Gender-fluid expressions have been common in India’s popular culture, says curator Myna Mukherjee referring to an acrylic painting, which resembles a ’60s film poster, made by artist Aamir Rabbani. The painting in blazing colours is part of an ongoing exhibition, ‘Vichitra Desh-A Queer Nation’, at Delhi’s India Habitat Centre. In it, a man adorned in gold jewellery and a pink sari, whose borders, together with the accompanying blouse, are specked with gold, is poised mid-stance, as if in the middle of a dance. Across it, a text in Hindi says: “Ye kya jagah hai doston? Ye duniya humari bhi hai. (What place is this, friends? This world is ours too.)”
This is Rabbani’s interpretation of Bihar’s ‘Launda Naach’—a folk dance performed by men who dress as women and perform at weddings. “Launda Naach was an integral part of our weddings, bringing joy to the baraat and haldi ceremonies. It reflects the complex picture of caste and gender relations, and tells stories of migration, addictions, dowry, and women’s struggles,” he explains.
In India, there are periodic debates over gender consciousness. However, the stereotyped deriving of queer as a Western concept eclipses the extensive history of Indian queer art. From the gender-fluid sculptures integral to historic temple architecture to mythology and literary records, queerness has always been celebrated and acknowledged throughout centuries in India.
The exhibition portrays a similar medley of interdisciplinary art comprising life stories and artworks of over 30 artists from across the world from a queer feminist postcolonial perspective. Addressing the history of cross-dressing and drag in India, Mukherjee elaborates on the dying art of the Launda Naach. “Over the years, we’ve seen these kinds of dance forms die due to no support from the state. In India, there are so many different divisions across the drag culture without them being publicly acknowledged. For instance, in a dance style of classical Odissi, little boys dressed up as women performed after female temple dancers were banned. Many such examples of classical traditions on gender fluidity used to be common in the past,” she says.
Interior drama
While some artists such as Rabbani, Sandeep TK and Jake Elwes capture drag culture, and the life and dreams of transgenders through paintings, photographs and AI art, artist and activist Nandini tells stories of the interiority of queerness. One of their pieces is a wide expanse of 18th-century Kolkata in a photograph. Over a yellow-tinted frame teeming with vintage cars, British-era lampposts, trams and men walking in dhotis, Nandini creates an AI image of three queer persons. The artwork imagines them involved in a discourse during the colonial period of India.
“If you look closely, queer folks are the keepers of a secret history. Our histories have been systematically erased from memory. The collective amnesia led us to create and dream our own magical histories and decolonise them. I created this series to fill in those gaps. This is how I imagine what our queer ancestors and history might have looked like,” they explain.
Art and pride
Showcasing sexuality through a more personal gaze, artist Varnita Sethi created ‘everydayness’ with a six-piece series of acrylic and gold leaf on paper. The series has paintings of a woman in conversation with mythological creatures. Whether it is an image of a woman with a bird on her head, or a voluptuous body sprouting flowers from her head, the artist deftly blurs the lines between reality and fantasy. “I got the bird on my head like a crown so as to feel happy about what I’ve achieved so far in my journey, how I’m winning my battles every day. So, it’s more like a moment of pride for me,” she says.
Other artists such as Sawan Taank explore urban culture and its connection with masculinity. A silhouette of a man sprawled across the blue city with a peacock hovering over him is a self-portrait. Other stunning productions include AI artist Harshit Agarwal’s work using the face of a female Kathakali performer and that of a male Theyyam participant.
Curator Myna Mukherjee believes it is imperative that artworks like these are archived. “If we start archiving them, it will be a repository for people to come back to and somewhere down the line, it will indicate the cultural context of the time,” she says.