The centre can hold

I had met him for the first time during an exhibition in Delhi in the late 1940s. I had seen his work, and went to meet him. As usual, he was extremely friendly. Whenever I visited Mumbai, I would meet him. All of us — Tyeb Mehta, MF Husain and Raza — spent several evenings together. The Progressive Artists’ Group comprised the Mumbai-based artists, but artists from across India were friends. We belong to a generation that saw the rise of Indian art. Each of us went on to develop our own language, and Raza found his in the bindu.

I moved back to India, but Raza continued to stay in France. He found love there, married Janine Mongilla. He really liked her, accompanied her to church every Sunday, even stayed back in France for her. She did not visit India often, as she did not like the country, but Raza came almost every year. He was rooted to the land and to his art. Both of us shared a love for the Hindi language, but we never discussed anything apart from art. Even when he came to France, all that he wanted to know was where to go to see the works of masters such as Henri Matisse and Pablo Picasso. He wanted to visit the Louvre, and other art galleries, meet local artists. We never exhibited together, but now, our works are put together in several exhibitions. On Saturday, I bid him a final goodbye but our association is something I will always cherish.

(As told to Vandana Kalra)

Raza with FN Souza and Akbar Padamsee in Paris in 1952

‘I thought that if Raza says it’s good, then my painting must, indeed, be good’
– Akbar Padamsee

“You should come with me to Paris,” he had said, and so it was with Raza that I went to Paris in 1951. He had just been awarded a scholarship by the French government and he asked me to come along. I was only 19 when we left for Paris, while Raza was 26, so there was quite an age gap between us. We went by a ship, because at that time, there were no flights. It arrived at Marseille and we boarded a train to Paris, and found Ram Kumar waiting to receive us. The journey took us 15 days and we became good friends during the time. He was a practising artist in Bombay and I was an art student at the JJ School Of Art, but it was on that trip that we truly became friends. I had not made any paintings until then, only drawings. Yet, aboard the ship, when we began talking, I spoke of the many ideas that were preoccupying me. He hadn’t read so widely back then. I used to read a lot, and when we discussed books, Raza always listened attentively.

When we reached Paris, however, our roles were reversed. He was soon instructing me, and encouraged me to start painting. There was an art shop opposite the room where I lived, and I went and bought some material. He gave me some very practical advice, telling me things like, “Don’t add too much oil, or the painting won’t dry.” As I started painting, he would often critique my work. When I completed my work, Woman with Bird, he came by to look it over. “It’s good,” he told me and I was very relieved. I thought to myself that if Raza says it’s good, then it must, indeed, be good. So, I entered the painting in a competition held by the Journal d’Arte. The competition was being judged by none other than Andre Breton, who was known as the Pope of Surrealism. He awarded me a prize for the work, even though he had to argue with a lot of other people, who objected to him giving a prize to someone as young and inexperienced as myself.

Raza was one of the few artists with a truly natural talent. When he first tried to establish himself in art, it was as a landscape painter. But that changed when he met Austrian painter Walter Langhammer and German art critic Rudi Von Leyden. Raza would travel all the way from Kalyan in Bombay, where he used to live then, to Napean Sea Road, which is where Langhammer lived. I lived just across the road from him, and would often meet him.
Even after I left Paris in the mid ’60s, we kept in touch. When he moved to India, some years ago, he decided to settle in Delhi. We couldn’t meet as often as I would have wished. But whenever I got the chance, I would visit him. The last couple of years, though, I couldn’t meet him. Raza remained a dear friend right till the end, and he will be missed.

(As told to Pooja Pillai)

His canvas Saurashtra fetched him a record 16.4 crore at a Christie’s auction in 2010

‘I would say he is a great artist of all times and not just a great Indian artist’
– Atul Dodiya

As a student at Sir JJ School of Art in the 1980s, I used to look forward to SH Raza’s annual trips to India, when he would visit the institution that was his alma mater too. One of his early works was on display in the main hall. When we would invite him, he would come and speak to us very willingly, talking about his early days. He used to invite students to his exhibitions in the city when he was in Mumbai. I made it a point to go. As students, we were thrilled that we were studying in an art school that had produced giants of Indian painting like Raza, FN Souza, VS Gaitonde and Tyeb Mehta.

His death is, indeed, a great loss to Indian art. He was not just a fine painter, but a fine mind. He had learned a lot from French artists such as Henri Matisse and Pablo Picasso, but remained rooted to Indian tradition and Hindu philosophy, especially the relationship between the self and the cosmos. I would not hesitate to compare him with the pioneers of abstract painting in the West. In fact, I would say he is a great artist of all times and not just a great ‘Indian’ artist.

He was very encouraging to young artists. When I arrived in France on a scholarship at the École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts in Paris in the early 1990s, he was in Gorbio at that time, but as soon as he came to Paris, he contacted me and invited me over. Anju (Dodiya’s wife) and I often stayed over for dinner at his place. While he had mastery over French and English, he also spoke very pure Hindi. We shared a common interest in literature — he was well-versed with Hindi contemporary poetry and would occasionally quote certain poets. We spent several evenings discussing the Vedas, the Upanishads and Ramana Maharshi.

He tried to make me comfortable in the foreign country and introduced me to many people, including a professor who was a figurative painter like me. He used to give suggestions on artwork I should see, places I should visit. One day, I turned up at his house in a light jacket and he said it wasn’t sufficient to withstand the cold. He immediately gifted me a warm coat for the French winter; it is a gift that is very dear to me. I even have a small canvas of his, from the early ’80s; it is a gem, not very typical with a bindu, but an abstract.

I had the good fortune of watching him paint. We used to sit in his studio, and sometimes, he would pick up the paint brushes. It was a greatly rewarding experience to watch Raza paint a large vertical canvas — the gentle manner in which he approached the canvas, the brush strokes which were calligraphic, just like his writing. His works are a celebration of life. That celebratory aspect has gone out of contemporary art, maybe because of what is happening around us, but his works, to me, reflect festivity, whether it is the colours — the vivid reds, blues and yellows he used — or the way he built compositions on the canvas.

(As told to Vandana Kalra)