Chapter VI

Mithila Art and Artists: The Present Continuous…

Exploration of the complex world of art and society has provided us with several significant insights. When art is looked at from a critical lens of social structures, institutions and processes and their historical evolution, it gets demystified to a huge extent. It tells us that art and society mirror each other. On the one hand, art imitates life, and on the other, life expresses itself through the forms that art provides it.

The perspective provided by the field of Cultural Studies has given us the tools to study art or any other cultural production as a means to recognize and identify power relations embedded in society. Since artistic production, like any other cultural artefact, is a creation of human labour and imagination, it’s forms, careers, flows, destinies- is mired in networks of capital, social relations, political formations and so on. At the same time, as we have seen, art brings about massive transformations in the economy, polity and society of a region.

This approach sharpens our sensibilities to understand the processes of marginalization through the establishment of ‘centres’ and formation of ‘peripheries’ both at the level of discourse as well as practice. The nexus between knowledge and power creates and sustains hegemonic forms of control of certain groups over cultures of others. In the process, the culture of the dominant group assumes a representative status- of standing for all cultures. Infact, it becomes the ‘authentic’ culture, subsuming within itself not only variations and versions but also contestations and subversions, posed by resisting subjectivities.

The question of authenticity is linked to the question of identity. Whose art is ‘authentic’ art? How does that art acquire authenticity or what is the process through which that art becomes or gets designated as ‘authentic’? What are the institutional practices and policies that contribute to the making of ‘authentic’ art?

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One of the ways in which this is done is by invoking ‘tradition’ at will, and mobilizing it to produce a particular kind of effect, for instance, to generate a particular canon of art. This creates and sustains the dominance of a genre or style, practiced by a particular group or individual. It is not that marginalized identities and cultures do not resist cultural interpellation. But canons have a way of dealing with them, by either appropriating within their fold or completely sidelining and ghettoizing.

In the context of Mithila art, many of these questions have got unfolded in various ways. The category of ‘folk’ got superimposed onto the category of ‘nation’ when tradition was invoked, masking the differences and hierarchies existing within both these categories. In an act of post-colonial self-fashioning of a nascent nation, women’s everyday art of rural became the inheritors of a glorious culture and tradition, steadfastly staying impervious to the influences of Western colonialism. The independent nation-state’s adherence to secularism brought about a shift in perspective towards the rural arts from the symbol of Hindu art traditions to that of a secular, democratic culture.

As part of drought-relief measure, commoditization of Mithila art led to some foundational changes in the way it had been practiced till then. The change in the context of the art practice- from ritual and decoration to products for sale and exhibition; from walls and floors to paper, canvas, papier mache articles, textile, furniture, and what not; from fingers and twigs to brush, felt pen and increasingly more sophisticated tools; and finally, from colours obtained from plants and articles of everyday use to chemical paints- has altered the art form and the consciousness of the artists alike. Mithila art has moved from the rendering of fertility, ritual and decorative motifs to complex narratives and commentaries, in the hands of artists who appear to be highly self-conscious of their practice, generating through their art, a discourse that is forcing both cultural policies of the State and the discursive landscape of the mainstream artworld to take notice and introspect.

The advocacy by cultural activists for including ‘folk’ within the larger ambit of ‘culture’ on the one hand, and with ‘fine’ art on the other, is opening spaces and blurring genres.

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While the Ministry of Culture’s Lalit Kala Akademi has started providing space to artists from non-metropolitan, rural ‘folk’ and ‘tribal’ contexts, some art galleries have found interesting ways to showcase this kind of art, at par with ‘contemporary’, ‘modern’ and ‘fine’ art.

In the contemporary artworld, demarcations among different forms of art seem to be disappearing. The ‘folk’ is entering into the domain of the ‘fine’ through solo and collective shows and exhibitions of Mithila artists, in galleries at both national and global platforms. On the other hand, the ‘fine’ borrows from the ‘folk’ in many different ways. One of the ways in which this kind of art which is traditional, but has undergone transformation to acquire a powerful contemporary idiom is being configured as, is what critics have termed the ‘vernacular in the contemporary’.

The term ‘vernacular’ is used for ‘folk’ and ‘tribal’ art in ways similar to its usage in the context of non-English, regional language. In this sense, ‘vernacular’ art conveys the positionality of its practitioner as distinct from Anglophone (English-speaking) artists, residing in metropolitan spaces. ‘Vernacular’ art is supposed to be ‘rooted’ in rural/ ‘tribal’ contexts, where extant community beliefs and shared pictorial vocabulary is depicted, wedded with contemporary sensibilities. A few recent exhibitions, prominent amongst which is that of the Devi Art Foundation in New in 2011, has experimented with curatorial practices to show an innovative way of not just exhibiting artworks of this kind but also engaging with these artists in new and mutually-enriching ways. This kind of curatorial activism provides legitimacy to these artists as ‘modern’ or ‘contemporary’ artists rather than ‘anonymous, timeless, artisanal communities’, or even ‘folk’ and ‘tribal’ artists, by hosting them in a space of the modern art gallery, hitherto considered to be a bastion of avant-garde, Modernist art. It also provides a way, in which old and re-configured binaries can be challenged, broken, and new identities created. Finally, experimental curatorial practices of this kind work as a potent tool to engage with the community of artists as articulators and agents of an entirely new kind of practice.

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Public response towards many of these efforts has been varied, since this kind of art is still largely perceived as ‘tourist’ art/ curio rather than works of ‘fine’ art. Of late, some of the younger artists of the Mithila form have been struggling within the space of the metropolitan art gallery. Rambharos and his sister Amrita Jha shifted from their home in Madhubani to Delhi for an year in an attempt to enter into this space but were forced to return to their village. The mainstream art market, by and large, is still not porous enough to absorb these artists. Besides, these artists also lack the kind of resources that is required to persevere in those spaces.

On the other hand, the demand for ‘innovatively contemporized traditional crafts’ has increased considerably over the years. Festivals such as Kala Ghoda in , online bazaars, and several such spaces have come up. Various organizations such as Dastkaar, Dastkaari Haat Samiti and several others have been experimenting with Mithila art in various ways by creating a market for utility items, such as furniture, painted in Mithila motifs. Their sale in recent years has increased manifold, as they are seen as inexpensive, unique gift items and collectibles. The unique selling point of these articles, just like most handicraft items, is the connection that the urban buyer experiences with the rural/ ‘tribal’ ethos. The steep increase over the years in the footfall at the Surajkund Crafts Mela, Delhi or at the numerous crafts bazaar in several cities organized by groups working with artisan and craft clusters is testament to the high growth potential of this sector. However, many cultural activists have been arguing for government and other stakeholder intervention in enabling artisans to develop their full potential, so that they can tap the burgeoning market.

A significant move towards the recognition of the handicrafts sector by the State can be seen in the recent announcement of a Hastkala Academy- a nodal institution for the preservation, revival, and documentation of the handicrafts (as well as handloom) sector, though in the private public partnership mode. The Academy is supposed to come up in place of the government-run Crafts Museum. Though there is a lot of interest in the handicrafts sector owing to its demand, one wonders what the destiny of this kind of an

140 institution will be, in the hands of private players as well as a government such as the present one.

Recently, in an attempt to dismantle the Crafts Museum, in order to make way for the Hastkala Academy, bureaucratic machinery of the present government wiped out one of the most treasured artworks from its walls- kohbar painting in the Mithila style done by Ganga Devi. It was painted by her when Jyotindra Jain was the Director of the Crafts Museum. As discussed earlier, Jain recounts in his book on Ganga Devi that he had provided her space in the precincts of the Museum to stay during the time she was undergoing treatment for cancer at the All India Institute of Medical Sciences. In order to battle with the pain that she experienced as a result of chemotherapy, she took to painting the walls of the Museum. Her painting had been preserved for the last many years, as a testament to the creativity and will power of the most well-known artist of Mithila art. However, the apathy and instrumentalist attitude with which it was washed out, betrays the approach towards this kind of art. Barring a one-day outrage on social media and a couple of articles in mainstream media, it did not evoke any other response even from the public at large. One wonders, what would have happened had the demolished artwork belonged to a ‘fine’ artist. The art of a woman from the rural hinterlands, long-dead, could not stir our ‘collective conscience’.

Coming back to the question of authenticity of the art form, it would not be out of place to discuss a striking recent development that forces us to reflect upon the entire idea of the ‘authentic’ art and artist. In 2006, the Department of Industries of the government of got the patent for Mithila art, as per the Geographical Indications Act. The implications of this move can only be speculated at this point, since we are yet to see what it actually means in practice. Does it mean that only a person born in Mithila/ Bihar can paint in this style? Can a Maithil/ Bihari born outside Mithila/ Bihar paint? Does it mean that non-Maithils or non- can practice the art form but not sell their art as a commercial product? Which kind of Mithila art will come under the patent- ‘traditional’ or ‘contemporary’? What about the scores of experimental artwork being painted within the Mithila style? Since the State discourse distinguishes between Mithila art and godana

141 art and considers them as distinct categories, will this patent apply only to Mithila art (kachhni and bharni), once again proving that godana falls outside the purview of ‘authentic’ Mithila art?

This move seems to have linked the practice of the art with the soil of Mithila/ Bihar. By this logic, it is only the sons and daughters of the region, who are the legitimate bearers of this art. Mithila art, therefore, becomes the new cultural imaginary for the region of Mithilanchal. It can also be seen as a way through which the state of Bihar (which consists of two other cultural sub-regions of Bhojpur and Magadh, apart from Mithila) is trying to stake claim over that sub-region, which has always remained aloof from the rest of Bihar, on account of its professed cultural superiority!

On the other hand, the articulation for a separate state of Mithilanchal based on the notion of a professed cultural purity is in itself undergoing shifts towards one based on the idea of ‘development’. Besides, due to ‘lower’ caste assertion in the polity of the region in recent years, the cultural fabric of Mithila is changing its hues. The figure of Raja Salhesa- the Dusadh god- for instance, is being included to represent ‘Maithil’ culture, which was once represented solely by the icons and symbols associated with Maithil and Kayasthas. The appropriation of Salhesa by the hegemonic culture of the ‘upper’ castes can also be seen as a strategy in the attempt towards projecting a unified Maithil culture and identity. The new Salhesa gets represented as a hero of all caste groups but in a depoliticized way, having been brought back into the fold of the Hindu religious repertoire.

As far as the artists practicing in the Mithila style are concerned, they are responding to changing times by adapting to fast-changing conditions and at the same time, becoming a powerful voice in the discourse around the practice of art. Different artists employ ‘tradition’ in different ways as they aspire for different kinds of modernities. The handicrafts sector- both government and non-government- has been offering the artists scope to re-invent their art by creating conditions for them to respond to the changing demands of the market. In many cases, professional designers are roped in to ‘assist’ the

142 artists in delivering according to the market but in many cases it is left to the artists’ imagination. With regard to gallery shows and exhibitions, many ‘folk’ and ‘tribal’ artists are claiming a kind of modernism that is usually associated with Anglophone artists, thereby carving out a space for this kind of art within the larger Modernist discourse. However, caste, class and gender divisions and hierarchies among artists will determine to a huge extent what kind of modernity they can aspire for.

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