Traditional Or Contemporary: Under What Category Do Folk And Tribal Arts Bearing Modern-Age Flourishes Fall?

Leading Indian folk and tribal artists, for a while now, have been pushing the envelope to make their traditional artforms relevant to the times. Gond artist Bhajju Shyam created a London Jungle Book where Big Ben is a rooster and London Underground, an earthworm. Patachitra artist Anwar Chitrakar created a monochrome artwork showing the Saradha chit fund scam. Kashmir’s Saqib Ali Beigh weaves people playing golf or football on his Pashmina shawls.

Critics, however, are divided under what category to put these artworks. Some say the artwork is largely traditional, incorporating contemporary elements such as themes and patterns. Others say folk and traditional art can never be contemporary art. But the artists themselves feel there’s no need to fuss over the labelling, and that all art is art, and must move with the times.

A case in point, where the old mixes with the new, is the Covid series of paintings by Pradhan Gond artist Venkat Raman Singh Shyam from Sijhora in Eastern Madhya Pradesh. The painting is divided into three panels. A row of birds on the topmost panel perched on a rope behind bars, brings to mind Maya Angelou’s I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings. The birds, you realise, symbolise humans, no longer free because of the giant globe below, shaped like the Covid virus and the world map, occupying almost the entire painting. The earth is in lockdown mode, evident from a thick wooden barricade in place of the equator. Perched on it is a man, looking and feeling ‘blue’, and fluttering around the globe are fruit bats, initial suspects of the zoonotic origins of the virus. The last panel depicts Covid repercussions, people in tiny compartments washing hands, sanitising, wearing masks, looking ill and browbeat.

Pradhans are bards to Gond Adivasis, who wandered through the villages, singing and creating folk art on three Gondi traditions namely, Ramayani (on the Ramayana with Lakshmana as the central character), Gondwani (on Gond kingdoms and genealogy) and Pandwani (themes centred around Bheema from Mahabharata because he took a Gond bride). Trees, flowers, animals in fine line work, both monochrome and loud hues and a myriad of patterns are used to depict these artworks.

Shyam incorporates these patterns in his Gond art, but the themes are contemporary, reflecting the socio-political issues of the day. His other works on the pandemic, for instance, depict the government’s hypocrisy of sending flights to repatriate Indians stranded overseas but unbothered about migrant labourers stranded on Indian soil, and why every Covid vaccination certificate carried the prime minister’s photograph.

His most noted work is the series on the 2008 Mumbai terror attacks that he witnessed first-hand from his hotel room window that faced the Taj Mahal Palace and Oberoi Trident hotels. The series includes the terrorists using a Pakistani cargo ship, then a fishing boat, killing the fishermen, reaching India Gate, opening fire at various locations in Mumbai, and finally being locked in a standoff at the two hotels and Nariman House. “I wanted to show the repercussions of the seeds of hatred,” says Shyam, about the series that he has repainted four times, and became part of the museum and private collections in Canada, Australia, etc.

Singh, briefly a commercial poster artist with an innate understanding of colours, says he is just playing out his urge of experimenting with colours and staying true to the changing times. “I was inspired by the Amul advertisements that always reflect the current news using art. People say my work is not Gond art, it's contemporary art. And others do this ‘levelling’ between contemporary and folk/tribal arts, where traditional art is discriminated against. But I am painting 'in the now'. I am also a contemporary artist. And this is Gond art. Art must evolve, must change to make meaning to the new generation,” says Shyam.'

“I don’t like labelling. Anyone with creativity is an artist. Intellectuals overthink these boundaries. I feel contemporary art education keeps the artists on a railroad, a narrow and limited worldview. But as a folk artist, or just an artist, I can ride a horse, and go anywhere. I have no limits. All art is like a flowing river, the thoughts must keep flowing for the art form to sustain,” says the self-taught Kalighat exponent, Kalam Patua.

The 61-year-old retired postmaster from the Patua lineage of scroll painters and bards revived Kalighat art that had been extinguished in the 1930s, with his humorous watercolour portrayals of Bengali babus and bahus, especially episodes of husband beating and other societal double standards. Kalam started weaving modern-day issues in his Kalighat scrolls in early 1984-85, India’s dowry system being one of the initial themes. He slowly started prodding miniaturists of other art forms to depict current-day issues. “How long can we paint on raja-rani, cavalry, Ramayana and Mahabharata…?’ I would tell them.”

One noted work is his Nirbhaya Kand, showing the events that transpired inside the bus on that fateful 2012 night. “I had just finished a one-month residency at Gallery Espace in Delhi, and like everyone, I was terribly shaken. I did this painting so people never forget, learn to respect women, and change their mindsets,” says Kalam.

His other work titled Intolerance achieves a symmetrical balance showing two men dressed alike holding swords atop tigers and ready to strike, and only a faint taqiyah (Islamic skull cap) revealing their Muslim and Hindu identities. “Even by any other name like jal, paani, water still quenches your thirst. Similarly, god is one, despite the many names and forms. Seeing the communal outbreaks and general political climate in India makes us artists and writers feel it’s our responsibility to let people know that it’s only politics at play.”

A work similar to Kalam’s painting of a couple coolly sipping chai and the 9/11 reportage on TV, is of a lesbian couple canoodling, and watching a queer sitcom. “Everyone has the right to love and live the way they want,” he says, unafraid to attempt themes that could irk hardliners. “This is also a reality, another side of society,” says the noted painter.

Kalam is witnessing increasing sales of his artworks on social media platforms, and with more time on his hands now, having retired from his postmaster’s role on October 31, Kalam wants to focus on more experiments. He shares photographs of his fans who have tattooed his painting Lady with the Tigers on their arm and back, the ink art opening a new avenue of exploration. “I am unfazed if people copy/tattoo my art. Imitation is a sign of success. But at least produce a good copy and ask permission for use.”