‘Fragment from Splitting’, 1993
Rummana Hussain
Bricks, mirror, gheru, terracotta
These five works by Rummana Hussain were among her first installations. Having painted figuratively to express the political throughout the 1980s, she felt the need for object-oriented art which could respond to immediate realities.
When the Babri Masjid was demolished in 1992, Hussain was living in Bombay (Mumbai), one of the cities worst affected by communal riots. As a Muslim woman, she was forced to temporarily flee her home with her family.
Emerging from this traumatic experience, the works displayed here, in which the shattered terracotta pot is a recurrent motif, were in her first solo show, ‘Fragments/Multiples’, at Bombay’s Gallery Chemould in 1994.
Hussain used the pot allegorically: the shards of terracotta resemble broken domes, destroyed homes, and the human body undone, each alluding to the violent fracturing of social unity. From these pots, everyday materials, such as gheru (a powdered red clay) and rubble, spill onto mirrors. Their reflections are interrupted, distorted, evoking a desolate landscape of ruins.*
On 6 December 1992, an organised mob of Hindu activists demolished a sixteenth-century mosque, the Babri Masjid, in Ayodhya, India. They contended that the mosque had been built upon the site of a Hindu temple that had commemorated the birthplace of the god Ram – a mosque-temple debate ongoing since the nineteenth century. The destruction of the mosque triggered riots across the Indian subcontinent, in which some thousands were killed. This communal violence had a profound impact on many members of India’s artistic community. Vivan Sundaram recalled that there was “enormous despair”, which “shook the belief system of those brought up with Nehruvian ideals of secularism. There was a crisis.” Several artists were compelled to make works in response, and some, such as Rummana Hussain and Sheela Gowda, radically re-oriented their practices. It was within this context that artists began to experiment with installation, cross-media and performance in an effort to directly address issues of secularity and to deconstruct essentialised ideas about India’s modern and pre-modern past.*
Taken from the exhibition
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975–1998
(October 2024 — January 2025)
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975-1998 surveys artistic production from across the Indian subcontinent during a 23-year period marked by social upheaval, economic instability and rapid urbanisation. The exhibition unfolds in a loosely chronological manner, framed by two significant national events in the history of independent India: the declaration of the Emergency in 1975, when democratic rights were suspended, and the nuclear tests of 1998, when the country relinquished its non-violent ideals to assert its place in a new global order. Some artists responded unequivocally to developments in the public arena, while others captured shared experiences and private moments. Amongst the 30 artists featured in this show some committed themselves to representational painting; others evolved personal iconographies in a variety of mediums, including employing installation in the 1990s. All of them combined social observation with individual expression and innovative forms to make work about friendship, love, desire, family, religion, violence, caste and community. This has determined the four axes that shape the exhibition: the rise of communal violence; gender and sexuality; urbanisation and shifting class structures; and a growing connection with Indigenism.
The exhibition takes its title from Sudipta Kaviraj’s essay The Imaginary Institution of India, in which he writes persuasively about the intellectual process of conceptualising the Indian nation. Artworks consider the state’s inability to abide by the progressive character of its Constitution, conceived as an instrument for radical social transformation. They also confront government failure to uphold secularism, social justice, welfare, minority rights and affirmative action in the face of a rising Hindu right wing and pro-capitalist economic agendas. They demonstrate that solidarity and protest existed, and were expressed in many registers, from the strident or intimate to the despondent or poetic, both anguished and hopeful, in the street and in the home. We witness the quiet defiance and resilience which truly defines this imaginary institution of India. In the words of B. R. Ambedkar, the Indian Constitution’s main architect, “Political democracy cannot last unless there lies at the base of it social democracy.".
[*Barbican Centre]
Taken in the Barbican
‘Fragment from Splitting’, 1993
Rummana Hussain
Bricks, mirror, gheru, terracotta
These five works by Rummana Hussain were among her first installations. Having painted figuratively to express the political throughout the 1980s, she felt the need for object-oriented art which could respond to immediate realities.
When the Babri Masjid was demolished in 1992, Hussain was living in Bombay (Mumbai), one of the cities worst affected by communal riots. As a Muslim woman, she was forced to temporarily flee her home with her family.
Emerging from this traumatic experience, the works displayed here, in which the shattered terracotta pot is a recurrent motif, were in her first solo show, ‘Fragments/Multiples’, at Bombay’s Gallery Chemould in 1994.
Hussain used the pot allegorically: the shards of terracotta resemble broken domes, destroyed homes, and the human body undone, each alluding to the violent fracturing of social unity. From these pots, everyday materials, such as gheru (a powdered red clay) and rubble, spill onto mirrors. Their reflections are interrupted, distorted, evoking a desolate landscape of ruins.*
On 6 December 1992, an organised mob of Hindu activists demolished a sixteenth-century mosque, the Babri Masjid, in Ayodhya, India. They contended that the mosque had been built upon the site of a Hindu temple that had commemorated the birthplace of the god Ram – a mosque-temple debate ongoing since the nineteenth century. The destruction of the mosque triggered riots across the Indian subcontinent, in which some thousands were killed. This communal violence had a profound impact on many members of India’s artistic community. Vivan Sundaram recalled that there was “enormous despair”, which “shook the belief system of those brought up with Nehruvian ideals of secularism. There was a crisis.” Several artists were compelled to make works in response, and some, such as Rummana Hussain and Sheela Gowda, radically re-oriented their practices. It was within this context that artists began to experiment with installation, cross-media and performance in an effort to directly address issues of secularity and to deconstruct essentialised ideas about India’s modern and pre-modern past.*
Taken from the exhibition
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975–1998
(October 2024 — January 2025)
The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975-1998 surveys artistic production from across the Indian subcontinent during a 23-year period marked by social upheaval, economic instability and rapid urbanisation. The exhibition unfolds in a loosely chronological manner, framed by two significant national events in the history of independent India: the declaration of the Emergency in 1975, when democratic rights were suspended, and the nuclear tests of 1998, when the country relinquished its non-violent ideals to assert its place in a new global order. Some artists responded unequivocally to developments in the public arena, while others captured shared experiences and private moments. Amongst the 30 artists featured in this show some committed themselves to representational painting; others evolved personal iconographies in a variety of mediums, including employing installation in the 1990s. All of them combined social observation with individual expression and innovative forms to make work about friendship, love, desire, family, religion, violence, caste and community. This has determined the four axes that shape the exhibition: the rise of communal violence; gender and sexuality; urbanisation and shifting class structures; and a growing connection with Indigenism.
The exhibition takes its title from Sudipta Kaviraj’s essay The Imaginary Institution of India, in which he writes persuasively about the intellectual process of conceptualising the Indian nation. Artworks consider the state’s inability to abide by the progressive character of its Constitution, conceived as an instrument for radical social transformation. They also confront government failure to uphold secularism, social justice, welfare, minority rights and affirmative action in the face of a rising Hindu right wing and pro-capitalist economic agendas. They demonstrate that solidarity and protest existed, and were expressed in many registers, from the strident or intimate to the despondent or poetic, both anguished and hopeful, in the street and in the home. We witness the quiet defiance and resilience which truly defines this imaginary institution of India. In the words of B. R. Ambedkar, the Indian Constitution’s main architect, “Political democracy cannot last unless there lies at the base of it social democracy.".
[*Barbican Centre]
Taken in the Barbican