The Arrival Of The Devi Art Foundation By Mortimer Chatterjee
Gurgaon, as everyone knows, is a very different entity from Delhi;
to be truthful it is quite different from most places. It is close
in topography to my childhood fantasies of a Martian landscape (big
hulking buildings set within an undifferentiated, flattened,
unpopulated and dusty landscape). The irony of the new Devi Art
Foundation building is that in a landscape where every building is
so outlandishly modern and uber-shiny, it looks out of place by its
austerity. Aniket Bhagwat, the architect of the building, has
brought curving brick, rusted metal and the open air into a design
program that, whilst casting a nod at iconic Indian modernist brick
buildings such as Kahn’s IIM in Ahmedabad and Gujral’s Belgian
embassy, is at once in conversation with such recent international
projects as Libeskind’s Jewish Museum in Berlin. It is broken into
two wings and spread over multiple floors with an open court in the
middle of the complex, the front entrance connecting the wings by
way of walkways that are semi open. Oh yes, and it is a
masterpiece; without doubt the finest building to house art in
India since independence.
Driving up to the Devi Art Foundation opening on Saturday we encountered such a jam of cars on the dusty approach road that all one could see was a dark orange fog illuminated by the lights from the building. The flotsam and jetsam of the international art scene congregated on the road air kissing in the haze whilst nearby service staff looked on bemused. Up the sprawling steps, at the threshold of the building, an enormous crush of humanity gawped at the new edifice, delaying the pleasure of entering for as long as possible: having waited for this moment for so long no one was quite sure whether expectations could be matched with reality.
As if there were any doubt the party rocked: it rocked very hard. Anupam Poddar, master of ceremonies, had erected an enormous bar in the centre of the open court that kept the hundreds (perhaps more than a thousand) well watered throughout the night. The whole of the Indian art world was in attendance – nearly every major gallery, curator, writer and artist turned up. Every auction house of significance sent delegations; international consultants and advisors prowled the galleries and walkways. This was an art event at its sexiest, most effervescent best. By one in the morning the music had got the best of even the most sedate among the visitors and an impromptu dance-floor was made of the courtyard. Past gripes and grievances were put aside as we all sweated and panted into the wee hours. It was not until four in the morning that someone came to their senses and switched off the music by which time those who remained realized that even the host had left some time before. As we all stumbled home we knew that something very impressive had just occurred and that we had all participated in a landmark event.
The next morning as I nursed a hangover over a cup of ludicrously strong coffee I realized that in all the fun of the night before I had spent very little time with the art that was installed. I remembered the urinals with the rose petals in the bowl, I remembered the underground parking with the tilting columns, I remembered the sloping brickwork that gave the walls the impression of lapping waves, but I could not remember much of the art I had seen. Indeed during the night very few people had engaged me in conversation about the work that was on display. As a show premised on the moving image, it had all the names –Sonia Khurana, Shilpa Gupta, Ranbir Kaleka as well as the up and coming stars of new media like Baptist Coelho and Susanta Mandal. Yet the work somehow was not able to speak over the din created both by the magnificence of the building and the drone of the crowd assembled.
Was this a natural corollary of an opening night and the vast amount of alcohol imbibed or, more ominously, was this indicative of the fact that the work of the most celebrated media artists in India is often mediocre? For sure much of the work on view was fairly recent and perhaps the curator did not have access to older, more seminal work. Nonetheless many of the artists are considered at the peak of their careers presently and so, one would hope, their work produced over the last few years would be compelling at the very least. Ultimately the Devi Art Foundation is not responsible for making the art that it displays. It can only choose the best, hang it in the most optimal manner possible and get the crowds in, all of which it has proved it can do in spades. Beyond that we have to wait for the art that is worthy of the building that has been created for it.
Mortimer Chatterjee is a Mumbai based gallerist specializing in contemporary art. For more information visit Chatterjee&Lal.
Driving up to the Devi Art Foundation opening on Saturday we encountered such a jam of cars on the dusty approach road that all one could see was a dark orange fog illuminated by the lights from the building. The flotsam and jetsam of the international art scene congregated on the road air kissing in the haze whilst nearby service staff looked on bemused. Up the sprawling steps, at the threshold of the building, an enormous crush of humanity gawped at the new edifice, delaying the pleasure of entering for as long as possible: having waited for this moment for so long no one was quite sure whether expectations could be matched with reality.
As if there were any doubt the party rocked: it rocked very hard. Anupam Poddar, master of ceremonies, had erected an enormous bar in the centre of the open court that kept the hundreds (perhaps more than a thousand) well watered throughout the night. The whole of the Indian art world was in attendance – nearly every major gallery, curator, writer and artist turned up. Every auction house of significance sent delegations; international consultants and advisors prowled the galleries and walkways. This was an art event at its sexiest, most effervescent best. By one in the morning the music had got the best of even the most sedate among the visitors and an impromptu dance-floor was made of the courtyard. Past gripes and grievances were put aside as we all sweated and panted into the wee hours. It was not until four in the morning that someone came to their senses and switched off the music by which time those who remained realized that even the host had left some time before. As we all stumbled home we knew that something very impressive had just occurred and that we had all participated in a landmark event.
The next morning as I nursed a hangover over a cup of ludicrously strong coffee I realized that in all the fun of the night before I had spent very little time with the art that was installed. I remembered the urinals with the rose petals in the bowl, I remembered the underground parking with the tilting columns, I remembered the sloping brickwork that gave the walls the impression of lapping waves, but I could not remember much of the art I had seen. Indeed during the night very few people had engaged me in conversation about the work that was on display. As a show premised on the moving image, it had all the names –Sonia Khurana, Shilpa Gupta, Ranbir Kaleka as well as the up and coming stars of new media like Baptist Coelho and Susanta Mandal. Yet the work somehow was not able to speak over the din created both by the magnificence of the building and the drone of the crowd assembled.
Was this a natural corollary of an opening night and the vast amount of alcohol imbibed or, more ominously, was this indicative of the fact that the work of the most celebrated media artists in India is often mediocre? For sure much of the work on view was fairly recent and perhaps the curator did not have access to older, more seminal work. Nonetheless many of the artists are considered at the peak of their careers presently and so, one would hope, their work produced over the last few years would be compelling at the very least. Ultimately the Devi Art Foundation is not responsible for making the art that it displays. It can only choose the best, hang it in the most optimal manner possible and get the crowds in, all of which it has proved it can do in spades. Beyond that we have to wait for the art that is worthy of the building that has been created for it.
Mortimer Chatterjee is a Mumbai based gallerist specializing in contemporary art. For more information visit Chatterjee&Lal.
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