10-05-2025
I went beyond the popular image of Kabir to create mine: Gulammohammed Sheikh
You joined the Faculty of Fine Arts, MS University of Baroda in 1955, within five years of its opening. Coming from a provincial town, Surendranagar, what was your experience like?
It was amazing to be part of a like-minded community of artists and aspirants; to have the doors of our studios in the art school open, day and night. I had never imagined there could be a whole library full of books, only on art! The atmosphere in the college was liberal, which made newcomers like me feel at ease. Our teachers worked in the studios after class hours. We saw the seminal paintings of our teacher NS Bendre being painted. He gave demonstrations of oil painting and watercolour with such mastery, leaving us spellbound. Art History classes were conducted by artists themselves, except for Dean Markand Bhatt, who had studied it at the Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia. He taught us Western art and aesthetics, while Bendre taught us Chinese art, and sculptor Sankho Chaudhuri, Egyptian and Mesopotamian art.
You started your teaching career in Art History before you shifted to Painting.
When I was a post-graduate student, there was an opening in the department to teach art history. The then Dean, Bendre, asked me if I would like to teach. It was a godsend offer as I was living on a paltry scholarship. I taught for three years before going to London in 1963. Upon my return, I taught again for 15 years till I moved on to head the Painting department.
London played a role in igniting your interest in early painting traditions.
The Painting Department at the Royal College of Art was adjacent to the Victoria & Albert Museum and students had free access. I used to eat lunch in the museum restaurant to avoid the bland fare in the college canteen, and on my way, I would see paintings in the Indian section. I was aware of the various schools of Indian painting, but a magical-looking Kota painting of a nocturnal jungle scene in the moonlight fascinated me. Robert Skelton, the Assistant Keeper of the Indian section, became a mentor. Writing my dissertation on Kota enabled me to have a closer look at the regional school of Rajasthan.
During the summer vacation, I hitch-hiked in Italy to see the masters of the Renaissance. I was especially touched by the Sienese artists such as Ambrogio Lorenzetti, Simone Martini and Sassetta. For them, painting was an act of love offered with humility and passionate conviction. I found them close to Indian painting in sensibility. After finishing my studies in London, I returned to India, mostly travelling overland. The three-month-long journey evoked greater love for the wanderings than I was already prone to.
The year 1981 seems to be seminal, as you completed several important works.
Yes, in that year I showed with artists such as Bhupen Khakhar, Vivan Sundaram, Nalini Malani, Jogen Chowdhury and Sudhir Patwardhan in the exhibition we called, 'Place for People'. Each of us was involved in exploring and focusing on the world we lived in. In that sense, several works were autobiographical. In my case, Speaking Street recalled memories of my childhood in a provincial town. Following it, a large painting, titled City for Sale, dealt with the irony of communal riots raging at one end, and on the other portrayed a cinema hall audience, totally oblivious of it.
The Tree of Life (1996), which you painted for the Vidhan Bhavan in Bhopal, was the first time you took up painting on such a massive scale for a public building.
Yes, I had long desired to make a mural in a public space, after I saw the cityscape, Effects of Good Government, by Ambrogio Lorenzetti in Sienna. The mural in the Legislative Assembly was 31-feet high and 21-feet wide. The idea was to cover a cultural tapestry of India with its multiplicity and diversity. The central motif of The Tree of Life represents the lives of people, both past and present, including glorious as well as turbulent periods.
Then, Kabir appeared in your work.
The beginning of the 1990s was a period of great turbulence, which needed a healing touch. Kabir was the answer. Instead of using just the popular rendition of Kabir as a Vaishnavite saint, I also searched other images of Kabir as prototypes to create mine. The man who said 'tera Saai(n) tujh me', indicated looking inwards, instead of seeking an answer in the outer world.
You started with a small town. Then, you entered the belly of a city, and then you moved to the world.
In a chance encounter I found a medieval map of the world — the Ebstorf mappa mundi — which I used as a basis for re-enacting the world. In the 20-odd years, many such maps were made to reframe the world. The use of a portable shrine or Kaavad served as an alternative to the easel painting. Its format allows multiple stories like a picture book unfolding gradually. The recent work, Kaarawaan, at its core, holds the idea of a journey, wherein I packed my favourite characters from history, mythology and the world of dreams. I painted within it all the artists, poets and thinkers whom I admire. The intention was to paint a civilisational ark carrying a world of humanity in the midst of highly turbulent waters.
