Art in Exile?

Johan Pijnappel traces the journey of video art in India and raises some poignant questions.

- Johan Pijnappel

Nalini Malani. Remembering Toba Tek Singh. Four-channel video play with 12 monitors in tin trunks. 1998. Image courtesy of Nalini Malani. Collection of Fukuoka Asian Art Museum.

THIS ESSAY HAS BEEN TAKEN FROM VOLUME X, ISSUE 1, 2005. THIS WAS A SPECIAL ISSUE ON VIDEO ART.

Indian video art has arrived rather late on the global art scene. With a history of about a decade, there are more or less twenty-five artists who have made about 150 works. Browsing through the coffee-table book, Video Art in India (2003), published by the Apeejay Press, one tends to get the impression that Indian video art has substantial visibility within India. The book gives the impression that this relatively new art form has conquered a place next to painting and sculpture, for which there are booming markets. In fact, the book has covered only three evenings of Indian video art exhibitions - around ten exhibition hours, with an average of 200 to 300 visitors. Nonetheless, it frames important moments as far as this nascent art form in India is concerned.

The Indian Video Art: History in Motion (2004) catalogue, brought out by the Fukuoka Asian Art Museum, gives a clearer picture. Not only was this the first museum show of Indian video art abroad, but as can be seen from the extensive biographical notes, most of the individual presentations on display also made their debuts here. In fact, more than 85% of the videos made by Indian artists have been presented at forums abroad. All of this makes us feel that Indian video art is an art form in exile.