Artist Arpitha Reddy draws inspiration from temple murals and finds the past in the present. While the myths predominate, the treatment is singularly modern and lucid, says Uma Nair
In the contemporary art world, it is unusual to find an artist trained in the temple mural tradition from Guruvayoor in Kerala getting ready to mount her show at Jehangir Art Gallery in Mumbai. Arpitha Reddy’s narrative on the Samudra Manthan from the Bhagavata Purana takes us into the world of rights and wrongs and perceptions in a world of believers and non-believers.
The hybrid mythic creatures, the gods and goddesses and the fine intricate details unravel more than a merry tale of how the Devas and the Asuras jointly churned the Ocean of Milk or Kshirsagara to obtain the nectar of immortality or amrita.
“Initially it was decided that both the Devas and the Asuras would share the amrita among themselves, but finally, having distracted the Asuras, the Devas managed to consume the nectar, rendering themselves immortal,” explains Arpitha. Only lord Vishnu could have tweaked that moment in time. It presents a modern day metaphor for karmic actions and the residue thereof. When we read once again the fascinating tale, we see that amrita was not the only object that emerged from the ocean bed. It was also about the cause and effect relationship, of the Devas knowing that the Asuras would misuse the amrita.
The Bhagavata Purana describes animate as well as inanimate beings which were birthed from the ocean, including Kamadhenu, Airavat, Hamsa, Kinnari, Kalpavrisksha, Nandi, as well as many other creatures from the legions of creation. Each mythic creature has its place in creation.
Airavat, the mythological white elephant who carries the Hindu god Indra — also called Ardha-Matanga, meaning “elephant of the clouds”, Naga-malla, meaning “the fighting elephant”, and Arkasodara, meaning “brother of the sun” — is a fascinating creature of symbolism with its four tusks and seven trunks and is spotless white. Fast forward to treatment of elephants in India and the world. Relate it to 100,000 elephants being killed in Africa for ivory. Elephants are on their way to extinction.
Hamsa, the swan like bird, symbolises prana or the life-force whose movement into and out of the body generates life. Hamsa is the embodiment of breath which gives us life. Arpitha’s Hamsa is a plumed beauty who gazes into our eyes.
Quaintly beautiful is the esoteric and elegant Kamadhenu, whose motherhood and nourishing attributes are emphasised through her twin breasts. The Puranas declare “she is a goddess with marvellous powers and attainments who gives milk whenever needed by gods and sages,” and that “all the cattle in the world today are descended from Kamadhenu.” Irrespective of eating habits, let’s think of cruelty to animals. The city of Delhi has cows roaming to eat plastic waste because their owners don’t feed them. Starving a cow is as great a sin as killing it.
According to the Vayu Purana, Nandi’s role as Shiva’s gatekeeper is described poignantly, “adorned with all ornaments, glowing like a thousand suns, holding a trident in his hand, three-eyed, adorned with a sliver of the moon, a thunderbolt in his hand, four-armed, like a second Sankara (Shiva).” Besides being Shiva’s vehicle, Nandi is also the chief of the god’s team of ganas or attendants, and consequently he often carries a golden staff of office.
The churning of the ocean holds within treachery, deceit, intentions, desires and problem-management, among other things. But the manthan (churning) reveals the alliance between the Devas and the Asuras – the forces of good and evil in their desire to churn the milk into rewards (the butter).
Dr Devdutt Patnaik, an authority on the Puranas, observes that this concept of churning or manthan has been ingrained in Indian culture across creed and caste barriers since time immemorial. Arpitha just gives us different characters to trail the story.
A constant manthan is progress – alliance and acceptance; the need to rise to the needs of the times; putting the land above everything else, at some point or another. We must trap our demons. The churning is a metaphor for our own life’s tribulations that become polished and refined to release something that augurs joy for others to behold. We are reflecting the manifestation of multiple characters in time when we love all things small and all things great.
Arpitha’s canvases explode into brilliant colours and are dense with sexual imagery and metamorphosing forms of mythic women, apsaras and goddess-like creatures. Her mythic characters flow with the ease of antiquity into a modern mood in which they seem to settle somewhat gracefully into the contours she fits them into. While Guruvayoor murals in their traditional sense can be looked at being somewhat decorative, Arpitha coalesces them with dignity and verve in the manner in which she chooses their festoons.
“I researched into at least 50 images from different stylisations and then decided what I want to make,” she says. “Somehow people misunderstand and take some compositions to be decorative. People think I have watered down the values of modern art to make it appeal to the public. But that is not true, modern art is when we can bring forward the past and keep its authentic state alive.”
What she seeks to do is show how a painter can go back to tradition and “bring back its vitality.” And going back does not mean staying there or returning to the present with the debris of past imagery and iconography. It is to find the past in the present, to travel the long distance between the pursuit of conventional myth and the birth of personal myth. While the myths predominate – the treatment is singularly modern and lucid. In her hybrid characters, Arpitha gradually incorporates the traditional myths into her own narratives in terms of colours chosen. She chooses between terracotta, burnt sienna, fresh moss greens and viscous turquoise shades that seem to have a lush velvet texture.
(The author is an art scholar and critic)
