Satyajit Ray through Nemai Ghosh's lens
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Mint
4 days ago
- Mint
An exhibition spotlights Nemai Ghosh, Satyajit Ray's ‘photo-biographer'
The study in the Bishop Lefroy Road apartment grew in proportion over the years with the stature of its occupant. For generations of Bengalis, Satyajit Ray's study at his residence in Kolkata was a compelling idea, for here sat the director, in a low chair, thinking, reading, talking, scripting, drawing storyboards, costumes or sets, composing music: visualising the films that would transform Indian cinema. Ray in his study—and outside it, filming—was photographed ceaselessly for 25 years by Nemai Ghosh, called Ray's 'photo-biographer" by Henri Cartier-Bresson. A selection of 150 of these photographs are now on display at the Alipore Museum, Kolkata. The exhibition, titled Light and Shadow: Satyajit Ray Through Nemai Ghosh's Lens, organised by DAG, opened on July 18 and will run till September 13. DAG has the largest collection of Ghosh's photographs. 'This must be one of the largest such collections of a single photographer in India," says Ashish Anand, CEO and managing director, DAG. Ghosh, shadowing Ray always, captures him outdoors with the same intensity: focused on the camera, or cupping his hands close to his eyes as frames, an image of concentration. This looks like meditation, as does Ray's stillness in his study. Thought is also action, and action, the continuation of thought. Ghosh's lens captures this internal process and gives it a form, as it does to the outward process of filming. The photographs of Ray are portraits of an artist at work. And what a figure he is: tall, with arresting features and a towering personality, a 'giant of cinema" according to Cartier-Bresson —set against the chaos of life, yet always distinct, in command. A telling image has Ray asking the crowd at a Varanasi ghat to clear the space during the shooting of Joi Baba Felunath. His stretched left arm seems to have silenced the crowd. But portraying a 'giant" such as Ray can be a tricky business, as is curating an exhibition from a vast body of work shot on film. 'Nemaida used film for his shoots and abstained from the use of flash. This made the task even more difficult because there were variations of each frame that differed in both sharpness and mood," says Anand. Ray's stature presented another problem. 'He was a towering personality but we didn't want that to overpower the image selection…(we needed to show) the filmmaker in a way that would be a homage without being hagiographic," Anand adds. The line between the two can be thin. Ghosh's own words on his subject are revealing. He was a Ray devotee. Ray himself had called Ghosh his 'Boswell", after the celebrated biographer of the English writer Samuel Johnson. But Ghosh out-Boswells Boswell in self-effacement and humility. Ray, the 'master", Ghosh would say, was everything for him. 'As the moon is illuminated by the light of the sun, very many people have come into the light because of Ray. It was my good luck that one day my stars shone on me too. Whatever inspiration and education I have received in my life are like pebbles I have collected from the shores of the sea called Satyajit Ray," writes Ghosh in the preface to Satyajit Ray: A Vision of Cinema, a book with his photographs of Ray. Unadulterated adulation from an audience is one thing, but for an artist, a photographer, the clouding of vision is dangerous. Fortunately, Ghosh seems to look at words and images differently. He was a master of photography, which chose him as much as he chose it. In the 1960s, when Ghosh was a stage actor working in Utpal Dutt's group in Kolkata, he was gifted a camera left behind in a taxi, 'a fixed-lens QL 17 Canonet". With this camera, but without any knowledge of photography, in 1968, Ghosh visited the shooting location of Ray's film Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne at Rampurhat in West Bengal, about 200km from Kolkata. Seeing Ray rehearse, Ghosh began to click away. 'I just used my intuition. I didn't know much about the camera, about the aperture or other features," he says in an interview. When Ray saw the photographs, he told Ghosh: 'Sir, you stole my angles!" Appointed the still photographer on Ray's sets, Ghosh took photographs of Ray and his work from Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne to Ray's last film, Agantuk. Ghosh was a natural. For him the moment, the light and the drama had to come together. Not for nothing was he from theatre. He shot only with an analogue camera, with a Nikon. 'My father took candid shots," says photographer Satyaki Ghosh, Nemai's son. Ghosh's subjects are hardly ever looking at the camera. Later, Ghosh learnt about the use of light from the stalwart lighting designer Tapas Sen. Most of Ghosh's photographs are in black and white—and they are his best work. They have a depth, a lyrical quality and a humanity that resonate with Ray's films. Ghosh did not shy away from colour, either, and there are a few gems in those too, such as Amjad Khan as Walid Ali Shah in Shatranj Ke Khiladi looking through the loops of the hookah coils with a lit cigarette in his hand. 'Out of 150 works in this show, around 65 coloured works are being showcased for the first time and the rest are black and white, which we have shown earlier," says Anand. Satyaki is upset that newer images from the mammoth collection are not being shown. Besides, he says, Nemai worked with several other subjects, from stalwarts of Bengali theatre like Sombhu Mitra and Utpal Dutt to artists such as Ramkinkar Baij, Benode Behari Mukherjee, Paritosh Sen, M.F. Hussain, K.G. Subramanyan, Anjolie Ela Menon and Jogen Chowdhury. After Ray's death in 1992, Ghosh began to photograph tribal communities, visiting remote corners of Kutch in Gujarat, Dantewada, now in Chhattisgarh, Koraput in Odisha and Ziro in Arunachal Pradesh. Perhaps one day we will see these in an exhibition. Meanwhile, at the Alipore Museum, we have remarkable portraits in colour of Smita Patil and Amjad Khan. A delightful black and white image shows Sharmila Tagore at a Kolkata beauty parlour, her hair in curlers, her face bright and amused. She is reflected in a mirror that also shows Ghosh taking the picture—a rare glimpse of the photographer. Chandrima S. Bhattacharya is journalist based in Kolkata.
India Today
25-07-2025
- India Today
Satyajit Ray through Nemai Ghosh's lens
Light and Shadow: Satyajit Ray through Nemai Ghosh's Lens is now on view at Kolkata's Alipore Museum, presented by DAG in collaboration with the museum. The exhibition offers a rare and intimate look at the life and work of Satyajit Ray, one of India's greatest filmmakers, as captured over 25 years by photographer Nemai Ghosh. It remains on display until September 13.
Mint
25-07-2025
- Mint
Artist Madhvi Parekh presents fantastical worlds in a new solo show
At DAG, Delhi, an exhibition of paintings offers insight into artist Madhvi Parekh's prowess as a storyteller. The solo presentation, Madhvi Parekh: Remembered Tales, features a set of newly completed works by the 83-year-old artist. Canvases often feature narratives nestled within one another. In Goddess of My Village, an acrylic on canvas (2023), two heads appear to be connected by a tapering tubular form. This slender conduit, of sorts, contains smaller figures—plants, fish, fantastical organisms—creating a world within a world. You could assume that the two connected figures have subsumed these smaller creatures, or that their overall persona is the sum of all these little beings. The painting also features deities within temples, anthropomorphic creatures with human heads and piscine bodies, totemlike structures, and more. In another part of the gallery, another set of stories unfurls within Pond in my Village (2024). The scene seems to be set in some surrealistic realm, where the city and the village, the real and the dreamlike come together. Parekh populates her worlds with patterns, dots, dashes, embroidery-like textures, hybrid beings, and leaves their interpretation to the viewer. I meet Parekh at her home in Delhi's Chittaranjan Park in between spells of rain. The self-taught artist is a reluctant conversationalist, but her paintings speak a great deal on her behalf. In her creations, time frames collapse into one another, the past exists with the present. She brings scenes from the city and her memories of growing up in the village of Sanjaya, Gujarat, together in a single canvas with ease. The bird or pakshi is a recurring motif. It stands as a symbol of a free-spirited being, who travels between memories and geographies. To me, it represents Parekh herself, who takes the viewer by the hand on this time travel. The wide-eyed figures, which have become so emblematic of her practice, continue to make their presence felt in works such as Flower Vase in My Family (2024) and the triptych Travelling Circus in My Village, as representations of curious seekers. Also read: Planner: A lot of art with a side of theatre, 5 events to enjoy a cultural weekend Also on display at the exhibition are her sketchbooks, featuring drawings spanning 1978 to 2018, from DAG's archive, which show the evolution of the artist—from using textured backgrounds in the 1970s to the way she has built on everyday observations in her practice over time. 'For me, drawing is the foundation of everything. It offers a sense of freedom. Even now, while waiting at airports, I carry a book in which I keep sketching," she says. Accompanying the exhibition is a publication featuring scholarly pieces on Parekh's practice by Rebecca Brown of John Hopkins University and critic-writer Meera Menezes. Parekh often harks to the past in her conversations. 'Puraane dino ki baatein karne mein bohot accha lagta hai (It feels great to reminisce about the olden days)," she laughs. She lives with memories of ponds, mustard fields, temples, wedding processions, circus performers and behrupiyas (impersonator), who would visit her village during festivals. Parekh was raised with Gandhian philosophy propagated by her father, who was an educator. 'I grew up with three sisters and two brothers, and my father never discriminated between us. He was a selfmade man, who taught us the value of hard work and the importance of making full use of time," she reminisces. She got married to artist Manu Parekh at the age of 15 and moved to Mumbai, where they stayed in a small fifth floor apartment. There, everyday urban struggles took over, from water troubles to daily chores. Even then, art made inroads into her life. The couple would visit exhibitions at Jehangir Art Gallery and have elaborate discussions. She was in her 20s and pregnant with her oldest daughter, Manisha, when she decided to pursue art herself. 'I wanted to give my child a good sanskar (culture). So, I decided to take up something creative," she says. Also read: Morii Design: How a Gandhinagar-based studio is sewing up a stitch library Her husband, who had studied at Sir JJ School of Art, introduced her to Paul Klee's Pedagogical Sketchbook, and Parekh started experimenting with geometrical forms. She formed her own connections with memories of paintings on walls in her village during weddings and festivals and created her own language of dots and lines. The resulting vocabulary was so unique that even now experts find it hard to categorise it as a specific genre or style. Some find elements of primitivism while others see the folk imprint. 'At most, it can be said that her work parallels folk art, even though it is not like any known folk form in India or elsewhere, and has the rawness and energy associated with modernism," states the gallery note. It is this distinctive style that has seen Parekh in the international spotlight in recent years. In 2022, her paintings were chosen by Christian Dior as a backdrop to its haute couture show in Paris. This was followed by a show for Manu and Madhvi Parekh at the Venice Biennale (2024). Parekh's works are now part of major collections such as the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Fellow artist and husband, Manu, puts it best: 'She is a modern painter with a rural sensibility. She is not constrained by the idiom of folk art. And that gives her immense scope to evolve and grow." He finds immense depth in the practices of self-taught artists like Parekh and Bhupen Khakhar. 'I find the term 'self-taught' to be a misnomer. They too have learnt from someone and something. Instead of one teacher, they have 10 gurus. Their mind and intellect is their master too," he says. For Parekh, layers of experience have kept building on one another, enriching her visual syntax. The childhood memories of intricate and vibrant paintings on the dome of the Swaminarayan temple in her village, the narrations of Ramayan and Mahabharat during festivals and bhavai performances were joined by visits to international museums and institutions such as the Miro Foundation, Barcelona, with her husband. The paintings of Henri Matisse left a huge impression on her. A visit to the Holocaust History Museum in Jerusalem a few years ago shook her to the core. 'Mann mein dukh lag raha tha (the heart was heavy). That's when I saw the figure of Jesus outside with his composed visage, and I started exploring the figure of Christ in my paintings," she says. Parekh imbibed learnings from fellow artists such as Nalini Malani, who taught her the reverse glass technique. The initial Christ series (2006) were made in this style. Later Parekh started working more with acrylics and canvas. Together with Malani, Arpita Singh and Nilima Sheikh, she also participated in a travelling exhibition called Through the Looking Glass in 1998. Also read: Three Indian galleries expand their presence in London with a unique showcase Textile has also played a huge role in her practice, with influence of kantha, kalamkari and sujani embroideries evident in her work. 'Back in our village, we all learnt embroidery and how to make the rangoli. During my travels, I saw different styles in different parts of the country. The colour scheme and patterns of the rangoli have always held a huge attraction for me," she elaborates. While Manu was posted in Kolkata as part of his work with the Weavers' Service Centre, Parekh was a keen participant in Kali and Durga pujas. The figure of the Goddess and the texture of kantha made its appearance in her work at the time. Meera Menezes, in her essay titled Madhvi Parekh's Fabular Worlds in the accompanying publication, writes about that time period. 'Her painting Ganesha in Boat was sparked by a stray remark—a person recounted to her that they made a Durga in a boat, leading Madhvi to experiment and place the elephant god in a boat. Like Durga, Ganesha too is a popular god, and Madhvi recalls his importance in rituals she experienced while growing up in Gujarat." More than anything else, it is the sense of play in her works that appeals to viewers and critics alike. 'There is always a reel going on in my mind. There used to be a pond in my village. My mother used to prohibit us from going there. In my realm of fantasy, I go there often. Later, when my eldest daughter was born, and I had to go to the Madras Art Camp, I used to wish for wings so that I could go home, feed her and then come back to paint. Such elements make their way from the mind to the canvas," she says. At DAG, New Delhi, till 23 August.
