The Royal Academy's latest exhibition, "A Story of South Asian Art", has been a crushing disappointment. The show aims to trace a century of south Asian art, but it falls flat due to its sloppy curation and mediocre artworks surrounding the star of the show: Mrinalini Mukherjee.
Upon entering the galleries, one can't avoid being hit with the awkward giant – Pakshi, a sculpture created by Mukherjee in 1985. The piece is an eyesore, a red and brown creature with a demonic face and sagging stomach that seems more like a pile of hemp on the floor if its cord snaps. Despite this misgiving, one can't deny that it's also funny, fascinating, and surreal – all qualities that make Mukherjee's art so remarkable.
Mukherjee's parents were both artists, with her father struggling with visual impairment, yet his Matisse-like collages are vibrant and full of life. Her mother Leela had a talent for carving wooden figures with a chunky totemic energy. It would have been wonderful to explore these influences further, but instead the exhibition meanders on without any clear direction.
Mukherjee's sculptures, however, offer a glimpse into her unique artistic vision. She drew deeply from Indian art and culture, yet transcended the local to create something truly remarkable. Her works are full of contradictions – spiritually calm and sensually violent, possessing tension that makes them impressive and enduring. Night Bloom II is a case in point; its shape seems female, but it evokes statues of seated Buddhas and sages that defy gender.
What's most puzzling about the exhibition is how it fails to do justice to Mukherjee's art. The show surrounds her works with mediocre artworks by lesser artists, creating an atmosphere that feels suffocating rather than celebratory. It's as if the Royal Academy wants to muffle Mukherjee's brilliance in second-rate surroundings.
The inclusion of watercolours by Mukherjee's "circle" – presumably friends and family – only serves to clog up the gallery like slow traffic. One can't help but feel that Mukherjee knew exactly how much better she was than her contemporaries, yet here we are, forced to trudge through a sea of mediocrity.
In short, "A Story of South Asian Art" is a wasted opportunity to showcase one of modern India's greatest artists. Instead, it's a damp squib that fails to ignite the flames of creativity and passion.
Upon entering the galleries, one can't avoid being hit with the awkward giant – Pakshi, a sculpture created by Mukherjee in 1985. The piece is an eyesore, a red and brown creature with a demonic face and sagging stomach that seems more like a pile of hemp on the floor if its cord snaps. Despite this misgiving, one can't deny that it's also funny, fascinating, and surreal – all qualities that make Mukherjee's art so remarkable.
Mukherjee's parents were both artists, with her father struggling with visual impairment, yet his Matisse-like collages are vibrant and full of life. Her mother Leela had a talent for carving wooden figures with a chunky totemic energy. It would have been wonderful to explore these influences further, but instead the exhibition meanders on without any clear direction.
Mukherjee's sculptures, however, offer a glimpse into her unique artistic vision. She drew deeply from Indian art and culture, yet transcended the local to create something truly remarkable. Her works are full of contradictions – spiritually calm and sensually violent, possessing tension that makes them impressive and enduring. Night Bloom II is a case in point; its shape seems female, but it evokes statues of seated Buddhas and sages that defy gender.
What's most puzzling about the exhibition is how it fails to do justice to Mukherjee's art. The show surrounds her works with mediocre artworks by lesser artists, creating an atmosphere that feels suffocating rather than celebratory. It's as if the Royal Academy wants to muffle Mukherjee's brilliance in second-rate surroundings.
The inclusion of watercolours by Mukherjee's "circle" – presumably friends and family – only serves to clog up the gallery like slow traffic. One can't help but feel that Mukherjee knew exactly how much better she was than her contemporaries, yet here we are, forced to trudge through a sea of mediocrity.
In short, "A Story of South Asian Art" is a wasted opportunity to showcase one of modern India's greatest artists. Instead, it's a damp squib that fails to ignite the flames of creativity and passion.