Delhi exhibition shows why acquiring traditional Indian art can be a high-stakes gamble

Yet, as these pieces reveal the stories of Indian civilisation from centuries ago, from within the crevices of this rather tight curation, emerges a more urgent discourse around the challenging task of acquiring traditional art, created with centuries-old traditions passed down through generations. Unlike contemporary art, pieces of traditional art don’t always have an ironclad provenance that assures buyers of an authentic purchase.

As rewarding as owning such pieces of history and heritage may be, collectors can find themselves in a quagmire if they end up with a fake, and the probability is quite high. In 2018, researchers at IIT BHU, Varanasi, and SASTRA University, Thanjavur, conducted a study revealing that roughly eight out of 10 Tanjore paintings in the market use gold foil instead of the customary 22K or 24K gold. While similar data isn’t available for Pichwais but fakes with factory-manufactured pigments, and prints often circulate the market as originals.

Dakhin Dilli, also features Raja Ravi Varma oleographs. The artist’s ‘Yashoda and Krishna’ (1890s) is currently the crown jewel of Indian art after it fetched Rs167.2 crore at a Saffronart auction earlier this year, yet copies of his works, including those of his prints published at the Raja Ravi Varma press between 1894 and the mid-1970s, continue to flood the market.

One of the major reasons why acquiring such works, including miniatures, Pichwais, textiles, folk paintings, ritual objects, or courtly pieces, can be challenging, Gujral says, is the lack of formal institutional systems in India. “Unlike Western art markets, where cataloguing and documentation have existed for centuries, many Indian works travelled through oral histories and undocumented inheritance,” she says.

Establishing the authenticity of such art, therefore, does not have a one-formula solution like most contemporary Indian art, where the biggest assurance is an authenticity certificate signed by the artist, besides a stamp of approval from a gallery or museum and a comprehensive provenance or a chain of deeds (similar to purchasing property), documenting when and how the piece changed hands. The documentation also includes transparent disclosure of any restoration or conservation work done on a work of art. In the absence of such paperwork for the exhibits at ‘Dakhin Dilli’, Gujral had to consult specialists and scholars familiar with specific schools, regions, pigments, techniques and iconography to examine age indicators such as natural pigment behaviour, paper quality, textile weave, oxidation, backing materials and wear patterns.

Vintage Parrot Green Pichwai with a Panchmukhi Hanuman in the front. (Photos by Raseel Gujral Art Legacy)

To ensure that the gold in a Tanjore painting is genuine, for instance, experts use spectroscopy, a non-destructive method to check the gold’s quality based on how it reacts to light and radiation. Pichwais can be validated by taking a closer look at the pigments and the cloth. If it is too perfect or too uniform to be true, it is not. Natural pigments bleed and permeate to the back of the base cloth. And a fake Ravi Varma oleograph will reveal itself under a magnifying glass in the form of a grid of tiny coloured dots. Because Ravi Varma’s was a lithography press, which used large flat stones to print, the originals will have solid, continuous blocks of colours.

Establishing provenance, though, is another ballgame. It is as enriching as it is elusive, for traditional works of art. “Provenance often reveals not only the journey of an artwork, but the journey of India itself — through migration, patronage, memory, inheritance, and cultural continuity. Many of these works are not merely objects of aesthetic value; they are witnesses to shifting histories, disappearing ateliers, evolving traditions, and deeply personal family narratives,” Gujral says adding, “Originally created without the intention of entering the modern art market, documentation was rarely maintained and signatures were uncommon. They have historically been passed down through families, ateliers, temples, courts, and private collections.

Because galleries and institutions are now course correcting and collectors like Raseel attempting to bridge the gap, often, the only mention in the provenance is the last owner who, after all the checks, takes responsibility for the authenticity by providing signed certificates. For instance, when Gujral acquired the ‘Shesh Narayana with Sridevi and Bhudevi’ oleograph by Raja Ravi Varma (1905-1910), it came with gallery certificate. The provenance for the next buyer would now include the gallery as well as Gujral. Similarly, the nearly century-old Vintage Parrot Green Pichwai, which too came to Gujral with a gallery certificate, would now also include her name in the provenance for the next collector.

For Gujral, the exhibition is an attempt to celebrate the ‘Sacred’ as an aesthetic that continues to shape our cultural identity, even as it leaves the temples to move into our living rooms. That is why, perhaps, she showcases the works against quintessentially Indian wallpapers, propped up by plush carpets in the roomed structure of Arzaani Atelier Privé; almost to give her collectors the ambience of a real home filled with ‘real’ art.