagopal’s first major foray into a different medium, and it seems to make just such a statement with its playful leap into something he has consciously rejected down the years in order to hone his metallic craft.
It’s important, too, to recall that Nandagopal actually joined Art College in Madras as a painting student, but rejected it to wander into sculpture, quickly finding his muse in metal. In that sense, this exhibition could be seen as a homecoming of sorts, but one does not intuit that when talking to the artist. He is still clearly enamoured with metal, and by sticking to the imagery of his sculptures in this interlude, he seems to be keeping the link intact.
Like the existentialist artist Alberto Giacometti who studied figurative drawing and painting before turning obsessively to sculpture, Nandagopal has been fixated with metal, perhaps to the neglect of painting. In fact, Neville Tuli appears to have been an early connoisseur. Visiting in 1997, he picked up six or seven watercolours dating from Nandagopal’s college days that lay carelessly around, embarrassing him by saying he would auction them. He did, and they sold for a handsome sum, but it could not persuade the sculptor to shift tack.
Today, there’s an ease about Nandagopal that comes with age and confidence that allows him to make this shift. A sense of mischievousness permeates the paintings — figures ride monocycles, do acrobatics and circus antics. Nandagopal has recreated the beloved world of his sculpting, but flooded it with impish tenderness and light.
On view at Forum Art Gallery until February 3, 10.30 a.m. to 6.30 p.m.
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‘Artists must do what they do best’
Why this significant shift in medium and why now?
Actually, I have been painting on and off, and an exhibition has been at the back of my mind. In fact, I’ve had to stop my daughter from flicking my pieces for a while now! But I haven’t had time to focus. Then, my daughter needed us to babysit her dog in Bangalore because she had to travel urgently. I decided to carry paints and paper, and it was a wonderful time of total peace, no visitors or disturbances. The perfect opportunity to create a body of work…
Why did you not choose dramatically different themes?
An artist has to do what he or she is best at. You know, at 68 years of age, a lot of stuff accumulates in an artist’s head. I have always been a figurative artist; I could not just dump that background. Of course, a sense of abstraction has always been present in my work as well. It’s a bit like the temple gopuram, towering from a distance, too large to encompass but yielding no details. As you draw closer, you increasingly discern figures and paintings and figurines.
You are changing medium after 1968. Was it emotionally and physically a huge move?
As a sculptor, you always draw first. So in that sense, it was not drastically different. I have painted now and then but not in a focused way. But one thing did change — in sculpting, I am not confined by space. Here I was. There is the danger of overflow or wrong lines and then you just throw the piece away. So, in a way I was forced to be more conscious, more careful. I could not do more than two paintings a day. I would be exhausted. Sculpting leaves me physically tired at the end of the day, but here I was both physically and mentally drained.
When Neville Tuli sold your water colours in 1997-98, what were their themes?
Well, they were works I had done in art college but my preoccupations then were very similar. Those paintings had the same texturing that I use today, the same backgrounds, same themes. One new thing now is my use of grids.
You use a lot of gold and silver, something that continues in the watercolours. Is it your love of metal again?
Well, in my work I have been inspired by miniatures. And one of the features I adopted was gold and silver. It adds a different dimension to colours; it contrasts with them, pulls them in different directions. And, of course, it’s highly decorative if used well.
