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| ARTS TRIBUNE | Friday, February 9, 2001, Chandigarh, India |
Copies, versions, other mayhem AUDIOSCAN
Gujarat quake—images remain |
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Copies, versions, other mayhem THE intriguing row which broke out recently in Delhi, involving the authorship of Manjit Bawa’s paintings, something on which the whole art world seems to have gone to town, occasions some thoughts. The air has been thick with allegations, counter-allegations, rumours, smoke-and-mirror stories. While the whole truth of the matter may never be known (I certainly do not know it), and Bawa and Mohinder Soni may remain locked in combat for some time, one’s mind wanders towards the whole vexed issue of copies, versions, and fakes. The world of art — certainly the world of commerce — is no stranger to the range of issues and, if that is one’s wont, one can refer to a shelf-full of books on the subject. One would be apt to come upon startling facts. Rembrandts have been called into question as much as Raphaels have been; estimates are daily being made about how many of the Salvador Dali prints now in circulation are actually his work; old ‘Russian’ icons of doubtful ancestry keep surfacing with alarming regularity. It is not a reassuring world. In this context, however, remarkably little appears to have been written on the situation in India. Every now and then some cause, some case, comes to light, but essentially in the area of ‘antiques’. One knows that committees charged with acquiring works of art for museums have routinely to sift through heaps of recently done stuff which is brought before them as being ‘hundreds of years’ old; scholars do find out sometimes how false some things that they had believed to be genuine once, now ring; collectors are frequently stuck with fakes that they bought once from some passing dealer in the first flush of enthusiasm. But much of this is in the area of old objects, where one almost expects things such as this to happen. It is only recently that works of contemporary or modern art are being called into question. Too many ‘Jamini Roys’ are crowding the market, say those who know; works of those who painted in the ‘manner’ of Abdul Rahman Chaghtai — who is suddenly hot property on the international art market — are being passed off as his; and now the Manjit Bawa/Mohinder Soni affair. As I said, it is not a reassuring world. In some ways, therefore, one’s mind goes back to the relative comfort of much earlier times in India, when commerce did not necessarily govern matters like this, and things were — at least so one believes — a little more in the open. Then one heard not so much of fakes, but of ‘copies’ and ‘versions’. One learns to distinguish between these. Broadly speaking, a fake is by definition an object intended to deceive; a copy on the other hand, while consciously done, is made with a different intent or purpose; and a version could be regarded as a slight variant of an original, approximating to it but often distinguishable from it. Both copies and versions have been a part of the artistic tradition in India, and no opprobrium seems to have attached to producing them. Let me cite two cases — one of copying and the other of producing versions — that I find of absorbing interest. In the Memoir of his 17th century embassy to the court of Emperor Jahangir, Sir Thomas Roe — emissary of the King of England — records an incident with some amusement but also, one suspects, with a degree of embarrassment. During the long tenure of his stay at that magnificent Mughal court, he would not only present the emperor with the usual gifts from time to time, but also show him some objects of European workmanship, which he had no intention of parting with. On one occasion, he says, he showed the emperor a delicate little European painting. Great connoisseur as he was of painting, and enthused by the work, Jahangir asked Roe if he could borrow it for a few days, evidently for being able to share it with members of his ‘inner apartments’. Roe lent the painting of course, but he was not prepared for what he encountered on the day that he went to collect his painting back, for the emperor placed before him not one but six works, all looking alike. The incident is best told in Roe’s own words, old English spellings and all. “At night
hee sent for mee, being hastie to triumph in his workman, and shewed me 6 Pictures, 5 made by his man all pasted on one table, so like that I was by candle-light troubled to discerne which was which; I confesse beyond all expectation….” Roe did succeed in picking out his own original painting from the copies that Jahangir’s painter had made of it, but not without some effort. At which, he says, the Emperor “was very merry and joyful and craked like a Northern man ….” Now for versions: early in his career, the great 18th century Pahari painter, Nainsukh, working at the small court of Guler in the hills, seems to have come upon some late Mughal paintings: portraits, darbar scenes, intimate sittings. Apparently excited by their easy naturalism, their cool spaces, their subdued colouring, he set about ‘copying’ some of them. But not once did Nainsukh produce an exact copy: in the versions he produced of these, one can recognise the presence of a Mughal original, but also his own, and that of his distinctive hand. To take an oft-published example: a delicate work in which a shy maiden, a new entrant to the imperial harem perhaps, is being gently led towards the emperor Muhammad Shah seated on a moonlit terrace, one can almost see as being in a Mughal hand, till one’e eye alights upon two lissom young women seated in a corner of the terrace, quietly making music. These women are distinctly Pahari — the dresses, the clear, chiselled faces, the alabaster complexions, are so marked — and Nainsukh introduces them in the painting as a reminder, as it were. Reminding the viewer that his work is not a copy, and that the air one breathes in his paintings will always be Pahari. Working Together None of this has a direct bearing perhaps on the Bawa/Soni affair. But another situation, also from the Mughal court, might. There, one often finds paintings that are inscribed with the name not of one painter, but as many as three. Thus, it is not unusual to turn up this kind of information on a single work: the tarah (outline) in this painting was done by Basawan, the ‘aml (colouring) is by Banwari, the chehra (face) is the work of Madhu. Now, this is as clear as one can get. |
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AUDIOSCAN ROMANCE IN THE AIR (Tips): A new album by any artiste can come in the market only after a long gestation period, more so in the case of a perfectionist like Jagjit Singh. But he already has enough hits to his credit, which are presented in various permutations and combinations every now and then. This album belongs to that category, although the jacket makes you believe otherwise. As the title says, romance is the key word. The term is wide enough to include everything from Nazar nazar se milakar sharaab peete hain... (lyrics Tasneem Faaruqui) to Kaun aaya... (Bashir Badr). One ghazal from film "Sarfarosh", Hoshwalon ko khabar kya... (Nida Fazli), is also included. Some of the offerings have been popular, such as Tera chehra kitna suhana lagta hai... (Kaif Bhopali); Mujhe gussa dikhaya ja raha hai... (Sheri Bhopali) and Kabhi kabhi... (Nida Fazli). Also, included are some less frequently heard ones like Kisne bheege hue balon se... (Arzoo Lakhnavi ) and Aap ko dekh kar... (Aziz Qaisi). FIVE (RSJ): In 1995, RSJ pioneered a Levi's Great Indian Rock project, which has so far provided a platform to about 40 bands to display their counter-culture sounds. Their compositions have been compiled in four albums so far, and this is the fifth of the series. As many as nine bands are featured here. The album opens with Not my kind of girl... by the group Zero, which is about to release a full-length album. The song featured here is a typical example of their brand of music. Bombay Black, which is more like a community of Mumbai's top musicians, specialise in playing everything from jazz-rock to Indian raga fusion. Their Kashmir... has social relevance. Delhi-based Parikrama has nearly 200 shows to its credit. But it rained... is an original blend of the '70's rock and Indian classical. Darjeeling's Cadenza conform to international sound in If you don't mind... while Kerala's Aatma predictably focus on acoustic melody and harmony in Good times... Orange street (Until winter...) have featured in every Great Indian Rock Compilation since 1995. Other bands featured here are Envision (In time...) and Ashtoreth (Just too much...). MAHI AAVE GA (Venus): Shazia Manzoor had made quite a wave with “Ghar Aa Ja Sohnaya.” With her latest Punjabi album, she proves that it was no flash in the pan. Her singing is equally attractive here too. In fact, she presents some new dimensions of her singing here. The music of Chaku and The Untouchables complements her sharp and husky style of singing. She has presented various aspects of love in a consummate manner. The album begins with the title song, Mahi aavega main phullan naal dharti sajavangi …, which is a delineation of a lovelorn girl's feelings for her prince charming. Punjabi folk is prevalent in Chann mere makhna …. As well as Chunni kesri te gote diyan dhariyan … Gidhdhe vich nachdi, dilan vich wasdi … is a dance song all the way. On the other hand, Rog ishq da lage re sajna … waxes and wanes like a pop song. The album closes as promisingly with Battiyan bujhayee rakhdee … as it opens with the title song. Lyrics are by Akhtar Hussain
Akhtar. |
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SIGHT & SOUND THE nightmare of our saddest Republic Day is behind us. But the images remain. TV has brought Gujarat right into our living rooms. The Gulf War was someone else’s war. This is our own tragedy. But first I would like to repeat that the three channels I watched most, Zee,
Aaj Tak and Star News, did a splendid job, of first-rate reporting combined with extending help to the victims with practical measures. Help-lines in the form of crawling messages (I told some channels that their telephone numbers were running too fast for anyone to take them down) straight messages on screen from friends and relatives in Gujarat to anxious people all over the world waiting for news, appeals for various requirements from institutions and volunteers. Considering it had just started its 24-hour channel, Aaj Tak showed commendable initiative, enterprise and teamwork and acted in the best traditions of public service broadcasting. There are too many names to mention individually but for sheer stamina and persistence I would like to mention veteran Deepak Chaurasia who was here, there, everywhere with solid support from Dhinwant Purohit and Prabhat Shungloo. Where Star News scored was in rushing down its top people to Ahmedabad, carrying out a media pattern which had been quickly thought out and was executed with high intelligence and imagination. No special shows of ;Zubeidaa’ for them. With astonishing speed considering the city was in ruins, Prannoy Roy did a memorable ‘Question Time India’ for the BBC, perhaps his best, with a cowering minister and government facing relentless questions from experts and victims. Rajdeep Sardesai also moved ‘The Big Fight’ to Ahmedabad and did a follow-up to Roy. I was not particularly impressed with, ‘We, The People’, which covered the same ground, more or less with the same people, but meandered too much, with anchor, microphone and questions going up and down. Zee started the helpline for people and kept solidly on the job. It displayed responsibility of a high order. DD, as usual, made a late start, picking up other people’s ideas because it obviously lacks professional media leadership at the top. Its earthquake bulletins soon became sarkari bulletins, as usual and its new newscasters are a sorry lot especially in English. It seems strange, but with all the credits on and off screen for reporters and anchors, seldom does anyone give credit to the camerapersons. I would like to mend that omission by mentioning as many as I can by name. First, those two cameramen from Doordarshan who captured the swaying tower and lamp-post and the earth moving visibly. Aptly enough, the first cameraman is T.V. Ganesan — his parents certainly named him well — and his colleague K.T. Desai, whose footage went all over the world. From Star News I would like to name Ajmal Jami, who also did so well at Kargil and Shariq Khan who did a memorable collage of his most moving shots and dubbed a commentary of his own in lyrical Urdu which could well have come from a poet. I am afraid I could not get hold of the names of the cameramen from
Aaj Tak and Zee, but I salute them all the same. It is time camerapersons are named properly in the captions and spoken credits, because without them TV would be nowhere. There were so many intrepid young reporters on the job that it seems cruel to single out a new. If I do, it is because of what they covered, unforgettable images of human misery relieved by human kindness. I trembled for Manika Raikwar as she went up a badly damaged staircase in a high-rise building with a couple who were given exactly 15 minutes to retrieve what they wanted from their life’s possessions. First the safe, while Manika bravely held a bag open for them, as they extracted jewellery and money, then the wife said what about the children’s books and the husband what about the family photos, and time was
up. Then normally sports reporter Amitabh Revi, who did first-rate, sustained and sensitive reporting, hitching a ride with a mother who was going to check whether her student son was alive. Ecstatic reunion, the tall gangling student being hugged by his weeping mother. These images can be multiplied on every channel and I am proud of our young reporters and camerapersons. It is time awards were instituted for TV news and reporting in this country. Gujarat has proved all over again that they can hold their own with the best in the world. |
