Tuning into the Arts
By Seema Massot
I have missed the tampura a lot during the lockdown. However much I have tried, it has been impossible for me to locate its sound in ‘live’ sessions on the internet. This seemingly innocuous detail has kept me away from various social media performances, but I later realised it was just symptomatic of the real cause, which is, of course, the simple but absolutely terrifying fear of not knowing when and, if at all, concerts, dance performances and theatre will begin again. It is a valid, if somewhat less urgent, fear of a spectator; the bigger concern being the question of artists’ livelihood. (Not to forget, the virus itself).
As a young adult still in college, my new-found freedom — aided by a trusty scooter — was exercised by going to watch dance, theatre or poetry readings all around Chennai. It was an exhilarating time of discovery and the exploration of artistic expression was reflected in the physical commute as well, for instance, to Koothu-P-Pattarai in Valasaravakkam — I lived in T-Nagar then and it was the farthest I had ever been by myself! Serendipity would have it that the first time I did manage to get to Koothu-P-Pattarai on my scooter, stopping every 15 minutes for directions, the play they were rehearsing was Six Characters In Search of an Author. The space was rough, concrete and beaten earth; you could just about see some lighting grids, but by the time I arrived (after having lost my way a couple of times), it was dusk, and the fading sunlight softened the rough edges as the whole space turned golden before the stage lights took over. Another venue I have always loved is the Edouard Michelin Auditorium — simply known as the ‘Alliance Auditorium’ back then. The Alliance Française has always been a space where you never knew what kind of artist you would run into. I have had the pleasure of meeting actors, theatre directors, painters and writers who would be sitting at the cafeteria, sipping on Yusuf’s famous lemon tea and waiting for a play, concert or book reading to start. And, equally, I have known and loved air-conditioned music halls where you enter the cool space, take in the heady smell of perfume and jasmine flowers and your eyes adjust to the dim lights, and you spot familiar faces across the room — which are all a gay prelude to the actual performance. But this set up, even in normal circumstances, can seem stuffy or claustrophobic, and, now especially, in a post-confinement set up, it would be reckless to be packed into an air-conditioned room.
This got me thinking. What if, when society opened up after the pandemic, we open up our theatres and concert halls too and liberate them from confined spaces?
Covid-19 crisis has called all bets off and in an oddly satisfying, reactionary way, I call off all the bets on our imagination of the future as well. If we don’t dream about an ideal situation now, then when will we? So, in my ideal scenario in Chennai, for example, corporation schools, government schools and some private schools — all the ones that have big open spaces — are opened up to performance arts after school hours in the evenings and on weekends; not just for art shows but also for arts practice. Art isn’t meant just for consumption or to be seen as just a spectacle. Art by itself has immense value in amateur/private practice. And then there are public parks that can host an ergonomically designed exhibition rack — think of photo or art prints here! Or one out of five train and bus stations are stripped off advertisements to make way for carefully designed exhibition spaces.
All of this isn’t without precedence, of course. In 2007, the Government of Tamilnadu presented ‘Chennai Sangamam’ when a number of traditional and folk performances all across the city were performed in public spaces. Other periodical festivals like the Madras Day celebrations, The Chennai Photo Biennale and the inclusivity-focussed Urur Olcott Kuppam Festival have been steadily advocating and bringing art into public places.
When you consider my propositions, they are not revolutionary or grand in scale. Even I was surprised by how my imagination didn’t take me farther than this but I realised this ‘alternative spaces’ idea comes from a place of humility rather than ambition. However, the more daring part of my imagination is a fully-functional and well-funded government agency for the arts that finances, impartially curates and promotes the arts in public places. (I know, I know, but we can still dream).
The practice of art as a leisure activity has to be democratised and public spaces accessible in our neighbourhoods are essential for this. Opening the spaces we reserve for art will open art up to make space for more audience and more arts practice. It’s not just the steady hum of the tampura I am looking forward to; I am sure I will equally cherish the sounds — from my imagined spaces — of children learning to sing in disparate voices but setting the tone for a more artful future.
When this crisis is over, and we take stock of the devastation, the experiences, and the challenges, we will certainly see how films, music or dance brought solace to so many of us. From recorded concerts of the veterans to the ever-so-humble home-made dance video challenges doing the rounds on social media, art — and thus artists’ — value should be clear. We needn’t be worried for art itself; because like life, art will also find a way, always.
Seema Massot has been working in the arts, in various media, for the last ten years. Apart from arts management, she has been assistant director in two French films, including Dheepan that won the Palme d’Or in Cannes in 2015. Seema now lives in Chennai and writes about experiencing art and consults on communication projects.
