It’s a little-known fact, but Jogen Chowdhury’s journey to eminence in art had its beginnings right here in Chennai, in the late Sixties. He had just returned from his studies at the École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts in Paris, and joined as a textile designer on the Handloom Board in the city in 1968. For four years, he lived in an outhouse in Alwarpet, painting in a makeshift garage-turned-studio, and walking daily to his office on Chamiers Road. It was a peaceful life, and he created a significant body of work during that time. “The style which eventually made me famous — the lines and crosshatch — began in Chennai,” he says.
His first ever solo show was held at the end of ’68 at the Alliance Francaise, and it was inaugurated by K.C.S. Paniker himself. “And my second one-man show was at Sarala’s Art Centre in 1970, with Mr. and Mrs. Daruwalla as the owners,” he says, adding with a laugh, “Now it’s owned by their daughter Sarala – I remember her as a six year old!”
Forty-two years later, the artist was in the city recently for the inauguration of his latest solo show, ‘Lignes de Meditation’ at the newly-opened Gallery Veda in Rutland Gate, Nungambakkam. Our chat doesn’t begin on a promising note, with Chowdhury asking me in a gently professorial way, “How much do you know about art.” With anyone else, one would be offended, but it becomes clear that the artist, who has taught painting for decades at Santiniketan, and still serves as emeritus professor, is concerned about my ‘getting’ his art, rather than simply feeding me a carefully practised description. His second question to me is, “Did you enjoy the works? Then there is substance to them, not dependent on ‘real’ form.”
He goes on to deconstruct his work in a way that’s refreshingly honest. “I don’t attempt to capture reality in my images, they’re fantasy. God created different creatures in strange ways — why not create with a similar freedom something that attracts me?”
He speaks of his love of black and white, the striking contrast between opposites; of dissymmetry, which creates ‘certain sensations’ in the viewer; and of course, the line, which has long been his muse. “Lines are everywhere, and in everything,” he says. “Otherwise, there is no beauty.”
“Ultimately, what I try is to infuse in my art infiniteness, a magic quality,” he says. “As Tagore said, to create ‘roop’ in ‘aroop’.”
Filled with symbolism
This recent collection represents a departure from the figurative works he’s famous for. These are starker works, minimalist creations of thick dark lines against white, filled with symbolism — the sword and the claw denoting aggression and destruction, the tree and lotus denoting life and beauty. “I was ready for a change,” he says. “I wanted to enjoy the rhythmic line.”
But as is true of all his most celebrated work over the decades, this collection too is filled with a sensitive socio-political consciousness. One of the most powerful pieces, for example, is one depicting the violence at Nandigram. “Since my childhood, I’ve been concerned about social development and politics, having witnessed the partition in Bengal, and the problems that followed,” says the artist, who was born in the Faridpur District of Bangladesh in 1939, and moved to Kolkata in 1947.
He pauses, then adds, “I personally believe that we can only bring about change by moulding people the right way. Then they will make the right changes, create the right system.”
Chowdhury has done his bit as a teacher whom generations of students at Kala Bhavan — many of them high-profile artists themselves today — have called their inspiration. “You can impart skill, but unless they have the understanding that gives them the motivation to progress, there’s no point.”
The artist who is known for his work with ink, pastels and watercolours says he might work more with oils in the future, but that in the end, it’s not the materials you use that matter. “You can create a grand, big oil painting, but if the quality is not there, it fails,” he says.
As I get ready to leave, he explains the reason for his first question. “You see, people are used to looking at a painting and saying, ‘this is a tree’, ‘this is a house.’ But when you take away ‘real’ form, it becomes more difficult to grasp,” he says.
But truly, it isn’t difficult at all to appreciate Jogen Chowdhury’s art; the magic shines right through.
