SUDARSHAN SHETTY: THE ARTIST OF THE NEBULOUS THAT DEPICTS LIFE AS IT IS By Mihir Srivastava

There are very few artists who practice art that essentially entails transcending boundaries, the silos they exist in, and think freely, while dwelling in the uncertain, amorphous yet rewarding creative domain. Sudharshan Shetty is a one such celebrated desi artist, his work creates global reverberations. 

Sudarshan is proud of his lower middle-class upbringing. He grew up with his family of six in a one room dwelling, a chawl in Mumbai. That one room was a living room, a bedroom, a guest room, a kitchen, all in one. Father, Adve Vasu Shetty, was an artist with a bit of a reputation, who would regularly attract guests. Mother, Jaji, was a homemaker, who encouraged Sudarshan to do what brings him joy. The space was sparse but their hearts were big.

This large heartedness was not unique to his family but was a norm in the neighbourhood. The common spaces became the shared spaces. Sudarshan remembers sleeping in the corridor, many beds lined next to each other in a long file.

They all lived as a cohesive community, the neighbourhood was like an extended family, they helped each other, participated in joys and sorrow. Therefore, with such meagre means, they could lead such a quality life, collectively. 

This was possible because families were still joint. This cohesive existence shaped better individuals. Many a times, when boxed people learn to think out of box. Sudarshan is a good example.

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‘All artistic processes must be inspired by the quest to find one’s own self,’ says Sudarshan. And when he finishes a work, he asks the same existential question every time: did I find myself? He does, it's a phase, as the self is not static. Being is equally dynamic as becoming. 

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Having said that, the chawl had a liberal environment, diversity was celebrated, idiosyncrasies were not despised, the divisive considerations of caste, creed or gender was relegated to the margins, people freely mingled. They were friends, and positive participants in the shaping of each other’s destiny.

Sudarshan was good at drawing, and was skilled at converting a photograph into a portrait. So many of the portraits he made of the deceased in the neighbourhood were duly framed and hung on the wall with a sandalwood garland dangling across. That way he became a commissioned artist from his childhood, though he didn’t earn much apart from goodwill. He describes the whole exercise as ‘I was good at copying.’ 

He passed out of the school and pursued commerce in college. He promised his parents to do a degree course, even if he was to become a painter, an artist. He joined a local college, the classes were held in the morning, they were not very particular about the attendance, as a result, he had a lot of time at his disposal. A friend lent him Rs 500 to fill the admission form of Sir JJ School of Art (JJ), and he got in. He pursued commerce and art conterminously. 

“When I joined JJ a whole new world opened unto me,” says Sudarshan. He was good at drawing, an advantage to start with, and he was exposed amongst others to the American masters. The likes of Robert Rauschenberg. The Americans artists were closer to his spirit, the existence in urban spaces.

Rauschenberg was the first to understand the pop culture, much before Andy Warhol, “Juxtaposition of images, complex layering, without knowing, established in his work the pillars of urban life,” Sudarshan puts it succinctly. He would copy their style to discover his own. 

After completing his course at JJ, in want of a studio space to work, he shifted to Ahmedabad. At Kanoria Centre for Arts, he learned casting, molding and modelling to increase vocabulary of his artistic expression. Sudarshan found a language of art quintessentially his own, expanding the scope by using objects, like tires, machines, tools, all that is integral to an urban life. 

After three years, he created a body of work, part of which was displayed in Bombay’s Jahangir Gallery in 1987.  Followed by an exhibition in Delhi. He would cycle to various newspaper offices in Mumbai and Delhi, and drop brochures of his exhibition to the offices of newspapers and periodicals. They all took note of it. His works were extensively covered because was very good. Madhu Jain and Ila Bhatt wrote long pieces inspired by this art. Renu Modi shared her mailing list, a generous thing to do, allowing him greater access to the world of art.  

His art speaks louder than words, his mentors came to him influenced by the originality and authenticity of his works. Rajiv Sethi and O P Jain, among others, mentored him while he lived in Delhi for a couple of years, and worked.

They opened to him the vast vistas of Indian tradition milieus and the Eastern philosophical constructs as an inspiration to shape his art. I think it was an inflection point. He came of age. Huub Kuijpers helped him show his works in the Netherland. Later, he also associated with the Japan Foundation.

Sudarshan learned to paint a bigger canvas, even beyond the canvas. Upanishad has an open structure, it talks in great detail about the processes, and but doesn’t arrive to a conclusion. Every individual can draw their own conclusion; if they don’t have a conclusion, it's even better. Journey is the destination, unlike in the West—where arriving at a conclusion gives a sense of finality.

Sudarshan has done well for himself. And has been exhibited all over the world. Recognition brings buyers. he never haggles. He is comfortable. And humble. And grateful. And life is no bed of roses. He had his share of struggle. His poor parents supported him through the testing times. His first work was sold 18 years after he passed out of JJ. 

His quiet demeanour is palpable. He never seems to be in a hurry. I get a feeling he’s soaking in his surroundings; some sort of an internal dialogue is happening. He is not after money, but originality. Struggle was a period of joy to him. And creation to him is a powerful process, yet sedate.

His father, Adve Vasu , was not particularly in sync with his style of art. “Why don’t you draw things as they are?’  This question stayed with him for a long time, and he did a bit of soul searching. After his father’s demise, he looked at his very few recorded performances. 

Adve Vasu was a Yakshagana performer. He would perform extempore without wearing a costume. In one of the performances, he plays Bali from an episode in Ramayana. Rama fires an arrow at Bali from behind his back. The arrow pierces the body with divine intensity. Bali instinctively knows this cannot be a handiwork of a mortal.

So, Adve Vasu, as Bali, implores to his aggressor, ‘I'm willing to die if you allow me to become you.’ This one instinctive pronouncement is open to many interpretations. My interpretation is Bali sought immortality as a condition to be a mortal or to die. Art is all about interpretation, an important lesson learned. It is interesting to witness how maya—the appearance of the phenomenal world—compels one to arrive to a conclusion.  

‘All artistic processes must be inspired by the quest to find one’s own self,’ he says. And when he finishes a work, he asks the same existential question every time: did I find myself? He does, it's a phase, as the self is not static. Being is equally dynamic as becoming. 

Times are changing fast and technology has hastened the process, and has changed the way we live, love, hate, communicate, play, and even create. Art is nebulous. When Sudarshan revisits his old works, he often wonders: who made it? Who was the man who did it?