I have a simple principle when it comes to collecting artefacts: I don’t see any point in buying art of artists I don’t know personally. I’d rather buy art from people I have had the good fortune to know, from artists whom I can call my friends.
To tell me that I can’t afford to have even a serigraphic print of a Hussein or Souza, let alone an original, is to belabour the obvious. I know that. I don’t even deny that if someday by the grace of the Almighty I am able to afford such a masterpiece, I will surely feel proud to have one. But I will still not be able to emotionally connect with such a masterpiece, the way I connect to the artworks of the artists I know personally.
For instance, the first paintings I ever bought were a couple of quickly coloured soft pastel drawings by a dear friend at my university. That was also the day I first smoked pot at the behest of my artist-friend. That evening I had a high I can’t describe in words. It was pure visual ecstasy to see my friend paint in that state. Somewhere in the middle of it all I remember to have exclaimed: “I have seen Beauty today!”, and rather dramatically thanked my friend for introducing me to the joys of both pot and art in one masterstroke.
In fact, it had touched me so deeply at the time that within six months I had quit my teaching job, my PhD, and my textbook writing assignment to paint like them. The result was not particularly happy of course, and could certainly have been worse. Thankfully, I ended up realising pretty soon that though I could smoke like them, but paint I could not. But the great thing about the break I took was that I came to know a lot of good, honest and very young artists who were trying to find their style, their voice, their language in a communal frenzy of creativity that you have to see in order to believe. Worldview in Jadavpur was home then to atleast a dozen serious artists who’d gather there everyday to work and have fun together. Most of them have had well attended solo-exhibitions by now, but the charm of knowing them when they were still trying to find their own voice remains something special for me till today.
Paintings by kaustav
I still have those two paintings in my bedroom wall as a reminder of how recklessly beautiful life was at the time.
But the best paintings by Kaustav/Kasha that are there in my collection are the two single line drawings (later filled with paint) that are titled ‘The Migrating Madonna’ and ‘No one died of oxygen shortage’ respectively. They were initially showcased at a solo exhibition of the artist at Kolakata although I bought them privately from the artist after the exhibition was over.
The paintings are a reminder of the mindless handling of the COVID 19 crisis by the government and captures the human tragedy in a new perspective.
But you would know nothing of an artist’s craft, his real talent, until you have seen him paint. I am fortunate that during that break in my career I was able to observe such artists up close and develop an appreciation for their work.
Here’s your chance to watch the artist working at his craft. Thank me later.
