The Hindu Business Line : Artist to artist

Two great artists whose works defy labels... so, what better than hearing in their own words why they do what they do. And that is exactly what the film Ramkinkar Baij: A Personality Study sets out to do. Completed 32 years after it was first shot, the film captures two colossi, artist Ramkinkar Baij and filmmaker Ritwik Ghatak.

Baij has been hailed as the guru of modern Indian sculpture. Born in Bankura in 1906, Baij went to Shantiniketan as a young man of about 20. He sculpted a distinct modernist Asian identity even though he trained under visiting European sculptors, including French sculptor Antoine Bourdelle. Groomed by Rabindranath Tagore and Nandalal Bose, Baij remained an independent thinker. While there may have been some inspiration from Rodin, the water colours of Cezanne and the cubism of Picasso, Baij’s idiom was the world of the common person. Later he went on to head the Department of Sculpture at Kala Bhavan, Shantiniketan.

Ghatak was 18 years younger than Baij. Their association goes back to the time Ghatak’s elder brother Manish, a radical writer, was in Shantiniketan. So Ghatak was often in Shantiniketan to visit his brother.

In 1975, Ghatak spent four days between July 4 and 10 shooting this film in Shantiniketan. However, the film remained unfinished as Ghatak died on February 6, 1976. He left detailed instructions on what he had envisioned.

Cinematic baton

The onus of completing the film fell on Ghatak’s director-cinematographer son Ritaban. Compiled and supervised by Ritaban, the 29-minute film has been edited by Rakesh Tiwari. The music is by Ajoy Ray. The text was translated by Mahendra Kumar, who apprenticed with Ghatak Sr from 1958.

Work on the film was completed during 28 hours of concerted effort on October 11, 2007. The first screening was held at the School of Arts and Aesthetics, Jawaharlal Nehru University, at the ongoing exhibition, ‘Ramkinkar in Focus — Through the Eyes of Devi Prasad’.Ritwik Ghatak is quoted as saying about Teetash Ekti Nodir Naam (1973), “When I was making the film, it occurred to me that nothing of the past survives today, nothing can survive. History is ruthless. No, it is all lost. Nothing remains.” His words proved nearly prophetic. It has been a struggle to preserve and hold on to the footage.

The Ritwik Memorial Trust worked at preserving the film, which has been completed exactly according to Ritwik Ghatak’s guidelines. For instance, it opens with a white screen that is gradually splattered with splashes of colour, just as he wanted it to.

Candid moments

There are candid interactions between the two masters. As the camera introduces us to each statue, Ghatak questions Baij… simple questions that draw out simpler answers. They virtually blow the lid off the jargon of pretentious appreciation of art. As Baij explains, the movement in Krishak Dampati is because the couple works in a rice mill. The whistle for the shift has gone off and they are rushing to work. Now, who would have guessed that? In the simplicity of Baij’s explanation lie layers of truth. “Ramkinkar drew from life, minimalised it to sheer forms. And he was not making sculptures but he was structuring and interpreting life through the form of sculpture,” says contemporary sculptor Radhakrishnan.

Baij and Ghatak chat through the film in an easy banter that brings to life Baij’s personality as no stiff interview could ever have. They sit around for an adda, or walk through the fields and chat. This film is inclusive. The answers are disarming.

Take the buffalo fish. The inspiration, if Baij is to be believed, came when he was passing a buffalo splashing around in a pond. That swish of the tail got immortalised with a slight touch of artistic licence and the result may have matched Sukumar Ray’s phantasmagorical creatures. “You are crazy (khyepa)!” bandies Ghatak, using a term difficult to translate for its nuances: khyepa is a word that can be used with respect and admiration rather than being dismissive. In fact, Baij had called Ghatak’s Ajantrik a “khyepa” film. Ghatak just returned the compliment.

Baij was new to the camera but certainly not intimidated by the device or the man behind it. The missing teeth, the tousled hair and the thick glasses represent a towering persona. As he gets chatting, Ghatak reminds him, “Please don’t move so much. Look at me while you speak!”

Revisiting an era

Baij represents a generation of Indian artists who struggled to do what they were passionate about. Ghatak has filmed the humble cottage Baij lived in. The house was crumbling. Baij used some of his pension money to repair it. But that was not enough. When the rain poured, he hung oil paintings upside down for protection because he did not have Rs 100 to buy the straw for the thatch. The paintings had to be brought down for an exhibition.

The collection of sculptures and paintings captured in the film is arguably one of the best you can hope to see of Baij. His paintings are significant for several reasons. His water colours are vibrant. His oils are powerful. Whether through sculpture or painting, Baij could convey raw energy, as in the frame on ploughing.

The ‘farmer at lunch’ has about it the calm of a well-deserved break in the middle of a strenuous workday for both man and beast. And the satisfying part is that the film was completed just as Ritwik Ghatak wanted it. As Ritaban says, “If we had completed the film our way, the film would have been completely different.”

The last montage of paintings, for instance, would not have been there. Instead, he may have used the shot where his father says, “Look directly at the camera… out!” For the son, this was a “difficult” tryst to keep, one he has kept to the word. As Shakespeare said, “No legacy is so rich as honesty.”

Baij has the last word when he says, “It is very difficult to be an artist but more so to understand an artist.”