Review: Jatin Das; A Retrospective 1963-2023

– Jatin Das

Jatin Das’s just-concluded 60-year retrospective at New Delhi’s NGMA was impressive in its scale, skill, latitude, range, and for the eclectic genres and media he has employed over the years. The wide-ranging exhibition required time, attention and multiple visits for a discerning viewer to take in the generous display. The show was accompanied by the publication of a large-format hardcover book, Jatin Das: A Retrospective 1963-2023 — deftly edited by his actor-filmmaker-daughter, Nandita Das; and elegantly co-designed by his designer-son, Siddhartha Das (and Nandita).

Das spent the early years of his life in Baripada, Mayurbhanj, a culturally-rich district of Odisha. At 17, he went to Mumbai. He writes in the prologue of this book, One Life, Not Enough: “From rice and fish at home to fish and chips at the Wayside Inn. I even developed a taste for coffee at Bombelli’s”. After studying at Sir JJ School of Art and spending 10 years in that city, he moved to Delhi — “from the east to the west and now in the north, for almost 55 years.” His artworks are part of innumerable national and international galleries and museums, and important private collections. He is widely awarded, including the Padma Bhushan from the President of India.

Inhabiting this book and the cavernous art-filled rooms of the NGMA — I remembered our first meeting at Mumbai’s Jehangir Art Gallery in the early 1990s. The poet Dom Moraes had introduced me to this artist-poet.  For me then, the first connect with Das was obviously poetry (he had already published two volumes of his own verse through Kolkata’s Writers Workshop imprint) — even though he already had a monumental reputation as a fine artist. He wrote, “Drawing is better than painting / Pottery centres the mind and body / Poetry is ingrained in all.” — and I believe his Selected Poems as a comprehensive volume, is currently being put together, to be published in the near future.

I have always been partial to Das’s drawings — his lines appear effortless, skilfully mature; his strokes — pencil, charcoal, ink or brush — languid and masterful. He possesses a rare fluid dexterity when it comes to the human form. His finesse with capturing man-woman emotion-relationship with subtlety is remarkable. His work is never overcrowded — the spareness and sparseness allows them to breathe, and give the viewer room to read it. Like any outstanding artist, his artworks have a distinct, personal, recognizable signature. In his poem, Line, Das writes, “a drawing draws itself / in conte or ink // with no beginning or end / a line has no history / a line never ends ….”

This beautifully produced book is divided into 11 parts: The Journey, Graphics, Portraits, Across Different Lands, Labourers, Murals, Platters and Tiles, Sculptures, Student Years, Before and After, Notes and Essays, and finally a very useful Timeline. A widely-travelled and exhibited artist, Das’s work has sometimes derived inspiration from across borders — but his artistic soul remains simultaneously and essentially rural-cosmopolitan, figurative-political, erotic-divine, and always rooted as an Odishan-Indian. 

In his watercolour on paper, Christ Stretched (2000) — the human form almost echoes Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man and the head of Christ is a Kabir look-alike. It is evident that there is intertextuality here, his insistence on international cross-cultural interface — all the while remaining truly rooted in India and its aesthetics.

In his Russia-inspired sepia works, the domes and minarets intermingle aspects of the Christian and Muslim ethos with echoes of the Industrial Age. He is fascinated too with the icon-style — Biblical figures that are rendered in glorious colour and tightly-framed. 

His art pieces from Africa in 2000, particularly Carrying the Load and Africa Totem are reminiscent of Giacometti-like thin elongated body structures. While the works inspired by travels in Thailand, Japan, China and Indonesia are simultaneously softer and jagged, meditative and intimate, cosmopolitan and sociological.

His more recent works — in ink on paper in the Labourers’ section — is a visceral and acutely moving response to the Covid 19 pandemic and lockdown.

Das’s murals demand special attention too — to their panoramic aperture and scale, to their storytelling mode, to the patta chitra scroll-style. The mural he did for the Indian parliament is particularly expansive for its narrative and historical range. 

There are other fascinating sides to his oeuvre — his penchant for documenting the histories of the pankha (hand-fan); his large-scale metal sculptures; his terracotta and ceramic figurines; and more.

Interspersed in this book, are poems to Jatin Das by the likes of Dom Moraes, Gulzar, as well as his own verse; fine-art photographs and portraits by Raghu Rai; excellent essays and notes by a range of people including the Nobel-laureate Amartya Sen, Elizabeth Roger, Rajeev Sethi, R Siva Kumar, Ina Puri, Pheroza J Godrej, Vinod Bhardwaj, Prayag Shukla, Adoor Gopalakrishnan, Saryu Doshi, Geeti Sen, Lalit Mansingh, and others.

Over three decades, I have got to know him as a painter, but more importantly as a fellow artist and friend. I have followed his work closely, tracked the fascinating arc and vicissitudes of his artistic expressions, innovations and styles. I remember too that I had commissioned him to do the cover art for Wasafiri, a UK-based literary magazine, that I was guest-editing on the theme of India & its Diasporas in 1995. Over the years, I too have written several ekphrastic poems on his art, and one of Das’s lovely watercolours graces the pages of my own book of prose-poems, Rain (Gallerie).

 Jatin Das is a “prolific painter and a maverick misfit” — his thirst for creating anew is endless, his energy is infectious, his generosity always visible. May the fountainhead of his creativity be ever-fecund, may his joie de vivre always light up our increasingly dark world. I am certainly privileged to be enriched by his presence, his art, his poetry, his humanity, and his friendship. Even at 82, Jatin Das writes (to quote one of his poems, Black on White): “The leela continues” — and we ought to be fortunate and grateful for his unceasing creativity and contribution.

Sudeep Sen’s latest book, Anthropocene, won the 2022 Rabindranath Tagore Literary Prize. [www.sudeepsen.org]

Painting is prose. Drawing is a poem.

– Jatin Das

Jatin Das’s just-concluded 60-year retrospective at New Delhi’s NGMA was impressive in its scale, skill, latitude, range, and for the eclectic genres and media he has employed over the years. The wide-ranging exhibition required time, attention and multiple visits for a discerning viewer to take in the generous display. The show was accompanied by the publication of a large-format hardcover book, Jatin Das: A Retrospective 1963-2023 — deftly edited by his actor-filmmaker-daughter, Nandita Das; and elegantly co-designed by his designer-son, Siddhartha Das (and Nandita).

Das spent the early years of his life in Baripada, Mayurbhanj, a culturally-rich district of Odisha. At 17, he went to Mumbai. He writes in the prologue of this book, One Life, Not Enough: “From rice and fish at home to fish and chips at the Wayside Inn. I even developed a taste for coffee at Bombelli’s”. After studying at Sir JJ School of Art and spending 10 years in that city, he moved to Delhi — “from the east to the west and now in the north, for almost 55 years.” His artworks are part of innumerable national and international galleries and museums, and important private collections. He is widely awarded, including the Padma Bhushan from the President of India.

Inhabiting this book and the cavernous art-filled rooms of the NGMA — I remembered our first meeting at Mumbai’s Jehangir Art Gallery in the early 1990s. The poet Dom Moraes had introduced me to this artist-poet.  For me then, the first connect with Das was obviously poetry (he had already published two volumes of his own verse through Kolkata’s Writers Workshop imprint) — even though he already had a monumental reputation as a fine artist. He wrote, “Drawing is better than painting / Pottery centres the mind and body / Poetry is ingrained in all.” — and I believe his Selected Poems as a comprehensive volume, is currently being put together, to be published in the near future.

I have always been partial to Das’s drawings — his lines appear effortless, skilfully mature; his strokes — pencil, charcoal, ink or brush — languid and masterful. He possesses a rare fluid dexterity when it comes to the human form. His finesse with capturing man-woman emotion-relationship with subtlety is remarkable. His work is never overcrowded — the spareness and sparseness allows them to breathe, and give the viewer room to read it. Like any outstanding artist, his artworks have a distinct, personal, recognizable signature. In his poem, Line, Das writes, “a drawing draws itself / in conte or ink // with no beginning or end / a line has no history / a line never ends ….”

This beautifully produced book is divided into 11 parts: The Journey, Graphics, Portraits, Across Different Lands, Labourers, Murals, Platters and Tiles, Sculptures, Student Years, Before and After, Notes and Essays, and finally a very useful Timeline. A widely-travelled and exhibited artist, Das’s work has sometimes derived inspiration from across borders — but his artistic soul remains simultaneously and essentially rural-cosmopolitan, figurative-political, erotic-divine, and always rooted as an Odishan-Indian. 

In his watercolour on paper, Christ Stretched (2000) — the human form almost echoes Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man and the head of Christ is a Kabir look-alike. It is evident that there is intertextuality here, his insistence on international cross-cultural interface — all the while remaining truly rooted in India and its aesthetics.

In his Russia-inspired sepia works, the domes and minarets intermingle aspects of the Christian and Muslim ethos with echoes of the Industrial Age. He is fascinated too with the icon-style — Biblical figures that are rendered in glorious colour and tightly-framed. 

His art pieces from Africa in 2000, particularly Carrying the Load and Africa Totem are reminiscent of Giacometti-like thin elongated body structures. While the works inspired by travels in Thailand, Japan, China and Indonesia are simultaneously softer and jagged, meditative and intimate, cosmopolitan and sociological.

His more recent works — in ink on paper in the Labourers’ section — is a visceral and acutely moving response to the Covid 19 pandemic and lockdown.

Das’s murals demand special attention too — to their panoramic aperture and scale, to their storytelling mode, to the patta chitra scroll-style. The mural he did for the Indian parliament is particularly expansive for its narrative and historical range. 

There are other fascinating sides to his oeuvre — his penchant for documenting the histories of the pankha (hand-fan); his large-scale metal sculptures; his terracotta and ceramic figurines; and more.

Interspersed in this book, are poems to Jatin Das by the likes of Dom Moraes, Gulzar, as well as his own verse; fine-art photographs and portraits by Raghu Rai; excellent essays and notes by a range of people including the Nobel-laureate Amartya Sen, Elizabeth Roger, Rajeev Sethi, R Siva Kumar, Ina Puri, Pheroza J Godrej, Vinod Bhardwaj, Prayag Shukla, Adoor Gopalakrishnan, Saryu Doshi, Geeti Sen, Lalit Mansingh, and others.

Over three decades, I have got to know him as a painter, but more importantly as a fellow artist and friend. I have followed his work closely, tracked the fascinating arc and vicissitudes of his artistic expressions, innovations and styles. I remember too that I had commissioned him to do the cover art for Wasafiri, a UK-based literary magazine, that I was guest-editing on the theme of India & its Diasporas in 1995. Over the years, I too have written several ekphrastic poems on his art, and one of Das’s lovely watercolours graces the pages of my own book of prose-poems, Rain (Gallerie).

 Jatin Das is a “prolific painter and a maverick misfit” — his thirst for creating anew is endless, his energy is infectious, his generosity always visible. May the fountainhead of his creativity be ever-fecund, may his joie de vivre always light up our increasingly dark world. I am certainly privileged to be enriched by his presence, his art, his poetry, his humanity, and his friendship. Even at 82, Jatin Das writes (to quote one of his poems, Black on White): “The leela continues” — and we ought to be fortunate and grateful for his unceasing creativity and contribution.

Sudeep Sen’s latest book, Anthropocene, won the 2022 Rabindranath Tagore Literary Prize. [www.sudeepsen.org]