When you look at these paintings and photographs, unlike in
movies where the characters may be a figment of someone’s imagination, here
they actually existed. They were there at that point of time, at that very
place, they were part of the natural “landscape”. And now, they are immortalized through these
paintings and photographs. It always fills me up when I see these old
photographs and paintings. While so much may have changed in the world
externally, in a way everything has still remained the same. The sky is still
here and just as beautiful, the trees dance with as much grace to the wind, the
people have as much depth in their expression and water is just as soothing now
as it seemed then. How important art it. To know, that back then this was the
life, and there were these people who believed in these things and they are
conveying that through their art and their paintings. I do not get art entirely
to be honest, I cannot decipher what each brush stroke is a manifestation of,
but I can feel that it is the manifestation of something. That little paint
spot is on the canvas because the artist wanted it to be there, it was
deliberately placed there by the artist to convey something that is on his
mind. A spot, a mere spot, is an instrument of expression.
Take a large room with a high-rise ceiling, bare walls,
devoid of any furniture and any other object. A truly empty room. Hang on the
wall a tiny painting and the room is now so full.
Although I have visited National Gallery of Modern Art in
Bangalore many a times before, my presence was restricted to its tiny café
where I have sat reading my books and studying at times. So content was I in
the setting that I never thought of venturing inside the gallery itself. Little
did I know that I would fall so much in love with the gallery. And this love is
not just on the account of the beautiful paintings housed inside, but also
because of the gallery itself. In fact for me, who is frankly not much of an
art connoisseur, it is more because of the gallery. Its windows to be precise.
Its an old mansion belonging to a prince that has now been converted to the
gallery and every minute I was inside it I envied the people who had the luxury
of living in it at one point. The envy increased progressively as I explored
more of the place. I can’t get my mind off those windows. Those beautiful,
lovely large windows with white frames, white sills, and devoid of any grilles.
Outside, all you can see are the trees, age-old huge luscious, beautiful tress
of all shades of green, and the accompanying birdies. It’s a sight I could get
used to. The whole atmosphere sets the mood for these paintings, and even the
uninitiated can feel the somber atmosphere and the beauty of it.