High-school student Anika Somaia remembers how a derelict corner in a slum in New Delhi’s Okhla has now become a meeting point for the local communities after she collaborated with artist Aftab Ahmad on a mural to transform one of its walls. Under Somaia’s public art project called Open Canvas, the wall was painted in a bright yellow, with the face of a young girl smiling wide. Once a forgotten corner, the locals now use it as a point of congregation–of both thoughts and ideas.
Similarly, since the last housing estate built by the British in erstwhile Delhi was transformed into India’s first “art district” in 2015, the Lodhi Art District has consistently attracted a steady stream of people who not only visit the locality for the murals painted by over 50 artists from across the world but also to appreciate the extant, oft-overlooked architecture. Spearheaded by the St+Art India Foundation, the area has now gone on to become an example of how art can be taken out of the white cube and into the streets with strategic private-public partnerships, to not only bolster accessibility but to also shape public discourse on important socio-political issues surrounding inclusivity and human rights.
“India’s share of the global art market is less than 1 per cent despite being such a big country with such a glorious past. It’s the same few people who are still seen everywhere and the only way to change that is by expanding the boundary of art and making it more accessible,” says Hanif Kureshi, artistic director and co-founder of the non-profit that works towards making art more accessible through public projects. Since the Lodhi Art District raked in somewhat of a cult status, Kureshi’s foundation has facilitated more such collaborations across cities, including the ongoing Mumbai Urban Art Festival (MUAF), for which they have collaborated with public entities such as the Mumbai Port Trust and the municipal corporation to create public canvases for art that triggers more than just responses based on aesthetics.
Meanwhile, the ongoing Kochi-Muziris Biennale is another prime example of how a public-private collaboration aids outreach that translates to more than just access to the arts. Feroze Gujral, founder and director, The Gujral Foundation, that supports the Biennale, pointed out how bringing art out of the gallery space helps in the “recognition of space and place”. “I think what’s very important for a nation is a cultural language and a cultural aesthetic, especially in urban centres because of the power that public art and installations can have. It is also very important for nation-building, pride-building and empire-building. It becomes a signature of who you are, your city, heritage, culture, your country and therefore, a sense of self,” explains Gujral.
For the Bengaluru-based trans-women and cis-women-led art collective Aravani Art Project, public art is a way of creating a safe space through dialogue. “The streets are a particularly important space to do our work, as it is in these public spaces that the bodies of transgender-identifying people undergo discrimination, violence, harassment, social negligence and pressure. Our collective seeks to respond to these experiences by creating spaces that, instead, encourage exchanges, discussions, openness, gender identities and love. This made it easier for the people from the community, especially who are into sex work and begging, feel more confident in spaces,” shares Poornima Sukumar. The collective’s projects mainly entail members of the trans community collaborating with like-minded people, artists and communities to not just foster artistic collaboration but the building of safe spaces through participation. “Art meets activism as we paint about issues that prevail within the given geographical space,” adds Sukumar.
Somaia points out how “art” in public spaces can often be restricted to religious, political or advertorial messaging. “But in communities of numerous languages, ethnicities and religions, our murals strive to do the opposite, serving as a point of contact between disparate individuals. This experience is all the more important in an era of socio-political discourse characterised by stigma and polarisation,” she adds.
A sense of acceptance and building an inclusive cultural identity are also factors that Gujral highlights. She cites the example of Bilbao in Spain, where the local communities fought for the Frank Gehry-designed Guggenheim Museum Bilbao that opened in 1997 and went on to aid the community’s development as a major centre for tourism and culture. “It’s important to have visual identities because it encourages development. With development, there should be a very strong stimulus that says you have to build a culturally acceptable and inviting space for people. It gives value to the people and the surrounding community,” says Gujaral.
“THE STREETS ARE A PARTICULARLY IMPORTANT SPACE TO DO OUR WORK, AS IT IS IN THESE PUBLIC SPACES THAT THE BODIES OF TRANSGENDER-IDENTIFYING PEOPLE UNDERGO DISCRIMINATION, VIOLENCE, HARASSMENT, SOCIAL NEGLIGENCE AND PRESSURE"Poornima Sukumar
While government bodies are gradually warming up to the idea of public art and opening up their spaces to more collaborative projects, it wasn’t an easy task. Kureshi shares that to execute robust programming, such as one implemented for MUAF, getting permissions for their public art projects spanning multiple venues was challenging. “From Sassoon Docks to Lower Parel, Dadar to the Royal Opera House–getting permission from the authorities was not easy. However, they have become more open to this,” he adds, pointing out how St+Art India has been working with multiple state governments for their projects. “Initially, we had to explain the idea and even after that, sometimes, people would not get it,” he says.
Somaia recalls how her first mural in a neighbourhood in New Delhi was vandalised by a local drunkard after the first day of painting. “The boy’s face, the portrait we had painted, was covered in muddy footprints, as if someone had slapped the sole of their shoe against the wall. Into his hair were carved two stars that exposed the cement underneath and, in block letters, a name I didn’t recognise,” she says.
For Sukumar, the lack of support from the government is one of the major hurdles. “We are creating a long-lasting impact where women and men (as artists, at least) are standing up for transgender people and other marginalised communities, which re-shapes the whole gender movement and its sense of inclusivity. The disparity is too stark,” she explains.
However, as Kureshi points out, the reward for what they do is in the “process” of its creation. “It isn’t just about going and painting something, finishing it and leaving. It’s about working with the communities, understanding their perspectives and making them understand ours,” he shares.
Somaia remembers how when her first mural got vandalised, the locals had tracked down the perpetrator and gotten him to apologise, which, in turn, made her realise the sense of ownership the murals create for the communities surrounding them. Similarly, Sukumar refers to changes in perception that she takes as a win. “While we are halfway through a project, we start getting different forms of support. Some of them buy us chai, give us water, a place to rest; so many times we have received edible gifts, so many people come and join us to paint and have genuine conversations with the trans-artists. There are projects or workshops that are executed and facilitated by the transgender artists, who are then viewed as a teacher or a facilitator. We are thus able to work with various communities and bring a sense of intersectionality,” she signs off.