There is a poignant moment in Sruti Harihara Subramanian’s documentary on artist Thota Vaikuntam when he says: “The only thing that I feel bad about is that she [my mother] gave me everything [but] I didn’t give her anything…” This line speaks volumes about the bond he shared with his mother, which went on to inform the many mother-child sketches and paintings he did in his five-decade-long career. Each of them exude a sense of warmth, nurturing and protection. The documentary on the octogenarian artist is part of the ongoing show Thota Vaikuntam: Redefining the Cultural Gaze, at Art Alive Gallery, Delhi, a celebration of 50 years of a rich practice, spanning charcoal sketches, drawings and paintings.
Subramanian’s film acts as a perfect foil to the works on display. She shows his daily routine at home in Hyderabad. As you view the works on display and then see the film, you get a rare insight into the workings of Vaikuntam’s mind. He is shown, for instance, using the back of his hand as the palette the way makeup artists do, carefully putting a dab of bright yellow, applying the colour from the skin to canvas. “The colours, the paintings, suddenly feel so much more personal with this simple act,” says Sunaina Anand, director, Art Alive Gallery.
Anand’s association with Vaikuntam dates back to the early 2000s, when she saw his work for the first time at ITC Maurya New Delhi. She recalls being mesmerised by the form, colours and flights of imagination, which brought to life a slice of rural Telangana, previously not seen in Indian art. This encounter resulted in a book on Vaikuntam, one of the first important projects Anand took on as a gallerist and a long friendship between the two, with Anand often visiting his village, Burugupalli, which has inspired his artistic practice.
Vaikuntam—the recipient of many honours, including the Padma Shri—gravitated towards painting as a child. “I used to be fascinated with local street plays, dramas and puppetry shows, which had stories revolving around Indian mythology,” he says. He would study the details of the costumes, makeup and facial expressions of the performing artists. “At home, I would draw these figures from memory,” he adds. The women of rural Telangana, particularly their faces, have featured prominently in Vaikuntam’s works. “They’re goddesses in my view,” he says.
In a book accompanying the exhibition, art historian Ashrafi Bhagat notes in her essay: “…the faces [in Vaikuntam’s art] manifested an emphatic rough and unrefined character which undoubtedly conveyed power and strength of the mothers in their feminine roles. The women he depicted were majorly middle-aged motherly figures, perhaps seeing in them the maturity of living life productively.” In her view, the works, especially of maternal figures, convey to the viewers an autobiographical account of the artist.
Vaikuntam has been taking viewers on walk-throughs of the show, on view till 20 November and spread across two floors of the gallery. He offers detailed explanations of the processes behind some of his creations, including the complex wash technique that he mastered over many decades of his artistic practice. He points to one particular drawing: a characteristic female figure with her bright red bindi, polka-dotted sari, striking eyes, bold features, and a parrot—a recurring motif in his work—for company. His works are bereft of elaborate backgrounds or landscapes, with the focus being solely on the figures. “I have often observed parrot motifs sewn into women’s clothes in my village,” he says. In this particular work, the lady’s face is divided into sections, each featuring distinctive shades of a particular colour. “One area is slightly darker than the rest, while the forehead is lighter,” adds Vaikuntam.
He attributes his journey of “self-discovery” to mentor and teacher K.G. Subramanyan at the Maharaja Sayajirao University, Vadodara, who asked Vaikuntam to “discover himself, memories of those times spent in the village, and the people inhabiting the area”. Thereafter, whenever the artist would head back home from Vadodara, he would sketch the locals.
Vaikuntam’s art can also be viewed as a homage to Indian textiles. The saris in his art, according to Bhagat, appear to be from Sirsill, a town in Telgangana’s Karimnagar district. The tiny dots on the garments reference yet another textile tradition—the sungudi saris from Madurai in Tamil Nadu. Some of the newer works at the exhibition highlight Vaikuntam’s preoccupation with larger canvases. Only now, he uses pop colours in his paintings. According to Anand, Vaikuntam’s success lies in staying relevant for viewers across generations. “I’ve had people in their 20s showing an interest in buying his art,” she says.
Among the many elements that stand out in the show is a quote by the late modernist S.H. Raza from the book accompanying the exhibition: “[Vaikuntam’s art] is an original synthesis of traditional Indian concepts [with]… inspiration [emerging] from everyday Indian life. After Jamini Roy, his work is a significant contribution to contemporary Indian art, without compromise and with fullness of imagination and ecstasy.”
Abhilasha Ojha is a Delhi-based art and culture writer.
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