Inside the Durbar Hall Art Gallery in Kochi, one can become a rare witness to a phenomenon where art traverses boundaries and timelines. The works of Gulammohammed Sheikh possess that quality intrinsically, to make one wonder, ponder, and hope.
As part of the Kochi-Muziris Biennale’s invitation exhibition, the Durbar Hall has turned into a historic destination with a retrospective of the 88-year-old master.
Fragments from over six decades of his career fill the gallery halls. From his latest work — a massive painting titled ‘Kaarawaan’ — to sketches and early paintings dating back to the 1960s, the exhibition spans a lifetime of artistic inquiry.
As one enters the hall, the mastery is immediately evident: how figures are formed, how lines are moulded to his will, how cartography, archival material, words, cityscapes and human beings become part of his oeuvre.
“It is not even 60 per cent of my complete retrospective, which was displayed in Delhi some months prior,” he says.
“But it is difficult to put it in a few words, you know, when there are more than 100 works being presented. There are different kinds of drawings, prints, paintings, photographs, etc. There are also some recent works.”
His celebrated ‘Mappa Mundi’ series is also on display. As one takes in the work — the minute alleyways and dense detailing — there is a sense of travelling alongside. Gulammohammed is not just a distant observer. He is present within these frames, which he has meticulously crafted.
“I like cartography because I am interested in journeys. I look at maps themselves as a kind of journey into various lands,” he says.
Gulammohammed has taken an old map and altered it using “a bit of Photoshop on a computer”. “I have introduced a figure of Majnu, an archetypal lover. I have introduced a marriage. There is St Francis too,” he says.
People, as they truly were, were not part of the concept of the Mappa Mundi — the 13th-century map of the world that reflected a medieval European imagination rooted in symbolism rather than geography. “So, I have changed it according to my own imagination or my needs,” he smiles.
In ‘Kaavad’, Indian mystic-poet Kabir, Catholic friar and mystic-poet St Francis and Mahatma Gandhi exist together within a shared timeline.
Gulammohammed’s familiarity with Kabir dates back to his schooldays in Gujarat, where he learnt poems in school and basics of painting from his first guru — “a gentleman named Ravi Shankar Rawal, whom we call ‘Kala Guru’ (art teacher)”.
He recalls the first mural he made with his teacher on a library wall in his hometown, Surendranagar. That was his first formal lesson. “It was he who convinced my family to send me to study art,” he recalls.
“We couldn’t afford higher education in art, but he informed us of a scholarship from the government of the erstwhile Saurashtra state.”
Ravi sent him off with a recommendation letter, and Gulammohammed won the scholarship — `50 a month. “The beginning of it all.”
Gulammohammed’s interest in Kabir was reignited in the 1980s. “Around that time, I saw that there was a kind of division between communities,” he says.
“Kabir always brought people together. He did not think that there was any division between one belief system and another. There is always a meeting point between the two.”
Moreover, what resonated deeply with Gulammohammed was Kabir’s philosophy: ‘Whatever you are looking for, it is not there, it is not there, it is here — within you.’
Kabir soon became a recurring figure in his works. “Besides old drawing influence from old references, I also made my own Kabir,” he says.
“I listened to Kumar Gandharva, the legendary musician who had sung Kabir’s verses. It was one of the most moving experiences of Nirgun poetry. So I thought that if Kumar Gandharva could sing Kabir, why can’t I paint Kabir? And I ended up doing just that, by making a series of paintings.”
The spirituality in Gulammohammed’s work comes from a perspective distinct from conventional notions of faith. “You see, I don’t speak of spirituality or Adhyatma in that sense. I speak of these wonderful, great characters of history, who are still relevant in our lives,” he says.
“Sometimes they help you find a way when you are lost. They offer different means or ways of looking at the world.”
Kaavad, the traditional Rajasthani craft, usually depicts gods and goddesses. “I, however, don’t deal with gods and goddesses. I deal with people, ordinary people. My life, your life, everybody’s life,” he says.
The concept is simple. As the doors of his ‘Kaavad’ open and one moves through them — looking in from different angles and directions — meanings unfold in multiple ways. “Well, life, to my mind, is always multiple. It is never singular,” he explains.
This multiplicity, he adds, is especially true of India. “Living in India means you are living among many cultures. You are living among many times. You can go back to the time of Kabir, and you can still be in modern times,” he says. “‘Kaavad’ is one of the means by which you can attain your own way of looking within.”
Gulammohammed bends time seamlessly to his will, almost cartographing it. “That’s an interesting way to look at it,” he says.
He does not view time strictly in terms of past and future. “I look at the past through my memories. I think the future is something we have to dig out on our own,” he explains, walking through the gallery, watching as years and visions gather before him — all at once.