The artist Paramjit Singh has always been one who studied the country’s unspoiled wilderness with its seemingly limitless potential. Foremost was his increasing interest in the expressive power of landscape. In a historic solo show at Vadehras in 1995, Paramjit’s canvasses and pastels invested the landscape with a sense of identity, the promise of prosperity, and the presence of deep-rooted mysticism.
This critic never missed a show because Paramjit is an artist who embodied the brilliance of Wordsworth —he believed that studying the land led to enlightenment and a connection with divine harmony. Every detail absorbed his attention, from moss-covered rocks in clear streams to snow-capped mountains and dried out flower tinged lands. But Paramjit’s allegorical landscapes were imaginary scenes with symbolic meaning, rather than representations of a particular place.
Now at Vadehras, this show (“Beauty and Loss”) — a strange title — has so many things to say. Sadly, it is a blend of Paramjit’s older hints, and his new rather depthless works that fail to catch the eye. It seems as if the landscape can be read as a glorification of development or as a reminder of the price of progress.
Yet it is not just a happy, sunny, carefree world where trees, shrubs, hedges and plants animated by the sap of nature burst forth into golden crowns of foliage. Paramjit Singh does paint — mostly from memory — leafy arbours and grassy dales and nooks that he encountered in his long walks down the countryside in Punjab, where he is from, Himachal Pradesh and Delhi of yore, verdant and unspoiled by progress. The peach blossom that he saw two years ago was recreated last year. Through contrasting tones, colours and textures he strives to capture certain moods of nature that are close to the tone poems of Wordsworth or even Shelley, where the context of clouds, or the gentle wind may be the inspiration but the actual composition as a whole is far too complex to be described as that alone. Thus, his paintings are closer to abstraction freed from the limitations of representation.
A small yellow-tinged work on the first floor reflects the grandiose landscapes; while the large blue work subsets its huge panorama meant to approximate the live viewing experience. Gradually, in terms of evolution, one would expect these grand, monumental landscapes to give way to more intimate, interpretive views.
Over the years, as an artist, he has become more interested in the very act of painting itself; for him it is the application of pigment and the relationship that variegated tones and shades of pigment bear with each other.
“I want to capture the texture of nature, the coarseness of crisp, dry grass and the smoothness of pebbles and translate that into painting. Yes, I feel that my direction and my intention has changed.” He sees nature’s grandeur in such small things and his aim is to use his oil paints and brushes to recreate the sensory experience of seeing and touching the vision that inhabits his mind’s eye, thereby turning the entire approach into a more personal statement.
But the impressionist in Paramjit, known for rendering the evocative effects of light and atmosphere in landscape, has decided to move away from the very depth and focus and mystery that he was admired for. This new aesthetic is characterised by rampant brushwork, subtle tonalities, and a different degree of interest in conveying a mood. It seems as if he has rejected picturesque pastoral subjects and focused instead on gritty scenes that have colour but no context. Although there are some technical similarities to the work of impressionists, the new landscapes fail to synthesise into a dynamic landscape.
It’s almost as if Paramjit has a different conception of a similar subject. In the past his unique form of organic abstraction involved distilling the natural world to its fundamental elements, creating works of dramatic simplicity.
Two small canvasses on the first floor at Vadehras reflect sometimes recognisable places, sometimes only colours and textures reminiscent of landscape motifs; these works show that even in modern, industrialised society, the landscape still has the power to elicit artistic expression. They capture your gaze because they strive to capture the spiritual qualities of land and sky. These scenes may include trees and be bereft of human figures, but the true subject is the mood evoked by the crystalline atmosphere and pervading sense of serenity.
These paintings indicate a change in the prevailing attitude toward the natural world. For an artist who was always interested in more naturalistic representations, the new set of brisk, utterly dry and arid strokes embodied in the water and land series are indeed somewhat disappointing.
The critic searches for a constant and varied element, where the landscape is depicted both as provider of subsistence and a life-giving force. One hopes that Paramjit’s journey will unravel landscapes that once again mirror at least a flavour and fervour of the yesteryear.