When It Comes To A Figment

When it comes to education, the only thing I can say is that it needs to be well-founded, thought-provoking and, most of all, a component of self-discovery. And so when I come face to face with the end of an incredible stream of learning, I can only tell you that the disappointment that it has actually ended can only be redeemed with the fact that everything I learned changed me just a little more. And every change I went through brought me just a little closer to that idea of discovering my individuality.

Now here I stand at the end of this road in this state of mixed emotion, turning over every thought inside my head in an attempt to create something worth what I have learned. Tasked with creating my own installation to blanket all my learnings, I find myself at a loss over exactly what to do, because I do not wish to disappoint neither my audience, nor my own self.

And then I think, the best way to proceed is to take what you know, what you have learned and, most importantly, what you are good at, in order to create something that you would ultimately be satisfied with. And as I ponder over exactly how to go about this, I can’t help but think – I like words.

I like words and this is nothing new for me. I’ve grown up around words. I was brought up listening to stories of action, adventure, and fantasy, spanning all throughout this entire world of fairytale endings and once upon a times. I started reading quite young and made my books my refuge and safety. With so many alphabetical permutations swimming all across my childhood, my like for words grew into a strong, affectionate love… and so did my hand with writing. Writing became my way of expression, my outlet, my method of communication. It became another home.

From my bed in my tiny little home to my spot in the corner of my dingy high school classroom, I found myself falling more and more in love with this wonderful medium of illustration. With this in mind, I found a like-minded soul in Tushar Pant and together; we decided to create something that showed exactly how expansive our love for language was.

Our worlds are an interwoven web of words, with threads of expression floating from end to end, stitching thought, idea and perspective into a patchwork quilt that can never come undone. Every single being is one that is built on the foundation of the alphabet, and as a human I am surrounded by figments of imagination formed through careful construction.

And it is this that finally soothes our weary minds. The idea of a tiny figment comprised of letter after letter after letter, stringing together to form words and then sentences and then entire beings altogether. We imagine tiny little pouches that burst open to create a breathtaking overflow of expression, and this is exactly what we are determined to bring to life.

I am a figment. You are a figment. Every thing you see, every thing you experience is a figment of construct with its own story to tell.

We call them figments. We call them bundles of imagination. We call them our dreams come true.

And so we begin.

A handful of words, giving rise to a meaning, fitted into constraints that can never really hold them, building and building till they become something so incredibly beautiful.

     

 Not just in their aesthetic, but also in the way they capture every person’s mind, in their engagement, in their attention. The monumentality tied under every ribbon, coming undone to become something breathtaking – at least in my captured mind.

I like words - I like words and this is nothing new for me.

I only hope I’ve helped everybody else like words too.

In a little corner

All by myself

In the hustle and bustle of the world

I sit excited.

Like a child on Christmas morning

Curious, enchanted,

Opening my little

Bundles of imagination.

The Beauty Of Intent

Art in revolution is probably one of the most inspiring things one can come across in this world of casual monotony. Especially when you take it in the context of patriotism and systemic rebellion.

The Bengal School of Art began as an attempt to renew and rejuvenate Indian culture, history and nationality in order to bring about an increased fervor in the ideals of loyalty and nationalism. Gaining importance as an initiative that broke away from traditional academic art styles that had been prevalent previously, under the gentle urging of Abanindranath Tagore and other supporters like E.B. Havell, the Bengal School slowly rose to prominence and became a subtle companion to the Indian revolutionary movement against their British colonizers.

In order to fully protest against the distinct practices of the West, the direction slowly moved away from the traditional oil paintings and other subjects popular with both the Britishers and the previous generations, and towards ancient works of art and spirituality for both substance and material. Abanindranath Tagore especially turned towards Asian aesthetic, most notably Japan in his rejection of the British aesthetic in order to fully cement the art movement’s position as a rebellion against colonialism and traditional principle. Fully adopting the concepts of old Indian art and various forms of Asian expression, he recontextualized the entire thing and turned it into a form of modern art that is still regarded as one of the most influential movements in India today.

And as I stand in the center of this room in the National Gallery of Modern Art, surrounded by impeccable works of art standing as results of this very movement, I can’t help but marvel at the sheer passion that is poured into every single pencil line, every single brush stroke. But more than the beauty that I am encompassed by, it is more the history behind all these works that capture my attention and affection. It is the story of its beginning, written in patriotism and colored in revolution that brings me to an undeniable standstill. Because what is aesthetic when the intention behind its existence is more beautiful than its materiality?

Art, I think, is a wonderful modicum of expression. But it makes a transition from simply wonderful to overwhelmingly breathtaking when it finally makes you question everything you are, everything you see – when it actually makes you wonder about the significance of every single turn. Because its purpose is to express and it is what it expresses that ultimately stuns my very being.

And this is exactly why I hold the Bengal School of Art to such high regard. Because of its intent. Because of its purpose.

Because of its ability to question.

A Punch In The Face

Concept Art is actually quite a lot of fun, if I may say so.

So this one Tuesday, we were given the task of exploring three different categories of art in society – these were Concept Art, Pop Art and, of course, Minimalism. Debate is always fun but it somehow gets even more attention-grabbing when it turns into a question about exactly what and how art can be categorized.

Now pop art is exceedingly interesting as a challenge to contemporary traditions in fine art by using imagery from popular culture, and Minimalism is significant in its ‘less is more’ attitude towards art and execution, with its beliefs in bare essentials and its existence as a reaction against the art movement called Abstract Expressionism. But what continually interests me is the fascination that surrounds every aspect of Concept Art.

Concept Art, or Conceptualism, is art in which priority is given more to the concept or the idea than to the aesthetics and the materials involved. Over the course of the years, conceptual art has also come to be regarded as that form of art that avoids the traditional skills of sculpture and painting. Conceptual art, in essence, is that which gives more importance to the notion behind every work of art than to the effort that is put into making it visually appealing – note that the term ‘concept’, while subjective, in no way gives allusion to what the artist intends to communicate. An artist’s intention is completely different from the concept his art is based on.

But beyond the basic definition of what conceptual art entails, there is one thing that continues to enrapture me every time I find myself faced with the idea of conceptual art – and that is the directness with which every single thing is executed.

Everything about conceptual art has this blunt quality to it that appears to bulldozer straight through your mind, brushing aside every piece of unnecessary bullshit that it comes across. Perhaps the message is not always clear, but in the end, every thing about it will always be a punch in the face, which is incredibly refreshing if you compare it to the various aspects of contemporary art. I mean, take a look at One and Three Chairs by Joseph Kusouth and the works of Sol LeWitt and you’ll see what I mean.

But you know what’s funny? The fact that there have been few artistic movements in the entire history of art that have been plagued with as much argument and difference in opinion as conceptual art. An individual might either find it incredibly invigorating as a method or might consider it bad taste, outrageous, and even dismiss it as not being art altogether. Conceptualism, as it has been observed, can only have one out of either – you either absolutely adore it or you absolutely abhor it. It’s one of those ‘can’t-have-it-both-ways’ situations, I would presume.

But the thing about conceptual art is that its entire intention is to incite a difference in opinion. Conceptual art, in all its apparent laziness, actually actively seeks out to make you question every single thing about art, artistic process, artistic intention and even artistic belief. In its brashness you find a force that pierces through your very being, actively coercing you into challenging everything about what you consider ‘real’ and ‘true’. Conceptual art is that which sets out to bring you to a stage of introspection in the simplest and the most direct way possible, not giving a damn about how pretty it looks as it does it.

Conceptual art, in its essence, is part of the force that makes you rebel – rebel against that which is probably one of the biggest enemies mankind can ever face.

Blind faith.

Unquestioning belief in what has been continually put forth as ‘true’ or even ‘proper’.

Perhaps you are not very skilled. This does not matter when it comes to conceptual art because skills are unnecessary for simply asking ‘why’.

And that is what I respect about it the most – the fact that it does not bring with it skill-based expectations. Anyone can do it, as long as you have a point to prove.

Now doesn’t that just sound amazingly refreshing?

I do suppose I ought to include a little tidbit about our attempts to do a bit of pop art ourselves, and so I ask you not to find our efforts too amusing. We (i.e. Anukool Raman, Karishma B.C., Arushi Gupta and me) decided to take up Flappy Bird (that annoying little game) as a popular phenomenon and make a little something out of it.

We did try, even though our execution did not turn as planned. To be fair, though, we didn’t have more than an hour and it was actually quite fun (if a bit frustrating).

Concept note: Flappy Bird. Flappy Bird. Flappy Bird.

(aren't they adorable?)

My explorations on this particular Tuesday weren’t as skill-based as they were in expanding even more in my mental discoveries. When questions of context and metaphoric appear through what seems like a haze of doubt and conjecture, our minds can only respond in the way it knows – and that is with more conjecture. But what’s interesting is how an answer slowly unfolds and emerges through the conjecture to make your perspective extend some more, and what’s even more interesting is how your mind adapts to this change in thought process.

Every single inquiry, every single argument played a significant role in making me learn just a little more. And I can’t help but be grateful because this was exactly what I was looking for when I made the decision to choose what I had chosen.

Thank god for that – I don’t know what I’d be like if I’d chosen the alternative.

Good day!

The Idea Of Subjectivity

When it comes to Art, I do suppose you’ll always find me at a question.

Be it any form of art whatsoever – it always has the ability to bamboozle me out of my wits like nothing else I have ever seen.

And so, when it comes to the question of what I like and why I like it, you will again find me at a standstill.

This one Tuesday found us faced with the task of picking out five separate installation artists that we particularly liked, in addition to giving a few examples of their works and then elaborating on exactly why we liked them.

After long hours of perusal through Google’s innumerable possibilities, I finally came down to five names that I believed were suited to what I was looking for.

Given my love for splendor, I don’t suppose it’s a surprise to find that the first artist that won me over was a man named Richard Wilson. This man’s works are characterized by plays on architecture and spatial illusion. He seeks to ‘tweak or undo or change the interiors of a space… and in that way break or unsettle people’s perceptions of space, what they think space might be.’

(this work is called 20:50, and is one of my favorite works by Richard Wilson)

And then we also have Claire Morgan, who seeks to explore that balance between human and nature, between movement and stillness, between solid and indistinct. Most of her works include individually suspended natural elements that are a direct relation to her experiences. When it comes to her works, what I appreciate the most is firstly, the delicacy it involves, and secondly, the raw meaning behind every single thing she does.

(Claire Morgan - Fluid. Probably one of the most awe-striking installations I have ever had the pleasure to come across.)

Following soon after is a man named Berndnaut Smilde, who is famous for incorporating science into his methodology in order to create his famous indoor cloud that exists for no more than a single moment - 

-and then we have Zimoun, who explores the relationship between visual element and auditory perception by using sound as a communication enhancer, making use of items like cardboard boxes and DC motors in order to generate the sounds he wishes to incorporate.

Every single artist is distinct in his or her approach to what they believe art is. And every single artist is equally as brilliant in their process and execution.

I don’t know why I like them all, nor do I favor one’s perspective over the others.

Their ideas are unique, their reactions even more so. Their ideologies complex beyond comprehension, their process undeniably breathtaking.

Every single artist I was exposed to on this particular Tuesday was brilliant in his or her own way. Not only mine, but also the ones the others displayed. And as I sit here in front of my computer, I can’t seem to make it clearer that I am no one to judge whose works are better than whose, because art is an incredibly baffling concept and every single person’s rendition of what it means is equally as special as the one right next to him. I don’t know what it means to be ‘better’. I don’t know what it entails to ‘have a favorite’.

I am a firm believer in the idea of subjectivity, and my likes and dislikes are in no way a direct indication of what I believe is superior or not.

Superiority, I think, has no place when it comes to art.

Or am I just naïve?