Read about 'I'm thrust... Back to my Childhood' IV (2011) by S. Ravi Shankar



‘I’m thrust… Back to my childhood’ IV (2011) by S. Ravi Shankar

Pen and ink on paper
22 x 29 inches
RAVS0051

In this 2011 pen and ink drawing on paper, S. Ravi Shankar shows new diversity in his interest in the conceptual meanings of surface. For the first time that I have seen, surface is used to investigate time and movement. When I spoke to Shankar about this work, he described his memory as a child of standing outside a favourite teashop in his area, effectively killing time and watching the world go by. The teashop owner would shout at him to move on and he instead would take on an even lazier (and in India also disrespectful, particularly toward those senior) pose of one leg cocked up against the other and hands behind the head, as if he had the time for sunbathing. In this work Shankar captures both poses at the same time, the more recent pose being the one more finished, darker in tone and lifted forward with white outline. The previous pose appears to sit behind this pose, leaving a remaining surface imprint like a head would on a cushion. Where past pressure or energy is exerted by the boy, on the extremities of the body, the hands and feet, the drawing is darker gradually becoming lighter and blended in more and more with the surroundings as it reaches the rest of the body which is in ‘the present’. It is as if we the viewer are collecting past experiences as well as more recent/present experience from the image or that the artist is implying that the real world absorbs all happenings. Or perhaps that all past experiences have a relationship to events that follow. This idea in turn is given even deeper meanins when one notes the similarities of parts of both poses to the image of Christ on the cross, an image of past sacrifice for future forgiveness. We can see that Shankar, a Hindu himself, is aware of the connotations of this pose as he writes stigmata into the back of the outstretched hands and accentuates the crossbar of the counter behind the boy and deliberately places a vertical edge subtly behind the child creating a crucifix-like symmetry.  

S. RAVI SHANKAR: BACK TO HIS CHILDHOOD opens at The Noble Sage Art Gallery, London on Friday 20th April 2012, 6-8.30pm. To find out more or RSVP to attend, email info@thenoblesage.com  

For more works by S. Ravi Shankar, click here.     

Read about: Jagath Weerasinghe's 'Shiva' II (2007) @ The Noble Sage

‘Shiva’ II (2007) by Jagath Weerasinghe

Acrylic on canvas

30 x 24 inches

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Let me wax lyrical for a moment about this wonderful piece in the collection by Jagath Weerasinghe. Titled ‘Shiva’ and painted in 2007, this work is clearly a depiction of the classical Hindu image of ‘Shiva Nataraja’, Lord Shiva dancing within a ring of fire symbolic of the cosmic and eternal cycle of life and death, that that allows to the world to carry on as it does. It is a classical image that I am very used to personally having seen it in my local temple in Archway since I was a small boy. It also played a large part in the tours I used to give at The Barber Institute of Fine Arts (@BarberInstitute) where they had a striking bronze Nataraja on the way up the stairs. Although the dance of all dances is depicted in this classical Hindu image, one that can literally change/end the world if it ends, the depiction brings some relief when one stands before it. Personally I feel time slow down as I see these many arms and legs raised mid-flow. We feel at peace looking at it. Such feelings are turned on their head when one looks at the charged image of Weerasinghe’s Nataraja. One notes first that it is only the lower half of the deity (and some of the arms) that is depicted and the ring of fire around the figure is also lost as is the character of ‘Apasmarapurusha’ from beneath the stamp of Shiva’s right foot, a character symbolic of sloth, confusion and forgetfulness. Concentration is given by Weerasinghe to the legs, the limbs that create and destroy with its dance. Looking at the work, one cannot help but relate the violence of the technique and the moody, depressive choice of colour to this corporeal focus. Few artists would take a brush doused in black paint to the blank canvas like Weerasinghe bravely does. The very nature of the colour is destructive to other colours as much as it is to the canvas. The colour is so deafening that one can very rarely see colours below it or above it. It is such a claustrophobic and overwhelming colour that one might not even notice colours next to it when it is put down, let alone the original colour of the canvas. In this way, Weerasinghe is rebellious, flying in the face of convention, seemingly uncaring and undeterrable. His technique matches his choice in colour. It is violent and aggressive. One is reminded by Francis Bacon at points perhaps. The movements of blackness depict the fervour of the dance. It is not something as uniquely peaceful (though paradoxically dynamic) as we are used to in the classical form. This Shiva’s dance seems frenetic and unstoppable, perhaps out of control, involving the whole body in convulsion. We the audience are not given peace, time is not slowed down for us, if anything we become aware of the angst, confusion, rush and disarray of life around us. It is clear that Weerasinghe is attempting to face us with a harsh reality, a bitter truth. Being an artist hailing from Sri Lanka one can tell that this work (part of a series of Shivas created the artist) is certainly highly political in meaning. On the one hand one wonders if the painting of the work was a cathartic experience for the artist, allowing him to take out his aggression at the status quo. Or else, whether it is a dark wish for things to start again, by any means necessary. 

For more works by Jagath Weerasinghe, click here.