Democracy and Dissent: India through its artists
The Barbican brings together 30 artists and 150 works to highlight a violent history riddled with templates for a better tomorrow…
By
Rhea Mathur
November 7, 2024
Indian art has long served as a powerful reflection of its social and political landscape. This can be seen in the Ajanta caves, built in the 2nd and 1st centuries B.C. which depict ancient Indian culture as well as in Raja Ravi Varma’s iconic paintings, including Madri or Maharashtrian Lady with Fruit, which famously portray the strength of Indian women in the Nineteenth Century. Post-independence in 1947, artists became instrumental in shaping a new national identity, and their work was laced with the bloodshed and violence of the Partition. By the late Twentieth Century, this tradition of the socio-political bleeding onto the canvas continued, allowing Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975-1998 at the Barbican to capture the nation's tumultuous history.
The exhibition begins with Indira Gandhi’s declaration of Emergency on 25th June 1975, which effectively activated authoritarian rule and widespread terror across the country, and concludes in 1998 with the Pokhran Nuclear Tests, when five nuclear weapons were detonated in Rajasthan. Curator Shanay Jhaveri brings together a poignant collection of 150 works crafted by thirty artists, spanning painting, sculpture, photography, installation, and film. Winding through its many rooms, the exhibition immerses visitors in the country’s 23-year journey, guided by the artists and their evolving insights. India’s past and present, however, are riddled with dissent, a reality far removed from the non-violent vision Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi once held in his protests against British colonisation through ahimsa and satyagraha (non-violent seeking of justice). At 78 years young, India is still striving to uncover its identity as a growing nation, and its artists, as always, are here to help.
Nalini Mehta’s Remembering Toba Tek Singh (1998) includes a video triptych that plays on three of the four walls in one of the last rooms of the exhibition. On the central wall, a video projection of archival footage plays, which includes large abstract drawings and deep shades of colours slowly blending into one another. On the two screens next to this central video are two women facing each other, failing to fold a sari. They depict a silent frustration, unable to complete the simple task, riddled with anxiety over the detonation of nuclear weapons that took place in India and subsequently, Pakistan in 1998. Next to the women are also single-cell animation drawings of India and Pakistan, both at opposite ends facing a similar nightmare. Created like an immersive installation, the floor in the centre of the projections contains twelve open trunks used by refugees to carry their belongings. The boxes contain monitors that play a myriad of disturbing images including archival footage of the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Partition of India and Pakistan and the 1998 nuclear tests.
This work brings together the decades of social unrest and dissent in India and Pakistan, its name based on Pakistani playwright, Sadat Hasan Manto’s famous short story, Toba Tek Singh. In his writing, Manto questions the division of borders, the forced displacement and the never-ending violence that the creation of the borders brought. His protagonist, Bishen Singh, passes away on no man's land between the two countries, with his body and mind unable to part with his land, unable to go to the country where his family now lives, and unable to grapple with the trauma of these extreme changes. In one of Mehta’s trunks placed on the floor, an elderly woman states “Will you contact my family so at least someone knows?”. Another video speaks of the burning and looting of Muslim shops in a riot between Hindus and Muslims where the Government and police are seen as complicit in these acts, with the mob stating “ We are not afraid of anything; The police are with us round the clock”. The religious unrest between Hindus and Muslims also culminated in the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, a city in Uttar Pradesh considered the birthplace of Lord Rama. This destruction is foreshadowed in this installation that brings together a cacophony of deafening rioting, violence and dissent that India has suffered through the years.
While the exhibition foregrounds the Emergency era and the nuclear testing in India, it focuses on the artists and their fight for a secular and inclusive identity. The exhibition features a powerful statement by Bhim Rao Ambedkar, architect of the Indian Constitution: “Political democracy cannot last unless social democracy forms its base.” This insight underscores the exhibition’s theme, highlighting the essential link between social justice and political stability. Throughout his life, Ambedkar fought against the tyranny of the caste system, emphasising that the people of the nation can never be free as long as this system of oppression remains. By focusing on the atrocities inflicted by the caste system and religious and sexual discrimination, the thirty artists in this exhibition come together to paint an honest look at the nation’s history; art in India has always been reflective of the times, and here the turmoil is representative of constant change - and perhaps contains the templates for a better future.
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975–1998 is showing at Barbian until 5th January 2025.
Indian art has long served as a powerful reflection of its social and political landscape. This can be seen in the Ajanta caves, built in the 2nd and 1st centuries B.C. which depict ancient Indian culture as well as in Raja Ravi Varma’s iconic paintings, including Madri or Maharashtrian Lady with Fruit, which famously portray the strength of Indian women in the Nineteenth Century. Post-independence in 1947, artists became instrumental in shaping a new national identity, and their work was laced with the bloodshed and violence of the Partition. By the late Twentieth Century, this tradition of the socio-political bleeding onto the canvas continued, allowing Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975-1998 at the Barbican to capture the nation's tumultuous history.
The exhibition begins with Indira Gandhi’s declaration of Emergency on 25th June 1975, which effectively activated authoritarian rule and widespread terror across the country, and concludes in 1998 with the Pokhran Nuclear Tests, when five nuclear weapons were detonated in Rajasthan. Curator Shanay Jhaveri brings together a poignant collection of 150 works crafted by thirty artists, spanning painting, sculpture, photography, installation, and film. Winding through its many rooms, the exhibition immerses visitors in the country’s 23-year journey, guided by the artists and their evolving insights. India’s past and present, however, are riddled with dissent, a reality far removed from the non-violent vision Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi once held in his protests against British colonisation through ahimsa and satyagraha (non-violent seeking of justice). At 78 years young, India is still striving to uncover its identity as a growing nation, and its artists, as always, are here to help.
Nalini Mehta’s Remembering Toba Tek Singh (1998) includes a video triptych that plays on three of the four walls in one of the last rooms of the exhibition. On the central wall, a video projection of archival footage plays, which includes large abstract drawings and deep shades of colours slowly blending into one another. On the two screens next to this central video are two women facing each other, failing to fold a sari. They depict a silent frustration, unable to complete the simple task, riddled with anxiety over the detonation of nuclear weapons that took place in India and subsequently, Pakistan in 1998. Next to the women are also single-cell animation drawings of India and Pakistan, both at opposite ends facing a similar nightmare. Created like an immersive installation, the floor in the centre of the projections contains twelve open trunks used by refugees to carry their belongings. The boxes contain monitors that play a myriad of disturbing images including archival footage of the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Partition of India and Pakistan and the 1998 nuclear tests.
This work brings together the decades of social unrest and dissent in India and Pakistan, its name based on Pakistani playwright, Sadat Hasan Manto’s famous short story, Toba Tek Singh. In his writing, Manto questions the division of borders, the forced displacement and the never-ending violence that the creation of the borders brought. His protagonist, Bishen Singh, passes away on no man's land between the two countries, with his body and mind unable to part with his land, unable to go to the country where his family now lives, and unable to grapple with the trauma of these extreme changes. In one of Mehta’s trunks placed on the floor, an elderly woman states “Will you contact my family so at least someone knows?”. Another video speaks of the burning and looting of Muslim shops in a riot between Hindus and Muslims where the Government and police are seen as complicit in these acts, with the mob stating “ We are not afraid of anything; The police are with us round the clock”. The religious unrest between Hindus and Muslims also culminated in the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, a city in Uttar Pradesh considered the birthplace of Lord Rama. This destruction is foreshadowed in this installation that brings together a cacophony of deafening rioting, violence and dissent that India has suffered through the years.
While the exhibition foregrounds the Emergency era and the nuclear testing in India, it focuses on the artists and their fight for a secular and inclusive identity. The exhibition features a powerful statement by Bhim Rao Ambedkar, architect of the Indian Constitution: “Political democracy cannot last unless social democracy forms its base.” This insight underscores the exhibition’s theme, highlighting the essential link between social justice and political stability. Throughout his life, Ambedkar fought against the tyranny of the caste system, emphasising that the people of the nation can never be free as long as this system of oppression remains. By focusing on the atrocities inflicted by the caste system and religious and sexual discrimination, the thirty artists in this exhibition come together to paint an honest look at the nation’s history; art in India has always been reflective of the times, and here the turmoil is representative of constant change - and perhaps contains the templates for a better future.
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975–1998 is showing at Barbian until 5th January 2025.
Indian art has long served as a powerful reflection of its social and political landscape. This can be seen in the Ajanta caves, built in the 2nd and 1st centuries B.C. which depict ancient Indian culture as well as in Raja Ravi Varma’s iconic paintings, including Madri or Maharashtrian Lady with Fruit, which famously portray the strength of Indian women in the Nineteenth Century. Post-independence in 1947, artists became instrumental in shaping a new national identity, and their work was laced with the bloodshed and violence of the Partition. By the late Twentieth Century, this tradition of the socio-political bleeding onto the canvas continued, allowing Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975-1998 at the Barbican to capture the nation's tumultuous history.
The exhibition begins with Indira Gandhi’s declaration of Emergency on 25th June 1975, which effectively activated authoritarian rule and widespread terror across the country, and concludes in 1998 with the Pokhran Nuclear Tests, when five nuclear weapons were detonated in Rajasthan. Curator Shanay Jhaveri brings together a poignant collection of 150 works crafted by thirty artists, spanning painting, sculpture, photography, installation, and film. Winding through its many rooms, the exhibition immerses visitors in the country’s 23-year journey, guided by the artists and their evolving insights. India’s past and present, however, are riddled with dissent, a reality far removed from the non-violent vision Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi once held in his protests against British colonisation through ahimsa and satyagraha (non-violent seeking of justice). At 78 years young, India is still striving to uncover its identity as a growing nation, and its artists, as always, are here to help.
Nalini Mehta’s Remembering Toba Tek Singh (1998) includes a video triptych that plays on three of the four walls in one of the last rooms of the exhibition. On the central wall, a video projection of archival footage plays, which includes large abstract drawings and deep shades of colours slowly blending into one another. On the two screens next to this central video are two women facing each other, failing to fold a sari. They depict a silent frustration, unable to complete the simple task, riddled with anxiety over the detonation of nuclear weapons that took place in India and subsequently, Pakistan in 1998. Next to the women are also single-cell animation drawings of India and Pakistan, both at opposite ends facing a similar nightmare. Created like an immersive installation, the floor in the centre of the projections contains twelve open trunks used by refugees to carry their belongings. The boxes contain monitors that play a myriad of disturbing images including archival footage of the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Partition of India and Pakistan and the 1998 nuclear tests.
This work brings together the decades of social unrest and dissent in India and Pakistan, its name based on Pakistani playwright, Sadat Hasan Manto’s famous short story, Toba Tek Singh. In his writing, Manto questions the division of borders, the forced displacement and the never-ending violence that the creation of the borders brought. His protagonist, Bishen Singh, passes away on no man's land between the two countries, with his body and mind unable to part with his land, unable to go to the country where his family now lives, and unable to grapple with the trauma of these extreme changes. In one of Mehta’s trunks placed on the floor, an elderly woman states “Will you contact my family so at least someone knows?”. Another video speaks of the burning and looting of Muslim shops in a riot between Hindus and Muslims where the Government and police are seen as complicit in these acts, with the mob stating “ We are not afraid of anything; The police are with us round the clock”. The religious unrest between Hindus and Muslims also culminated in the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, a city in Uttar Pradesh considered the birthplace of Lord Rama. This destruction is foreshadowed in this installation that brings together a cacophony of deafening rioting, violence and dissent that India has suffered through the years.
While the exhibition foregrounds the Emergency era and the nuclear testing in India, it focuses on the artists and their fight for a secular and inclusive identity. The exhibition features a powerful statement by Bhim Rao Ambedkar, architect of the Indian Constitution: “Political democracy cannot last unless social democracy forms its base.” This insight underscores the exhibition’s theme, highlighting the essential link between social justice and political stability. Throughout his life, Ambedkar fought against the tyranny of the caste system, emphasising that the people of the nation can never be free as long as this system of oppression remains. By focusing on the atrocities inflicted by the caste system and religious and sexual discrimination, the thirty artists in this exhibition come together to paint an honest look at the nation’s history; art in India has always been reflective of the times, and here the turmoil is representative of constant change - and perhaps contains the templates for a better future.
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975–1998 is showing at Barbian until 5th January 2025.
Indian art has long served as a powerful reflection of its social and political landscape. This can be seen in the Ajanta caves, built in the 2nd and 1st centuries B.C. which depict ancient Indian culture as well as in Raja Ravi Varma’s iconic paintings, including Madri or Maharashtrian Lady with Fruit, which famously portray the strength of Indian women in the Nineteenth Century. Post-independence in 1947, artists became instrumental in shaping a new national identity, and their work was laced with the bloodshed and violence of the Partition. By the late Twentieth Century, this tradition of the socio-political bleeding onto the canvas continued, allowing Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975-1998 at the Barbican to capture the nation's tumultuous history.
The exhibition begins with Indira Gandhi’s declaration of Emergency on 25th June 1975, which effectively activated authoritarian rule and widespread terror across the country, and concludes in 1998 with the Pokhran Nuclear Tests, when five nuclear weapons were detonated in Rajasthan. Curator Shanay Jhaveri brings together a poignant collection of 150 works crafted by thirty artists, spanning painting, sculpture, photography, installation, and film. Winding through its many rooms, the exhibition immerses visitors in the country’s 23-year journey, guided by the artists and their evolving insights. India’s past and present, however, are riddled with dissent, a reality far removed from the non-violent vision Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi once held in his protests against British colonisation through ahimsa and satyagraha (non-violent seeking of justice). At 78 years young, India is still striving to uncover its identity as a growing nation, and its artists, as always, are here to help.
Nalini Mehta’s Remembering Toba Tek Singh (1998) includes a video triptych that plays on three of the four walls in one of the last rooms of the exhibition. On the central wall, a video projection of archival footage plays, which includes large abstract drawings and deep shades of colours slowly blending into one another. On the two screens next to this central video are two women facing each other, failing to fold a sari. They depict a silent frustration, unable to complete the simple task, riddled with anxiety over the detonation of nuclear weapons that took place in India and subsequently, Pakistan in 1998. Next to the women are also single-cell animation drawings of India and Pakistan, both at opposite ends facing a similar nightmare. Created like an immersive installation, the floor in the centre of the projections contains twelve open trunks used by refugees to carry their belongings. The boxes contain monitors that play a myriad of disturbing images including archival footage of the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Partition of India and Pakistan and the 1998 nuclear tests.
This work brings together the decades of social unrest and dissent in India and Pakistan, its name based on Pakistani playwright, Sadat Hasan Manto’s famous short story, Toba Tek Singh. In his writing, Manto questions the division of borders, the forced displacement and the never-ending violence that the creation of the borders brought. His protagonist, Bishen Singh, passes away on no man's land between the two countries, with his body and mind unable to part with his land, unable to go to the country where his family now lives, and unable to grapple with the trauma of these extreme changes. In one of Mehta’s trunks placed on the floor, an elderly woman states “Will you contact my family so at least someone knows?”. Another video speaks of the burning and looting of Muslim shops in a riot between Hindus and Muslims where the Government and police are seen as complicit in these acts, with the mob stating “ We are not afraid of anything; The police are with us round the clock”. The religious unrest between Hindus and Muslims also culminated in the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, a city in Uttar Pradesh considered the birthplace of Lord Rama. This destruction is foreshadowed in this installation that brings together a cacophony of deafening rioting, violence and dissent that India has suffered through the years.
While the exhibition foregrounds the Emergency era and the nuclear testing in India, it focuses on the artists and their fight for a secular and inclusive identity. The exhibition features a powerful statement by Bhim Rao Ambedkar, architect of the Indian Constitution: “Political democracy cannot last unless social democracy forms its base.” This insight underscores the exhibition’s theme, highlighting the essential link between social justice and political stability. Throughout his life, Ambedkar fought against the tyranny of the caste system, emphasising that the people of the nation can never be free as long as this system of oppression remains. By focusing on the atrocities inflicted by the caste system and religious and sexual discrimination, the thirty artists in this exhibition come together to paint an honest look at the nation’s history; art in India has always been reflective of the times, and here the turmoil is representative of constant change - and perhaps contains the templates for a better future.
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975–1998 is showing at Barbian until 5th January 2025.
Indian art has long served as a powerful reflection of its social and political landscape. This can be seen in the Ajanta caves, built in the 2nd and 1st centuries B.C. which depict ancient Indian culture as well as in Raja Ravi Varma’s iconic paintings, including Madri or Maharashtrian Lady with Fruit, which famously portray the strength of Indian women in the Nineteenth Century. Post-independence in 1947, artists became instrumental in shaping a new national identity, and their work was laced with the bloodshed and violence of the Partition. By the late Twentieth Century, this tradition of the socio-political bleeding onto the canvas continued, allowing Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975-1998 at the Barbican to capture the nation's tumultuous history.
The exhibition begins with Indira Gandhi’s declaration of Emergency on 25th June 1975, which effectively activated authoritarian rule and widespread terror across the country, and concludes in 1998 with the Pokhran Nuclear Tests, when five nuclear weapons were detonated in Rajasthan. Curator Shanay Jhaveri brings together a poignant collection of 150 works crafted by thirty artists, spanning painting, sculpture, photography, installation, and film. Winding through its many rooms, the exhibition immerses visitors in the country’s 23-year journey, guided by the artists and their evolving insights. India’s past and present, however, are riddled with dissent, a reality far removed from the non-violent vision Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi once held in his protests against British colonisation through ahimsa and satyagraha (non-violent seeking of justice). At 78 years young, India is still striving to uncover its identity as a growing nation, and its artists, as always, are here to help.
Nalini Mehta’s Remembering Toba Tek Singh (1998) includes a video triptych that plays on three of the four walls in one of the last rooms of the exhibition. On the central wall, a video projection of archival footage plays, which includes large abstract drawings and deep shades of colours slowly blending into one another. On the two screens next to this central video are two women facing each other, failing to fold a sari. They depict a silent frustration, unable to complete the simple task, riddled with anxiety over the detonation of nuclear weapons that took place in India and subsequently, Pakistan in 1998. Next to the women are also single-cell animation drawings of India and Pakistan, both at opposite ends facing a similar nightmare. Created like an immersive installation, the floor in the centre of the projections contains twelve open trunks used by refugees to carry their belongings. The boxes contain monitors that play a myriad of disturbing images including archival footage of the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Partition of India and Pakistan and the 1998 nuclear tests.
This work brings together the decades of social unrest and dissent in India and Pakistan, its name based on Pakistani playwright, Sadat Hasan Manto’s famous short story, Toba Tek Singh. In his writing, Manto questions the division of borders, the forced displacement and the never-ending violence that the creation of the borders brought. His protagonist, Bishen Singh, passes away on no man's land between the two countries, with his body and mind unable to part with his land, unable to go to the country where his family now lives, and unable to grapple with the trauma of these extreme changes. In one of Mehta’s trunks placed on the floor, an elderly woman states “Will you contact my family so at least someone knows?”. Another video speaks of the burning and looting of Muslim shops in a riot between Hindus and Muslims where the Government and police are seen as complicit in these acts, with the mob stating “ We are not afraid of anything; The police are with us round the clock”. The religious unrest between Hindus and Muslims also culminated in the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, a city in Uttar Pradesh considered the birthplace of Lord Rama. This destruction is foreshadowed in this installation that brings together a cacophony of deafening rioting, violence and dissent that India has suffered through the years.
While the exhibition foregrounds the Emergency era and the nuclear testing in India, it focuses on the artists and their fight for a secular and inclusive identity. The exhibition features a powerful statement by Bhim Rao Ambedkar, architect of the Indian Constitution: “Political democracy cannot last unless social democracy forms its base.” This insight underscores the exhibition’s theme, highlighting the essential link between social justice and political stability. Throughout his life, Ambedkar fought against the tyranny of the caste system, emphasising that the people of the nation can never be free as long as this system of oppression remains. By focusing on the atrocities inflicted by the caste system and religious and sexual discrimination, the thirty artists in this exhibition come together to paint an honest look at the nation’s history; art in India has always been reflective of the times, and here the turmoil is representative of constant change - and perhaps contains the templates for a better future.
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975–1998 is showing at Barbian until 5th January 2025.
Indian art has long served as a powerful reflection of its social and political landscape. This can be seen in the Ajanta caves, built in the 2nd and 1st centuries B.C. which depict ancient Indian culture as well as in Raja Ravi Varma’s iconic paintings, including Madri or Maharashtrian Lady with Fruit, which famously portray the strength of Indian women in the Nineteenth Century. Post-independence in 1947, artists became instrumental in shaping a new national identity, and their work was laced with the bloodshed and violence of the Partition. By the late Twentieth Century, this tradition of the socio-political bleeding onto the canvas continued, allowing Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975-1998 at the Barbican to capture the nation's tumultuous history.
The exhibition begins with Indira Gandhi’s declaration of Emergency on 25th June 1975, which effectively activated authoritarian rule and widespread terror across the country, and concludes in 1998 with the Pokhran Nuclear Tests, when five nuclear weapons were detonated in Rajasthan. Curator Shanay Jhaveri brings together a poignant collection of 150 works crafted by thirty artists, spanning painting, sculpture, photography, installation, and film. Winding through its many rooms, the exhibition immerses visitors in the country’s 23-year journey, guided by the artists and their evolving insights. India’s past and present, however, are riddled with dissent, a reality far removed from the non-violent vision Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi once held in his protests against British colonisation through ahimsa and satyagraha (non-violent seeking of justice). At 78 years young, India is still striving to uncover its identity as a growing nation, and its artists, as always, are here to help.
Nalini Mehta’s Remembering Toba Tek Singh (1998) includes a video triptych that plays on three of the four walls in one of the last rooms of the exhibition. On the central wall, a video projection of archival footage plays, which includes large abstract drawings and deep shades of colours slowly blending into one another. On the two screens next to this central video are two women facing each other, failing to fold a sari. They depict a silent frustration, unable to complete the simple task, riddled with anxiety over the detonation of nuclear weapons that took place in India and subsequently, Pakistan in 1998. Next to the women are also single-cell animation drawings of India and Pakistan, both at opposite ends facing a similar nightmare. Created like an immersive installation, the floor in the centre of the projections contains twelve open trunks used by refugees to carry their belongings. The boxes contain monitors that play a myriad of disturbing images including archival footage of the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Partition of India and Pakistan and the 1998 nuclear tests.
This work brings together the decades of social unrest and dissent in India and Pakistan, its name based on Pakistani playwright, Sadat Hasan Manto’s famous short story, Toba Tek Singh. In his writing, Manto questions the division of borders, the forced displacement and the never-ending violence that the creation of the borders brought. His protagonist, Bishen Singh, passes away on no man's land between the two countries, with his body and mind unable to part with his land, unable to go to the country where his family now lives, and unable to grapple with the trauma of these extreme changes. In one of Mehta’s trunks placed on the floor, an elderly woman states “Will you contact my family so at least someone knows?”. Another video speaks of the burning and looting of Muslim shops in a riot between Hindus and Muslims where the Government and police are seen as complicit in these acts, with the mob stating “ We are not afraid of anything; The police are with us round the clock”. The religious unrest between Hindus and Muslims also culminated in the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, a city in Uttar Pradesh considered the birthplace of Lord Rama. This destruction is foreshadowed in this installation that brings together a cacophony of deafening rioting, violence and dissent that India has suffered through the years.
While the exhibition foregrounds the Emergency era and the nuclear testing in India, it focuses on the artists and their fight for a secular and inclusive identity. The exhibition features a powerful statement by Bhim Rao Ambedkar, architect of the Indian Constitution: “Political democracy cannot last unless social democracy forms its base.” This insight underscores the exhibition’s theme, highlighting the essential link between social justice and political stability. Throughout his life, Ambedkar fought against the tyranny of the caste system, emphasising that the people of the nation can never be free as long as this system of oppression remains. By focusing on the atrocities inflicted by the caste system and religious and sexual discrimination, the thirty artists in this exhibition come together to paint an honest look at the nation’s history; art in India has always been reflective of the times, and here the turmoil is representative of constant change - and perhaps contains the templates for a better future.
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975–1998 is showing at Barbian until 5th January 2025.
Indian art has long served as a powerful reflection of its social and political landscape. This can be seen in the Ajanta caves, built in the 2nd and 1st centuries B.C. which depict ancient Indian culture as well as in Raja Ravi Varma’s iconic paintings, including Madri or Maharashtrian Lady with Fruit, which famously portray the strength of Indian women in the Nineteenth Century. Post-independence in 1947, artists became instrumental in shaping a new national identity, and their work was laced with the bloodshed and violence of the Partition. By the late Twentieth Century, this tradition of the socio-political bleeding onto the canvas continued, allowing Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975-1998 at the Barbican to capture the nation's tumultuous history.
The exhibition begins with Indira Gandhi’s declaration of Emergency on 25th June 1975, which effectively activated authoritarian rule and widespread terror across the country, and concludes in 1998 with the Pokhran Nuclear Tests, when five nuclear weapons were detonated in Rajasthan. Curator Shanay Jhaveri brings together a poignant collection of 150 works crafted by thirty artists, spanning painting, sculpture, photography, installation, and film. Winding through its many rooms, the exhibition immerses visitors in the country’s 23-year journey, guided by the artists and their evolving insights. India’s past and present, however, are riddled with dissent, a reality far removed from the non-violent vision Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi once held in his protests against British colonisation through ahimsa and satyagraha (non-violent seeking of justice). At 78 years young, India is still striving to uncover its identity as a growing nation, and its artists, as always, are here to help.
Nalini Mehta’s Remembering Toba Tek Singh (1998) includes a video triptych that plays on three of the four walls in one of the last rooms of the exhibition. On the central wall, a video projection of archival footage plays, which includes large abstract drawings and deep shades of colours slowly blending into one another. On the two screens next to this central video are two women facing each other, failing to fold a sari. They depict a silent frustration, unable to complete the simple task, riddled with anxiety over the detonation of nuclear weapons that took place in India and subsequently, Pakistan in 1998. Next to the women are also single-cell animation drawings of India and Pakistan, both at opposite ends facing a similar nightmare. Created like an immersive installation, the floor in the centre of the projections contains twelve open trunks used by refugees to carry their belongings. The boxes contain monitors that play a myriad of disturbing images including archival footage of the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Partition of India and Pakistan and the 1998 nuclear tests.
This work brings together the decades of social unrest and dissent in India and Pakistan, its name based on Pakistani playwright, Sadat Hasan Manto’s famous short story, Toba Tek Singh. In his writing, Manto questions the division of borders, the forced displacement and the never-ending violence that the creation of the borders brought. His protagonist, Bishen Singh, passes away on no man's land between the two countries, with his body and mind unable to part with his land, unable to go to the country where his family now lives, and unable to grapple with the trauma of these extreme changes. In one of Mehta’s trunks placed on the floor, an elderly woman states “Will you contact my family so at least someone knows?”. Another video speaks of the burning and looting of Muslim shops in a riot between Hindus and Muslims where the Government and police are seen as complicit in these acts, with the mob stating “ We are not afraid of anything; The police are with us round the clock”. The religious unrest between Hindus and Muslims also culminated in the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, a city in Uttar Pradesh considered the birthplace of Lord Rama. This destruction is foreshadowed in this installation that brings together a cacophony of deafening rioting, violence and dissent that India has suffered through the years.
While the exhibition foregrounds the Emergency era and the nuclear testing in India, it focuses on the artists and their fight for a secular and inclusive identity. The exhibition features a powerful statement by Bhim Rao Ambedkar, architect of the Indian Constitution: “Political democracy cannot last unless social democracy forms its base.” This insight underscores the exhibition’s theme, highlighting the essential link between social justice and political stability. Throughout his life, Ambedkar fought against the tyranny of the caste system, emphasising that the people of the nation can never be free as long as this system of oppression remains. By focusing on the atrocities inflicted by the caste system and religious and sexual discrimination, the thirty artists in this exhibition come together to paint an honest look at the nation’s history; art in India has always been reflective of the times, and here the turmoil is representative of constant change - and perhaps contains the templates for a better future.
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975–1998 is showing at Barbian until 5th January 2025.
Indian art has long served as a powerful reflection of its social and political landscape. This can be seen in the Ajanta caves, built in the 2nd and 1st centuries B.C. which depict ancient Indian culture as well as in Raja Ravi Varma’s iconic paintings, including Madri or Maharashtrian Lady with Fruit, which famously portray the strength of Indian women in the Nineteenth Century. Post-independence in 1947, artists became instrumental in shaping a new national identity, and their work was laced with the bloodshed and violence of the Partition. By the late Twentieth Century, this tradition of the socio-political bleeding onto the canvas continued, allowing Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975-1998 at the Barbican to capture the nation's tumultuous history.
The exhibition begins with Indira Gandhi’s declaration of Emergency on 25th June 1975, which effectively activated authoritarian rule and widespread terror across the country, and concludes in 1998 with the Pokhran Nuclear Tests, when five nuclear weapons were detonated in Rajasthan. Curator Shanay Jhaveri brings together a poignant collection of 150 works crafted by thirty artists, spanning painting, sculpture, photography, installation, and film. Winding through its many rooms, the exhibition immerses visitors in the country’s 23-year journey, guided by the artists and their evolving insights. India’s past and present, however, are riddled with dissent, a reality far removed from the non-violent vision Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi once held in his protests against British colonisation through ahimsa and satyagraha (non-violent seeking of justice). At 78 years young, India is still striving to uncover its identity as a growing nation, and its artists, as always, are here to help.
Nalini Mehta’s Remembering Toba Tek Singh (1998) includes a video triptych that plays on three of the four walls in one of the last rooms of the exhibition. On the central wall, a video projection of archival footage plays, which includes large abstract drawings and deep shades of colours slowly blending into one another. On the two screens next to this central video are two women facing each other, failing to fold a sari. They depict a silent frustration, unable to complete the simple task, riddled with anxiety over the detonation of nuclear weapons that took place in India and subsequently, Pakistan in 1998. Next to the women are also single-cell animation drawings of India and Pakistan, both at opposite ends facing a similar nightmare. Created like an immersive installation, the floor in the centre of the projections contains twelve open trunks used by refugees to carry their belongings. The boxes contain monitors that play a myriad of disturbing images including archival footage of the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Partition of India and Pakistan and the 1998 nuclear tests.
This work brings together the decades of social unrest and dissent in India and Pakistan, its name based on Pakistani playwright, Sadat Hasan Manto’s famous short story, Toba Tek Singh. In his writing, Manto questions the division of borders, the forced displacement and the never-ending violence that the creation of the borders brought. His protagonist, Bishen Singh, passes away on no man's land between the two countries, with his body and mind unable to part with his land, unable to go to the country where his family now lives, and unable to grapple with the trauma of these extreme changes. In one of Mehta’s trunks placed on the floor, an elderly woman states “Will you contact my family so at least someone knows?”. Another video speaks of the burning and looting of Muslim shops in a riot between Hindus and Muslims where the Government and police are seen as complicit in these acts, with the mob stating “ We are not afraid of anything; The police are with us round the clock”. The religious unrest between Hindus and Muslims also culminated in the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, a city in Uttar Pradesh considered the birthplace of Lord Rama. This destruction is foreshadowed in this installation that brings together a cacophony of deafening rioting, violence and dissent that India has suffered through the years.
While the exhibition foregrounds the Emergency era and the nuclear testing in India, it focuses on the artists and their fight for a secular and inclusive identity. The exhibition features a powerful statement by Bhim Rao Ambedkar, architect of the Indian Constitution: “Political democracy cannot last unless social democracy forms its base.” This insight underscores the exhibition’s theme, highlighting the essential link between social justice and political stability. Throughout his life, Ambedkar fought against the tyranny of the caste system, emphasising that the people of the nation can never be free as long as this system of oppression remains. By focusing on the atrocities inflicted by the caste system and religious and sexual discrimination, the thirty artists in this exhibition come together to paint an honest look at the nation’s history; art in India has always been reflective of the times, and here the turmoil is representative of constant change - and perhaps contains the templates for a better future.
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975–1998 is showing at Barbian until 5th January 2025.
Indian art has long served as a powerful reflection of its social and political landscape. This can be seen in the Ajanta caves, built in the 2nd and 1st centuries B.C. which depict ancient Indian culture as well as in Raja Ravi Varma’s iconic paintings, including Madri or Maharashtrian Lady with Fruit, which famously portray the strength of Indian women in the Nineteenth Century. Post-independence in 1947, artists became instrumental in shaping a new national identity, and their work was laced with the bloodshed and violence of the Partition. By the late Twentieth Century, this tradition of the socio-political bleeding onto the canvas continued, allowing Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975-1998 at the Barbican to capture the nation's tumultuous history.
The exhibition begins with Indira Gandhi’s declaration of Emergency on 25th June 1975, which effectively activated authoritarian rule and widespread terror across the country, and concludes in 1998 with the Pokhran Nuclear Tests, when five nuclear weapons were detonated in Rajasthan. Curator Shanay Jhaveri brings together a poignant collection of 150 works crafted by thirty artists, spanning painting, sculpture, photography, installation, and film. Winding through its many rooms, the exhibition immerses visitors in the country’s 23-year journey, guided by the artists and their evolving insights. India’s past and present, however, are riddled with dissent, a reality far removed from the non-violent vision Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi once held in his protests against British colonisation through ahimsa and satyagraha (non-violent seeking of justice). At 78 years young, India is still striving to uncover its identity as a growing nation, and its artists, as always, are here to help.
Nalini Mehta’s Remembering Toba Tek Singh (1998) includes a video triptych that plays on three of the four walls in one of the last rooms of the exhibition. On the central wall, a video projection of archival footage plays, which includes large abstract drawings and deep shades of colours slowly blending into one another. On the two screens next to this central video are two women facing each other, failing to fold a sari. They depict a silent frustration, unable to complete the simple task, riddled with anxiety over the detonation of nuclear weapons that took place in India and subsequently, Pakistan in 1998. Next to the women are also single-cell animation drawings of India and Pakistan, both at opposite ends facing a similar nightmare. Created like an immersive installation, the floor in the centre of the projections contains twelve open trunks used by refugees to carry their belongings. The boxes contain monitors that play a myriad of disturbing images including archival footage of the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Partition of India and Pakistan and the 1998 nuclear tests.
This work brings together the decades of social unrest and dissent in India and Pakistan, its name based on Pakistani playwright, Sadat Hasan Manto’s famous short story, Toba Tek Singh. In his writing, Manto questions the division of borders, the forced displacement and the never-ending violence that the creation of the borders brought. His protagonist, Bishen Singh, passes away on no man's land between the two countries, with his body and mind unable to part with his land, unable to go to the country where his family now lives, and unable to grapple with the trauma of these extreme changes. In one of Mehta’s trunks placed on the floor, an elderly woman states “Will you contact my family so at least someone knows?”. Another video speaks of the burning and looting of Muslim shops in a riot between Hindus and Muslims where the Government and police are seen as complicit in these acts, with the mob stating “ We are not afraid of anything; The police are with us round the clock”. The religious unrest between Hindus and Muslims also culminated in the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, a city in Uttar Pradesh considered the birthplace of Lord Rama. This destruction is foreshadowed in this installation that brings together a cacophony of deafening rioting, violence and dissent that India has suffered through the years.
While the exhibition foregrounds the Emergency era and the nuclear testing in India, it focuses on the artists and their fight for a secular and inclusive identity. The exhibition features a powerful statement by Bhim Rao Ambedkar, architect of the Indian Constitution: “Political democracy cannot last unless social democracy forms its base.” This insight underscores the exhibition’s theme, highlighting the essential link between social justice and political stability. Throughout his life, Ambedkar fought against the tyranny of the caste system, emphasising that the people of the nation can never be free as long as this system of oppression remains. By focusing on the atrocities inflicted by the caste system and religious and sexual discrimination, the thirty artists in this exhibition come together to paint an honest look at the nation’s history; art in India has always been reflective of the times, and here the turmoil is representative of constant change - and perhaps contains the templates for a better future.
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975–1998 is showing at Barbian until 5th January 2025.
Indian art has long served as a powerful reflection of its social and political landscape. This can be seen in the Ajanta caves, built in the 2nd and 1st centuries B.C. which depict ancient Indian culture as well as in Raja Ravi Varma’s iconic paintings, including Madri or Maharashtrian Lady with Fruit, which famously portray the strength of Indian women in the Nineteenth Century. Post-independence in 1947, artists became instrumental in shaping a new national identity, and their work was laced with the bloodshed and violence of the Partition. By the late Twentieth Century, this tradition of the socio-political bleeding onto the canvas continued, allowing Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975-1998 at the Barbican to capture the nation's tumultuous history.
The exhibition begins with Indira Gandhi’s declaration of Emergency on 25th June 1975, which effectively activated authoritarian rule and widespread terror across the country, and concludes in 1998 with the Pokhran Nuclear Tests, when five nuclear weapons were detonated in Rajasthan. Curator Shanay Jhaveri brings together a poignant collection of 150 works crafted by thirty artists, spanning painting, sculpture, photography, installation, and film. Winding through its many rooms, the exhibition immerses visitors in the country’s 23-year journey, guided by the artists and their evolving insights. India’s past and present, however, are riddled with dissent, a reality far removed from the non-violent vision Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi once held in his protests against British colonisation through ahimsa and satyagraha (non-violent seeking of justice). At 78 years young, India is still striving to uncover its identity as a growing nation, and its artists, as always, are here to help.
Nalini Mehta’s Remembering Toba Tek Singh (1998) includes a video triptych that plays on three of the four walls in one of the last rooms of the exhibition. On the central wall, a video projection of archival footage plays, which includes large abstract drawings and deep shades of colours slowly blending into one another. On the two screens next to this central video are two women facing each other, failing to fold a sari. They depict a silent frustration, unable to complete the simple task, riddled with anxiety over the detonation of nuclear weapons that took place in India and subsequently, Pakistan in 1998. Next to the women are also single-cell animation drawings of India and Pakistan, both at opposite ends facing a similar nightmare. Created like an immersive installation, the floor in the centre of the projections contains twelve open trunks used by refugees to carry their belongings. The boxes contain monitors that play a myriad of disturbing images including archival footage of the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Partition of India and Pakistan and the 1998 nuclear tests.
This work brings together the decades of social unrest and dissent in India and Pakistan, its name based on Pakistani playwright, Sadat Hasan Manto’s famous short story, Toba Tek Singh. In his writing, Manto questions the division of borders, the forced displacement and the never-ending violence that the creation of the borders brought. His protagonist, Bishen Singh, passes away on no man's land between the two countries, with his body and mind unable to part with his land, unable to go to the country where his family now lives, and unable to grapple with the trauma of these extreme changes. In one of Mehta’s trunks placed on the floor, an elderly woman states “Will you contact my family so at least someone knows?”. Another video speaks of the burning and looting of Muslim shops in a riot between Hindus and Muslims where the Government and police are seen as complicit in these acts, with the mob stating “ We are not afraid of anything; The police are with us round the clock”. The religious unrest between Hindus and Muslims also culminated in the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, a city in Uttar Pradesh considered the birthplace of Lord Rama. This destruction is foreshadowed in this installation that brings together a cacophony of deafening rioting, violence and dissent that India has suffered through the years.
While the exhibition foregrounds the Emergency era and the nuclear testing in India, it focuses on the artists and their fight for a secular and inclusive identity. The exhibition features a powerful statement by Bhim Rao Ambedkar, architect of the Indian Constitution: “Political democracy cannot last unless social democracy forms its base.” This insight underscores the exhibition’s theme, highlighting the essential link between social justice and political stability. Throughout his life, Ambedkar fought against the tyranny of the caste system, emphasising that the people of the nation can never be free as long as this system of oppression remains. By focusing on the atrocities inflicted by the caste system and religious and sexual discrimination, the thirty artists in this exhibition come together to paint an honest look at the nation’s history; art in India has always been reflective of the times, and here the turmoil is representative of constant change - and perhaps contains the templates for a better future.
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975–1998 is showing at Barbian until 5th January 2025.
Indian art has long served as a powerful reflection of its social and political landscape. This can be seen in the Ajanta caves, built in the 2nd and 1st centuries B.C. which depict ancient Indian culture as well as in Raja Ravi Varma’s iconic paintings, including Madri or Maharashtrian Lady with Fruit, which famously portray the strength of Indian women in the Nineteenth Century. Post-independence in 1947, artists became instrumental in shaping a new national identity, and their work was laced with the bloodshed and violence of the Partition. By the late Twentieth Century, this tradition of the socio-political bleeding onto the canvas continued, allowing Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975-1998 at the Barbican to capture the nation's tumultuous history.
The exhibition begins with Indira Gandhi’s declaration of Emergency on 25th June 1975, which effectively activated authoritarian rule and widespread terror across the country, and concludes in 1998 with the Pokhran Nuclear Tests, when five nuclear weapons were detonated in Rajasthan. Curator Shanay Jhaveri brings together a poignant collection of 150 works crafted by thirty artists, spanning painting, sculpture, photography, installation, and film. Winding through its many rooms, the exhibition immerses visitors in the country’s 23-year journey, guided by the artists and their evolving insights. India’s past and present, however, are riddled with dissent, a reality far removed from the non-violent vision Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi once held in his protests against British colonisation through ahimsa and satyagraha (non-violent seeking of justice). At 78 years young, India is still striving to uncover its identity as a growing nation, and its artists, as always, are here to help.
Nalini Mehta’s Remembering Toba Tek Singh (1998) includes a video triptych that plays on three of the four walls in one of the last rooms of the exhibition. On the central wall, a video projection of archival footage plays, which includes large abstract drawings and deep shades of colours slowly blending into one another. On the two screens next to this central video are two women facing each other, failing to fold a sari. They depict a silent frustration, unable to complete the simple task, riddled with anxiety over the detonation of nuclear weapons that took place in India and subsequently, Pakistan in 1998. Next to the women are also single-cell animation drawings of India and Pakistan, both at opposite ends facing a similar nightmare. Created like an immersive installation, the floor in the centre of the projections contains twelve open trunks used by refugees to carry their belongings. The boxes contain monitors that play a myriad of disturbing images including archival footage of the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Partition of India and Pakistan and the 1998 nuclear tests.
This work brings together the decades of social unrest and dissent in India and Pakistan, its name based on Pakistani playwright, Sadat Hasan Manto’s famous short story, Toba Tek Singh. In his writing, Manto questions the division of borders, the forced displacement and the never-ending violence that the creation of the borders brought. His protagonist, Bishen Singh, passes away on no man's land between the two countries, with his body and mind unable to part with his land, unable to go to the country where his family now lives, and unable to grapple with the trauma of these extreme changes. In one of Mehta’s trunks placed on the floor, an elderly woman states “Will you contact my family so at least someone knows?”. Another video speaks of the burning and looting of Muslim shops in a riot between Hindus and Muslims where the Government and police are seen as complicit in these acts, with the mob stating “ We are not afraid of anything; The police are with us round the clock”. The religious unrest between Hindus and Muslims also culminated in the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, a city in Uttar Pradesh considered the birthplace of Lord Rama. This destruction is foreshadowed in this installation that brings together a cacophony of deafening rioting, violence and dissent that India has suffered through the years.
While the exhibition foregrounds the Emergency era and the nuclear testing in India, it focuses on the artists and their fight for a secular and inclusive identity. The exhibition features a powerful statement by Bhim Rao Ambedkar, architect of the Indian Constitution: “Political democracy cannot last unless social democracy forms its base.” This insight underscores the exhibition’s theme, highlighting the essential link between social justice and political stability. Throughout his life, Ambedkar fought against the tyranny of the caste system, emphasising that the people of the nation can never be free as long as this system of oppression remains. By focusing on the atrocities inflicted by the caste system and religious and sexual discrimination, the thirty artists in this exhibition come together to paint an honest look at the nation’s history; art in India has always been reflective of the times, and here the turmoil is representative of constant change - and perhaps contains the templates for a better future.
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975–1998 is showing at Barbian until 5th January 2025.
