Deep Breathings : Sohan Qadri

Keshav Malik

It so happened, that even as I looked at Sohan’s present work, this very week, against a panorama of a large body of works by different hands, the coincidence only helped me, in sundry ways, to grasp a facet of his art better—or so I imagined. Many of the works of those other hands were of course not lacking in virtues of a wide variety. No doubt of that. Yet the sheer contrast of this painter’s mood, stood against theirs, was palpable. His art-assaying was all too tight-lipped alongside the not infrequent bustling colourful imageries which, in their respective ways, spoke out volumes. Well, several, if not all those eminent artists reconnect imaginatively to the environs we literally inhabit, Sohan’s concern seemed to be somewhat remote; no matter his enticing mono color sensorium. But then, sensorium is surface, not the concealed, elusive depth. I will allow myself one more flashback, but this from the early sixties; that is, when I had my very first look at his work. And this one, I believe, held a hint of the nature of things to come. I had overheard, from this work, a sound—as may conveniently be described as that of deep breathing wood winds, or a musical instrument akin to it. This musical analogy comes closest to getting into the depths of Sohan’s present presentation. No doubt, to successfully come into what he does right now surely took time, entailing much work on craft as much as on self. And so, finally here we are. That said, I can more assuredly probe into his envisioning-cum-core-listening. The so-called music that inspirits his palette is, however, not of the standard kind.

This `music’ is of a pin-drop silence, and so in its imaginative sweep, it carries no silt from our immediate, at hand, lives or life circumstance. It is most certainly not operatic, never programmatic, nor yet appears as second fiddle in the soft bed of his paint. For that matter, it is not even the soul elevating Gregorian chant— its closest kin. In the operatic, for instance, the crooning voice is overwhelming with its insistent, urgent emotions, in still other music there is the beauty of immaculate crafting. And of course great is the solemnity of the high mass that simply moves us to tears.