An Actor Rehearsing the Interior Monologue of Icarus
THIRUVANANTHAPURAM: They are often surreal, fantastical and sometimes utterly relatable. Artist Surendran Nair’s paintings encompass all of the above and more. His works are both global as well as rooted in India at the same time and they contain both ideas and influences beyond the seas as well as the mythical traditions of his home country.
Now, after receiving the prestigious Raja Ravi Varma Award, the highest recognition given by the Department of Culture to talents who have made comprehensive contributions to the field of painting, he sits down with TNIE for a quick chat.
He opens up about the journey that began in 1975 at the College of Fine Arts in Thiruvananthapuram, where his tryst with art was initiated with doodles and sketches, which bloomed into botanical studies and later, internationally acclaimed paintings, which are sometimes a reflection of the society he occupies and a protest, with long-winding names that draw in spectators to unearth the secrets buried within each frame.
Excerpts:
Can you share how your early days as a student contributed to your artistic evolution?
Since we were the first batch of art students at the College of Fine Arts, challenges were plenty — we didn’t even have a proper faculty. Also, the country was going through an upheaval — Emergency. However, at the same time, new-wave cinema and groundbreaking literature emerged. So, all of these played a role in our artistic development. Back then, visual art was not so popular but these two elements were integral to the cultural milieu and greatly influenced my evolution as an artist.
Do you see art as a tool for social change?
Art is about being in the world, engaging with it critically, and producing certain imagery. If you look at cinema, literature, music, theatre, etc, you can see that they deal with similar themes in different ways. But our art is mute. There is no unfolding in our art, it only happens within, ie, during the creation process. Visual art is not time-based; it’s space-based. So it involves a different kind of thought and engagement.
However, I’m not sure about the social impact. That being said, if the artists are concerned about social events, it would be reflected in how they imagine and how they articulate these imaginations. But there are no guarantees. Take literature, for instance. There are already basic units like words and a kind of certainty about the meaning of those words, which are known to those who use them. Literature also has a structure. If you change certain aspects of it, you may be able to come up with different kinds of meanings.
Art, however, is nothing like that. The most abstract element an artist has probably is a line, which is very minimal. Then we have concrete materials like paint or stone. So, it’s more like we create objects and so we can reflect on them.
How do you balance your artistic intentions with the different interpretations of your audience?
The meaning of art is something we derive from it. Artists always have some intentions behind their creations interconnected with what they explore and their relationship to the idea of art itself. It involves questioning normative elements and adopting a specific attitude towards them. These aspects give the act of creation its meaning. However, what viewers interpret from the artwork depends on their worldviews and cognitive resources.
You mentioned that when you started at Fine Arts College, significant changes were happening in the country. The same is true now. How have these factors influenced you as an artist?
It has influenced me a lot. The core thing is to be in the world. Being in the world is not just about existence, it’s being critical of what affects us and how we deal with it. It was during the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, that Hindutva came into play in our political society. So, how you navigate through all these things was the real question.
Do you think it is a threat to artists?
No, it’s not a threat to artists, but it is a challenge that affects all of us. As an artist, one may need to find unique ways to navigate these challenges. So, the conventional norms that we know of and are prevalent worldwide, may not always suffice. This prompts artists to innovate and explore different avenues and address these issues. I’m not suggesting everyone should prioritise these concerns; some artists may focus solely on the formal aspects of art, which are also valid and valuable.
However, your art is not like that…
No. Mine is not like that. Probably because of the environment I grew up in. As I mentioned earlier, we students were engaged in politics, possibly due to the influence of the Emergency. However, for me, this political engagement always started from a personal perspective, a belief that certain things should be done a certain way.
For example, the concept of utopia has been a background in my work over the last 20–25 years. However, I’m not an artist who explores alternatives. My interest lies in critiquing what exists currently rather than proposing something different. When you propose an alternative, you are suggesting that there are problems with the current state of things. However, I’m not interested in making such proposals because they are inherently limited by individual perspectives. I find it challenging to prescribe what is best for others. Instead, I prefer to return to the present moment.
That said, what is your creative process? How do you reflect on the present through your art?
It used to be very spontaneous. I used to draw on the canvas without any preparation. For example, once, I came across an image of an intricate, beautiful temple commissioned by Shah Jahan in a book by Gary Welch. I wanted to paint it. So, I immediately started doing so. The technical aspect was never important during our studies then. And I had no clue about those little details within the building. I worked on it for almost three to four months. And I made a mess of it. Then, I realised this was not going anywhere. So, I destroyed that canvas and started again.
With a renewed focus, I started looking at the structural aspect, the design and those little things. Since then, I have been following the same method. My work begins with a figure. However, things change as you paint, but the basic thing is already decided and more studied.
You said you grew up during the time of new-age cinemas and literature. How have certain films and cultural influences shaped your artistic practice and perspective?
Influence can be anything — a movie, a theatre, or a picture. However, what inspired me the most was literature. I like writers like Basheer, VKN, and Zakaria and their humour, satire, and irony. Well, Aristophanes is my main source. Most of my figures are performative. They are always engaged in their mental world. You may hardly find any assets from the external world in my work, hardly any landscape. It’s more about internal engagement. That’s how I like it, the way they address things.
When it comes to cinema, for me, there are two important body of works — Akira Kurosawa’s ‘Red Beard’ and Ketan Mehta’s ‘Bhavani Bhavai’.
The Red Beard is adapted from Dostoevsky’s ‘The Insulted and Injured’ and features the character Nellie. Kurosawa masterfully blends this with local Japanese elements and imagery. That surprised me — how he was able to think of and include his home, his roots and the local in the movie.
Bhavani Bhavai is a portrayal of a Dalit figure who must carry a broom and a tumbler to indicate their caste. This depiction of violence, where a person is forced to erase all traces of their existence, struck me deeply. When using such elements in a theatrical sense, one can engage with these issues creatively. This allowed me to draw from my own experiences and incorporate them into my work.
Ultimately, art and literature provide a way to access and explore personal experiences in interesting ways. It’s a complex way of dealing with these influences, but it’s all about how you engage with them and what you produce from that engagement.
