Art's Boom Time

Art’s boom time
Art prices have dropped, sales are crawling. Then why are artists and gallerists alike, overjoyed? Gayatri explores

Gallerist Ranjana Steinrucke says from the Madrid ARCO on her last day there, “We only sold two pieces this year. Good.” Stop short. “Good, did you say?” “Yes, good. In the long run, the slowdown will be good for art (more time for introspection) and for collectors (no more ridiculous pricing).”
She’s not isolated in sentiment. Even as world over the sales of art faces, much like any other ‘commodity’ market, shoot the moon prices falling short, plummeting demand and waning investment, artists, buyers and gallerists alike are heaving, strangely, a sigh of relief.
Pravina Mecklai of Jamaat says “The art market was insane. I had a cab driver asking me which ‘picture’ he should invest in, and it was known that a painting would change hands five times a week, which is madness. Paintings were not being finished properly to meet demand – issues of fungus, fakes, price rigging were cropping up. It is far better this way. Now that the investors are out of the market, it is the true art appreciators who are buying.”
International collectors and auction house Christies released figures for losses posted in 2008 – sales had dipped 11 per cent over 2007 figures for the same quarter, and yet, there’s a qualitative spurt, they say. Kate Malin, Asia spokesperson for the house explains “We are witnessing more disciplined buying than in previous years, but there is still strong demand and committed bidding for the rarest and the best despite economic challenges. Collectors are driven to buy unique works of art through passion and desire, and as such they are driven by opportunity. If a collector is active for a period of perhaps 20 or 30 years, then they are likely to have only one chance to bid on any particular work.”

Meet iconic Indian artist Tyeb Mehta, whose Mahishasura had fetched a whopping $1.54 million in 2005, and you will understand why he is glad to be left to his creative isolation in his unfussy apartment in Mumbai’s Lokhandwala suburb, where he continues to work, come bubble or burst, fighting fading vision and physical disability. Tyeb’s last canvas Kali broke the Rs 1 crore barrier, and his Celebration went for Rs 1.5 crore ($317,500) on September 19, 2003. Neither contributed to his personal financial stability. “In all these years, it is only Ebrahim Al Kazi, who put up Kali for auction, who gave us 25 per cent of what he sold it for. It was a gesture straight from the heart, a magnanimous, kind, gesture,” says Sakina, his wife, “but the rest of it, which canvas sold for how much, has passed by us completely. We are not associated with any of the hype around the canvases. We only know of it when a catalogue features his works,” she says.
But then, says art critic and curator, Ranjit Hoskote, Tyeb, who was all about the money to an exploding commercial art scene, has never been about the money at all. “To Tyeb, the need to articulate deep-seated psychic realities and the crises and exultations of his society is paramount. During the six decades of his artistic practice, this need has taken precedence over personal comfort, worldly success, commercial gain, and critical acclaim. All these have been secondary considerations to Tyeb, who has patterned his life on the ideal of the artist who must speak autonomously of social, economic or cultural systems of dominance,” he says.
Tyeb is hurt, if not a little angry at how little art is understood, but won’t comment on the changing world of art around him. “I don’t go to exhibitions, or to see artists’ works because I can’t relate to their works anymore. When I can spare time from being ill, I devote it to my work. Of course my work is symbolic of a changing world and time. Just not necessarily of a changing art world,” he quips. The commercial scenario does not bother him. “I do not paint for money, or for what people think of me or of my work. I paint because it is deeply personal to me. I live in isolation, I paint in isolation. That is what the true artists do – there are a few and far between the melee, but they exist here and there.”
Artist Dhruva Mistry laughs that the only quantitative impact of the recession has been “While reminding a dealer about payment, he had mentioned that ‘sales were sluggish’.” Apart from that, he says, the season has served to allow genuine artists to get on with their work. “One thing I know well is that what I care for in my work would bother no one except me. My life and work are part of my self-enlightenment kit and I must look after my mind and spirit from the mass of material affectations.” He explains what the boom-time bubble meant to Indian artists, “The art ‘hype’ has been part of boom and bust economics of Europe and the US since the early 1980s, which was part of novel reforms of 1990s for India, China and many other countries. Success from 2002 until 2008 seemed to require being in the right place at the right time. Dealer entrepreneurs gamble with select minds, matter and taste to satisfy their speculative creativity. When it works, it raises demand, prices and stakes. In the wilderness of art market, modesty seems passé, shadowing couture and success.”
The genuine artists are thus shrugging off recession, and the aficionados -- collectors and gallerists alike -- are letting them be. As artist Samir Mondal put it “in the time of adversity, the best art creations are made.”

Times News Network
gayatri.jayaraman@timesgroup.com