V. Sanjay Kumar on his serendipitous tryst with the art world and on arts impact on the ordinary

In my growing up years had someone asked me for my opinion on art or the business of art, I would have guffawed and moved on. Today I am an ‘insider’ in this world. Thus how someone like me, who majored in finance and left his city Chennai to set up a finance services outfit business in Mumbai, ended up in this trade, is quite a story. The connection was serendipitous, if I may say so. Just like the protagonist of my novel, I never knew that I would be so enchanted. It all started on my wedding day, when an acquaintance gifted me a Hussain. I was amazed and embarrassed by the magnanimous gesture and had no clue to the piece’s value. To find out, I began visiting art galleries and within my first few visits, I ended up buying a work by Jogen Chowdhury. I did not know who Chowdhury was or what made his (or any other artistes’ art for that matter) so expensive. But I was curious and wished to fathom how the process worked—who decided the prices, how were the pieces sold or what kept the market afloat. Once I started researching, I got hooked. Thus began my wonderful journey with Sakshi Art Gallery. We started the gallery in 1988, at a time when the Indian art scene was not thriving. Our biggest challenge was that it was not a firm that we inherited from our parents. It was something that we were setting up on our own. And as participants we were but amateurs. However, we were sure that this is where we wanted to be—so my business partner Geetha and I rented out a place and started exhibiting art. I have been into the art business for 24 years now. Yet, the curiosity to discover this beautiful world never ceases. My book Artist, Undone is my way of exploring the Indian art scene and its impact upon strangers ignorant of the existence of this parallel universe. I have been blessed by the company of so many artistes. Their lives have caught my fancy and inspired me. I know their side of the story to an extent; and it was these stories from the other side of the fence that I wished to share with the world as well. Also there was a curiosity to delve into the issue of human frailty—to see how someone in his forties, after reaching a stage in life where the way forth is foggy, would react to an irrational decision. Thus my protagonist Harsh Sinha ends up buying a painting which costs as much a BMW on an impulse. This is the premise for my novel—a vulnerable man (Harsh) enters the art world because of an impulsive decision. And it goes on to change his entire life—as art does. I have tried to explore the tremendous possibilities of the art world through my book. I say tried because writing is something I am yet to come to terms with. When I decided to enter the art business, my family reconciled with my decision; after all it was just a ‘business’ at the end of the day. But when I decided to write a book, I think I took them by surprise. Heck, I think I took myself by surprise. I am not someone who holds a degree in literature nor can I call myself well read. I have been a finance guy and am comfortable with numbers. The feeling, the sense of achievement, is still sinking in. I am still in a transitional stage—moving on to the next chapter of my life, hopefully, as a writer. I guess this journey of self-actualisation is a central theme in my book. Almost all my characters have shades of me and experience self-exploratory journies of their own. With Harsh Sinha I share his existential dilemmas, his curiosity for the art world and what it could do to him; with Manoj Tyagi (the Naami Chor) I share experiences of the business world and the challenges it holds for its players. Having said that, there are several recurring, secondary themes in this book. It deals with the dilemmas that individuals face in stages of their lives. Hopefully what the book would manage to do is to de-elitise the Indian art world for the middle-class. We do not promote a culture that takes pride in our visual arts; our energies are focused on performing arts. But, I am hopeful because over the past years the scene has been changing. What gave me my peg was a painting by Natraj Sharma called Fat, F**ked and Forty. The moment I saw the piece, I knew that I had my beginning. Before you judge me as the most 'sorted-out writer', know that I am an indisciplined one. Perhaps because the process is new; I am hopeful that someday (when I have an ‘enviable’ body of work) I will be able to streamline my thoughts in a more organised fashion.

Looking Back

I have never looked too far ahead into the future nor too much into the past—I have gone ‘with the flow’. Though I have tried various things in life and explored varied fields, I have never planned anything. I do not believe in looking back or second guessing my choices.