<p>We drive past them regularly yet they are mostly ignored, but those silent, withered statues can tell a lot about a city and its socio-political milieu. ‘On a pedestal’ will showcase the statuary history of Bengaluru<br />with a display of over 700 photographs and notes of analysis next week.</p>.<p>The discourse around statues is growing louder the world over. The statues of racism and slavery were toppled following the Black Lives Matter protests in the US. In Russia, pro-democracy protesters felled the effigy of revolutionary fanaticism, Felix Dzerzhinskyky. The world’s tallest statue, of Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, in Gujarat was criticised for being a waste of taxpayers’ money. “It’s the age of statues,” remarks artist Ravikumar Kashi, who is mounting this show along with urban researcher Salila Vanka, and architect Madhuri Rao.</p>.<p>This exhibition follows from ‘Narratives of visual culture and spatial politics: A study’, a 14-month research project the trio undertook on a grant from the India Foundation for the Arts. </p>.<p>It may be the first such attempt in Bengaluru but is in no manner exhaustive, Kashi admits. They have documented public statues that came up in the city centre and older areas after the 1990s. He explains why, “The statues have increased in the past three decades and now, bigger statues are being built. The city has transformed since the IT boom and liberalisation. The demographics of the population has changed.”</p>.<p>Some broad findings: A majority are built in the memory of Kannada actors — close to 100 of Dr Rajkumar, 40 of Vishnuvardhan, and 20 of Puneeth Rajkumar. At 13, female sculptures are abysmally few and commemorate warrior queens Rani Chennamma and Rani Abbakka, Kannada poet Akka Mahadevi, film producer and Rajkumar’s wife Parvathamma, Lakshmi Devi, daughter-in-law of Bengaluru’s founder Kempegowda, and former prime minister Indira Gandhi, among others. In addition, all Jnanpith awardees have been honoured.</p>.<p>They also recorded a portrait of a businessman (Vittal Mallya), and a police staff (traffic constable Meese Thimmaiah). “Thimmaiah was courteous. He manned the GPO junction with dramatic gestures. He died while saving a woman and her child from a speeding van. People wrote letters to the police and the press, mourning his death,” Kashi recalls.</p>.<p>Dalit representation</p>.<p>In marginalised neighbourhoods, busts of Dalit leader BR Ambedkar are aplenty. “In Srirampuram, we found six statues of BR Ambedkar within half a kilometre. The portrayal is often not accurate but with iconography, the round glasses, blue suit and a book in hand, you know it’s Ambedkar. His statues provide a sense of security to the locals. They are also an assertion of identity,” he says.</p>.<p>The increase in Kempegowda statues in Bengaluru also intrigued them and they have archived 18. They spoke to history professor Janaki Nair, sociology expert Chandan Gowda, and journalist Sugata Srinivasaraju. They browsed news reports to see how the inauguration of each statue was covered, projected and interpreted. The 108-feet bronze statue of Kempegowda at the Bengaluru airport seemed to be an exercise to please the Vokkaliga vote bank, they gathered.</p>.<p>Ministers and saints</p>.<p>Statue-making can be a sensitive endeavour. In Vidhana Soudha, all statues and pedestals are almost of the same height. “Perhaps to eliminate creating hierarchies,” he says.</p>.<p>Then a fort-like structure around the Cauvery statue in Basaveshwaranagar is a “metaphorical” act to protect the river goddess.</p>.<p>“The Tamil community wanted to unveil a statue of Tamil saint Thiruvalluvar in Ulsoor but Kannada organisations were against it. It was unveiled after six years, after a statue of Kannada poet, Sarvajña, was built in Chennai,” he shares.</p>.<p>Except for the “overnight disappearance” of a sculpture of contemporary artist Balan Nambiar from the Lavelle Road traffic junction, and the removal of a sculpture of children dancing around trees in Mekhri Circle, Kashi doesn’t know of other such instances.</p>.<p><span class="italic">Opens on May 12, 4 pm to 7 pm, at Belaku Gallery, Rangoli Metro Art Centre, MG Road. On view till May 14, 11 am to 6 pm. </span></p>
<p>We drive past them regularly yet they are mostly ignored, but those silent, withered statues can tell a lot about a city and its socio-political milieu. ‘On a pedestal’ will showcase the statuary history of Bengaluru<br />with a display of over 700 photographs and notes of analysis next week.</p>.<p>The discourse around statues is growing louder the world over. The statues of racism and slavery were toppled following the Black Lives Matter protests in the US. In Russia, pro-democracy protesters felled the effigy of revolutionary fanaticism, Felix Dzerzhinskyky. The world’s tallest statue, of Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, in Gujarat was criticised for being a waste of taxpayers’ money. “It’s the age of statues,” remarks artist Ravikumar Kashi, who is mounting this show along with urban researcher Salila Vanka, and architect Madhuri Rao.</p>.<p>This exhibition follows from ‘Narratives of visual culture and spatial politics: A study’, a 14-month research project the trio undertook on a grant from the India Foundation for the Arts. </p>.<p>It may be the first such attempt in Bengaluru but is in no manner exhaustive, Kashi admits. They have documented public statues that came up in the city centre and older areas after the 1990s. He explains why, “The statues have increased in the past three decades and now, bigger statues are being built. The city has transformed since the IT boom and liberalisation. The demographics of the population has changed.”</p>.<p>Some broad findings: A majority are built in the memory of Kannada actors — close to 100 of Dr Rajkumar, 40 of Vishnuvardhan, and 20 of Puneeth Rajkumar. At 13, female sculptures are abysmally few and commemorate warrior queens Rani Chennamma and Rani Abbakka, Kannada poet Akka Mahadevi, film producer and Rajkumar’s wife Parvathamma, Lakshmi Devi, daughter-in-law of Bengaluru’s founder Kempegowda, and former prime minister Indira Gandhi, among others. In addition, all Jnanpith awardees have been honoured.</p>.<p>They also recorded a portrait of a businessman (Vittal Mallya), and a police staff (traffic constable Meese Thimmaiah). “Thimmaiah was courteous. He manned the GPO junction with dramatic gestures. He died while saving a woman and her child from a speeding van. People wrote letters to the police and the press, mourning his death,” Kashi recalls.</p>.<p>Dalit representation</p>.<p>In marginalised neighbourhoods, busts of Dalit leader BR Ambedkar are aplenty. “In Srirampuram, we found six statues of BR Ambedkar within half a kilometre. The portrayal is often not accurate but with iconography, the round glasses, blue suit and a book in hand, you know it’s Ambedkar. His statues provide a sense of security to the locals. They are also an assertion of identity,” he says.</p>.<p>The increase in Kempegowda statues in Bengaluru also intrigued them and they have archived 18. They spoke to history professor Janaki Nair, sociology expert Chandan Gowda, and journalist Sugata Srinivasaraju. They browsed news reports to see how the inauguration of each statue was covered, projected and interpreted. The 108-feet bronze statue of Kempegowda at the Bengaluru airport seemed to be an exercise to please the Vokkaliga vote bank, they gathered.</p>.<p>Ministers and saints</p>.<p>Statue-making can be a sensitive endeavour. In Vidhana Soudha, all statues and pedestals are almost of the same height. “Perhaps to eliminate creating hierarchies,” he says.</p>.<p>Then a fort-like structure around the Cauvery statue in Basaveshwaranagar is a “metaphorical” act to protect the river goddess.</p>.<p>“The Tamil community wanted to unveil a statue of Tamil saint Thiruvalluvar in Ulsoor but Kannada organisations were against it. It was unveiled after six years, after a statue of Kannada poet, Sarvajña, was built in Chennai,” he shares.</p>.<p>Except for the “overnight disappearance” of a sculpture of contemporary artist Balan Nambiar from the Lavelle Road traffic junction, and the removal of a sculpture of children dancing around trees in Mekhri Circle, Kashi doesn’t know of other such instances.</p>.<p><span class="italic">Opens on May 12, 4 pm to 7 pm, at Belaku Gallery, Rangoli Metro Art Centre, MG Road. On view till May 14, 11 am to 6 pm. </span></p>