A crowd gathers. Admittedly, a fairly routine occurrence in India, where people form energetic knots on the street at the slightest provocation. Except, this is a rather curious collection. Slim giggling policewomen. Moustachioed men in flamboyantly tied lungis. Gaping office-goers in shirts getting rapidly crumpled by the humidity. At the centre of it all are an eclectic group of paint-splattered artists, contentedly and quickly covering the walls of Sathyam Cinema with theatrical colour.
It’s a world away from the shadowy subculture of rebellious urban art, popularised by the likes of U.K.- based Banksy, the stubbornly anonymous celebrity vigilante who spray paints art in unexpected spaces. Although this genre began as an underground movement, it’s been gaining popularity thanks to the many fire-brand artists in its fold who surreptitiously, and often illegally, brighten sterile city spaces with their work. The driving force here is anti-commercialism, a fight to ‘reclaim the streets’ in cities that are being overwhelmed by advertising. However, ironically, as this style gets trendy, its artists are becoming increasingly popular. Banksy’s ‘illegal’ work, for instance, now sells for thousands of pounds.
In India, where walls are liberally splashed with colour, obviously, the context is quite different. Which is what makes German curator Georg Zolchow’s project as challenging as it is intriguing. Inspired by stories of Chennai’s legendary hoarding painters, he has conceptualised a visual dialogue between them and German graffiti artists: two vastly different styles of art. The project, now brought to Chennai by the Goethe Institut, is beginning with walls in Sathyam Cinema and the YMCA College of Physical Education in an attempt to reach as many people as possible. For phase two, director of the Institut, Helmut Schippert whose interest lies in integrating art into urban development, has been working with Chennai Connect finding suitable spaces to inject with colour: stark flyovers, old buildings, walls covered in peeling posters.
“The idea is to bring colour, vitality and life into the everyday processes of the city,” says Helmut, discussing the project at a workshop before the painting began. “To encourage more public participation. Make streets and buildings into galleries.” To do this, a motley group of artists, with vastly different aesthetics have been brought together. Popular city painters, Asma Menon and Cholamandalam’s Shailesh B.O. There’s Delhi-based Hanif Kureshi, who runs ‘HandpaintedType,’ a project dedicated to preserving the typographic art of sign painters in India. There’s German rock star urban artist SatOne and, of course, a group of hoarding painters led by M.P. Dhakshana. To underline the idea that this is more about assisting urban development than creating froufrou art, the team from PaintBox, a feisty little citizen-powered initiative that cleans and then paints simple patterns on walls is also included.
At the Sathyam Cinemas parking lot, while the artists work, watched by clutches of chatty, curious onlookers, Georg discusses his work in Europe, which involves bringing art into public spaces. Stating he got inspired by the graffiti movement, which exploded after the reunification of Germany, he says “Is it vandalism or art? I don’t know… The good thing about graffiti and urban artists is they don’t ask themselves if what they’re doing is considered ‘art’. It’s a creative statement in public space.”
Looking at the Sathyam walls in that context makes it easier to understand the pastiche of styles. With each artist collaborating with different hoarding painters, there’s no real cohesiveness, but perhaps that is the point. Between chatting with passers-by, Asma covers a wall with ‘her’ elements: “Mermaids, boats, flowers… strange, silly people.” She says, “To me, this is a celebration of art — bringing it to everybody instead of just hanging it in a gallery.”
Waiting for Dakshna and his team of hoarding painters, all balanced comfortably on scaffolding, to finish their part of the wall, SatOne says he finds the collaborative process fascinating, and not just because of the cultural challenges. “They spent half of yesterday’s workshop discussing the meaning of ‘curiosity’,” chuckles Asma. “We brainstormed. Invented a fictitious movie, deciding not to use any famous faces,” says SatOne, discussing his collaborative wall. “We finally reached a point where it was not just a commissioned work anymore. Everyone was giving their opinion. And that’s important. To realise the true spirit of each artist.” Georg adds, “The idea was never to have an art form where everything is the same. This can’t be a curatorial work where I put it together and it makes sense. It is not possible… This is an experiment, which will grow. For me, it’s interesting to see how the city can be changed with art. The possibilities it offers to citizens to change the way they view their cities. And how they can influence them.” Discussing how they hope this will inspire more local artists, he says, “This is a way for people to realise the city is yours.”
Watching the artists at work, it’s clear that not just the aesthetics are different — also their processes. The hoarding painters work as a team, first chalking in the picture, then painting it together. Working with them, creating a line of robust gamboling elephants on a wall, Sailesh says, “This is like going back in time. When we were young, during elections people would paint all kinds of animals on the walls. We’re telling a story together here — which is fun. It’s more about reaching people than just painting.”
On a near-by wall, Haneef, who is best known for organising the massive St+Art Delhi festival, bringing together urban artists from around the world, says he’s launching his ‘Proverb project’ here. Working with a group of traditional sign painters, he carefully paints ‘All that glitters is not gold’ in Tamil. “And look,” grins Hanif, “All the letters are painted in gold.” Starting his art career by painting vehicle number plates in Gujarat, where he grew up, he says he’s always loved hand-painted signs. “Now all the guys who used to paint have been replaced by vinyl and computers. That’s why this project is important — it will prompt a movement back to street art.
Dakshana agrees. “We used to do bigbanners and plywood cutouts. Today, the hoarding painters have nothing. At least the younger ones have got into the computer field. But middle-aged painters take jobs as watchmen, coolies and manual labour. And everyone is forgetting our culture.” He adds that it’s not easy work. “You can’t learn this style in art college. People take 5-6 years to learn how to paint hoardings.”
Looking out at the crowds and painters he says, “But our work is special. It’s a visual story. And the road is our gallery.”
