Do You See What I See?

Art is both a mirror and a storyteller, demanding a discerning eye to unwrap its myriad layers of meaning.

Raja Balwant Singh’s Vision of Krishna and Radha by Nainsukh. Jasrota, c. 1745-1750. Metropolitan Museum of Art

Figurative art, be it a portrait, landscape, still life, scene of war or a moment of daily living, is typically a more comprehensible subject for most people. If you can point to it and say whether it is a person, place or thing, you feel like you know what you’re seeing. You may find it beautiful or ugly, intriguing or pointless, but you feel you know what it is. But do you, really?

Looking at a work of art is not the same as seeing it. Both are essential in order to appreciate the layers and nuances that constitute its entirety. You might walk through a gallery or museum, and stop to linger at just a few pieces. There may be a time when you return, a bit more circumspect, to really look at a particular work. Something may have caught your attention, drawn you to it. Often this is the power of familiarity. Millions flock to catch a glimpse of the Mona Lisa in the Louvre. It may be a surprise to see how small the actual Dancing Girl of Mohenjodaro in The National Museum in New Delhi is, after having leafed through her image in so many books. A viewing of Norwegian artist Edvard Munch’s The Scream may explain a popular emoji.

The oldest known figurative cave art depicting people, animals, and outlines of human hands, was recently discovered in Sulawesi, Indonesia and dates back 51,200 years to the Paleolithic era. 40,000 to 14,000 year old art in the Lascaux and Altamira caves in France and Spain, and Bhimbetka rock shelters in Madhya Pradesh similarly depict animals and hunting scenes, with some strikingly sophisticated drawings of horses and boar. Adhi Agus Oktaviana, an Indonesian rock art specialist has been quoted to say, “Humans have probably been telling stories for much longer than 51,200 years, but as words do not fossilize we can only go by indirect proxies like depictions of scenes in art.”

One could argue that all art is a form of story-telling. Even when unintentional, it offers a narrative on the society from which it is born, and in modern times, has been used as a medium to make deliberate social, political, or personal statements. Traditional art across India whether it is Warli or Gond painting springs from the tradition of story-telling through specific and particular symbols and techniques which form their own self-contained language. These living traditions are now seen replicated on everything from trays to fabrics, becoming easily recognisable for their stylistic elements, but devoid of meaning when separated from their deep cultural rooting.

As societies evolved, art came to depict gods and kings, mythology and religion, court and country life, in addition to nature, built forms, and people. Stone and bronze sculptures and paintings of gods and goddesses in many parts of the world, and frescoes of saints in Medieval European churches, for example, have known typologies. But a work of art can also be appreciated just at face value. Even if you had never heard of Christianity, The Pietà, created by Michelangelo in the late 1400s, may awe or move you to tears, for the sheer expressive beauty with which the figures have been carved out of marble, to the point where it seems like they could breathe. Or closer to home, a Kangra miniature of Raja Balwant Singh’s Vision of Krishna and Radha (attributed to Nainsukh and family) can entice someone with its minimalist composition, while someone else may marvel at the intricate designs of the textiles. Yet another may be in awe of the jewellery and gems on the throne. An architect may focus on the marble inlay of the walls or the flattened perspective. Connoisseurs may read historians such as Jagdish Mittal or B.N. Goswami’s scholarly writings, which put all the sociological, mythological, religious and narrative elements together in texts replete with poetry as well as prose. Contemporary artists such as Waswo x Waswo and Shahzia Sikander have incorporated and transformed the Miniature genre itself into their own practices. When one takes the time to really look and see all the many layers that make up this singular ink, watercolour, and gold drawing on paper, the richness of information vastly exceeds the ‘mere beauty’ of the art. You may find yourself transported back in time, not just to the realm of its themes but to the moment when the artist(s) created this work. The artist, whether an anonymous Cro-Magnon or a renowned entity, is resurrected every time their art finds resonance with a viewer.

The hallmark of a true work of art lies in its ability to elicit a response, and engage over a period of time that outlives not only the artist but also the age when it was made. Depending on who is seeing it, when and where, in what state of mind, with what background information, a work of art can delight (M.F. Husain’s toys), confound (Cubism), or shock (Salvador Dali).

So, the relevant question isn’t whether you see what someone else sees. What matters is whether you allow yourself the time and space to see what you see.

(The writer is an architect, author, editor, and artist. Her column meanders through the vibrant world of art, examining exhibitions, offering critiques, delving into theory and exploring everything in between and beyond.)