Traditional, folk or tribal arts and handlooms have a sense of continuity that comes with repetitiveness. Over a period of time, a sense of sophistication of style and even excellence gets inculcated and incorporated. The stylistic variations then too fall within a definable parameter. In contemporary art, this falls under the broad purview of “schools” of art. Newer experiments excite me for it is an indication of both relevance and acceptance, and consequently continuity.
So the other day when I got an invite for an art show titled Bong Connecxn, I was keen to see the latest followers of this school. But my instant reaction was exasperation for the funky spellings used in text messages are a huge put off. Call me archaic if you will, but the idea of using “shd” instead of should or “wld” instead of would is a complete no-no as far as I am concerned. Okay, I know that the Oxford dictionary has accepted many new words, but I would (yes the full form!) rather give many of them a miss for it makes my creaking brain function even slower as it gets all tangled up in decoding!
However, in this case, I am willing to concede the point to the Bong Connecxn for one of the points of keeping catchy titles is just that: catching attention. And it did just that. Nearly 15 artists from Bengal put together the show and with no stylistic or thematic continuity I wondered if the Bengali connection was enough of a connect? Shouldn’t excellence to be a part of it? My own sensibilities are very happily tilted towards the Bengal school, and it usually gives me great delight to view the slightly over romantic depictions of forgotten monuments and broken earthenware and busy streets and women with long wavy tresses so popular with the water colour wallahs.
This show too had its share of some such works, but juxtaposing some really superb works with some very indifferent works brought down the level of what could have been an excellent exhibition — especially in this annual lean period. I feel the work of only five artists stood out. One of them was sculptor Chaitali Chanda with delicate bronzes in what has come to be known as the Shantiniketan style with interesting treatment of surfaces. Some of the shapes of her figurines have their roots in the traditional Dokra sculptures from Bengal. The thematic treatment, however, was very contemporary and interesting.
Biplab Sarkar’s sculpture with a posse of birds poised for flight was lyrical in its visual treatment and creation of details in frozen bronze.
The work was replete with a sense of movement and proportion that was endearing. Metal is obviously a preoccupation with him, as is freedom. For his painting used chains as a metaphor as a sensuous woman, complete with veil covering her entire body, tilts over. In the first glance it seems like the chains form the skirt of the figure, but she is juxtaposed against the shackles that bind her as she yearns to be free of all manacles.
Metaphors also seem to interest Bablu Pal as he tackles subjects of socio-political debate with wit and humour with his figures likened to puppets — imbued with life, yet lifeless without the equal and opposite force that propels the human kind into action.
Two artists, whose very competent works brought back the flavours and feel of Bengal to justify the name of the show, were Rajib Sikdar and Kalyan Chakraborty. While on the face of it, Rajib’s watercolours walk in the path of the often seen street scenes and monuments of the Bengal school, he brings alive the sense of immediacy of the street life and the sense of waiting that seems to emanate from a monument. Kalyan, on the other hand, succeeds in conveying a sense of languid or moments of fursat — can’t think of a better word in English — complete with a bamboo hand fan that threatens to manifest even if it is temporarily out of sight!

Alka Raghuvanshi is an art writer, curator and artist and can be contacted on alkaraghuvanshi@yahoo.com