Hope runs high — and low — for the second edition of India’s original and only contemporary biennial.
Rachel Spence for www.ft.com
“What runs this project is not resources, or conventional forces, but a peculiar kind of optimism. The only way to do it is to participate fully in that optimism, and befriend that rare commodity: uncertainty.” Two months before the Kochi-Muziris Biennale was due to open, the artistic director Jitish Kallat was in no doubt of the challenges that lay ahead when I chatted to him in the members’ room of Tate Modern.
One of the most striking
aspects of the Kochi event, which opened on Friday, is that it is run by
artists. One of India’s most thoughtful contemporary practitioners, Kallat
sprang to prominence in 2010 when he printed a landmark speech on religious
tolerance by Swami Vivekananda on to the steps of the Art Institute of Chicago.
Kochi’s co-founders, Riyas
Komu and Bose Krishnamachari, are both artists from Mumbai. They decided to
launch the initiative because they saw the need for a not-for-profit project in
a country where contemporary art is either part of the commercial world or
showcased in private collections. “This is art emerging from the soil in every
sense. There’s no institution that is imagining this,” says Kallat with a note
of wonder in his voice. “It comes out of the imagination of the artists and a
whole lot of creative individuals.” He has given up 18 months of studio time
already, he admits, while Komu and Krishnamachari have given up “years of their
lives”.
Now in its second edition,
India’s first and only contemporary art biennial boasts a magnificent location
in Fort Kochi, the historic quarter of the eponymous port city in the southern
Indian state of Kerala. Thanks to the spice trade that once flourished there,
the district has an abundance of heritage warehouses, bungalows and boatyards,
which make glorious contemporary showcases.
Two years ago, the first
edition wowed visitors as artists, including Subodh Gupta, Ernesto Neto, Ahmed
Mater and Santiago Sierra, explored the city’s past through films, photographs,
sculpture and installations that made breathtaking use of the sea-gazing
locations. More than 400,000 visitors came during its three-month run, just
60,000 less than the Venice Biennale, which lasts for twice the duration. So
impressed was Tate Modern director Chris Dercon, he described it as an event
that “could redefine . . . and bring into shape the life of biennials in
general”.
This year, the roll call
of talent suggests that, if anything, the second edition could outshine the
first. Participants encompass Dayanita Singh, Mark Wallinger, Anish Kapoor,
Bharti Kher and Mona Hatoum. There is also a sprinkling of emerging talent such
as the Kerala-born C Unnikrishnan, just graduated from art school.
The title of this year’s
Biennale is Whorled Explorations. It was chosen by Kallat as an expression of
the city’s history as a crucible of discovery in the 15th century, when it was
also home to a distinguished school of mathematics and astronomers.
Kallat has asked his
artists to consider Kochi “not as a vista but as a viewing device”. This
distinguishes it from the edition of 2012, when the city itself was the subject
of dozens of works. “This time Kochi is not what we are looking at but what we
are looking through.” He hopes, he says, that the art will reflect the desire
of those early sailors and stargazers “to arrive at some wider understanding of
our world”.
Early reports suggest
artists are rising to the challenge. Singh has made one of her signature
structures, a labyrinthine museum of images, which simultaneously honours the
death in September of her dear friend and mentor, the publisher Walter Keller,
but also pays homage to a new friendship that blossomed on the same day. A
vortex of water installed in the floor of former spice store Aspinwall House so
that viewers experience “a sub-oceanic churn” beneath their feet is the
typically ambitious offering of Anish Kapoor.
Raqs Media Collective, a
trio of Indian artists winning international acclaim for the ingenious,
visually gripping poetry of their multimedia installations, have taken an old
“architecturally sundered” house and reimagined it with sound, colour, light
and a host of other materials.
Given such wealth of
talent, why did Kallat suggest the road ahead was fraught with risk? For all
its élan, the Kochi Biennale has been beset by problems from the outset.
Lacking the infrastructure of Delhi or Mumbai, the first Kochi event saw
artists struggle with everything from customs regulations to a lack of
technicians. More troubling was a hole in the balance sheet that saw
co-founders Komu and Krishnamachari shoulder a debt of Rs12m (£124,000).
This time round, the
obstacles have again been severe. The biennale’s chief funding comes from the
Kerala government. Initially, they promised Rs90m, a similar figure to that
granted to the 2012 edition. So far, however, just Rs20m has arrived. The
organisers are putting on a brave face. “The foundation is confident the
government support will be received in due course,” wrote Shwetal Patel, the
exhibition’s co-ordinator, adding that they are currently “in talks with a
major Indian company for long-term funding and are also receiving large
donations from new patrons and philanthropists”.
In mid-November, the
biennial launched a crowdfunding drive to raise Rs150m in 90 days. As we went
to press the initiative had raised Rs202,188. The lack of funds means that
collateral programmes, such as the talks and seminars series, have had to be
scaled down. This is a shame given that, according to Kallat, Kochi has the
potential to be a permanent hub for contemporary art to rival that of Baroda,
where the university hosts India’s most prestigious fine art department.
Kallat says that Kochi’s
“fragility is its strength”. Certainly, on my 2012 visit, I had rarely seen a
show of such originality and flair. There’s no doubt that the contemporary art
community in India supports the project with passionate commitment. Generous
donors include the figurative painter Sudhir Patwardhan, the illustrious
multimedia artist Vivan Sundaram and his wife, the art historian Geeta Kapur,
who is on the organising committee.
But it’s no secret that
many artists are paying for their own installations. “As of now we are
producing the work, and it is agreed that when resources are stable, the
biennale will reimburse us,” Monica Narula of Raqs Media Collective tells me.
Narula has no doubt that
this event deserves to become a fixture on the global art map. “One would have
hoped that with the huge turnout for the last biennale and the global exposure
that it got, [this year] would have faced less financial stress. Philanthropy
in India needs to be reminded that art is a powerful thing; 450,000 people
thought so last time.”
If goodwill, imagination
and commitment are markers of fortune, the Kochi-Muziris Biennale 2014 deserves
to be a success.
(This article was originally published on Dec, 12 at FT.com )
