Far from being viewed only as preparatory works, drawings need to be recognised for their medium and genre
Art schools have always been at pains to teach students draughtsmanship as a true measure of their skill. Since the 15th century, from the time of Leonardo da Vinci, artists have filled thousands of pages of sketchbooks to capture the nuances that escape us—the way a finger crooks around another, or a few strokes to suggest the contours of a body or even how a crumpled leaf floats to the earth. Many artists work on their masterpieces, or their more ambitious paintings, after completing a single or a series of drawings to help them gain perspective on the final result, and to correct any anomalies of scale. But drawings are a separate and legitimate part of their oeuvre, complete in and by themselves. For art connoisseurs, these often-neglected examples reflect an artist’s skill and talent.
The 7 O’Clock Ritual of Lall Nana, c. 1970s
Krishen Khanna (b. 1925)
Graphite on paper
The London-educated banker might have remained a hobby artist if it wasn’t for Husain who egged a young Krishen Khanna to leave the trappings of the corporate world for a more creative quest. An observer of people around him, he came to be particularly well known for recording the lives of pavement fruit sellers, tea-shop and dhaba customers, and the foibles of those born to class and privilege. This delightful drawing almost caricatures Lall Nana’s activities as soon as the clock strikes 7 in the evening. Grandpa Lall is shown seated in his living room armchair, the mandatory plush carpet under his feet. A side table has all the accoutrements of his evening ritual—a bottle of whisky, a soda maker and a crystal glass. He is formally dressed for the occasion, his crossed legs reveal feet shod in shoes. There is a selection of pens in his shirt pocket, a cigarette dangling insouciantly from the fingers of his right hand. The brooding figure is brilliantly rendered, and just three lines on the upper right hand corner provide depth, both to the room and this drawing.
King Making Confession, 1977
Rabin Mondal (b. 1929)
Brush, pen and ink on paper
The virtuoso primitivism of modernist Rabin Mondal has escaped most serious collectors, but this Kolkata-based artist has been a consistent voice that highlights the moral and political decay of society. Reflecting the bleakness of those who abuse positions of power, he represents high office and wealth as corroding influences that render his protagonists lonely and isolated. He often depicts these authoritarians as naked, therefore weak, as seen here. This drawing, from from one of his most iconic series of ‘King’ paintings, is complete and therefore an unlikely contender as a preparatory work for an oil painting. It portrays the king positioned under a harsh light, the rays forming a dunce-like cap over the confessional figure. In the absence of even a fig leaf to hide behind, the king conceals his nakedness with his hands. Mondal’s powerful use of black, the cross-hatch to represent depth, and the use of white as a negative space serve to dramatise the scene, and one cannot but help feel sympathetic for the melancholic figure who is reduced to an infantile object of ridicule.