The Biennale has arrived

Art is so many things. Elephant dung arranged systematically in a way in which the artist wants to communicate is art as also painstakingly drawn fine lines that bring a scene to the viewer. When art transcends visual language, lines, race, colour, medium and more, and breaks the shackles of  what the world till then thought was art, you have the biennale.
 Everything about the biennale is new. The biennale brings to the frog in the pond that is you, art as is envisaged by the powers that be, which decides what's art and what's not. Yours not to reason why, yours not to ask, for have you gone to Europe and seen the wonderful art galleries and contemporary art there? What? How dare you ask if what Europe does is always right!
 Enjoy art? What rubbish. Art is no more to enjoy. It is to point out defects in history, not to draw a single line that the masses may, God forbid, recognise and make installations that are puzzles akin to the Gordion knot.
 To bring attention to the artist by declaring that all the world's problems are felt by the artist keenly and he suffers pain on behalf of them, that's the contemporary art scene. Ah...the pamphlet will tell you what the artist actually intended to tell you, if you think his/her work is bizarre. Well, is the pamphlet then the real art, if it communicates? Tough question that!
We were at the biennale too, paying hundred rupees each today. The first leg (for us), of the Kochi Biennale, at the Durbar Hall Art Centre. The biggest room had a few wonderful works that were new in execution and enjoyable, using charcoal, archival glue and oil.  Here is the image.  Stand far away from the huge work and you realise how well the artist worked.

.  The first gallery showed a long white table with a few white ceramic objects, that were purportedly made from a very thick Indian history book. A video showed us how the artist managed to do it, dabbing it with clay and burning off the history pages to get those white masses arranged on the long table. "They look like paratta dough," said a spectator who wondered what the brouhaha was all about. See if you agree:

 In the last gallery downstairs, even if you read what it's all about, you will be all at sea. (I have forgotten what it said. Anyway it's immaterial) Globes, globes and globes, with aesthetics missing. An ugly table below. Try hard as you might, the penny won't fall.
 Is it evolution of art or degeneration? Is it moving away from the kernal to the husk? Or is it simply embracing something new regardless of whether logic is attached to it? Or is it plain fashionable to follow the trends set by other countries and cliques that have become self-proclaimed custodians of art? A dispassionate analysis of what makes sense and what does not is called for. Aesthetics is one thing and novelty for novelty's sake is quite another.  When academics and organisers pontificate on art and criticism is balked at, art ceases to reach the common man. 

Upstairs, an artist has used the plain white rice, millions of them, glued together in a pattern on huge canvases, with teeny weeny texts making lines to demarcate the sections. The text are sometimes wise sayimgs and other times, come right from the artist's heart. A magnifying glass rests at the bottom of the work, imploring you to please read the text. There are local artists in many places who engrave full figures and write names on a grain of rice. But they are not educated enough or in the art circuit to find a place here. Or else some term it craft. Can craft be in any way a second cousin of art? Pause, ponder.
 We are yet to see the Fort Kochi part of the show. Hope it will be better.
Prema Manmadhan

Ode to a neighbouring green patch

And now, brick and mortar will sprout on the brown earth where coconut, arecanut, jack and sundry other trees lived, their foliage so thick and green that the morning sun never got beyond the coconut palm fronds that did a dance whenever the wind tried to pass that way to visit my house.
A rude whirr... whirr... whirr...(alto sruti), eerie and macabre, woke me up last week instead of birdsong. And when the bedroom door to the balcony was opened, like executioners they stood there, men with some kind of automatic saws, operated with a pull of a belt. And a couple of whirr….whirrrrs later, coconut trees that took years to reach that far in their ambitious journey to meet the bright blue sky, fell with a melancholy thud, lying in state, the fronds spread out like a ballerina's skirt, and the stump, yearning for that something that it could never ever have again.
 And then came the chief executioner. The JCB. With its demonic claws, it wiped out all traces of life.  All the trees had their funerals lined up and methodically, their lives were snuffed out in like fashion, so that two days of whirr....whirrs..saw a plot denuded of all things green. The last to fall was the tallest. My heart weighed a thousand tonnes.....an emptiness that refused to fill. Crows and mynah, woodpeckers and the koel, flew around like displaced orphans, directionless and disturbed, crying in silent agony. Squirrels were the only inhabitants who proclaimed their displeasure as loudly as they could. But they have all our smaller trees to live, I invited them quietly.
And the sun shines bright, walking right into our balcony at all times of the day now, warming up spots that it fought shy of gracing, all these 30 years. Dead trunks are yet to find their resting places. Today, a posse of quiet beings surrounded a nilavilakku and a few bricks. Ah…the foundation stone being laid.
 My tomorrows will be dusty, devoid of birdsong, but I will have the sun meeting me uninterruptedly and someone will have a house…maybe one of those trees will metamorphose into a window, door or even a tiny bench in a regimented garden, where plants will never have the freedom to live and grow old as they like, in whichever direction they choose, as did the trees that stood there once.
Adieu, romantic, recent Past, and welcome, practical Present!
Prema Manmadhan
    

    

T M Krishna's magic

Nobody is singing for anybody, declared T M Krishna in the middle of his concert at Madhavan Nair history museum art festival held annually (the name of the fest?). It proved to be correct for the lucky audience gathered there Sunday evening. (November 29). It was a classical and classic jamming session, when extempore took dominance. Music flowed on, the pauses and expressive voice modulations adding charm to the creative permutations and explorations of the seven swaras of world music, Carnatic in particular, often veering to the Hindusthani elements and getting back to basics with a difference so original. Charming and a feast for the ears first, the soul the utmost. No kutcheri format was binding on T M Krishna. Thaniaavartans in two instalments sans traditional 'mangalam'. Nadanam aadinaan...... came in a totally new avatar. Accompaniments, especially the mridangam, conquered all hearts present. The violin and ghatam too. The ambience and the music will stay in my heart for a long long time...thank you Priya, for inviting us!

Maiden pilgrimage to Sabarimala

I feel all new. A Malikappuram. Just returned from Sabarimala with Manu, my son.I did not even have to stand in any queue! Surprising in this season. Never expected such a lovely darshan, not once but twice, once thanks to my friend, Mohanan Pillai, of The New Indian Express, who is posted there. The policemen were very courteous and helpful. The fact that the descent was 'kadhinam  entayyappa' does not stand in the feeling of achievement and fulfilment. I never ever thought that a woman of my mass would make it there! A quick decision without much discussion to make the pilgrimage to Sabarimala made it possible. The fact that I was the only devotee in salwar does surprise, because as you age, this is the best attire for travel and such a pilgrimage. And the joke is that I wear it only when I travel and not otherwise! I believe I made it because I did not wear a sari.
The climb, darshan and descent is inspiring, educative and an eye-opener in so many ways. It just breaks your ego, teaches you to stretch  yourself  to the fullest possible and makes you understand that anything is possible if there is a will and when faced with no alternatives, you really can do it! This new learning, applied in life, can help you much, I think.
While making a maiden pilgrimage, it is strange that veterans don't tell you much! People feel that everything 'is understood'. It's not.
 I would include these among the tips for kanni Ayyappans: Climb slowly as the hoardings say. You conserve energy that way. Breathing in and out regularly helps, which I learnt only at the fag end! Use the oxygen parlours if you are so out of breath that you feel your heart will strike work. ( I did not)  Resting for some time is okay, never mind if people file past you like P T Usha.Slow and steady does win the race, as I learnt quite late.  There is no need to feel that you have to keep up with people you started out with. Circumstances, body build and weight are different. Well, next time!

Limericks

Limericks are meant to be funny, they are five lines long, they say.

Serious matter
Nobody takes you seriously?
Ha..Pop in some sleeping pills.
When rigor mortis sets in..
They'll at last take you seriously...
But you won't see it, silly!

Tira review

Tira, Vineeth Sreenivasan's latest movie, IS different. Malarvadi Arts Club was a sort of internsgip film and Thattathin Marayathu a surefire hit subject, romance and young love. But Tira goes off at a tanget, subjectwise. He heads straight to untrodden paths in Malayalam cinema, with a pace so fast that at the end of the cinema, you are sapped and are back to reality.
The story is topical, of the seamy side of cities and ugly exploitation, complete with the political - business nexus. More on the story will be unfair to both the makers and future viewers of the movie. Central to the story is Shobhana, and WHAAAT a comeback! Easily her best performance to date. Yes, Nagavally pales before the deglamorised Dr Rohini. She is a sort of female desi James Bond  and Vineeth takes a leaf out of Bond in the last scene too. It's the first of a trilogy, he says. Dhyan, Sreenivasan's other son, is that new kid on the block, who will give his compatriots good competition. Most of the others are new faces who do very well indeed. Street scenes, chases, are all very realistic. Jomon's camera works as in western movies. Costumes get an A rating. Shobhana wears just one sari throughout the movie, merely because it's one day and a hectic one at that! In the last scene, it's a different sari. Costumes are apt and good.
 Background score is fine, but that cannot be said of the songs. They are the same dragging 'new gen' tunes that you hear again and again, without any individuality. Subtitles are a distraction. That they are used at the very beginning in good measure irritates, to put it mildly. You come to see a Malayalam movie and you are dished out conversations in subtitles for a few minutes long. No, one does not expect it. But the rest of the movie is so good that you forgive this lapse. There are loose ends. And the investigative work is all old hat in English, but new in Malayalam. Direction, acting and camera take equally high honours. Congrats, Vineeth! And Sreenivasan, one proud moment for a father indeed! I liked it, despite the few flaws. That's why I took pains to write this!!!

Annayum Rasoolum movie review

Realistic, yes, Annayum Rasoolum is very realistic and the essence of the Fort Kochi and Mattancherry culture that spells love, spontaneity, sharing etc is portrayed well.Is it a period film? I don't think so, but the love is period and the romance is certainly very sweetly picturised. Fahad Faasil gets 85 marks for portraying the role of Rasool. He has proved that he can don the garb of an urban playboy and a streetsmart guy with the same verve. The actor with the most promise in the years to come, that is Fahad Faasil. Andrea, who plays the female lead has been successful in conveying that mystery which shrouds her very existence, but it becomes annoying after some time. The film? Rajeev Ravi's maiden directorial creation is very realistic, but should have been trimmed better and the story takes too many twists. The songs are used to great advantage and tugs at the heart strings. Casting is excellent and all the characters fit their roles to a T, but there are too many characters, even though there are no loose ends and all of them have their own little places.