ECH Blog 2017

With the opening line of this Cecelia Vicuña poem, Natasha Ginwala set up for us a frame. Language, ‘tears at those stable identities,’ said Hammad Nasar. That it is time we ‘reset the national conversation about home,’ and, ‘learn to live with our partitioned selves.’ Being as we are in a subcontinent of consistently reimagined, and reiterated, national boundaries – the tearing up of these “stable” identities continues to remain relevant today, as it has throughout our multiple histories.

The frame, thus, is also that of debate. To trace the history of South Asia, is also to trace the history of its public debate, so began the inaugural address by Prateek and Priyanka Raja. Kolkata, our host city, suitably provides a backdrop of converging histories, and migratory political dialogue and debate. ‘Voices are being suppressed and not just at an individual level,’ said Prateek Raja. Here, to converse is also to resist. ‘And I hope we feel the exhaustion of good debate,’ he smiled as he handed over the stage.

In speaking of resistance, Pedro de Almeida showed us the example of a 4A show, Mass Group Incident (2015), as to how curatorial practices may adopt alternative paradigms to inspire new, and rigorous, methodologies. For this he cited the “social protest novel” (with reference to James Baldwin’s political writings of the 1950s) as a way with which to collage and juxtapose, particularly in instances where, ‘underneath an aesthetic surface is a moral complexity that opposes, in fact, the aesthetic surface.’ Such moral complexities are not to be homogenised, and de Almeida thus introduced the problematic of representing indigenous artworks in an Australian context. ‘I don’t believe I can reconcile [difference/ privilege],’ he said, ‘for me the interesting distinction is between complicity and expedience.’

To trace complexity is also to trace histories, and, ‘the artists as prolific organiser was a collector of such histories,’ said Ginwalla. Ever the art historian, Roobina Karode gave us the narrative of an individual life, through a survey of the work of Nesreen Mohamedi. Karode spun a deeply personal narrative of her at 17 years old, visiting Mohamedi in her studio, and ‘learning through articulation.’ Ginwalla succinctly asked after, ‘how do we navigate the complexity of individual lives, which can be read/seen as individual institutions in themselves?’ She continued further, ‘how do we look at singular narratives of modernity, and yet continue to retain our differences?’

The last presentation of the day, Hammad Nasar discussed the timeline of a nearly decade-long project on Partition, the travelling show Lines of Control. He cited the difficulty of how Partition did not produce literal objects, outside of course, of the abstract ones of nationhood and identity. But, he reminded us; Partition exists not only through its histories but also through its contemporary iterations. Where there is a lack of representation, perhaps curatorial discourses can pull together a manner with which to fill in the gaps. Curators must, above all, ‘develop a mode of work that is propositional, speculative, and generous,’ he said. Nasar rather crucially went on to explain how, during his time at the Asia Art Archive, one of the team’s most rigorous conversations was maintained around what systems of knowledge are globally prioritized, and how to interrupt this. He added, rather dramatically (and accurately), ‘History in the singular is no different to propaganda.’

— Skye Arundhati Thomas is a writer based in Goa. She is editor of The White Review.

Can the ‘renouncing of the new’ provide us with a formula for modernity? This is Reem Fadda’s proposition as we begin today. Coming from a Palestinian context – which Fadda knows to be a “laboratory” for surveillance and security practices that get exported to most global cities across the world – she is more interested in reparative readings. However, to negotiate systems without critical restraint, according to Fadda, is the first step with which to transition from a decolonisation of the mind to one of practice. “I’m not worried about being reactive,” she says, “I’m worried about being symbolic.” In such a way, to conceptualise a project inside of a total surveillance state like Jerusalem, where Fadda is curating a site-specific show in a newly built museum, is to acknowledge that it cannot be merely representational, but has to instead, be fundamentally abstracted. It is a push against materiality, but also one that wants to keep the individual as the central protagonist.

Lauren Cornell, too, looks to represent distinct individual voices, particularly by putting together works that are politically and contextually in contradiction with each other. This is by oftentimes presenting a proposition, where questions are put forth but never fully resolved. Cornell asks, what are the metaphors for subjectivity in the surveillance state? Involved for a while with the online, non-space space Rhizome, Cornell is interested in institutional frameworks that fall outside of traditional modes of address, and more importantly, democratise cultural exchange. Cornell, with a special interest in work that looks at the relationship between art and technology, makes an essential point about the archiving of such work: these archives are not stable enough to be maintained in traditional ways. Where Fadda pushed against materiality, Cornell takes up the premise only to ask, but what do we do with what is, quite literally, in a constant state of flux?

Nada Raza, on the other hand, presented us a narrative rooted deeply in the traditional archive, which is itself tied to its own difficulties. In taking us through the planning and culminating stages of the infamous ‘Bhupen Khakar: You Can’t Please All’ show at the Tate Modern last year (made all the more famous by the rally against fatuous critic Jonathon Jones’ trite review in the Guardian), Raza was able to not only deliver insight into Khakar’s practice, but also set up the stage of what it means to collate and deliver a big museum show. Raza is interested in what might not traditionally be maintained as “archival material”, she says, ‘it could be called ephemera but it belongs in the archive all the same.’ She shows us photographs that attest to the entangled lives of the modernists’ practices, photos that she sourced from the Asia Art Archive, but also ones that were sent in by acquaintances and fans of the artist.

Olivier Kaesar, art historian and co-director of the Swiss Cultural Center in Paris, presented a detailed telling of the seminal shows that he has put up with his affiliate centres. Kaesar is also interested in the archive, and particularly in what he can add to ones that may already be very dense. Kaesar took us through an upcoming show that runs investigations across the performance art of Switzerland, which he believes, and illustrates, to be seminal since the avant-garde.

It was a day perhaps of building up narratives, and identifying the spaces where they may be broken, or in need of repair. A day then, of narrative potentials. It was also a day that chartered the movement of archiving practices as visible through the movement of the market – dashingly illustrated by Reem Fadda’s admission that upon building an archive of forgotten, but formative, modernist works from Asia for the Guggenheim in Abu Dhabi – she soon saw the same works hung upon the walls of art fairs like Frieze. The market, as always, is ever cognizant.

— Skye Arundhati Thomas is a writer based in Goa. She is editor of The White Review.

How does one navigate the politics of display when it comes to presenting work from South Asia in big international shows, particularly in N. America and Europe? Is there yet a tendency to Orientalize?

While there is increasing appetite for complexity, and some efforts at building capacity, the recurring tropes of “Festival”, “Mela”, “Indian Summer" and “Tamasha” remain depressingly familiar as frames for South Asia-focused programming in the UK – even now in 2017.

This political economy of display was the subject of a conference (co-convened with Sonal Khullar, Devika Singh and Sarah Turner) at the Paul Mellon Centre, London (June 2016), called Showing, Telling, Seeing: Exhibiting South Asia in Britain, 1900 to Now. But I am afraid we don't have a quick fix to share. Just a reaffirmation of the need to hold each other, and the institutions we work with, to account; to demand more intelligence in all our myriad roles – as curators, academics, artists and audiences.

Do you think that the market privileges certain kinds of work, particularly from the subcontinent? Can critical curatorial practices exist (and be supported by their institutions) that look to destabilise this market tendency?

There are multiple markets of course. And all of them are adept at absorbing critical curatorial and artistic practices that had at some stage harboured ambitions of destabilising markets. One only has to see the trajectory of the bundle of practices called performance art. From its activist, anti-market origins, it is now quite often the opening act for benefit auctions, or part of the scheduled programme at art fairs. This does not mean that we should be pessimistic, or that practices can lose the ability to exist outside the market. Just that I don't think there are stable “critical” positions.

I often describe this predicament through the analogy of the Chinese “soft” martial art of Tai Chi. In a form of training exercise called “pushing hands”, practitioners train their reflexes so that they meet incoming aggression not with strength or resistance, but with softness: moving with the force, alert to its intent, and either redirecting it or allowing it to exhaust itself.

We have to push hands with the market. Not as a one-off event or effort; but as a daily practice.

Do you think art, and its institutions, can begin to bring the subcontinent together in some way, and thus generate dialogues outside of the political mainstream? As such, what is the potential for critical discourse and practice in the subcontinent?

The arts are a way for us to move outside ourselves – as individuals, communities, nations, and regions. Artists point to things in the world and encourage us to make meanings for ourselves. Such meanings can lead to actions. Artists are also citizens. But art is not a substitute for a vote or a writ. I think we may be asking too much of art, its practitioners and its institutions if we expect them to act in ways that we cannot as citizens.

Working as you do primarily from western institutions - what are some of the (curatorial and otherwise) privileges this affords? How does this reflect on the difficulties still faced by arts institutions in the subcontinent today?

There is an assumed and often-articulated position of “lacks” — lack of institutions, discourse, resources, rigour, and ambition – that shape perceptions of institutions in the subcontinent. Especially in comparison with the perceived power and authority of institutions in Europe and North America. But having worked over time in Hong Kong, and most recently in the UAE, as well as in South Asia and Euro-America, I can vouch for opportunities that flow from “lacks”. If I look at small, organic efforts – from Mumbai to Karachi to Dhaka to Jaffna to Yangon – I see a boldness of approach that would be difficult to match in the supposed centres of London or New York.

Conversely, being based in London allows me to access art’s multiple spheres (institutional, academic, market) in ways that complicate and enrich each other. The diversity of such an ecosystem built up over generations, if not centuries, is energizing and refreshing, and indeed a privilege.

Working with sculpture as you do, I have noticed that you get asked about materiality and surface often. Can the discussion of sculpture ever move away from its material?

Sculpture engages in the material register, even when seemingly immaterial. This is an inherent position for sculpture, one that other mediums can certainly engage in, but is less urgent than it is within sculpture. I do think it is important to consider the materials of art, and their social, political, and economic implications. Doing so challenges many assumptions about the neutrality of materials and brings up other conversations, which may or may not be intentional on the part of the artist. However, I do think more and more artists are thinking like this and do take the specificities of their materials into account, from plywood to household products, and to marble to iPads.

As such, to what extent can curatorial practices innovate toward their material forms? Maybe there is there an instance you could pick out that illustrates the same.

As it is for artists, it is also increasingly important for curators to consider the material realities of the art they are showing, and also the context of the exhibition space. Not necessarily to make significant changes in what they are doing, but to be cognizant of the depths of the context they are working within. This is perhaps an emerging idea, and one that so far is more inclined to artistic intervention into an exhibition space, than one emerging from curatorial prompts. I curated an exhibition with Gabriel Sierra a couple years ago at SculptureCenter, and he is certainly an artist that unfolds the underlying logic of a space metaphysically and materially. His mode of working is part of his practice, but I learned a lot about many of the assumptions I held about the space, how it could be used, and how I move within it – physically and psychologically. While I don't think Gabriel is so invested in specific material discussions, as he is more responsive in how he works, there is a critical examination of many unseen or less acknowledged aspects of how things are made and put together, which I find essential to expand upon.

Do you think that the market privileges certain kinds of work, particularly from what it deems as the “peripheries”? (South Asia, South America, the Middle East, for instance) Can critical curatorial practices exist (and be supported by their institutions) that look to destabilise this market tendency?

I am very sceptical of these categories, while I also see how they are useful for building public and private collections and raising the money to do so. However, I find it troubling that an artwork tends to get stuck in these geographical frames, rather than moving into other departments and conversations after it enters a collection. I think, too often the specificities of the individual artists are lost in this context, and perhaps, it also becomes difficult to understand the larger geographic context, at least when these shows are mounted in Euro-American museum contexts. I think a potential strategy to combat these trends are to organize more solo and group exhibitions that don't make geography a central feature – unless it is explicitly a part of the work. And to perhaps engage more conversations around specific communities and networks of artists who are working in the so-called "peripheries." There is a tendency for only few individual artists to emerge as prominent and to represent a whole region. On the other hand there is also a tendency for massive group shows that don't allow for a more flushed out representation of the artists practices.

People are still calling the art scene in the subcontinent nascent – even though we have seen several careers mature and develop through the past couple of decades, and even further back. Would you agree? As such, what would you say are the primary difficulties faced by arts institutions in the subcontinent still?

Let us not forget there isn't a unilateral art world, but rather a multitude of art worlds that are uneven yet continuously generative and ever more related. The categorisation of the South Asian art scene as "nascent" at times stems from a superficial engagement with contemporary practice without taking account of the sedimented histories of art and politics; intergenerational discourse; pedagogic models and an informal landscape of institutions that emerge through artist collectives, interdisciplinary groups, critical publications, biennale / triennial platforms, and residency-workshops. Beyond the public museum, it is these para-institutions that have fostered a resilient arts scene wherein local artistic practices have co-evolved with waves of internationalism since colonial modernity into the decades of nation-building and to the present day. We currently face a fragile public domain, and while there is a rising tendency for private initiatives in the cultural field, there is a greater need for a sense of communal ownership so that fearlessly independent perspectives in the arts may thrive, and sustained exchange among practitioners of the subcontinent may continue.

Is there space for critical discourse and practice in the subcontinent, particularly as situated in arts institutions? What is the potential for these to be truly inclusive and expansive?

Having trained in Delhi at the School of Arts & Aesthetics (JNU) before moving to Europe, I'm incredibly conscious of the high level of critical discourse that exists in this milieu, inside and well beyond the campus. These are often transacted orally rather than in written form, for example, consider the intensive character of collective interrogation and debate at the end of a public panel discussion, or at an informally gathering at an artists' studio. These aspects capture the character of discourse and its dissemination in this region. The future role of arts institutions, particularly in the educational and publishing field, seem key within the subcontinent. In order to be inclusive, public platforms revitalising discourse and cultural infrastructure beyond major cities and privileged groups in the subcontinent will remain crucial.

How does one navigate the politics of display when it comes to presenting work from South Asia in big international shows, particularly in N. America and Europe? Is there yet a tendency to orientalise?

With major exhibitions of South Asian artists traveling from the subcontinent to large-scale international museums, and a marked rise in commissioned art works within international biennales such as Gwangju, Sharjah, Sao Paolo, Havana, Sydney and Kochi-Muziris, there is now a more structurally integrated dialogue and horizontal sharing of expertise between artists, curators, museum directors, art educators and critic-writers. As museums in North America and Europe, but also across Asia, assemble collections including a larger cross-section of South Asian art, the questions around display strategies will grow more complex, especially where archival material is scattered and needs to be dug out, where artists' biographies are still to be detailed and links yet to be established between diasporic actors of Indian modernism. In such a time, allegations do surface when one curates with artistic practices from around the world within a common framing, rather than producing a bracketing along familiar tropes of national identity. This critique could arise from the purview of alienation, amnesia or orientalization, but I believe that dissensus is always useful.

Being as we are in a historical moment that supposes every act as a political one, what would you say is the real political potential for art?

We are in a monstrous interregnum, and as Jaques Derrida has noted: “Monsters cannot be announced. One cannot say: 'Here are our monsters,' without immediately turning the monsters into pets.” Artistic acts carry the potential to challenge and subvert this uncanny texture of our times, while also attuning to echoes of historical returns. With the rise of state censorship on the one hand, and on the other hand, the citizen and migrant acting as daily reporters chronicling our social world via an ever shrinking, and always 'switched on' camera, the role of artistic labour often lies in gestural interpretations and active commemoration of moments that are silenced; performative inquiry amid the systemic inequality that we have become immune to; and a symbolic prognosis, which includes the vital ingredient that is: fiction.

How does one navigate the politics of display when it comes to presenting work from South Asia in big international shows, particularly in N. America and Europe? Is there yet a tendency to orientalise?

It varies a lot, and often it depends on what perception the institution has of its audience. In England, Tate Modern is quite different for instance, from the British Museum or Victoria and Albert Museum, or sometimes, even Tate Britain. These institutions have colonial history to contend with, which is reflected in the collections and persists in their attitudes toward South Asia. I think modern and contemporary collections tend to reflect the world with more complexity, and on a more level field, but yet we have to think through the recent attention to say craft, or indigeneity, from our own perspectives. The real challenge is how do we get beyond representation in these spaces and work with these artworks, or historical materials, more critically?

Do you think that the market privileges certain kinds of work, particularly from the subcontinent? Can critical curatorial practices exist (and be supported by their institutions) that look to destabilise this market tendency?

I believe so, and as a publicly funded institution with an ambitious programme, we always think beyond what the market might be doing. Our research is really determined by the collection and how we hope to transform it, which means searching for or relooking at practices to find a key moment, find works that really intersect with or respond to other practices. As the Tate collection has grown more international, this no longer means just Euro-American art. Things have changed a lot in the five years I have worked here, based on the opportunity I have had to do in-depth research.

Working as you do primarily from Western institutions - what are some of the (curatorial and otherwise) privileges this affords? How does this reflect on the difficulties faced by arts institution in the subcontinent today?

The main advantage is to be able to work across South Asia. We know how tough that it if you are based in the region, ironically, unless you are European. William Darlymple keeps posting images of all the amazing things he gets to see on Instagram, and I am seething with envy, because it is just not fair that academics and researchers from South Asia are not afforded the same opportunities to fully apprehend the joined up histories of our part of the world.

Being as we are in a historical moment that supposes every act as a political one, what would you say is the real political potential for art?

You know, we do our best to think of our networks and conversations as spaces of solidarity, of friendship, of support. Alas most of this is on social media, we don't meet nearly often enough and always elsewhere, but it is still a safe space, and we need to guard and expand it. If a show can't happen in India or Pakistan or Bangladesh, doors are open in London and New York and Kassel, and the books and images then travel. However future generations might still ask us why we failed to have more impact. In my research I often find moments or works that should have had more prominence. What must we preserve in order to tell the truth of our time?

People are still calling the art scene in the subcontinent nascent – even though we have seen several careers mature and develop through the past couple of decades, and even further back. Would you agree? As such, what would you say are the primary difficulties faced by arts institutions in the subcontinent?

No, I wouldn’t call the art scene in South Asia nascent. We have our own institutional histories, multiple modernisms and art historical narratives. One can say that the European and American focus on modern and contemporary art from the subcontinent is a recent phenomenon. In the last six to eight years major international biennales like Kochi Muziris Biennale, Dhaka Art Summit, Colombo Biennale and the most recent Lahore Biennale is providing occasions to the international art community to visit the region at regular intervals, and make visible the works of modern masters, our intertwined histories and young artists from the region.

One of the crucial struggles with institutions here has been one of continuity and continuous re-invention. For example, we have had the Triennale India, which started in 1968, and was the first of its kind from the newly independent nations. It brought together the arts of Non-Aligned nations with the Pavilions of USA, Soviet Union and other European countries. It has been discontinued as it failed to innovate and address the issues relevant to our times.

Do you think that the market privileges certain kinds of work, particularly from the subcontinent? Can critical curatorial practices exist (and be supported by their institutions) that look to destabilise this market tendency?

The Art Market will always have certain predilections and kinds of work to hold onto, which I think is also important. However, curatorial discourse has been on the rise in the region. This is visible in the curatorial strengths of the Biennales and the nature of the critical dialogues emerging in the region. There are many more platforms and forums now, which privilege critical thinking and different kinds of curatorial practices and exhibition making, such as Clark House Initiative in Mumbai or the Students’ Biennale arm of the Kochi Muziris Biennale, which operates on a completely different level.

As someone who works closely with a museum collection that reflects this tendency, what relationship do you think the Indian art scene still holds with Modernism (and Modernist work) - and why?

With our very dynamic exhibition making program we have consistently pushed the boundary of curatorial practice in India, and have organized and supported many experimental and unique projects that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise. Recognizing that modern and contemporary art from the subcontinent cannot be reduced to a linear and homogenous narrative, the exhibition program of KNMA addresses its diversity, highlighting many parallel trajectories and alternate forms of modernity. In the last seven years, KNMA has brought forth many underrepresented artists, who with a highly individual vision and idiosyncratic life have responded to the world like seers, poets or philosophers. Retrospectives of Nasreen Mohamedi, Himmat Shah, Jeram Patel and Nalini Malani brought together their large bodies of work into public domain for the first time. The in-depth acquisition of works by these artists in the KNMA Collection has thus opened up new possibilities for research and scholarship.

Is there space for critical discourse and practice in the subcontinent, particularly in arts institutions? As such, what is the potential for a museum such as the KNMA, to be a truly inclusive space?

Of course there is space for critical discourse and practice in arts institutions, and KNMA is committed to perform that role. One of our recent exhibitions is about the collectives and collaborative practice, and around 90% of the works are on loan from major public institutions such as Bharat Bhavan in Bhopal and MS University in Vadodara, from artists and artists’ collection and archives. KNMA sees itself as a meeting place to exhibit remarkable practices and invoke stories and histories yet unknown. We have also started taking our collection and exhibitions to other venues within India. We see this as an opportunity to help build infrastructure in local art institutions in different cities in India. The potential is huge, and through our wide-ranging programs we are continuously expanding our audience base.

Some of the most interesting writing I have read of late has emerged from the arts. As someone who also writes extensively, what would you say is the potential for critical writing practices in the arts? This is also to ask – what role do you think art criticism plays in the arts today?

Before we ask what role might it play, we should ask who, exactly, reads art criticism? From Diderot until now I don’t think we’ve ever really reached a fixed conclusion. Between art school and working in contemporary art I had a stint in the world of publishing as an assistant and copyeditor in a leading independent firm. “Know your reader” was relentlessly drummed into me as the singular sermon from the mount that should never be ignored, but the more I wrote, the more I’ve published, I’ve come to realise that perhaps not knowing your reader has its own reward, which is to say that if writing is thinking—and, at its irreducible core, it most certainly is—then is that not its ultimate, essential role? One that others (let’s call them readers) can participate in, yet serves purpose with or without a multitude of eyeballs. Otherwise we’re “just looking”, to co-opt the title of John Updike’s collected essays on art; looking at art, just looking, looking again if you’re really attentive, glancing if you’re not. But even this simple act has been degraded (Mona Lisa and her iPhone devotees). So that’s the role of art criticism, to think, to record the process of thinking after looking, dialectically. Now, the question of transference of the fruits of that intellectual endeavour—page views, downloads, commentary, bums on seats—is another problem entirely.

Do you think that the market privileges certain kinds of work? Can critical curatorial practices exist (and be supported by their institutions) that look to destabilise this market tendency?

The short answer: yes, of course! It’s elementary that this thing called the “market” privileges works that can be bought and sold. It sounds incredibly inane when one puts it like this, so explicitly factual, but just as some of the most powerful art serves to reveal the things underneath one’s very nose that one is blind to, so too must one never discount the insoluble reality of the market as a transactional space—if an object or idea is not for sale, well, it’s not a space in which it can happily exist. So in this sense, curatorial activities shouldn’t seek to “destabilise” art market tendencies per se; or, rather, if that is a curator’s intention then it’s a flawed one from the outset since all one would be doing is playing within existing categories that define the systems and strata of the market. Nor are speculative markets dumb: any intentions to destabilise are entirely expected, are indeed inherent to their modus operandi; all imaginable bets, not just the likely ones, have been placed, every hedge position is already occupied. And if these categories can’t be entirely ignored (and they really can’t in our current age), then they can at least be kidnapped, toyed, teased and tormented with—a curatorial extraordinary rendition! For instance, the act of juxtaposition remains one of the simplest and most powerful plays in the handbook, putting one thing—be it object, idea or sensation—next to another and seeing what kind of space develops around it, or more accurately still, envelopes it. Perhaps all curators can ever can be are collagists.

Further, I’m not convinced that it’s the role of curators (and their supporting institutions) to be critical, at least not in the proper meaning of that word. This is why I’ve always liked the Americanism “… this exhibition has been organised by …”, which is a word that’s never used in Australia. One should be an organiser, like in a trade union, representing the interests of the work, if not the artist (and certainly not their dealers). This is not the same thing as saying there’s no judgement, which is plain as day to anyone actually working in the engine room of cultural production. Real, hard-nosed and hard-earned criticality should come alive in writing, which is why I must confess I’ve never held much respect for curators who don’t write critically, however sporadically. It’s simply the other side of the coin. But this view no doubt reveals my predisposition to a Guttenberg mind which, on one can deny, is fast evolving (devolving?) to something else. Into what? Ask someone younger than me.

How does one navigate the politics of display when it comes to presenting work from what are considered as “peripheries” (South Asia, South America, the Middle East, for instance) in big international shows, particularly in the N. America and Europe? Is there yet a tendency to exoticise/orientalise?

My short response to the general remit of the “how” in this question is to address cultural and social diversity—and, yes, with the latter I’m talking about class, surely the art world’s ultimate bogeyman—at the level of governing bodies, boards and trustees. One should never discount the potential for leadership to set the tone, within and without the museum, for instance. Perhaps then we might not simply approach the implied concern of this question as merely an ethics of “display”, but open up a conversation that shifts the premise of display entirely and the change in tact of the politics will follow.

Yet, rather than proceeding to tackle this question framed in geopolitical terms—which is itself more of an inferred contention that centre/periphery power dynamics remain alive and well in the twenty-first century—my instinct is to instead take issue with the very paradigm of the form, which is to ask: what exactly are “big international shows”? What is the nature of this form of cultural and commercial undertaking? And more importantly, for what and whom are they intended? Moreover, one shouldn’t presume that the orientalist instinct is always imposed from the outside—it’s at its most insidious when it emerges from within.

A humorous thought experiment might be to invert the common preconception, if only to test where the rubber of cultural rhetoric hits the road. Here I’m prompted to recall the regrettable display that was the “big international show” Australia at London’s Royal College of Art in 2013. Alas, not being a jetsetter I didn’t see the exhibition but it was delicious to hear, from Sydney, a gang of metropole critics decry that “being Australian is not enough—what use is this to anyone?”, as The Guardian’s Adrian Searle did when, based on the bombastic essentialism of the exhibition’s title alone, it very much seemed to be enough for the cosy curatorial partnership between the RCA and Canberra’s National Gallery. Self-inflicted exoticisation—in Australia’s case, of some surface layer theme of the antipodean landscape—is certainly not the most dangerous, just the most embarrassing. What goes around comes around in this globalised age.

Being as we are in a historical moment that supposes every act as a political one, what would you say is the real political potential for art?

OK, I’ve provided longish responses so here’s a brief one to your question: Reconstitution of the individual. Recategorisation of everything else. Preferably in that order.

Now in its seventh iteration, how do you feel the Curator’s Hub has evolved over the years? It's interesting that it is not guided by theme – but more by individual curatorial practice - why?

The Experimenter Curators’ Hub seven years ago found its roots in the urge to understand, critically discuss and debate what curators do when they make exhibitions. We as gallerists have had the privilege to see some spectacular exhibitions all over the world and felt there should be a space and time to revisit these exhibitions through the eyes of the curators who made them possible. We have kept the fundamental need to learn at the hub’s core and have focused on building a strong programming for it, and to make it more accessible. We channelize our attention to bring in a wide yet relevant group of curators every year. Some of these aspects, like the above focus on programming for the hub, are envisioned to remain constant at the hub. F0r example the hub is completely democratic and attempts to break hierarchical categorizations. Each visitor has equal access to the curators. Seating is not demarcated and one-on-one dialogue is encouraged. Also the Experimenter Curators’ Hub has always been and will always continue to be a free program for the visitors. We have support from some very generous partners and they see the urgency for enabling it to happen as much as we do.

The Experimenter Curators’ Hub has grown to become a much anticipated annual coming together of some of the most fascinating minds in contemporary visual arts from all over the world. It has grown manifold in its intensity and scope. It has a much wider and diverse reach with our live web-streaming, which we started a few years ago. For the people who would like to be part of the hub but cannot make it to Kolkata, this is an invaluable resource and we find viewership from the unlikeliest corners of the globe. As an added resource, the previous years’ presentations and ensuing discussions are video documented in detail and hosted on Experimenter’s website as a freely accessible archive.

The Experimenter Curators’ Hub is unique in the sense that it offers the possibility to closely understand and enable a close interaction between the curators and the audiences and build a sustainable dialogue over time. Therefore it was important to not have an overarching thematic constraint and rather focus deeply on individual and diverse curatorial practices.

Is there space for critical discourse and practice in the subcontinent, particularly as situated in arts institutions? What is the potential for these to be truly inclusive and expansive?

The Experimenter Curators’ Hub is a perfect example that illustrates that not only is there enough space for critical discourse and practice in the subcontinent, there is also a deep need to have such discourse. In the times that we find ourselves, it becomes more and more important for us find a way to debate and discuss our choices. Contemporary art is but a reflection of society, and therefore a refection of the choices we make. Curators put together exhibitions with strong curatorial and conceptual frameworks and discussing their work opens up windows into their fascinating minds. Its wonderful to have the opportunity to closely interact with such brilliant thinkers from all over the world.

We believe that there it is essential to keep such events inclusive, expansive and thereby far reaching. The white cube has its own contradictions. Although it claims to be an osmotic space, there are high entry barriers to the real public and it is important to break those barriers if we truly want contemporary art to be inclusive and accepted by wider audiences. One way of doing this is to of course do things outside the whitespace, the other more challenging thing to do is to make the whitespace itself less intimidating.

The Experimenter Curators’ Hub is a perfect example of how something can be inclusive and expansive at the same time in the contemporary world and be non commercial. We can accommodate only a limited number in the gallery at the ECH for example, because of space constraints but we stream the entire hub live during the days, making it accessible from all corners of the world. When we look at numbers and areas of access, we are amazed with how widespread our reach is and what kind of diverse audiences see the hub. Also we made a conscious decision to make the hub freely available as an online archive for posterity and hope it grows to become a unique resource that can be used in future.

Do you think that the market privileges certain kinds of work, particularly from the subcontinent? Can critical curatorial practices exist (and be supported by their institutions) that look to destabilise this market tendency?

De-stability is great. In fact, this is one of our key interests. We like imbalances. We think imbalances allow for opportunities and enable possibilities that would not have otherwise existed. The market does follow precedence and prefers a particular kind of work, because economics is based on how certain the certainties can be. It is wonderful to undermine expected economic parameters to create an acceptance for something that may not have been otherwise considered “marketable” (for the lack of a better word) earlier.

Critical curatorial practices can not only co-exist in under such conditions, they in fact have the possibility to thrive in such situations. All it needs is a slight inroad… a minute imbalance or a tiny instability. The macro conditions are such in the subcontinent that institutions are being increasingly included into the ambit of top-down governance, which is dangerous. The only way they can continue to have an autonomous voice is to allow for such instabilities, even if they are below the radar, on a low simmer for the time being.

A curator has a very powerful position that can be used as a tool to open up new and uncomfortable questions that confront us in our everyday. There are several people who are doing some fascinating work despite the odds and we have deep respect for their practice. The Curators’ Hub has had many of these curators in the past and we have had the good fortune to be close to their practice, engage with their minds and in understanding their work intimately.

Being as we are in a historical moment that supposes every act as a political one, what would you say is the real political potential for art (if any at all)?

We are deeply political people ourselves. The very act of running a contemporary gallery that calls itself Experimenter is a political act in itself. To answer your question, we believe art has a particular role and intent in society. It holds a mirror to the world and allows for us to reflect. Very few professions allow for such possibilities and it is important for us to continue to do so. Experimentation is at the core of our program. Experimentation is not only reflected in the work we show but also in the way we think and the choices we make. Artists will reflect the world in the way it is and it is our responsibility to enable that to happen. Pushing boundaries of thoughts, prejudices and pre-conceived ideas is as much part of the experimentation as it is to confront viewers with challenging exhibitions at Experimenter.