ISOLATED INSPIRATION IN INDIA: THE ART OF SONABAI
RAJAWAR Stephen P Huyler describes
the influential style and techniques that were developed
over 15 years of imprisonment and beyond.
Excerpt:
Sonabai was alone for the first time in her life. At
the age of 25 she was a virtual prisoner, locked in
her house with no windows, forbidden to talk to or be
seen by anyone, completely isolated. Married for ten
years, she had been ostracised for most of them due
to her barrenness. Then, when she had finally given
birth to a son, her much older husband had locked her
away. She could care for the two of them, cooking and
cleaning, but she was not allowed to leave her home.
In her central Indian village, Sonabai's situation
was unique. She had been raised in an extended family
of 16: brothers, sisters and cousins all living together
in one vibrant dwelling. Men and women were not segregated
in her community. They each had specific roles defined
by their culture, but they were able to converse with
one another. Sonabai's seclusion was the result of her
husband's neurotic jealousy.
Sonabai Rajawar had no artistic training. She later
stated that her natal family was not creative. But the
only toys she could give her infant son were those she
made herself. In desperation, she dug clay from the
edge of her well and used it to fashion toys for him
to play with. She loved the process and her son enjoyed
the results. Soon, Sonabai filled the rooms of their
house with clay figures: horses, cows, goats, birds,
and even human figures.
In the summer months it was unbearably hot inside the
house: 46-52 °C. Sonabai was determined to find a way
to cool down her environment.
She began shaving strips from the bamboo poles left
over from construction, curling them into circles, tying
these into grids, and joining them between the columns
of her interior courtyard. She then covered the entire
structure with a layer of clay, smoothing it into each
form, thereby creating lattices that cast shadows on
the inner recesses of her rooms and caught whatever
winds they could. Finally, she added clay figures to
the lattice - winding snakes up through the coils, perching
parrots in some of the holes, a flute player here, a
dancer there. Sonabai had invented an entirely new style
of art.
Although carved lattices (called 'jali') are common
in north Indian architecture, none existed within at
least a ninety mile radius of Sonabai's secluded village
and she had neither seen nor heard of them. With no
access to the market, Sonabai spent months grinding
spices, herbs, and minerals in her kitchen and experimenting
with them as pigments. Making her own brushes, she painted
the lattices white and the sculptures a broad variety
of colours. During her years of isolation, she transformed
her entire house: sculpted lattices stretched between
columns, bas-reliefs filled empty spaces and figures
peered down from the tops of walls, while base boards
and doorframes tied everything together. Unlike most
Indian decorative artists, Sonabai relished negative
space. The entire assemblage was an unusual blend of
complex design and simple understatement. All was infused
with delightful imagination which made her home a wonderland
of whimsy, colour and beauty.