Proxy Horizons
Rajesh K Singh
Palette Gallery is showing the works of Pratul Dash (April 12–May 6). The opening had good attendance with noted people in Delhi’s art world.
The gallery is located on the first floor of the building. A staircase takes the visitor to the upper floor. The staircase takes a U-turn in its centre. At the turn is a parapet opening into exterior of the building. This parapet has been converted into a chamber. The chamber has one wall made of glass through which the interior is seen. The interior walls have been painted black, and they are engulfed in darkness. The back wall of the chamber has a large size painting installed titled Extension of Landscape. It is a triptych painted with acrylic on canvas. The triptych is flooded with light. Even the landscape that it shows is lit by the evening sunlight—pale, yellow, ochre, and orange. No sun is seen. There are no clouds. The topography is barren. There is no vegetation. It is a landscape, which has no green element. It shows metal structures held on metal pillars going into the distance from the foreground. The structures are gigantic. Only the contours are visible. There is not a sign of life except the ducks that are noticed far off in distance.
I like the triptych for its tone of futurology. It predicts a time in future when the earth’s resources would have been exhausted; and the life would have been extinguished; only the monstrous structures of industries would be remaining as the last vestiges of the industrial and economic ‘boom’ that we are cherishing at present. The counter thesis to the prediction is also present—the tiny ducks are signifiers of the poetic hope that the life would somehow survive in some form or the other…
Turning to the staircase again, one climbs up further to the gallery. Near the reception is hanging a glass-framed work, actually a photograph The Ganga Water Tank. I immediately recognize the tank, since it is hardly one kilometre from my flat at Indirapuram, and a walking distance from Pratul’s flat. I have seen it being built before my eyes. Before its construction, boys from Makanpur, the neighbouring village used to play football in the compound where the tank now stands. The surrounding terrain used to be farmlands. Wheat and paddy used to grow in plenty. Several orchards were there in Indirapuram. No trace of farming is now visible. The area has been transformed within a decade—Indirapuram has been hijacked by the builder’s mafia. Water and electricity is a grave problem yet there are flats being sold for one crore. The Ganga water tank, in fact, is part of the advertisement that promises to provide water from the sacred Ganges River—apart is the fact that the river itself is a nightmare for environmentalist; and there is a fierce political debate going on around the Ganga River.
I liked the work for the multitude of associations it brought to my mind, and which are not visible inside the frame.
Inside the gallery, there are some ten paintings of large and medium size. In various ways, they address issues of environment. Huge industrial pipes made of metal emerge from one end of the canvas and shoot in depth toward the horizon, disappearing in a corner. The metallic shine, and reflection of light on them, creates an eerie sense of lifelessness. The same strategy is configured in making of the cubical building and its tower. Here again there is no sign of life. No detail is seen. The skies are empty, and so is the land. The only creature in the name of life is the vulture many of whom are seen hovering over the landscape—a sure sign of death. These vultures are seen always in the skies of Indirapuram, since there is a huge dump yard in the neighbourhood. The dump yard looks like a mountain from a distance, and spreads severe stench at times. A variety of insects like flies and mosquitoes surround the area. A number of Dengue patients are reported from the neighbouring areas of the dump yard. But who cares? Some one will have to pay the price of growth, and the price of urbanization, in some form of or the other.
I like the work since it depicts what I see every day in my area where Pratul also lives.
The work titled Left Out depicts a similar kind of landscape, which is barren. Huge buildings tower on one side. In the distance, some fire is seen with smoke rising to the skies. It is felt as if some riot, looting, and arson have just ended. There are objects scattered on earth, and no sense of belonging is felt; as if the terrain has been abandoned. A lonely cow is sitting in the foreground as a witness to the plunder and destruction. Some ducks near the buildings in distance are out of place. The devastated terrain has nothing for them.
Other paintings have other situations of abandoned skyscrapers, empty tracts of land, scaffoldings, and lonely creatures. The ducks have been replaced by cats, dogs, etc. who sit lonely at corners, or on heights, wondering where to go in the emptiness. Human figures are seen jumping from the heights, emblematic of the predicted moment in future when the sole survivors would probably wish why they did not die—since the life would be hell.
One room of the gallery is dedicated for continuous screening of a video. The video has a triptych kind of format (three-channel projection) since it was beamed from three projectors, has three different screens, which are differently placed. Like the photographs and paintings the video has on-site shootings from urban locations, especially round architecture, traffic situations, architectural heights, and consumer centric imageries. The protagonist is the artist who is seen climbing the mysterious staircases of buildings. He climbs on top of the building, stands on edge of a wall, and jumps below.
The video makes a revelation: the human figure jumping from architectural heights in the paintings of Pratul is none other than the artist himself !