Drawing Room: Yogesh Ramkrishna on Manjunath Kamath’s mythical art
B Manjunath Kamath conjures up new creatures and narratives, using unexpected fragments of men, gods, birds and bovines
Spend a moment taking in artist B Manjunath Kamath’s Vikatonarva, a 12-foot-tall terracotta sculpture made in six parts. It comprises a grandiose figure, wearing an imposing headdress comprised of dozens of smaller heads arranged like grapes on a vine. And the figure itself seems to be standing atop two forms that seem like animals, except they don’t look like any creature we know. The whole sculpture is a bit of a puzzle – is the style Ancient Greek, Italian, Chinese or Indian? The name doesn’t help. Vikatonarva sounds like a mix of the Sanskrit words vikata (monstrous) and anarva (boundless). But Kamath says that he invented the name.
If the work seems like it’s got a lot going on, it’s probably because Kamath’s own influences are wide-ranging. He grew up in rural Mangalore in Karnataka, and all through childhood, much of the art he encountered was via temples and churches. He also cites local Yakshagana plays and stories from Indian epics, as other early sources of influence.
Both deal with mythmaking. And Kamath’s work has often looked at the power of perception. Some of his works evoke comparisons to ancient murals and sculptures (down to the chipped, faded portions). Even his use of terracotta stems from his past. He’d walk past a potter’s yard on the way to school and remembers being fascinated by the way the artist shaped earth into so many forms. But his work as an adult may well be a nod to the pottery from the Indus Valley civilisation.
Kamath’s works leave plenty of room for imagination. For me, they’re a commentary on the passage of time, the fragility of memory, and the impermanence of the human experience. He assembles fragments – in his words, “a hand here, a foot there, the curve of a cheek or a portion of a bird” – to mimic the effect of nature on ancient sculptures over time. By celebrating the fragments that remain, he honours the past while also acknowledging the inevitability of change and transformation. And by fusing parts of multiple characters, he creates new myths and narratives.
Another striking piece is Sravaka or The Listener, seated cross-legged, his back to the viewer. He leans forward to listen in surreptitiously to a conversation he isn’t intended to be part of. One can plainly see the mischievous nature of the act in the impish gaze reflected in his large, slightly bloodshot eyes. The figure’s inquisitiveness mirrors that of most humans and his curiosity is perhaps a nod to the important process of creating stories.
I first saw Kamath’s works when I was studying for my Master’s. I was drawn to his ability to tackle love, horror, politics and anger in an engaging and playful manner. I also appreciate that his works are rooted in Indian culture. They encourage me to think critically about the world around me. His use of art to build interactive and immersive experiences pushes me to explore new strategies for engaging with art and the world.
Artist bio: Yogesh Ramkrishna’s practice is centred on the false beliefs perpetuated by reality, media and mythology, and how they shape mental and behavioural patterns.
From HT Brunch, April 19, 2025
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