Cover Story

The Creative Communion

The meeting of minds at the bengal Foundation Workshop

Mustafa Zaman

It is not until one reaches the riverside that the panorama presents itself in its full glory. Standing on the bank of the river Bangshi at Fordnagar, Savar, the quaint beauty overwhelms us. We, a mixed contingent of media personnel and visitors, have been bused to the riverbank. Before the ferry of the Bengal Foundation arrives to get us across, there is enough time to contemplate the danger triggered by the sight of the swelling water -- looking yellow-brown and restless.

As the steel-bodied boat arrives, many resort to mock-alarm to cheer the crowd. Though my photographer and I, both of non-swimming kind, put up a brave face, we have been apprehensive of the over-the-danger-mark flow of the water from the start.

We were also ready to conquer our fears. The ferry -- a motor-boat with plastic garden chairs for more than 20 people to sit with a tarpaulin roof on it -- seems like a stable structure. As the vessel rushes across the river, dodging the other regular boats plying along its flow, I see no sign of a rest house that is supposed to sit on the other bank. Blanketed by trees, the other side looks like a stretch of untouched land. As the boat draws near, a brick-built ghat with well-designed steps becomes visible, I realise the first sign of construction that strives to blend in with the rural setting.

The rest house of the Bengal Jute Factory is a modern building surrounded by a well-planned garden. It is a patch of land designed according to urban taste. As we disembark, the employees who accompanied us, and the ones who greet us on the bank, lead us to the fare that we all came here for -- the Collage Kalpa or a "project of collage" -- the art workshop conducted by expatriate artist Monirul Islam.

Amidst the quaint natural environ, the rest house seems unreal a place, fit for an expensive weekend away from the treadmill of Dhaka. Though only 20 or so kilometres away from the capital, in this hub of nature, all preconceptions must be set aside. The artists are all working indoors, a few have also lodged themselves on the veranda. The intermittent rain for the last two days, has kept the artists packed inside the rest house. "Otherwise you would have seen them on the lawn or out on the river bank working on their paintings," says Luva Nahid Chowdhury, an official of the Bengal Foundation.

Seventeen artists from all over Bangladesh are participating in this Collage Kalpa. Luva puts a different spin on the concept of collage. She says, "The workshop itself is a collage of sorts, there are artists of different age and stature."

The Bengal foundation has so far been instrumental in stretching the corporate clout to help nurture art and culture. After two major art camps and one workshop on art writing, the College Kalpa is set to bring together artists from far and wide -- not only in terms of where they are working now, but also of the artistic languages they practice.

The word collage stands for a collection of things. For an image, whether an oil painting or a water colour, to be called a collage entails the artist to put together scraps of paper or other materials that comes outside the canvas or paper. Any painting with added or extraneous materials in it, is considered a collage. But here on the bank of the river Bangshi, under the auspices of Monirul Islam, things have to be a little different. As we greet the artist of international fame and ask him how his workshop is coming, Monir, with his usual humility declares that he is only trying to assume the role of mediator, one who is here to trigger off the urge to explore something new.

As a matter fact, on July 15 -- the day the workshop was inaugurated at the Bengal Gallery, Dhaka, where Qayyum Chowdhury was present as chief guest -- Monir asked all the participants to gear up to do something they had not tried before. He was determined to do something out of the ordinary by using indigenous materials. Another feature of this workshop, which the artist wished to incorporate, is that the participant will try and work on corrugated and grey boards. Monir, with his usual panache, and a tendency to transgress rules, has tried out many materials as the surface of his paintings. In Collage Kalpa he wants others to feel that joy of breaking free from the use of conventional material.

"I thought we should grab this chance to spend four days away from the hustle and bustle of the city and try our hands at something unconventional, resorting to newer materials," says Monir. He believes that in collages materials are used to break the monotony of the picture plain. However, as the conversation veers to the subject of the strong presence of nature in all its pristine glory, he says, "One needs to adapt to such beautiful surroundings. The scenes are comforting for the eyes. In Dhaka the horizon is blocked, here the openness seems to overwhelm you." Monir is more than familiar with the effects of the surroundings on the mind of an artist, and he has this personalised tenet that he thinks applies to artists in general -- artists need comfort but they cannot afford to relax.

Here in the midst of nowhere, in proximity with the sloshing water of the river, and with the fresh, damp air constantly presenting the distinct whiff of the virgin nature, one tends to lose oneself in oblivion. Artist Rafi Haq, who lodged himself on one corner of the veranda, says that he is struck by a strong sense of nostalgia. "I grew up beside a river in Kushtia, and I find it hard to keep myself engrossed in work alone," he confesses. This 30- plus artist is working on the prescribed corrugated board, and is contemplating two circles colliding in the middle of his piece. "It may not remain the same, a painting that begins with a circle may change into something else in the end," Haq says to elucidate the uncertainty that guides the course of the creative process.

As for the guideline or the basic principles of art, the man at the helm, Monirul Islam, has humbly asked all the participants to find their own solutions to the problems at hand. Seventeen practising artists have their own way of forging an artistic solution as the works in the workshop testifies.

In the two-storied rest house work is in progress in every corner. Rain keeps them from venturing outdoors. It is the second day of the workshop and many of the participants have amassed two or three works. The workshop provides materials for as many works the artists can produce within the stipulated time frame -- which is four days. However, each artist is to submit four paintings at the end of the workshop.

Monir, the venerable 60-plus artist, has laid out the procedural map for this workshop. He wanted to demonstrate how the acramyn colours which come in dust and are usually used for colouring fabric, can be used. "I brought a strong binder adhesive from Spain, the artists were provided with the same kind of materials to make their own paint," Monir explains. If there is a rule to follow in Collage Kalpa, it has to do with the way colours should be applied.

In this workshop, water-based acramyn colours are put to the test, and on top of that, one innovative process of making the colour black is being introduced for the first time. The colour is made from the dust of charred rice. "I first learnt it from a Moroccan artist who made a paste from the dust of burnt rice and achieved a different kind of surface quality," discloses Monir. He is dead against keeping technical secrets. "This is not the age of keeping professional secrets to oneself," he says emphatically. As an artist, Monir is disseminating the latest technique he mastered. "Technique can seem like a trap if one cannot use it to achieve one's own end," he cautions. In the workshop, in going about doing what artists do well, which is making paintings, all caution seems to be set aside. The floors of the two-story building are taken up -- artists at work are oblivious to the arriving guests. Some even feel a bit trammeled by our presence, but most keep at their work.

Ronni Ahmed, one of the youngest participants, is in his usual form -- full of irony-fueled mirth. If most painters are schooled in high-art sensibility, he is an exponent of the low. The first sight of an indigenous collage material on Ronni's canvas amuses many. I ask the artist how it got there in the first place. "I just went out for a stroll and noticed these dried twigs and picked them up to add them to my canvas," says Ronni. Monir is duly excited about this, as it is his contention that the environment will inevitably encroach on the space of the painting.

In the warm and cosy interior of the rest house, many other artists were harping on the subject of communion with nature. In their usual romantic gesture, the river, the rain, have made their way into the otherwise abstract expressions.

Ronni too believes that newer things and ideas are creeping into his paintings as he is in a different ambience. "Here the existing expertise of many artists may have been renewed," says Ronni. As a keen observer of the art scene, he also explains that "here in the workshop the tendencies in mainstream art practices are distinctly surfaced". When I ask him about the effort each artist puts in is work to attain a distinct personal identity, Ronni retorts, "The idea of 'self' is absent in our time, identity itself is determined in context of a changing reality as there is nothing constant in the world." Ronni ventures more into his philosophical terrain and explains how the trends in art relate to the patterns of civilisations which are always virtual in nature.

Meanwhile, in the glass-walled left corner of the ground floor, a virtual play on rain is in progress. Eminent artists Mohammad Eunus is melding his brush on an almost finished painting. Ronni is working on canvas right next to him, but Eunus is working on the prescribed corrugated board. In fact he is the only artist who should feel most at home working on corrugated board. He is used to it, as he has been working on similar surface for the last ten or so years.

"Corrugated board itself is a painting. Once the board is peeled, the layers are a visual feast to the eye. Often there are signs and letterings on the board that can be used as elements," Eunus exclaims.

He puts several CDs on the middle in a row in his longish work laid out on the floor. "They are to affirm my connection with modern technology," the artist comments. The work, according to Eunus, is a symphony of rain.

Right beside him, another visual symphony is in the making. It is a unique experience to witness so many artists working so close to each other on multiple works.

Nilufer Chaman, who boldly declares to her neighbour that she has reached 42, certainly looks younger in person. She is busy working on a Durga's hand spinning the chakra while talking to the 50-plus artist Yunus. Although Chaman is adamant about not conceding her artistic principles and start doing the informal abstraction that some have taken up, the two agree on one point: that the workshop provides a space where artists can interact as co-workers.

"This is the first time I am getting to know you by talking to you in an informal manner. I have known you through your art, but now this workshop has created an opportunity to interact on a personal level," Chaman lets her neighbour know.

However, she is unflinching in retaining her own signature image. "I don't belong to the mode that sir (Monir) practices, so I thought I would learn his techniques and wait to use them at an opportune moment," she declares.

Her other nieghbour, Tarun Ghosh, is intent on using the recently acquired knowledge with zeal. He applies the black colour made out of the rice dust in all three of his works. Ronni and Eunus both try out its application with excellent results. As far as collage is concerned, however, Ghosh, has his usual kind of material, which is the golden and silvery papers taken out from cigarette packets.

"I have the habit of collecting them, they add to my imagery," Ghosh says.

"As Monir sir has demonstrated, the corrugated board holds immense possibilities, all I am trying to do is combine this with my own images," he adds, insisting, nevertheless, that his subject-matter essentially remains the same, only the technique has seen a newer direction.

Here, in the middle of all such artistic drama, most participants value one thing -- sharing of the experience and ideals. As Ghosh puts it, "It is an opportunity to observe the relationship each artist has with his or her work."

Artists at work, applying their own crafts with their idiosyncratic styles, the transforming of canvases or paper after going through phases after which little remain in the final products, all this is revealed to the layman's eyes in a workshop. For any visitor intent on coming to an understanding of the creative process, a workshop of this nature opens up hitherto unknown doors.

Three young women artists have placed themselves in the small space at the end of the stairway. Meanwhile Zahed bhai, our photographer, has acquired a better digital device from Monir himself. In fact, he has been trusted to record the day's events for the maestro. As we walk up to the second floor, the glass-walled corner allows for a view of the roof, where we spot Dilara Begum Jolly and Tayyaba Begum Lipi, two well-known artists. We walk up to them and interpolate their bi-lateral exchanges with greetings. It rained a little while ago. The grey sky and the dampness in the air make the surrounding landscape look more like an atmospheric rendition of a reality in water colour.

As we walk back to the works, which are in progress, Lipi says that she has lodged herself on the second floor to avoid the crowd. She had to stop working because the rain intervened. She sits right beside the door to the roof, where her painting of a human figure with a hand-made doll attached to it is splashed with the light.

"Since it is a collage workshop, I thought of using leaves as an added material," says Lipi. It is the submission of four paintings that keeps bothering her. "The obligation to produce four works in four days is something that I can never really feel comfortable about," adds Lipi. She and her companion Dilara Begum Jolly, both announce with jest that in this drenched weather adda is a better option than working on canvas or paper. On the second day of the workshop, both the artists, Lipi in her mid 30s and Jolly in early 40s, have received their fair share of newsmen and visitors since morning. The only canvas Lipi is working on looks finished. But she says, "If I had time I would've changed it to something else." Certainly the method of her work -- which is a meticulous one -- does not allow her to wrap things up in a hurry.

However, her neighbour Jolly's style of work suits the conditions laid down by the organisers. She has even worked on a series of small paintings applying the newly acquired knowledge of making blank ink-like paint with charred rice.

"I am excited about the whole thing. The new colour has made me do more," Jolly exclaims. "I have my work on popular sayings or epigrams. In this workshop, the subject remains the same yet there is a change in my expression as I am trying to interpret my immediate thoughts," she continues.

For Jolly this workshop has created a possibility for newer things to be born. She even proposes that a brown colour be made from half-fried rice dust. As for Lipi, she thinks there is little time here for formulation of ideas, and it is the chance to interact, which she believes is benefiting the artists as a whole. Jolly as well as Shulekha Chowdhury, one of the youngest participants, agree on this point.

"It is a small art world, but we still hardly ever have any time for social intercourse. This workshop is an opportunity to start that process," says Lipi.

The workshop can boast having brought together artists from places far and wide, and on top of that, ones who pursue varied methods as well as artistic principles. From Shulekha, who made a name for her playful depiction of objectified women in our society, to Shiddhartha Talukder, who has settled in Rajshahi as he is an associate professor in the Fine Arts Department in Rajshahi University, to portrait based artist Shahjahan Ahmed Bikash, to landscape artist Alokesh Ghosh, the workshop strived to cut a swathe through the whole spectrum of the arts. It has even dared to put younger generation exponents of the new with that of the old guards. Hamiduzzaman Khan, Mohamamd Eunus, Ranjit Das and Shishir Bhattachargee -- these illustrious artists were given a turf. We could not have the chance to meet Shishir da as he fell ill and joined the workshop the day after.

For artists like Talukder and his colleague in the RV Golam Faruq Babul, it has been a way to reemerge into the art scene of Dhaka. Talukder's biggest discovery has been the corrugated board. "I have been doing non-figurative works for the last few years, and as I have tried to base my compositions on landscape, the corrugated board has given it a new dimension," says Talukder. Media is not an important factor for this 40-plus artist. "Now I have found the cheapest way to make art," boasts Talukder.

It is a pity that in Bangladesh, at every art institution, water-based colours are looked down upon. Oil -- the most expensive medium -- is taught in a way as if the value of a work depends on the medium.

Before Monir burst into the scene in the early 90s, here was this fined notion that water colour could only be a vehicle of landscape and design. The culture of dabbling into visionary stuffs using water-based medium is a recent development. And the workshop at Fordnagar is a testimony to its rise in the rank among practising artists.

It is afternoon, the time to shift our mental gear from art to art connoisseureship. The roundtable is the foyer served as the venue of an informal press conference. Abul Khair Litu, Chairman of the Bengal Foundation, and Monir, the conductor of the workshop, answer the queries of the newsmen. While Monir rules out any sudden burst of enthusiasm on the part of the buyers in Bangladesh to acquire art works, he thinks the present conditions are conducive to the art scene. Litu pledges to continue with his effort, which will see a gradual broadening of their network spreading to the far corners of Bangladesh. But what he feels is the most urgent need of the time is that more private foundations be built to promote art and artists. Luva sums up their recent activities that includes a show in Jessore in collaboration with Charupeeth, a local organisation for artists, which is scheduled to open on August 6.

During the conference, some of the journalists complain that art at the government level seems to be slipping out of sight. School level art training has become almost nonexistent which has contributed to the downgrading in artistic sensibilities among the masses.

From this populist concern, we are soon released. As the steamy white rice, the edible kind, is heaped up on several dishes, we know that we have to rush for the nearest wash basin with running water.

Lunch is a treat comprising of fried chicken, fish, vegetable and daal. As we are wiping our hands in our handkerchiefs ready to forage for tea, an announcement lets us know that the boat has arrived and at 4 pm, the bus will depart. So, that is the end of a day at the workshop.

Some days later, at an opening of an art exhibition, Monir is surrounded by a few of the younger participants. "We should go back one day to have a look at all the paintings to find out how they will look now," enthusiastically says Monir. The compulsion to do this moves all.

Bikash, who finished his tenth painting on the last day, says, "It was the last two days that I was most productive." Ronni Ahmed produced eight in all. However, it is not the number that they are enthusiastic about, but the urge to create that overwhelms them, and it is evident that this was an immensely enjoyable experience. A workshop is not only an occasion to pick up a few tips, it is a platform where creative minds may have the chance to get the stimulation that is in such short supply in every-day existence.

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2004