It Must be an Indian cultural Cultural Thing

Deb and I went to the Salar Jung Museum yesterday. It is housed in a building that has a marvelous facade. It and all its contents were donated by the prime minister (PM) to the last Nizam of Hyderabad. The PM and the Nizam were hereditary positions so that the eldest son of the Nizam and the eldest son of the PM would grow up, one to be king, and one to be his in-life Shwapti. If you read the previous blog on Chowmahalla palace, you know that the Nizams lived large because amassing large fortunes come to those who rule and larger fortunes come to those who rule longer. If you're an FOTK (See the Where have all the Nizams Gone post) life can be pretty generous as well. Oh, I was kicked out at first for having my camera in my pocket. The armed guards were very strict about cameras. Now virtually everyone that came into the museum had a cell phone of which, let's say conservatively, 90 percent of those phones have built-in cameras. I did an Ugly American as I was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and shorts. Yep, I stood out like a grouchy old American man should.

The last PM, who held his position until 1947, lived large shall we say? He had a big house. It was not as big or elaborate as the Nizam's, but not shabby. He appears to have represented his Nizam well and made sure he followed the old adage: "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer". The galleries that had the photographs from the late 19th century until Independence showed him as a close associate of the India Congress Party and a Mason. Talk about having your foot in both camps!

The PM was an avid collector. The only way I can describe the enthusiasm I imagine he had for collecting was when Joan Rivers recalled a shopping trip to a mall with Linda Bird Johnson. Joan told how the salesman had Linda Bird set her foot on the Brannock scale only to have Linda Bird say, "they're fine, I take three pairs in black, brown, and tan." It seems that where ever he traveled, the PM found stuff to buy. In some instances he must have bought by weight. Not surprisingly, he had some impressive stuff from China and Japan. Well, duh! Proximity reduces shipping costs. Some of the collections would make the eyes of any Pier One buyer mist up. We're talkin' container ship loads. Chinese and Japanese porcelain abound. There were rooms of furniture as well. And that's one of the areas where the cultural thingy became apparent. One of the furniture displays had chairs with silk embroidered covers. From the ceiling of the display case, water was leaking in a fairly strong flow. Now this was not a incident Deb and I just happened upon. There were others passing by the display with the gesture of "oh, look, water is leaking into the display. Let's go get -- some chai." They walk out of the gallery and down the hall to the chai stand.

While I was shocked by this accident, it wasn't the only display case that had water damage. A case nearby on the same wall was open with a drying fan blowing air into it. Two workman were sitting chatting away as the air blew into the case. There was not attempt to remediate the mold that had already started growing on the walls and furniture in the open display. Again, this wasn't the only incident that would send a western curator into cardiac arrest. In the display areas with cloth, the lighting was fluorescent which was like putting Glenn Close in a rabbit warren with a box of sharp knives and a turkey deep fryer. You could see evidence of the damage to the silks in particular. Now, maybe it is the Hindu karma that says that no matter what I do, the water will leak and destroy the display and that's the way of life. Or maybe it is simply not giving a shit about it and only coming to the museum to pay the 10 rupees to enjoy the air conditioning. I'm not sure which I am going to accept yet. As Deb and I wandered through the various galleries, we came to two conclusions, well, three actually:
(1) A western curator should never, and we mean NEVER take a post in India. That would be a good way to drive a western creative talent insane. The only real issue would be how long it would take. Would it be a few hours, days, or for the strong ones, weeks?
(2) The PM reminded me of Orson Wells' Kane buying up stuff to stuff into his estate, Xanadu. OK, I know it was Wells' rendition of Hearst and San Simeon. But the PM did not have an eye like many collectors do. It's just like sending someone out to the store to pick up some canned goods and oh, by the way, could you also buy about 200 European paintings while your about. The European gallery was much like one of those "starving artist" displays set up at a hotel. You know why these particular artists on display starved. There was a gallery of modern Indian painting. It was like someone sent a group of Indian art students to New York for a weekend visit to MOMA, the Whitney, and a few galleries in Soho. Their objective was to "make some paintings like the ones you see there." Again, most of these artists will be painting for the "starving artists" of India. The thing is, they won't be in a hotel conference center, they'll be under a tarp (if they are lucky) selling their works beside the container ship rug sales guy out on Road 42. You'd be surprised at the volume of Chinese merchandise the Indians have access to. For being mortal enemies, the Chinese don't seem to have any reservations about selling junk to India.
And finally (3) we are not recommending the Salar Jung to anyone who has been to a North American or western European museum in the past 50 years, and we include those who have been to the Toledo and Detroit art museums as well. Walking past a Tyree Guyton house in Detroit does not count, though. If that's your paradigm of folk art, by all means, visit the Salar Jung. It's you.