Fresh, exuberant, wacky, detailed, childlike and profound — Mumbai artist Nayanaa Kanodia’s paintings provide a bird's eye view of every cultural milieu she picks. She was inspired by the d’Art Naif tradition, as its intrinsic naiveté allowed her the freedom to explore the ambiguities of life, making even prickly subjects and differences flavourful and palatable. An acute observer, she holds a mirror to the idiosyncratic slips and bizarre paradoxes of Indian life. Tossing together nuances of religion, occupation and class, she boldly lays out a banquet for us to feast on. The beauty is in the details, and oh! how many she packs in: vivid kajal-lined eyes, a frilly handkerchief, a lantern, a giraffe and a book. The viewer is always drawn back to discover, as in puzzles that ask “What is different about this picture?” The artist spoke with BLink on the sidelines of her recent show, The Journey of Life, at Gallery Veda in Chennai. Excerpts:

Your paintings rarely follow the norms of perspective; three-dimensional forms are represented in illusory ways, sometimes flat. Did you draw realistically before you moved to this style?

I studied painting on my own but felt I should learn it systematically. We teach a child the alphabet before reading can begin. If you are not strong in the basics, how can you do something different? My early paintings were of horses, from very realistic to impressionistic, varying brushstrokes. When I visited the State Hermitage Museum at St Petersburg, the exhibit on Picasso’s early realistic drawings and how he evolved to Cubism was an eye-opener. If he had not taken that route, he could never have been as profound.

How did you adopt the d’Art Naif style that has characterised your oeuvre?

I saw a show of Art Naif abroad one time and felt it was an appropriate way to represent our culture. Every street and corner in India has something interesting and I wanted to portray these patterns in a contemporary style. My series on Mumbai buildings was very popular. Then, I explored photographic studios during the British Raj. With no access to cameras, families assembled at photo studios for portraits. There was this big preparation, selecting costumes and posing against an artificial Kashmiri backdrop! In 1995, I did an entire series on city vendors on the beach — the phoolvaala, naariyalvaala — old market scenes which, with economic growth, will disappear. My paintings are like records of our society.

When you begin to create a scene, do you take photographs or make sketches to put together your compositions?

If I take photographs, I may become careless in my recollection of the scene. So I bank on my memory and make preparatory sketches for the actual painting. In ‘The Tourists’, foreigners standing in a line are more interested in sightseeing but the Indians are keen on shopping. In our villages, we co-exist with plants and animals, identify simultaneously with East and West, all the while tenaciously clinging to our roots. Once I was in a street in Tijara, in Alwar, and there were four roadside dentists doing all kinds of procedures, like root canal, without anaesthetic. You get to see a very different perspective and realise that many things are taken for granted. I translate these opinions and choices of people into a vision.

You have found a unique form that brings acceptance to stereotypes and inherent cultural differences.

My series on Parsis brings out their traits, but the way I depict communities is healthy and people never mind it. I don’t want any section of society to be hurt by what I paint. Surprisingly, it is easier to render tragic scenes — catastrophes, earthquakes. But to exemplify satire is far more difficult. It is also difficult to work out so many colours on a single canvas. My patterns are laid out with great care.

Your paintings always try to create a self-sustained narrative.

It is a story within a story. Many collectors tell me, ‘Each time we see your painting, we find something new to interpret, something different in every corner’. They feel happy the same message is not carried across paintings.

In ‘Spoilt for Choice’, what are the man and woman doing — celebrating their anniversary in the middle of an exotic Rousseau-type jungle setting?

The woman goes to the jungle as she is fed up of the city life, but she still needs her comforts and wants to make her choices. So, she takes her chef along and he is serving her cake and beverages, all her favourite things! She’s also got her pet for company. If you observe human nature, we get so used to our comforts in life, and more than comfort, it’s the choices we make. There are innumerable situations in one person’s life and endless possibilities at home, at the workspace, during holidays — so many situations that are unforeseen. My paintings are about the journey of life.

Sujatha Shankar Kumaris a writer and visualiser based in Chennai

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