Miniatures - collaboration in India
Bienvenue au Water Palace
Welcome to the Water Palace
“Without stories, mankind would have languished and dried out, it would have perished without water.” Cardinal Salviati in “The Cardinal’s first story“ by Karen Blixen.
In connection with the project “Papir set Påny/ Paper Revisioned” for The Art Centre Silkeborg Spa I collaborated with Indian miniature painters in Udaipur,Rajasthan, India. In a dual role of both curator and exhibitor, I decided to involve other artists in my own project.
Good stories, folk tales, fantastic epics have always fascinated me. Fairy tales inhabit a world of their own and the life that unfolds in them is governed by the supernatural and poetic laws of nature.
Throughout India's cultural history, there has been an ongoing interaction between various religious, linguistic and social groups and this has resulted in a rich, material mythology that can rival European cultural history both with regard to breadth and diversity. A huge amount of tales have been preserved in regional Indian languages, but the more popular myths have reached larger circulation by entering the superregional language Sanskrit and by compilation into epic tales dating back as far as to the 4th century. Basic to the rich diversity of myths is the central theme of tension between creation and destruction. characteristic to the Indian way of thinking is the process during which order is established in chaos and the universe is dissolved into chaos, all a part of an immense cyclical pattern. Another basic theme is that things are not what they appear to be. Therefore any reality is illusory. Working with paintings in which paper casting as a material is in itself a symbol of establishing order in chaos - a constant change between destruction and creation. I experienced my own fundamental work process reflected in the Indian thought of cyclical patterns.
Painting is about joy. The more you master the technical aspects of painting, the less surprises you encounter. I want to preserve mysteries rather than resolving them. There is unique inspiration in the sense that painting activity doesn't need to be restricted to one’s own self, but that it can in fact extend beyond one’s own control and consciousness.
My own view of the world had to be united with someone else’s expression. I have always found my voice - my artistic expression - in the clashes between different geographical cultures and histories. When you work with someone else, a world of surprises and wonders emerges.
I regard myself as a body through which relations between things, cultures, people and thoughts can be filtered. India still has a recollection of very refined expressions that we in the western world have lost. By encountering the sensitivity of an Eastern mind, it is possible to counter-act the western craving for fixed identities, copyright, signatures and dissection down to the smallest brush - stroke. My task as an artist is to examine needs and desires that create metaphors and to provoke situations that can further new metaphors. By filtering the decision-making processes through those of others, and by following paths I would not otherwise never have trodden. I have come to realize how important cooperation is to me.
The idea of co-operating with Indian miniature painters began to take shape in January 2000, when I decided to travel to Udaipur, Rajasthan, in October that year to make plans for a working process. The idea or intention was that my stories about water and the images that I associate with water should be passed on to a group of artists who would then make sketches for miniature paintings on the basis of these stories. The paintings were to form an ornament-like process stretching across two large friezes. The friezes were to be assembled making associations to tile-clad bathing rooms that would be created by small rectangular canvasses with vacuum pressed elements attached to them. Since one of the characteristics of miniature paintings is a delicately detailed border around the paintings, the two friezes were to have similar borders made of vacuum pressed saris mounted on canvas. The miniatures were to form part of a huge landscape constructed from vacuum pressed, handmade paper made, alternately, from Indian saris and Daphne fibres as well as paper found in old Indian account books - kagzi paper. Elements from the saris would be floating in the landscape like particles in water.
Without exaggerating Udaipur is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever visited. in stark contrast to the surrounding desert, Udaipur with its marble white palaces, its lakes, gardens, temples and encircling mountains and hills, presents itself as an oasis in a powerful and barren area. The stories of the maharajahs of former days still provide subject matter for the miniature painters whose stories unfold themselves in a web of mythology and genre.
During a pilot study trip I made the necessary contacts for a collaboration. detailed plans were discussed and the process agreed upon. Discussions and tests regarding the correct paper were parts of the start - up work. Various types were purchased and tested. We agreed on approximately 60 - year -old handmade paper, that we purchased 10 km from Udaipur from an old man selling account books.
As one of the miniature painters - Anwar Khan - put it, my stories and paintings required a different mind - a way of thinking that was demanding because it was different!
Since the essence of Indian miniature paintings has always been a symbolic language where painters expressed their relations to nature and what lies beyond the primary functions of lines and pigments, it was not too difficult to explain my stories to the Indian painters from the outset. their readiness and willingness to enter my symbol world was unrivalled. Their professional skills were impeccable. The motifs these artists normally work with are their own compositions in a history - related style - mostly copying former depictions made in earlier time.
A long and ancient tradition was to be used in a contemporary manner, thus being adapted to its inherent image-related aspects: the architectural composition of the image plane, a diverse iconography that may both be read and viewed, a rhythmical grammar of ornaments that will sometimes be enforced with strict simplicity and other times with decorated splendour. It was my intention to depict a world in which all things created are animated, woven into a fabric of personal metaphors, some fable-like, involving creatures, others depicting Bosch-like achievements in a world of odd enjoyments, hazy tales and strange references, focused details, built as either vertical or horizontal landscapes.
For around 250 years - from the middle of the 16th and way into the 19th century, India was the scene of some of the world's most bedazzling paintings. circumstances for these paintings were immensely different from painting in the western world. Painters were humble men working in small workshops, and their names have mostly gone into oblivion. their paintings were small. They were born as illustrations for manuscripts, and they were not originally intended as wall decorations. some artists were very original, and even more were talented copiers. No one will ever know whose the work is that has been carried out. Their production was amazing, much of it was very trivial, but sufficient amounts were so exquisite that Indian museums and private collectors were provided with a plethora of works. Some of the best works still exist, thanks to a large extent to the heirs of patrons of the arts.. Some paintings have hardly seen the light of the day for centuries. in other regards, however, Indian painters shared the traditional fate of all artists: work flourished whenever generous and sensible patrons were around.
In India, reality resemble a folk tale. Folk tales are about fate. The oral tradition of the folk tale has sincerity that appeals much to me.
In what was possibly the first thesis on Hindi painting, Vastusutra Upanishad form the 16th century, you can read that images of deities were originally revealed to wise men in their most intelligent form: the mantra. in other words, the image was derived from sound. The auditive dimension of knowledge links my thought to painting. Painting - or forming any image in general - is a way of listening. I believe in the voice of the place in the self. I like being a part of a pattern in tune with the spirit of the past.
In earlier times paper was the most commonly used painting surface. 2-3 thin sheets of paper, often made from bamboo: Gosundi paper - were glued together to a hard cardboard - like surface that was durable enough to receive paint. The painter sketched the basic composition. he would sit on the ground, resting his paper cardboard on his knees. sometimes the sketch was transferred to the painting surface by perforating the lines with a pin and then strewing powdered charcoal over the holes. When the raw contours were ready, a thin layer of lead-white mixed gum was added. Using the sketched lines that were visible through the white layer, the painter would manage to cover almost all of the drawing with almost all of its details. In between the carefully added layers of paint, the paper was polished to ensure that the pigment particles would set compactly and that they were pressed into the paper. this gave an enamel - like shine and created an even surface that was ideal for further processing.. the sketches were drawn with charred tamarind twigs. brushes were made by attaching squirrel hair to the pen feathers - about 20 - 30 of which only a few separate ones were used for the painting process. The traditional binding agent for the pigment was gum. the pigments were mineral or plant based. The white colour, imported from Persia to the Mughal studios was probably lead - white, and later zinc - white was also used along with white from crushed clamshells. Black from lamp-black, red from ferrous oxides and red rock, orange from saffron and Sinduri rocks. Lapis lazuli and indigo were traditionally used for blue colours. Indian lemon yellow was usually a fine residue, separated from the urine of cows that had been fed mango leaves. Other shades of yellow were made from roots, leaves of Piyawari - rocks. Green soil was a colour of choice of Mughal - painters in the 17th and 18th century. They used ample layers of it to cover the background in portraits. A light grass green was made from pulverised malachite, and other green shades from copper sulphite - the iridescent gold paint was made with gold leaf mixed with camel grease, honey or gum.
The painters still sit on the ground, resting their painting surface on their knees. Today most paintings are made on silk. it is easier to come by and also a lot easier to paint on. Old paper is hard to get.
Today, painters still grind their own pigments using mortar and pestle and mix them with gum, but they also use chemical colours purchased prefabricated. Gold leaf is still mixed with camel grease, and the surface is still polished with agate. They still use squirrel brushed, but also goat and horse hair brushes.
There are approximately 10 Art Schools in Udaipur and many more Art Shops and Art Centres. There are around 1000 artists making miniature paintings. Of those only 50 - 60 are professional - the rest are copying. Most Art Schools and the like make a living selling copies of work painted 300 - 500 years ago. A group of artists sit on the floor in small rooms and make copies, others provide work from other places to be sold at the above mentioned places. the artists learn the craft from an older artist. Ususally, they start painting at the age of 14 - 15. If there is a painting tradition in the family, the family will bring on the craft to the next generation. a skilful manager takes care of tourists-demonstrations and displays are made from the available collection. if you so desire, works can be commissioned. It is not necessarily the same painter who creates the entire painting. One might make the sketch, another may make the animals, a third the people, the fourth the buildings and so on - it all depends who does what better. The objective is to create a perfect product.
Indian miniature paintings are like musical chambers. they should be enjoyed slowly and intensely.
Part of some of the stories:
A woman and a man stand facing each other. They are naked. Their bodies are
filled with water. From each hole in the body water spurts as from fountainsWater is rising and flooding the land. It reaches to the point, where branches grow out from
the trunk. Instead of leaves you see squirrels.
You see a hand that rises from water. From the finger tips water is bursting.
You see a mountain as if through water. On the mountain top are two eagles with
human faces.
Everything is in uproar - the planet is ablaze - water boils over and everything flees in
the form of bird-like shapes.
I want to thank the Chelawat family, Udaipur for their insight and help teaching me through the years about Indian miniatures and Indian folk art traditions.
French version:
Bienvenue au Water Palace
Une belle histoire, un conte populaire, des épopées fantastiques m'ont toujours fascinée. La substance d'un conte apparaît au premier abord comme le produit d'une imagination débridée. Mais, à les étudier de plus près, on découvre qu'ils vivent au sein des croyances de leur époque et que leur étrangeté intègre les conceptions religieuses de l'humanité et son interprétation de la nature.
Un conte est un monde en soi, avec une vie propre qui obéit à des lois surnaturelles et poétiques.
Tout au long de l'histoire de la culture de l'Inde, on observe des interactions continuelles entre divers groupes religieux, linguistiques et sociaux, d'où il a résulté une riche et substantielle mythologie, qui, par son ampleur et sa diversité, rivalise avec l'histoire culturelle européenne. Une énorme quantité de contes a été préservée dans les idiomes régionaux indiens, mais les mythes les plus populaires ont accédé à une plus grande diffusion par l'usage du sanskrit - langue suprarégionale – et en étant réuni à des récits épiques aussi anciens que le 4eme siècle. A la racine de la riche diversité des mythes, on trouve le thème central de la tension entre création et destruction. Un trait caractéristique de la pensée indienne est la manière dont l'ordre est issu du chaos et dont l'univers se dissout dans le chaos, selon un immense modèle cyclique. Un autre thème central est que les choses ne sont pas ce qu'elles paraissent être. Toute réalité est donc illusion. Travailler sur des peintures où le moulage du papier est partie intégrante de l'oeuvre, est en soi une image de la création d'ordre au milieu du chaos- un échange constant entre destruction et construction. Ma façon essentielle de travailler, que j'ai pratiquée pendant les 20 dernières années, je l'ai vue, dès ma première rencontre avec l'Inde, comme un reflet de la vision indienne d'un univers cyclique.
La peinture traite de la joie. Plus l'on maîtrise les aspects techniques de la peinture, moins l'on rencontre de surprises. Je préfère préserver les mystères et non les dévoiler. C'est une source extraordinaire d'inspiration que de ressentir que l'action de peindre ne s'arrête pas à soi même, mais dépasse votre contrôle et de votre propre émotion. Ma propre vision du monde doit s'accorder avec l'expression d'un autre. C'est dans la confrontation entre des cultures et des histoires géographiquement différentes que j'ai toujours trouvé ma voix – mon expression. Mon œuvre fait écho aux parfums des autres cultures.
Lorsque vous travaillez avec quelqu'un d'autre, un monde se crée, fait de surprises et de merveilles.
La collaboration avec des peintres miniaturistes indiens se devait d'ajouter de l'authenticité à mon travail.
Je me considère comme un corps, à travers lequel des relations entre choses, cultures, êtres humains et idées sont filtrées. En Inde, on trouve encore des réminiscences d'expressions très raffinées, que nous, dans le monde occidental, avons perdues. En se servant de la sensibilité de quelqu'un d'autre comme d'un outil, on contrecarre l'étroitesse d'esprit de l'Occident pour les identités stables, le copyright, les signatures et le « pinaillage » jusqu'au plus subtil coup de pinceau. Mon devoir en tant qu'artiste est de rechercher les besoins et les désirs qui créent les métaphores, et aussi de provoquer des situations qui suscitent de nouvelles métaphores. En passant mes processus de décisions au filtre de ceux des autres, et en suivant des voies que je n'aurais autrement jamais suivies, j'ai réalisé combien la collaboration est importante pour mon travail.
Udaipur est, sans exagération, une des plus belles et plus fascinantes villes que j'ai visitées. Contrastant avec le désert qui l'entoure, Udaipur apparaît, avec ses palais de marbre blanc, ses lacs, jardins, temples, et les montagnes et les collines tout autour, comme un oasis de couleur dans un environnement dur et aride. Les histoires des maharanis de jadis dans la ville, procurent encore aux miniaturistes d'aujourd'hui des sujets dont les histoires se déroulent dans des entrelacs de mythes et de thèmes.
Là aussi, le travail se déroulait de la même façon : croquis, discussions et peinture.
Selon l'expression de Anwar , mes œuvres demandaient un tout autre « esprit », une façon de penser très exigeante, parce que différente !
Parce que l'essence même des miniatures indiennes a toujours été un langage symbolique, par lequel les peintres expriment leur relation à la nature et ce qui se cache derrière la fonction première des lignes et des pigments, il ne fut pas trop difficile d'amener les peintres indiens à comprendre mes histoires. Leur ouverture et leur volonté de pénétrer dans mon univers symbolique furent sans égal. Leur talent professionnel fut irréprochable. Les motifs sur lesquels ces artistes travaillent sont normalement leur propre composition dans un style narratif, ou leur environnement immédiat.
Avec moi dans leurs mains, nous avons pu accéder à une autre forme de monde fabuleux. Nous discutions et corrigions en permanence des croquis, de sorte que le résultat final était aussi proche que possible de mes attentes.
Je travaillais avec deux groupes, parce que je voulais obtenir deux frises différentes, chacune avec son résultat ornemental particulier. 
Les transformations sont une activité où une forme se change en une autre.
Pendant environ 250 ans – du milieu du 16éme jusqu'au 19ème siècle, l'Inde a été la scène des peintures les plus exquises au monde. Les circonstances, pour ces peintures, étaient totalement différentes de celles de la peinture occidentale. Les peintres étaient des hommes humbles, travaillant dans de petits ateliers, et leurs noms sont, pour la plupart, tombés dans l'oubli. Les œuvres qu'ils peignaient étaient petites. Elles étaient conçues comme illustrations de manuscrits et ne servaient pas à orner les murs. Quelques artistes étaient originaux, mais beaucoup plus n'étaient que de talentueux copistes. Personne ne saurait dire de qui provient telle œuvre. Leur production étaient incroyable, la plupart banale, mais suffisamment d'entre elle assez remarquable pour enrichir les musées et les collections privées indiens d'un grand nombre d'oeuvres. Quelques unes des meilleures œuvres existent toujours, grâce aux mécènes et à leurs héritiers. Certaines miniatures n'ont jamais été exposées à la lumière depuis des siècles. Mais, à maints égards, les peintres indiens n'ont fait que partager le sort de tout artiste : le travail est florissant quand il existe des mécènes généreux et sensibles.
En Inde, la réalité ressemble à un conte populaire. Un conte populaire traite du destin, on quitte sa maison pour être à l'épreuve des vicissitudes d'un destin singulier. La tradition orale des contes populaires possède une spontanéité qui me plaît.
Dans la mythologie de la création, la première représentation de Dieu est un mantra. Dans ce qui est peut être le premier traité sur la peinture Hindi, le Vastusutra Upanishad du 16ème siècle, on peut lire que les images des divinités étaient à l'origine révélées aux sages sous leur forme la plus subtile : le mantra. En d'autres termes, l'image était dérivée d'un son. La dimension auditive de la révélation, relie ma pensée à la peinture. Peindre – ou créer une image en général – est une forme d'écoute. Je pense que l'on porte en soi la voix du lieu. J'aime faire partie d'un paysage en accord avec l'esprit du passé. Cela me manque parfois dans le monde artistique du 21ème siècle, ou chacun peut faire ce qu'il veut !
Aujourd'hui, on broie encore ses pigments dans un mortier et on les mélange à la gomme arabique, mais on utilise également des couleurs chimiques que l'on achète toutes prêtes. La feuille d'or est toujours mélangée avec de la graisse de chameau et la surface est toujours polie avec de l'agate. On utilise encore les pinceaux en poils d'écureuil, mais également d'autres en poils de chèvre ou de cheval.
Les miniatures de nos jours
Ce n'est pas nécessairement le même peintre qui peint toute la miniature. L'un peut réaliser le croquis, un autre peindre les animaux, un troisième les personnages, un quatrième les bâtiments, et ainsi de suite – selon qui est pour quoi le meilleur. Le but est de créer une œuvre parfaite !
Bienvenue au Water Palace
Les miniatures indiennes sont comme une musique de chambre. On doit les savourer lentement, intensément et pour soi.
Anne Vilsbøll.
