Walk along the windswept quays of Dublin's River Liffey and you can't miss The Famine Memorial - bronze sculptures of reed-thin figures fleeing the Great Hunger of the 1840s. Ireland's staple potato crop failed under a blight that spiralled into catastrophe, deepened by British colonial mismanagement. Staring into those sharp, hollow faces, one feels the weight of the struggle that forged modern Ireland and its people.
In Santiniketan, Kalo Bari (Black House), conceived by Nandalal Bose (who, incidentally, led the team that created hand-painted illustrations that adorn each page of the Indian Constitution) and Benode Behari Mukherjee in 1934, was built from mud and coal tar as a students' hostel. Its mural, created over years by students, blends relief sculpture with the school's collaborative ethos, tying the artwork to Santiniketan's local landscape and culture.
That's the strength of public art: it fosters belonging, not because it's decorative but because it reconnects citizens to their place - past, present and future. And when people feel that deep connection, they are willing to protect it and its surroundings. Such works often do more for a city's maintenance, upkeep and aesthetics than any top-down, broom-wielding, one-size-fits-all campaign unleashed in 'mission mode' could ever hope to achieve.
Unfortunately, Indian cities, hoary messes as they are, are bereft of good public art. Which is hardly surprising - nearly 65% of urban settlements lack a master plan. Amid chaotic growth, haphazard zoning and infrastructure forever playing catch-up, there's little space for meaningful public art. What survives is often dull or, worse, an eyesore.
In recent years, the now-rolled-back Smart Cities Mission tried to encourage 'placemaking activities' - actions aimed at improving public spaces, strengthening the connection between people and their environment, and fostering a sense of belonging and community pride. Essentially, placemaking transforms ordinary spaces into vibrant places where people want to gather, connect and participate. What happened to this lofty vision is not known. The culture ministry's Public Art of India (PARI) project, launched in 2024, is now attempting to address the gap.
According to ministry literature, the project seeks to bring forward public art that draws on millennia of artistic heritage (lok kala/lok sanskriti) while incorporating modern themes and techniques - stimulating 'dialogue, reflection, and inspiration', and contributing to India's dynamic cultural fabric. But without an urban vision, these risks becoming just anachronistic, state-driven splashes of colour on a crumbling canvas.
Fortunately, where the Indian state has dithered, artists and citizens have stepped up. Take north Goa's Mapusa Mogi Mural Project, conceived by graphic designer, muralist and comics artist Orijit Sen and his wife Gurpreet Sidhu, a design and art curator. This is a community-centred initiative in the town they've called home for 25 years.
When the couple first arrived in Goa, the Mapusa market - a riot of smells, chatter and colour - became their daily pilgrimage. Sen sketched its bustle and its people, capturing its pulse. But one looming presence begged for extra attention - a 100 m-long, 8 m-high concrete retaining wall near St Jerome's Church. In July 2023, a generous art grant turned that eyesore into an opportunity. Sen and Sidhu launched the project - 'mogi' meaning 'lover' in Konkani - assembling a team of local artists, industrial designers and researchers to document the town's past, present and imagined future.
The mural's first segment, Centrepiece, a 7 m-high ceramic mosaic honouring the feisty vendor women of the market - the town's beating heart - is now on the wall. 93 m remain. The team is currently crowdfunding to complete it.
In Delhi's Lodhi Colony, the last British-built housing estate has become a public art district, thanks to St+Art India Foundation. Since 2015, it has brought in 50 renowned street artists - starting with wall murals at Shahpur Jat in South Delhi, moving on to India's tallest mural, a 48 m M K Gandhi at Delhi Police HQ at ITO, and to Dadasaheb Phalke's massive portrait on MTNL Building at Bandra Reclamation in Mumbai.
In Bengaluru, Poornima Sukumar launched the Aravani Art Project in 2016 to give transgender communities a creative platform. Named after the mythological son of Arjun, who spent a night as a 'married man' with a gender-transformed Krishna before offering himself in sacrifice, the project places transgender artists at the heart of mural-making.
In Kolkata, heritage activist and conservationist Mudar Patherya has transformed drab, poster-plastered electrical boxes into vibrant cultural storyboards, sparking neighbourhood pride. Painted with classic film posters and portraits of eminent personalities such as Satyajit Ray and Usha Uthup, these once-forgotten fixtures have become local landmarks. The project's popularity on social media has inspired many residents to 'adopt' boxes in their own areas.
The momentum for public art is there. But it's fragmented. What's needed now is a set of scaffolding measures to hold the edifice together. Policy support that focuses on the entire cultural ecosystem is vital, fostering collaboration not just among artists, but also between them and the state, alongside investment from business houses, states a CII-PwC report, 'Transforming Urban India: Art and Culture to Play a Pivotal Role'.
But at the heart of public art is public - whether citizenry, or corporate houses contributing as part of their CSR, considering the absence of city art councils. A city, after all, is really about its outdoors. And for that to shine through, let a thousand murals bloom.
kumkum.dasgupta@timesofindia.com
In Santiniketan, Kalo Bari (Black House), conceived by Nandalal Bose (who, incidentally, led the team that created hand-painted illustrations that adorn each page of the Indian Constitution) and Benode Behari Mukherjee in 1934, was built from mud and coal tar as a students' hostel. Its mural, created over years by students, blends relief sculpture with the school's collaborative ethos, tying the artwork to Santiniketan's local landscape and culture.
That's the strength of public art: it fosters belonging, not because it's decorative but because it reconnects citizens to their place - past, present and future. And when people feel that deep connection, they are willing to protect it and its surroundings. Such works often do more for a city's maintenance, upkeep and aesthetics than any top-down, broom-wielding, one-size-fits-all campaign unleashed in 'mission mode' could ever hope to achieve.
Unfortunately, Indian cities, hoary messes as they are, are bereft of good public art. Which is hardly surprising - nearly 65% of urban settlements lack a master plan. Amid chaotic growth, haphazard zoning and infrastructure forever playing catch-up, there's little space for meaningful public art. What survives is often dull or, worse, an eyesore.
In recent years, the now-rolled-back Smart Cities Mission tried to encourage 'placemaking activities' - actions aimed at improving public spaces, strengthening the connection between people and their environment, and fostering a sense of belonging and community pride. Essentially, placemaking transforms ordinary spaces into vibrant places where people want to gather, connect and participate. What happened to this lofty vision is not known. The culture ministry's Public Art of India (PARI) project, launched in 2024, is now attempting to address the gap.
According to ministry literature, the project seeks to bring forward public art that draws on millennia of artistic heritage (lok kala/lok sanskriti) while incorporating modern themes and techniques - stimulating 'dialogue, reflection, and inspiration', and contributing to India's dynamic cultural fabric. But without an urban vision, these risks becoming just anachronistic, state-driven splashes of colour on a crumbling canvas.
Fortunately, where the Indian state has dithered, artists and citizens have stepped up. Take north Goa's Mapusa Mogi Mural Project, conceived by graphic designer, muralist and comics artist Orijit Sen and his wife Gurpreet Sidhu, a design and art curator. This is a community-centred initiative in the town they've called home for 25 years.
When the couple first arrived in Goa, the Mapusa market - a riot of smells, chatter and colour - became their daily pilgrimage. Sen sketched its bustle and its people, capturing its pulse. But one looming presence begged for extra attention - a 100 m-long, 8 m-high concrete retaining wall near St Jerome's Church. In July 2023, a generous art grant turned that eyesore into an opportunity. Sen and Sidhu launched the project - 'mogi' meaning 'lover' in Konkani - assembling a team of local artists, industrial designers and researchers to document the town's past, present and imagined future.
The mural's first segment, Centrepiece, a 7 m-high ceramic mosaic honouring the feisty vendor women of the market - the town's beating heart - is now on the wall. 93 m remain. The team is currently crowdfunding to complete it.
In Delhi's Lodhi Colony, the last British-built housing estate has become a public art district, thanks to St+Art India Foundation. Since 2015, it has brought in 50 renowned street artists - starting with wall murals at Shahpur Jat in South Delhi, moving on to India's tallest mural, a 48 m M K Gandhi at Delhi Police HQ at ITO, and to Dadasaheb Phalke's massive portrait on MTNL Building at Bandra Reclamation in Mumbai.
In Bengaluru, Poornima Sukumar launched the Aravani Art Project in 2016 to give transgender communities a creative platform. Named after the mythological son of Arjun, who spent a night as a 'married man' with a gender-transformed Krishna before offering himself in sacrifice, the project places transgender artists at the heart of mural-making.
In Kolkata, heritage activist and conservationist Mudar Patherya has transformed drab, poster-plastered electrical boxes into vibrant cultural storyboards, sparking neighbourhood pride. Painted with classic film posters and portraits of eminent personalities such as Satyajit Ray and Usha Uthup, these once-forgotten fixtures have become local landmarks. The project's popularity on social media has inspired many residents to 'adopt' boxes in their own areas.
The momentum for public art is there. But it's fragmented. What's needed now is a set of scaffolding measures to hold the edifice together. Policy support that focuses on the entire cultural ecosystem is vital, fostering collaboration not just among artists, but also between them and the state, alongside investment from business houses, states a CII-PwC report, 'Transforming Urban India: Art and Culture to Play a Pivotal Role'.
But at the heart of public art is public - whether citizenry, or corporate houses contributing as part of their CSR, considering the absence of city art councils. A city, after all, is really about its outdoors. And for that to shine through, let a thousand murals bloom.
kumkum.dasgupta@timesofindia.com
KumKum Dasgupta