The vastness of the city can be intimidating at first, but as one spends days, it grows on them like a money plant that is potted in the first month of a long sojourn.
Lugging a mixed bag swollen with uncertainty, joy of novelty, and freedom of anonymity, people once came here as strangers. And then on, the city has been witnessing them take tiny steps and build scaffoldings of life. Chennai has seen herself become the main character in their worlds. The sketches of the oldest buildings, snapshots of the leanest lanes, stories of migrated people — in them all there are parts of the city that artists carry fondly. These people who came to Chennai to carve out an independent career, speak about how it has held them in the most unimaginable ways.
Documenting lives
Vivek Mariappan, who came to Chennai from Erode, began his search for what was not accessible in his hometown — “a much larger creative and professional environment”. He first arrived here in 2009 to pursue Visual Communication, but most of the learning happened outside his college.
This visual artist’s photographic practice revolved around “built environments, how people inhabit spaces, how they change, and how memories become attached to them”. Vivek speaks of his first serious body of work, which also reminds him of one of the toughest times of his life. It was 2018. He was selected to participate in a workshop named ‘Hometown’, which was for the natives of Chennai, conducted by two German photographers. He recalls writing a project proposal which stated that he wasn’t a native but the city nourished him each day. “My project was about documenting kitchens across the city, looking at different social classes, and trying to map Chennai through its kitchens,” Vivek recounts.
This work, he says, “travelled to Sweden and China and was published in Denmark. That project laid the foundation for almost everything I’ve been able to do since.” Emphasising that the city continues to pat him on his back even when the strongest storm sweeps over him, he says, “At one of my lowest points, the city gave me a reason to go out and create something.”
On days when he didn’t have shoots, Eldams Road became a spot where Vivek would discuss photography and life with writers, assistants working with photographers, and assistant directors, who used to hang out there. One of the best gifts the city gave him was time. “I’ve spent years photographing and simply moving around the city.” Without even him noticing, “some of these observations became bodies of work”.
Yukesh first came to Chennai in 2015, as part of his internship at a production house, while he was pursuing his journalism course in Coimbatore. And ever since he moved here after his post-graduation, the city has been nurturing his penchant for script writing and filmmaking. When the ambitious industry towers over his peace, he says, “The loud sounds at Kamala Cinemas calm me.” And then a bike ride till early morning is an ingrained habit for Yukesh and his friends who share his interests. “That’s when we discuss movie ideas.” Admiring the solace, he says, “At night, when there is no one around, Chennai is a beauty! It is full of stories.” Yukesh, who has been observing the nuances of ordinary lives and interpersonal relationships, says Chennai is an integral part of his first movie, which is in its nascent stage of production. He says, “As someone who comes from a small town like Pollachi, Chennai has set me free to enjoy every bit of life.”
Choosing identity
Born to a Bengali muslim father and a Tamil christian mother, and having lived in different places across the country, K Fatima Farah Hassan’s tussle with multiple labels and identities, took up a big share of her childhood. Chennai, where she had spent a few years of her childhood, became a place she returned to, when her heart weighed heavy. Fatima recounts a memory of visiting the Museum Theatre in Egmore with her family in 2012 when she was a teenager. The artworks exhibited there probably whispered to her that she could fall back on the city if she ever wanted to make art her career. While she was working in the hospital, she barely had the time to sit with her art. But art communities like Urban Sketchers Chennai became a space to recuperate from the week’s weariness. She realised that she didn’t have to be “precise, realistic, or hyper realistic” with her art. Old buildings started to speak to her in her language. Fatima says, “I feel like Chennai is a romantic city. Every piece of a building, the way it is built; it makes me think of art.”
She almost instinctively knew that Chennai would be a home for her art. At the age of 27, she left her job as a clinical pharmacist. She began creating design textbooks for the students who wanted to get into design schools. From teaching art and design for government school students, to becoming an art mediator at Lalit Kala Akademi, and then a gallery manager at one of the oldest art galleries, Artworld Sarala’s Art Centre, today, Fatima’s career is burgeoning around art.
Nia Zera, who also grew up amid “mixed cultures” in Munnar, moved to Chennai to pursue her PhD in film studies. She then moved out to work with prestigious organisations, but eventually parted ways with those compromising jobs. It was then that she decided to return to the city with the companions she had always confided in — her books, artworks, movies, and writings. The artistic world isn’t utopia. While Nia admires that Chennai brims with talent, she doesn’t dismiss the fact that the principle of “divide and rule” discreetly governs art too. An elite art circle can find multiple ways to market their art, while numerous masterpieces are pushed outside our visibility, she notes.
While this disheartens her, she finds her own silver lining that lightens her creative world. What makes Chennai special for Nia is the people. She mentions veteran actor and artist Sivakumar; screenwriter and actor K Manikandan; educationalist Prema Revathi; artists Natarajan Gangadharan, S Venkat, Balasubramaniam Kuppuswamy, Vijay Pichumani; and writer-director Dinakara Sivalingam, among others, with whom she discussed art and life at length. They are the ones who have widened the canvas of her perspectives.
The city allows her a space to learn, not to fit in, not to belong, just to be herself. “I can be political and romantic at the same time. I can be angry about something one day and write about tenderness the next day. Fluidity is important for me”.
Building a safe space
Sreeraj Sahajan, who grappled with intense stage fright as a kid, knew tactics to keep his talent a secret. But without even realising, he outgrew his world and kept returning to music. He recalls his entry in Chennai from Kochi as a participant in a musical reality show. The next step was mentoring the participants. It was in 2018, when he came to study the craft, that he built his musical career. Among the fondest memories, he recalls staying with a bunch of musicians and creating a space that became a seedbed of ideas.
Chennai, he says, is a hub of recordings and creations. The city had given him ample opportunities — “to sing, to record, to do live performances.” It was almost during this phase of exploration that his partner Lakshmi Ennappaadam, a musician from Kochi, came up with an idea of starting a music school here. The idea of such a space stemmed from Lakshmi’s childhood experience. She says, “I had a strict upbringing as a child. I would be constantly cautious during practice sessions that my sound wouldn’t go out of the room. My father was not in favour of me pursuing music.” She wanted a space where young musicians could just come in and feel free to rehearse without any judgements.
Revisiting the memories where she felt unsafe with her own mentors, she says, “I also wanted to create a safe space for young girls.” Lakshmi also recalls the days when financial constraints shackled the couple, but their dream school paid off.
For Sreeraj, the in-built studio in the music school became a quiet haven for background scoring, mixing, vocal tuning, and song releases. Lakshmi, who has stepped out of the city for future endeavours, says, “Chennai is a city that helped me transform into an adult.” The city has always surprised her because whenever the chosen career feels pointless, Chennai opens doors for her. Looking forward for a comeback, she says, “Chennai has decided to feed me again.”
The sea captivates
Creation is never a straight road; it’s like the tides, low and high, and the lows are inevitable. Chennai’s coastline has seen it all. Laughter and loneliness, grief and joy, love and aches, confessions, calmness, and chaos.
Whenever Fatima feels a tinge of crisis creep into the cracks of her room, she rushes to the beach with a sketchbook. “I have a crazy connection with the beach.”
Vivek’s bond with the sea has been perpetually new. “Looking at the sea has never stopped amazing me.” The sprinting pace of the city can be overwhelming, but he navigates in his own way. “I couldn’t always keep up with the pace and lifestyle of the city, so in some ways, I ended up going in the opposite direction. That’s also when I became more interested in shooting film and working with analogue processes. My entire photographic process became slower and more mindful.”
Chennai certainly is an oxymoron — a busy, quiet, loud, quaint city — a perfect mix for creative minds that yearn for both silence and stimulation.