Drenched in red robes and immersed in chanting, he felt a peculiar peace and stillness, far different from the hustle and bustle of his village in Rajkot, Punjab. But to be a young monk at a monastery in Dharamshala meant that he had to subscribe to an austere life. And the food, though light and nourishing, was not enough — having only one meal a day perhaps did not befit the young artist’s Punjabi palate. But he persevered there for six years, learning the Tibetan Thangka painting style. It was at the monastery that Harjinder Singh was given the name ‘Sidharth’. This was in the 1970s.
Around half a century later, the artist stands in the State Gallery of Art, Madhapur, giving an ode to the legendary painter and sculptor Tyeb Mehta on his 100th birth anniversary. Sidharth showed us Tyeb’s artwork, analysing the contrast of colours, rich textures, and expressive style. “People say he was ‘sad’, but I know the real Tyeb. He was free from caste, creed and gender. He made gender-mukt paintings. Have you seen such movement in Indian paintings? No. But this man did it. Look at the rekhas, the contrast of colours... I can hear awaaz from his art.”
When CE asks Sidharth about his own journey, he pauses for a moment. Unlike his enlightened namesake who lived aeons ago, our artist wasn’t born in a palace. “My father was a Sikh priest and my mother was a craftswoman who would make colours from vegetables. I started painting with her as a little boy. She was my first guru,” he shares. While still in school, Sidharth became an apprentice with a signboard painter. He recalls, “Then someone nudged me to learn portraiture, and I was grateful to be guided by the great artist Sobha Singh, who can be called the Raja Ravi Varma of Punjab.”
When his renowned guru was invited to see wall paintings and sculptures of Buddha in Dharamshala, the pupil tagged along. Immediately taken with the art he beheld, the young Sidharth decided to stay back and become a Buddhist monk. Life then took him across India and the world, where he learned various artistic styles, including the Rajasthani fresco style, western realistic portraiture, Swedish glass-blowing style, and Madhubani painting.
Now 70, Sidharth isn’t a ‘one painting per day’ artist. He chooses a subject and almost worships it for years, soaking in its grandeur and all it has to offer. The artist says, “In 2012, I chose the Ganga as my subject and roamed along the river for 10 long years. I did over 500 drawings and paintings.”
Though he is well-travelled, his roots haven’t left him — he still derives colours from vegetables, fruits, minerals, and other natural elements. CE curiously asks him, “How can we get the colour red?” Contrary to the amateur assumption of deriving it from a tomato or red bell pepper, Sidharth reveals a special technique: “Add some haldi to 60°C water and mix slowly. Half-wash your hands with soap, and throw a little soapy water into the concoction. You will get red.” He quips, “If you come to my studio, you will be confused whether you are in a painter’s studio or a scientist’s lab.”
Age hasn’t been able to slow Sidharth down; the artist wakes up at 4 am and paints for 18 hours every day. Perhaps it was his time as a monk that evoked in him an unparalleled sense of discipline. Sixteen international art fairs, 27 solo shows, 458 group shows, and 1,34,000 paintings later, Sidharth sees the world through a unique lens: “All these terms — contemporary, traditional, postmodern — are rubbish. I consider myself a storyteller. I make art from experiences. I always tell people: Don’t see my artwork. Listen to it. You can walk in it and meet so many characters and places in one canvas.”