It is midmorning, the Mumbai smog is lifting. Hodgkin Howard, eminent British artist, sits in the Taj Wellington Mews balcony and surveys the view — The Taj Mahal hotel, Rajabai tower, Victoria Terminus in the far distance and the murky grey sea beyond. Excerpts from an interview of warmth and delight:
On India: I remember an evening concert at the Kishangarh palace with friends. Extraordinary. I came to the south and went to an Ayurvedic health resort. I had a wonderful time. They did not cure me but cheered me up. I pass through Delhi every time to look at the mural on the British Council building.
On Friendships: Charles Correa is a most sympathetic architect. I have great admiration for him and he has affection for me. Working with him prolonged my active life as an artist then. Bhupen (Khakkar), another dear friend. We spoke often of the loneliness of being a painter. We would cheer each other up. We challenged each other as to who would do a large painting first. He told me he had already done it when I met him the next time. So I went and did ‘Rain’ but discovered later he was just teasing me and had not done anything.
On his collection of Indian miniatures and paintings: Wilfred Blunt was a wonderful teacher at Eton. He showed me my first Mughal miniature and that’s how it started. He taught me that pictures were to be collected for themselves, for pleasure, not as examples of schools, a totally non-academic approach. Indian paintings were very undervalued by people in India. Elephants are in many I collected because to me they are an ideal form of expression. Like the nude, so seductive and yet surprising at the same time. I would hang them on my mantelpiece at one end of the room and talk to them — are you better than the other? My favourites are the Hamaznama pages from Akbar’s period and the Nainsukh paintings.
On Stuart Cary Welch: I remember him being very rich. His children carried Louis Vuitton attaché cases in those days; it was all very posh. He had a rich Swiss wife and was a multimillionaire. I learnt a lot from him. Once at Sotheby’s, we both wanted the same painting. He was sitting next to me and pushed my hand down. He would come and stay with me and take down my pictures and put up his. He would denigrate my acquisitions … but on good days he would say, “there’s only you and me. We care deeply about the paintings as works of art.” He was totally extraordinary and I miss him but, in many ways, am relieved that he’s not around anymore.
On his work, fame, and the future: Painting is a very lonely thing to do. To be in a white studio by yourself… now I have wonderful assistants who are dear friends and an infinite help. I may do some more work for Mark Morris opera on Laila Majnu. When somebody buys my painting, it’s very rewarding. I like the feeling, it’s like a child leaving home for good. Somebody else will be responsible for it. Talking to you is very rewarding. One gets the feeling there is an audience. The light in India doesn’t stay for long, nothing does. My mind hardly works at all now. I get confused with the chronology of things, now that I am so old. But when I am painting, everything is clear.
