In 1965, a group of artists, who had passed out from the Government School of Arts and Crafts, in erstwhile Madras (now Chennai), approached their principal, artist K.C. S. Paniker, with a demand. They wanted to live together and work on their canvasses, without having to trade their art for a regular job.
The visionary principal, who had trodden a similar path early in his career, had an ingenious plan. Using our rich craft-making tradition, he instructed the students to create functional objects – saris, ceramic sets and trays – adding their artistic touch to it. An exhibition, featuring these wares, was held. The wares were sold out in no time.
From a modest sum of Rs 40,000 collected back then, the foundation of the first artists’ village in the country (and perhaps the world), funded by the artists themselves, was laid.
A group of artists travelled to Injambakkam on jutkas (or horse-drawn carts) from Adyar.
Fed by a steady stream of ambition, dreams and ingenuity, Cholamandal Artists’ Village rose from the beachy land in Injambakkam, to become a thriving artistic centre in South India.
The brick-red edifice stands as a silent sentinel to an artistic tradition and lifestyle, meticulously preserved, even 50 years after the first thatched cottage was built on the sandy beach. S. Nandagopal, M. Senathipathi and P. Gopinath, three of the artists to live in the Cholamandal Artists’ Village, back in the early days, walk down memory lane to a time where life was all about art, ensconced amidst nature and solitude, the silence only broken by laughter and banter on long, breezy evenings.
They reminisce about the transformation of the village, from a few thatched cottages to a modern art center, complete with a museum that documents the Madras Art Movement, which emerged in the 1950s from the Government School of Arts and Crafts and went on to become popular in India’s art scene.
Artistic nucleus
“Cholamandal Artists’ Village is an extension of the College of Art,” began eminent artist and sculptor, S. Nandagopal, who is K.C.S. Paniker’s son. He reminisced, “The idea of living together, in a commune, began in the college. The students from the batch, who were passing out in 1966, approached my father and broached the idea of living and working together. At the same time, Jean Pierre, a French student, was passing through Madras. We were all impressed by his beautifully designed shirts. When we asked where he bought it, Jean replied that since he was too poor to buy, he made the shirts himself. He bought the silk, used quills to create intricate designs and his mother then sewed mother-of-pearl buttons on it. My father heard this and mused, “Imagine, we have a 5,000-year-old tradition of craft. Why can’t we live on craft till we find a method of selling our art?” That, in a sense, was the beginning.”
Back in the 1960s, Batik and Kalamkari were quite rare and only a few craftsmen knew the techniques. Nandagopal recalled, “In the college, there were only two teachers in the Batik section. My father sent our senior, Akkitham Narayanan (now a popular artist who lives in Paris) to that department to learn the techniques. The teachers closely guarded their knowledge and each time they mixed the colours, they would send Akkitham to fetch tea for them. But three months later, Akkitham mastered the art and taught us. In 1965, we had an exhibition of Batik, from saris to wall hangings and even handkerchiefs (which I made), in the Museum Hall of the College. We sold the entire lot for Rs 40,000, a princely sum back then. The first portion of Cholamandal was purchased from the proceeds of this exhibition.”
One man’s dream
In a letter to R. Krishna Rao, an instructor at the Government School of Arts and Crafts, Paniker wrote expressing his concern for a better way of life for the artists. “The boys shift to the place (Cholamandal) in 1966... I am not going to be here much longer. It has been a wonderful period of work and usefulness… these 20 years and more. I now feel I need a fresh adventure; an opportunity to work on a much larger canvas of life. I mean our Centre... I want to simplify my life to the barest minimum... just sufficient to keep one in excellent health and good cheer... I promise anyone who comes to us a good living and financial and other social security. At least, I feel there is no harm in dreaming...” he wrote.
Nandagopal clearly remembers his father’s sleepless nights, where the principal worried how his students were faring in the lonely, casuarina strewn stretch of Injambakkam. “When the first group of artists started living in Cholamandal, the parents were very anxious. My father was very worried. Close to 40 artists had come to Cholamandal, depending on my father. They believed in him. He had many, many sleepless nights thinking how it would work out. But he had one solace that Injambakkam was en route to Mahabalipuram, which was a popular tourist destination. He was sure that it would soon attract tourists, who would end up buying the crafts. My father also was very sure that each of the artists should own a piece of land. He often said, ‘A famous psychologist once remarked that a man will not kill for his wife but he will kill for land’. Today, artists cannot afford to stay in this stretch of land,” pointed out Nandagopal.
One of the exhibits at display
Cholamandal is perhaps the only artists’ village of its kind in the world. “There have been other artists’ villages like Ein-Hod in Israel, Worpswede in Germany but all have been financed by governmental agencies and not by the artists themselves like in Cholamandal,” he explained, adding that Cholamandal has drawn illustrious visitors and artists from across the world.
Life of an artist
The artists who came to Cholamandal first in 1966 were K.Jayapala Panicker, V.Viswanadhan, K.M.Adimoolam, K.R.Harie, A.C.Mammen and family and others. The artists faced many tough situations. There was no transport back then to Injambakkam. On the request of the artists, the government introduced a sporadic bus service (19C, where C stood for Cholamandal). If one missed the bus, one had to wade across the Buckingham Canal to reach Cholamandal.
A particularly horrifying experience was in the 1960s, when there was a big cyclone and many of the cottages were blown away. The artists just crawled into the huts that were still intact and waited. They had no food. When Paniker heard about this, he rushed all the way to Injambakkam, with a lot of food for them. Cholamandal had to be rebuilt.
P. Gopinath, who moved to Cholamandal early in his career, said it was a life changing experience. He reminisced of a time when he worked in a 20x20 feet thatched cottage. “Back then, there was nothing here. We didn’t know anybody. There was no electricity and we used kerosene lamps. We cooked food outside the cottages. For me, as a youngster, it was a mysterious experience,” he recalled.
Gopinath said the idea was to live the life of an artist, free to muse (and work) on art all day long. “Our idea was to live within '100 a month. At the break of dawn, we walked to the beach and helped the fishermen haul in the day’s catch. In return, we got fresh fish for our meal. We didn’t have water. But then, we had a borewell installed. The villagers also came here for water and our rapport with them began. During the day, I worked on my studio, which was a small room in a thatched cottage. Slowly, more and more artists started coming here,” he explained.
Centre of creativity
Artist Senathipathi, also the president of the Artist’s Handicrafts Association, credits Paniker for spotting his talent. “After I graduated from the College of Arts, my family pressurised me to get a job. I worked as an art teacher for a year. When I met Paniker, he asked what I wanted to do after this. I said I had no idea. He then told me about Cholamandal and said we can live on craft while doing our creative work. I immediately resigned my job and came to Cholamandal,” he recalled. Senathipathi said Cholamandal played a vital role in taking art beyond the confines of the elite.
“Once we established ourselves enough, we started working on our art. In 1969-1970, we had our first small format contemporary art show, another of Paniker’s idea. The canvasses were priced between Rs 25 and 100. The idea was that art should be for everyone – not just the elite but also youngsters. We sold all our artworks. The next year, we took this exhibition to Mumbai and Delhi, which was also a hit there,” he said, with a hint of pride.
