Age is just a number. Ask 58-year-old artist Vani Chandrashekhar, whose debut show—Borrowings from Nature—recently concluded at the Triveni Kala Sangam. What took her so long? “I was not confident enough,” she says candidly. A lawyer by training, Chandrashekhar has been painting since she can remember, but she won’t call herself self-taught. “That would mean I learnt on my own. Rather, I am ‘untaught’,” she stresses.
Like her uncle—the legendary artist, critic, and writer J Swaminathan—Chandrashekhar’s canvas is marked by bold and bright colours. Green and blue are dominant. “The works in this exhibition were all made during the pandemic when I had moved to Mussoorie. The clear skies and foliage surrounding me crept onto my canvas,” she says.
There is, however, one work—a cycle rickshaw lying forlorn with nature slowly claiming it—that is a marked departure with its hues of grey. “The rickshaw-puller—probably a migrant—had abandoned his means of livelihood and trudged back home. It’s a depressing image that stands for the many uprooted lives during the lockdown. The only thing that thrives amid this desolation is nature, as creepers grow around and over the rickshaw,” she says. Once the painting was complete, Chandrashekhar felt “it was not ‘me’. So I added a colourful bird sitting atop the grey hood”.
Contrary to what many would believe, Chandrashekhar never learnt art from her famed uncle. “I have some fond memories of him. I associate the smell of turpentine mixed with bidis with him, as these would be the first to hit my senses when we visited him. His Bird, Tree and Mountain series from the 70s left an impact on me. It is something I keep returning to time and again. The fine lines and colours really appeal to me,” says the Delhi-based artist.
During all these years, the artist says her mother was a constant support, as was her twin, Valmiki Chandrashekhar, who convinced her to exhibit her works. “I was timid and not sure of my craft.
I would think that my work wasn’t good enough to be showcased, and was doing it largely for myself,” she says.
Her debut exhibition garnered quite a response with a few canvases also picked up by collectors. So does she feel more confident now? “It feels rewarding to be appreciated. But more than confidence, what I feel is nervousness. Now that people have recognised my practice—some have even said I have developed a language of my own I feel burdened. I will now have to live up to the expectations. Had this happened when I was younger, the success might have gone to my head. But now it overwhelms me,” says the artist, who does not have a routine of painting every day. “Art for me is not like assembly line production. I only paint when I’m in the mood. It could be a few days in a row, again many days may go by before I return to the easel,” she says.
Over the years, she has seen her brush becoming firmer. The lines are more fluid and the colours are uninhibited. So what is she going to showcase next?
“The painting I did by my mother’s bedside as she fought cancer, I would like to bring that to the public,” she says.