Between Gesture and Silence

Analysis/ Dr Ved Prakash Bhardwaj

Rajendra Kadia explores the quiet tension between revelation and concealment. Every face speaks, yet it often hides more than it discloses. In his paintings, faces appear—but rarely in their entirety. They emerge as fragments, partially obscured, interrupted, or withheld. Through this deliberate incompleteness, Kadia reflects on the layered nature of human personality. Identity, in his work, is never fully accessible; it remains shifting and unresolved. The absence of the whole becomes a metaphor for the human condition itself—our instinct to guard certain truths, to reveal selectively, and to withhold what lies beneath the surface. His fragmented faces remind us that what we see is never the full story. Beneath every visible expression exists a deeper, unspoken narrative—complex, private, and profoundly human?

Forceful, assertive lines combined with the fluid movement of black ink and colour generate enigmatic images on canvas and paper in the work of senior artist Rajendra Kadia. His visual language emerges from instinct and spontaneity, where drawing becomes a meditative, intuitive act rather than a premeditated construction. Often beginning with a single impulsive line, he allows it to travel freely across the surface. As the line evolves, it gradually gives rise to an image that remains deliberately ambiguous—resisting immediate identification and inviting sustained engagement.

He works primarily with acrylic and ink on paper. He first wets the surface—whether paper or canvas—then permits colour and ink to flow organically. He rarely relies on a conventional brush; instead, pieces of wood or thick paper serve as his tools. Through this unconventional approach, he produces lines of varied density and texture, allowing ink and water to merge into translucent layers that breathe within the composition.

Within this process, countless unknown forms begin to surface—as though the painting itself determines its final shape. Abstract faces frequently emerge. Each possesses a distinct identity, yet this identity does not reside in anatomical structure but in emotional presence. The faces seem to hold moods rather than features.

At times, these forms carry architectural echoes; elsewhere, they suggest the rugged density of a forest. In some works, aspiration appears to grow like untamed grass; in others, a river seems to murmur through rhythmic movement. A profound poetic sensibility pervades his practice—one that resists easy articulation. It is perhaps this quiet intensity that makes his seemingly minimal compositions unexpectedly challenging experiences.

The emerging forms may resemble a human visage, a fragmented landscape, or remnants of architectural ruins dissolving across time and space. These shifting images exist in a continual state of transformation, oscillating between recognition and abstraction. Impermanence becomes central to Rajendra Kadia’s practice, reflecting both the fragility of memory and the constant flux of lived experience. His compositions resist fixed narratives, instead encouraging viewers to project their own associations and emotional histories onto the surface.

Black remains his dominant medium—embraced not as the absence of colour but as a field of depth and resonance. In his hands, black unfolds into a spectrum of tonal variation, ranging from dense, commanding strokes to fragile, nearly vanishing traces. This restrained palette heightens emotional intensity, ensuring that every gesture carries psychological weight. The monochromatic language lends his work a timeless quality, stripping away distraction and directing attention toward line, rhythm, and interior tension.

Beyond their visual impact, Rajendra Kadia’s works function as psychological terrains. They articulate inner states rather than external realities—capturing contemplation, solitude, unease, and introspection. The layered surfaces seem to hold accumulated memory, touching upon vulnerability and existential reflection. His images do not provide resolution; instead, they remain open, mirroring life’s inherent ambiguity.

Through decades of sustained practice, Rajendra Kadia has cultivated a distinctive visual language that balances discipline with freedom and structure with accident. By dissolving the boundary between abstraction and representation, he invites viewers into an intimate dialogue—one that unfolds gradually, revealing meaning through silence, suggestion, and the subtle cadence of the line.

Delhi Art Gallery's Photography Show : Typecasting of time and society

Review / Dr Ved Prakash Bhardwaj 

Photography has long been an essential tool for documenting human life and preserving moments that later acquire historical significance. The Delhi Art Gallery's "Typecasting" exhibition, shown at Bikaner House in Delhi, offers an authentic document of life during that period. Bringing together photographs from 1855 to 1920, the exhibition undoubtedly offers a rare visual history of India's diverse communities under British rule. However, the exhibition also raises several questions. One question is what the photographers and the authorities of the time were trying to convey by depicting such communities, especially the lives of tribal people or those working at the lower levels. It seems that these photographs reflected the colonial policies of the British rulers, which sought to justify India's exploitation by portraying India as backward to the world. In this context, it is noteworthy that many have attempted to prove that British rule was necessary to modernise India. It's unlikely that this exhibition will be analysed from this perspective or that any sociological study will be conducted. Therefore, it shouldn't be surprising if it ends up being merely documentary evidence.

In any case, the exhibition itself spans a wide geographical range: photographs from the Lepcha and Bhutia tribes of the Northeast to the Afridis of the Northwest Frontier Region and the Toda and Vedda tribal communities of the South Belt. These were accompanied by portraits of talukdars and wealthy Parsi figures, as well as dancing girls, porters, barbers, and snake charmers. Seen together, the photographs paint a distinct sociological picture—an attempt to present a social map of contemporary Indian society through caste, clan, and work types.

However, beyond their ethnographic surface, the photographs reveal the ideological framework within which they were created. Colonial photography often served as a means of controlling power. By dividing communities into visual "types", British colonial policy attempted to portray Indian society as static, hierarchical, and backward. The act of photographing was inseparable from the act of cataloguing—the fixing of identities within rigid visual categories. The exhibition subtly highlighted this aspect, encouraging viewers to recognise photography not simply as documentation but as a political tool.

Over time, the meaning of these photographs has changed. Separated from their original colonial context, they now serve as essential historical documents. Today, they invite critical scrutiny rather than tacit acceptance. Details of clothing, posture, gestures, and atmosphere provide insight into the reality of nineteenth- and early twentieth-century India. The books and printed materials displayed alongside the photographs further strengthened this archival commitment, demonstrating how closely photography was intertwined with publishing, research, and systematic documentation at that time.

From a contemporary aesthetic perspective, many photographs appear structured and rigid. Subjects are often formally posed, sometimes against neutral backgrounds, emphasising clarity and classification rather than spontaneity. In contrast to today's creative photography—which places a premium on experimentation and subjectivity—these early works appear relaxed. Their visual language prioritises legibility over expressive detail.

Yet such restraint must be understood within its historical context. Photographers were frequently guided by ethnographic and administrative objectives rather than artistic ambition. Technological limitations of early photographic processes, combined with the colonial desire for systematic representation, shaped their compositional choices. In several instances, the emphasis on impoverished or marginalised communities suggests an underlying narrative strategy designed to reinforce colonial claims of civilisational superiority. The camera was not neutral; it operated within a discourse that framed difference and destitution as defining characteristics.

At the same time, the images inadvertently preserve moments of dignity and individuality. A fleeting expression, the texture of traditional attire, or the quiet assertiveness of a stance resists complete typification. Contemporary viewers may find themselves drawn less to the colonial taxonomy and more to the human presence that endures within the frame. The very rigidity that once served administrative ends now allows for a meticulous reading of historical detail.

Ultimately, “Typecasting” demonstrated how photographs transform across time. What once functioned as instruments of classification now serve as archives of memory. They reveal not only the diverse lives of Indian communities but also the mindset of a colonial administration that sought to define and regulate them. By revisiting these images within a contemporary gallery context, the exhibition encouraged viewers to engage critically with both the subjects depicted and the structures that shaped their representation.

Not just this exhibition, but all such photography must be viewed and understood from a new perspective. The agenda of our parallel cinema was often to showcase the negative aspects of Indian society, and this continued after independence. Therefore, there should be no doubt that the photographers nurtured by the British rulers took photographs that were exactly what their masters desired. In many cases, the emphasis on poor or marginalised communities is indicative of an internal plan designed to strengthen colonial claims of civilised superiority. Much has been written about these photographs, but most of them treat the photographs as objects, without attempting to examine the reasons behind them.

All photographs are Delhi Art Gallery's property.

Shruti Gupta Chandra : felt rather than seen

Review/Dr Ved Prakash Bhardwaj

Artist: Shruti Gupta Chandra

Abstraction, as a visual language, seeks to move beyond the immediate experience of the visible world and arrive at something more essential—something felt rather than seen. This impulse finds compelling expression in the recent paintings of Shruti Gupta Chandra, where form is no longer the primary vehicle of meaning. Instead, she ventures into an emotional and perceptual realm, dissolving the physical body and allowing sensation, rhythm, emotion, and psychological space to take precedence.

Earlier in her practice, Shruti explored the ph

Mixed media on canvas

physical dimensions of existence by abstracting the human figure within structured compositions shaped by light and shadow. In her new body of work, however, she steps further away from corporeal references. Familiar identities and symbolic markers gradually recede, giving way to an open, fluid space where emotion becomes the central presence. The body is no longer articulated through gesture; it is replaced by what may be described as a melodic vibration across the canvas.

Mixed media on canvas

Her longstanding engagement with music and classical dance subtly informs these works. Rhythm becomes a structural principle. Colours and abstract forms seem animated, almost performative—like a dancer occupying a stage. Significantly, much of that stage appears empty. Yet the emptiness is not absence. Just as the still air around a dancer holds the resonance of movement and sound, the spaces between forms in her paintings are charged with invisible interactions. These intervals are alive with tension, pause, and continuity.

Mixed media on canvas

Reflecting on this series, the artist notes her desire to explore the unknown and unseen, moving beyond traditional compositional frameworks. What emerges instead is a dynamic relationship between space and form—a rhythm that unfolds perceptually rather than narratively. Her inquiry turns inward: where does the mind situate itself within an emotion, and where does the external world begin? Between these two poles lies an undefined yet palpable connection, an oscillation between interior awareness and outward reality.

Mixed media on canvas

Her forthcoming solo exhibition at Shridharani Art Gallery in Delhi will present works that blur the boundaries between the concrete and the abstract. These paintings resist single-point narratives; instead, they unfold as experiential fields. By breaking away from conventional constraints, she enters a freer expressive terrain, one that allows for deeper philosophical engagement with the interrelationship between human existence and the physical and metaphysical realms.

Mixed media on canvas

A notable aspect of this series is her shifting compositional strategy. In some works, layered structures accumulate, producing dense surfaces where forms overlap and dissolve. In others, she pares down colour and gesture, allowing expanses of blank space to dominate. These contrasting approaches are not merely formal decisions but reflections of life’s inherent contradictions. Density suggests emotional intensity, turbulence, or psychological complexity. Emptiness evokes silence, solitude, or existential clarity.

Mixed media on canvas

Shruti often breaks the rhythm of her creative process. She transforms the same materials and compositions. In one such painting, she creates a painting using hand-stitched fabric, which breaks her creative image. This painting, which moves towards minimalist art, expresses that amidst the complexity of human life, there comes a time when it becomes so simplified that it becomes impossible to confine it to a single meaning. Shruti's art, however, defies any boundaries of meaning. Her abstract works offer an open sky of meanings, in which the viewer can access meaning according to their experience and receptivity. This kind of openness, from the form to its meaning, gives Shruti's work new breadth and potential. In her figurative works, she experimented with achieving this, which is now moving towards perfection in abstraction. 

Watercolour on paper

Through this interplay of fullness and void, Shruti Gupta Chandra articulates a vision of life as oscillation—between presence and disappearance, order and fragility, abundance and absence. The abstract field becomes a site where perception transcends language, inviting both artist and viewer into a deeper, more contemplative encounter with being. Life is not all about being full; that which is empty is also life because it holds greater potential for life. This emptiness holds a kind of invitation and a sincere commitment to always making room for others in life. Shruti expresses this sentiment through innovative experiments in composition in her art. The empty space on the canvas is, in reality, filled with something that can be felt, not seen.

Watercolour on paper

Ashoo Sharma's Mountain Metaphor

Review/Dr Ved Prakash Bhardwaj

Ashoo Sharma in his exhibition 

Art is an extension of experience. An artist filters lived reality through cognition and discernment, translating it into visual language. Having spent many years among rugged mountain peaks, Ashoo Sharma first captured these experiences through photography and later began expressing them through painting. His solo exhibition Mountain Metaphor opens on February 20, 2026, at the Convention Fair Gallery of the India Habitat Centre in Delhi.

Ashoo Sharma in his exhibition 

with Dr Ved Prakash Bhardwaj

A distinctive feature of this exhibition is the predominance of black and white works. Some pieces employ coloured ink and pastel, yet it is the black ink and pen works that leave the strongest impression. In these compositions, alongside the height and grandeur of the mountains, a mystical and philosophical dimension emerges.

Ashoo’s creative process operates on two interconnected levels. The first concerns the mountain as a physical form. Here, he renders its morphological structure with precision. In his pen-and-ink works on paper, the physicality of the mountain is articulated through two tonal intensities—light and heavy. Erosion, geological layering, and subtle traces of biological presence become visible. The mountains appear not as static masses but as entities shaped by time and life.

The second level transforms the mountain into a metaphor—not in any literal or illustrative sense, but as a metaphor for life itself. Life, thrilling in its diversity, finds resonance in the mountain’s permanence and vulnerability. In works shaped with brush and ink, Ashoo moves toward abstraction. He loosens the solidity of the mountain form, introducing fluidity. Instead of filling the shape completely, he leaves intentional voids between brushstrokes. These empty spaces destabilise the solidity of the structure, allowing abstraction to breathe within it. The mountain becomes less an object and more an experience.

These works often transcend conventional imagery. At times, the viewer perceives not only mountains but also organic forms—suggestions of living bodies, even human figures—emerging from the terrain. The mountain oscillates between landscape and life.

In Indian cultural imagination, mountains are divine presences. Their existence is not confined to stone, vegetation, and ice; they are receptive to vibrant life and spiritual resonance. For a sensitive and poetic mind, mountains pulse with consciousness. This sense of divinity can also be found in the works of Nicholas Roerich, who depicted the Himalayas in luminous colour. Ashoo, however, rarely relies on colour. His language is more restrained, more distilled.

His background in photography has sharpened his sensitivity to negative space. He brings this sensibility into his ink paintings. The empty space between black strokes becomes a metaphor for movement, for breath—almost a heartbeat within the mountain. It suggests life not through depiction, but through absence.

To internalise this metaphor, Ashoo has travelled extensively in mountainous regions, spending countless nights under open skies. He has observed the shifting colours of rock under moonlight, the play of stars across dark ridges, and the subtle transitions of semi-darkness. His relationship with the mountain feels intimate and inseparable. It is as if the mountain accompanies him—conversing, travelling, pulsating, even humming.

This humming metaphor—of solid stone rippling with inner life—runs through his black ink works as well as his coloured inks and pastels. He avoids watercolour, preferring the brilliance and immediacy of ink. The medium once used to tint black-and-white photographs fascinated him, and he adopted it to express the mountain’s chromatic moods. Though coloured ink lacks the transparency of watercolour, his handling of sky tones and earth hues feels lyrical—almost musical.

In Ashoo Sharma’s paintings, mountains are not merely landscapes. They become metaphors for life, music, and poetry. Through disciplined restraint and deliberate emptiness, he transforms even inanimate stone into a field of consciousness.

Satish Gujral: Exploration of Trauma, Memory, and Identity

Views/Dr Ved Prakash Bhardwaj

In the story of modern Indian art, few possess the strength, determination, and creative range of Satish Gujral. ​​Painter, sculptor, muralist, architect—Gujral wasn't limited to any medium, geography, or artistic fashion of the time. Instead, he created a deeply personal visual language forged from a relentless exploration of trauma, memory, and identity.

Born in 1925 in Jhelum, Punjab (now in Pakistan), Satish Gujral's early life wasn't easy. A childhood accident left him with a hearing loss. The question of what he would do with his life was a pressing one. In a world filled with sounds, he learned to interpret silence. Drawing and his early study of Urdu literature guided his life. Art was most helpful to him because it emphasised seeing and feeling more than hearing. His study of Urdu literature helped him integrate narrative into his paintings. This is why we see a narrative element in his works, as well as a theatrical effect, in which even static characters are brought into motion.

In 1939, he enrolled at the Mayo School of Art in Lahore, one of the region's most renowned art institutions. He later continued his studies at the Sir J.J. School of Art in Bombay. There, he met members of the Progressive Artists Group, including artists like F. N. Souza, S. H. Raza, and M. F. Husain. Souza wanted Satish Gujral to join the Progressive Artists Group (PAG), but he did not approve. The PAG artists emphasised Western modernism, while Gujral believed in the exploration of Indian art. While studying at the JJ School, he studied European art but never allowed it to influence his work.

In 1952, Gujral received a scholarship to study at the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City. There, he worked as an apprentice under two major names in the muralist movement: Diego Rivera and David Alfaro Siqueiros. This experience broadened his artistic horizons, as Rivera and Siqueiros were renowned for their murals and sculpture, not just their paintings. Gujral learned not only the technical aspects of mural creation but also the importance of an artist expressing their culture and time through their art. In a 2005 interview with this author, he admitted that his trip to Mexico was a turning point for him.

Mexican murals weren't just gallery-orientated art—they were the art of the masses, executed on walls in public spaces, and explored both history and the present on a broad scale. This experience gave Gujral a new direction. Consequently, his later works acquired a narrative and three-dimensional effect. His experiments with materials—burning wood, exploring texture, and mixing various mediums—established his distinct identity. His studies in Mexico introduced him to the importance of sociality in art. He demonstrated how dramatic impact can be achieved in paintings. Therefore, the human and other figures in his works appear more like sculptures than paintings.

His studies in Mexico inspired him to revisit and reflect on the trauma of his childhood, as well as the traumatic experience of the 1947 Partition. He witnessed displacement and violence firsthand. The experience of evacuating his family from Lahore was an unforgettable experience for him. This experience manifested itself in powerful visual compositions in his works. The human figures in his works often appear tense, twisted, or stuck in mid-air—as if history itself were pressing down on them. But this phase was not permanent. Over time, he embraced the exploration of imagination, love, hope, and possibilities in life, expanding his art.

A characteristic of his works from this period is the use of dark colours, especially black, which effectively conveyed the grief and uncertainty of that era. His use of black wasn't decorative. It stemmed from experience. It stemmed from memory—an attempt to give form to darkness without surrendering to it. This continued in his work later. Once, during a major exhibition at the Lalit Kala Akademi in Delhi, he painted an entire gallery black. In that dark atmosphere, his paintings and sculptures had a distinct impact.

A distinctive feature of Gujral's art is dynamism. Whether depicting human figures or horses, his subjects rarely appear static. They bend, twist, tense, and move. Even in sculpture, the forms appear alive and dynamic, possessed by inner power. This dynamism is intensified when he creates a game, composes music, or creates horses and bulls. Just as the movement of an inner voice enlivens each moment in silence, Satish Gujral enabled dynamic vitality in each form and composition of his paintings. Despite his hearing loss, he also created works to music. His works often display repetitions of themes and forms, as if the same story, or a similar story, is repeated again and again, but with variations in each repetition that alter its meaning. Therefore, despite many similarities, Satish Gujral's vast creative world encompasses a vast and diverse world of experience and expression. In his later works, which focused on Partition, we see a greater exuberance of life. A celebration of life is evident there.

Gujral wasn't confined to painting and sculpture. He also made a significant mark as an architect. His most famous architectural achievement is the design of the Belgian Embassy in New Delhi.

Throughout his career, Gujral exhibited internationally and received numerous honours, including three times India's National Award for Painting and Sculpture. In 1999, he was awarded the Padma Vibhushan, the country's second-highest civilian honour.

Images courtesy of The Gujral Foundation, Delhi Art Gallery, and Google. 

SHYAMAL DUTTA ROY: KINGS OF WATERCOLOUR / By Anindya Roy

During my graduation I was excited to search for a perfect professional from whom I can mature my aesthetic sense and get proper guidance to fulfil my goal. One fine morning I went to his rented house in Kolkata; afterwards I spent long years under his mentorship. I like to share as I saw those days. I have an appetite then to learn more and more from a multi-talented visual artist like he is. A very much gentlemanly, benevolent, genuine teacher.

In his youth he was simply influenced by European modernism and the abstraction of objects; figures are his oil colour subject. They did not have much freedom in art college. Like other friends, he also struggles to establish himself. Once, at an evening adda, some friends together formed an artists' group, keeping in mind to work and exhibit throughout India regularly. All of them exchanged ideas and shared experiences of social conditions with strong Indianans in their work. Named 'Society of Contemporary Artists, Kolkata'.

Later, he emphasises watercolour, and within a short time, he creates an out-of-traditional look for his paintings. He used to do layer after layer of soft transparent colour, which never disturbed the character of the medium. He said, ‘All are crazy to do it for oil colour, but I thought, why not watercolour?'. He took the challenge to bring a fresh style and cross texture – which is his salient feature of paintings – and his great contribution to the fine art field.

In the 60s and 70s Bengal went through a severe crisis with famine, then the Bangladesh war, then the Naxal Andolan and lastly the emergency. During that tense situation, artists were smashed by grief and sorrows but did not lose their passion. The rickety skeleton figures of the dark side of society evoke the subjects of Shyamal Dutta Roy's objects of creation.

In the meantime Shyamal DuttaRoy creates a history of his life; his figures have large heads and thin human bodies, and the broken bowl excerpts are from famine-affected people. That scene had a strong impact on him, as Jainule Abedin felt. These broken bowls in watercolour and in graphics are recognised internationally and nationally. Ruined heritage buildings and the plight of schools and teachers are the source of his idea. We were surprised how the ruined social condition could be an aesthetical presentation and simultaneously a message to the world. The talk of time – document.

I repeat, the brilliant graphic ‘Broken Bowl', the symbolic one, had brought fame for him, and the figure style influenced artists of his time. I even heard from him about a few famous artists who also surely enlightened the next generation. Some critics said he was studying the method of British legend Turner’s watercolour. But Nandalal, Ramkinkar’s line and Abanendranath's wash technique are also in his observation.

In his peak time of career, he had  got lots of awards, including Lalit kala, prestigious Aban award, Shiromony Purosker,  All India Annual’s, Dhaka Shilpokala etc., and works are in the collections of so many museums and institutes, such as the Victoria Albert Museum, NGMA, Pratt  Graphic Center etc.

He has so much rare talent that he uses to compose his signature style with the same kind of textures and dimensions and the broken structures as background design in oil, acrylic, graphics and obviously watercolour. A modern presentation where concepts originate from real-life experience in abstract composition by softened treatments of mediums with rhythmic criss-cross lines is his unmatchable achievement, especially as a sensitive medium, watercolour. Once his hand broke from falling down, afterwards he started to paint with his left hand, and nobody can find any distortion in his work. He has such a pretty character towards students that he never forces technique or methodology from his end. He got the best respect from his contemporary artists throughout India for his fresh contribution to Indian culture.

- Images from Google