Breaking Moulds: Read an excerpt from a book on sculptor Meera Mukherjee
She made sense of the world through her paintings. Then, amid grief and pain, sculpture began to resonate, so she took up the chisel. Here's how it all began.
It all began at the chaukhat of their home in Calcutta.
Meera sat with her Maa to decorate the doorway with alponas while the rest of the house was bustling with the celebrations of Laxmi Pujo.
‘Why do we make alponas if the ants will eat the rice paste anyway?’ she asked her Maa.
‘We make them for the ants.’
Meera smiled.
How the simple rice paste transformed into artistic alponas!
The shapely contours of Goddess Laxmi’s feet and the swirls of the paisley patterns glowed before her eyes like twinkling fireflies.
Art found Meera. Everywhere she saw. Everything she felt.
She found it in the potter who never rested his wheel. In the fragrant earth and the ever-changing colours of the sky.
The river Padma that ebbed and flowed.
Armed with her colours and determination, Meera flew.
To Germany! To London! To Paris!
She learned to paint like famous European artists.
And Meera painted. Day and night.
But she realised that she did not belong there.
Meera felt her roots tugging at her. Her heart and mind were filled with images of the impoverished in her country. Had she been wrong about art all this time?
Meera was torn. She could paint no more.
So Meera destroyed. Everything she painted. Everything she created.
She resolved to create art that challenged her.
Meera dropped her paintbrush and picked up a chisel.
She gave up her dreams in Europe and returned to Calcutta. She learned sculpting from tribal communities.
The Gharuas! The Dhokras! The Malhars! The Acharyas!
And Meera sculpted. Everything she saw. Everything she felt.
(Excerpted with permission from Meera Mukherjee: Breaking Moulds by Vaishali Shroff, illustrated by Shivam Choudhary, published by Art1st and KNMA; 2023)
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