Gulammohammed Sheikh: Mapping Memory, History, and Imagination

The Kiran Nadar Museum of Art (KNMA) presents Of Worlds Within Worlds: Gulammohammed Sheikh, A Retrospective, a landmark exhibition celebrating the extraordinary six-decade career of one of India’s most influential contemporary artists. Sheikh, an artist, poet, and pedagogue, has redefined the boundaries of visual storytelling through his innovative use of painting, digital media, book-making, and large-scale installations. His works are deeply rooted in memory, history, and the multiplicity of cultural narratives, making him a singular voice in Indian contemporary art.

This retrospective, featuring over 190 works, traces Sheikh’s evolution from his early paintings in Baroda to his expansive, multi-layered compositions that engage with themes of identity, communal harmony, and historical consciousness. From his evocative Speechless City (1975) and City for Sale (1981–84) to his deeply personal Kahat Kabir series, Sheikh’s works offer a powerful reflection on the times we live in. His pioneering approach to storytelling, whether through the Kaavad tradition, accordion books, or digital interventions, showcases his relentless pursuit of new artistic forms.

In this interview, Gulammohammed Sheikh discusses his inspirations, process, and the layered meanings within his art. He reflects on his engagement with history, the role of memory in his work, and how storytelling has shaped his artistic journey. From revisiting the lost Ebstorf Mappamundi to his monumental Kaarawaan, Sheikh continues to blur the lines between past and present, myth and reality, offering a nuanced vision of a world in flux.

Nikhil Sardana: Your retrospective at KNMA is one of the most extensive showcases of your work to date. How do you feel about seeing six decades of your artistic journey come together in this exhibition?

Gulammohammed Sheikh: It is difficult to articulate my response when so much of my work from different phases of my career is displayed together—some of which I had not seen in decades. Many of these paintings left my studio 30 or 40 years ago, so encountering them again is both a pleasure and a surprise. I find myself rediscovering aspects of my artistic journey—seeing works I created in my twenties and reflecting on my earliest exhibitions.

For instance, some of the paintings in the retrospective date back to my first exhibition at the Jehangir Art Gallery in 1961, inaugurated by M.F. Husain. He had arrived in his characteristic white suit and read a poem at the opening—an unforgettable entry into the world of art for me.

The exhibition also includes works from my time in England, where I studied at the Royal College of Art. Many of those paintings remained in the UK—some were given to friends, some discarded and others were sold—so only two of them are part of this retrospective. I pointed out one in an architect friend's collection in Nagpur, and another was sourced from a private owner by the curatorial team. Seeing these works again, after more than fifty years, was a deeply moving experience.

Another fascinating rediscovery was a series of paintings dominated by yellow hues. I had painted them upon my return from England, inspired by the intensity of the Indian sun. I experimented with different shades of yellow—cadmium, lemon, ochre—layering them to achieve a unique luminescence. These were works I had not thought about in years, and seeing them again made me reflect on my early explorations with colour and light.

NS: Your work often integrates diverse artistic traditions—from Mughal and Persian miniatures to Renaissance masters. What draws you to these cross-cultural references, and how do they shape your visual language?

GS: My artistic approach evolved over time. In my early years, I worked with a singular vision—painting a recurring image of a white horse, inspired by the tongas of my childhood in Kathiawar. I painted nearly a hundred such works over three years, but eventually, I felt the need to expand my visual language.

Studying in England was transformative. I was exposed to the great museums of London and, more importantly, to the art of pre-Renaissance Italy. Travelling through Siena, I was captivated by the 14th-century works of artists like Sassetta and Ambrogio Lorenzetti. Their paintings, with their vibrant colours, lack of harsh shadows, and unconventional perspectives, challenged my understanding of space and composition.

Upon returning to India, my teaching work led me to Ajanta, where I was struck by how the murals had to be experienced by walking through the caves. The paintings enveloped the viewer, creating a dynamic, immersive experience. This idea of movement through an artwork—of paintings unfolding like a journey—became central to my practice.

In 1969, I began work on Returning Home After a Long Absence, a painting that incorporated multiple perspectives and artistic traditions. It depicted a blue mosque and a cluster of houses in a ghetto-like setting, with angels hovering on a tree. I blended elements of Persian and Mughal miniature painting, photographic imagery, and personal memory—embedding a photograph of my mother within the composition. This painting marked the beginning of my layered, multi-perspectival approach.

NS: Your paintings often invite the viewer on a journey, both visually and conceptually. Do you see your work as a form of storytelling, where the viewer is drawn into layered narratives of history, memory, and imagination?

GS: Absolutely. I have always envisioned painting as a journey—one that unfolds gradually for both the artist and the viewer. My process often involves layering different temporal and spatial elements, drawing from history, literature, and personal memory.

In my painting About Waiting and Wandering, for example, I combined landscapes I had encountered, people I had met, and images I had seen in other works of art. Some elements are viewed from above, others from the side, creating a shifting perspective that compels the viewer to move through the composition.

I want my paintings to be spaces of discovery. When a viewer enters an artwork, they might be drawn to a particular figure, which then leads them to another detail, and another, until they begin to see how all the elements interconnect. In that sense, my paintings are journeys—not only for me as the creator but for every person who engages with them.

NS: Over the decades, your work has responded to changing times, personal experiences, and shifting artistic concerns. How has your artistic vision evolved in response to these transformations, and what have been some pivotal moments in this journey?

GS: Well, different things happen at different periods of time. When you think of 60 to 70 years, you don’t think in the same manner throughout. Times change, people change, situations change—and so do you. Change is a major factor in artistic evolution.

Whenever I looked at something that felt magical, I tried to capture that essence. I remember traveling in Madhya Pradesh by bus, watching the landscapes merge in my mind—the trees seemed to float above the mountains, and the mountains appeared smaller. It was an almost surreal experience. I painted to bring out that magic. In that work, the road transformed into a tree at the horizon. I was drawn to such visual enchantment, where imagery transports you to another realm.

Then came moments of crisis. During the Emergency, like many others, we artists were deeply disturbed. The streets were eerily empty. I painted Speechless City, which initially featured a figure with multiple hands running away. Eventually, I removed the figure, leaving behind only desolate landscapes—houses without people, just roaming animals. It was a response to the political climate.

Later, my focus shifted to cities. The question was—how do you paint an entire city? One of my assistants showed me Google Earth, and I was mesmerized. We printed an aerial view of Baroda but removed the buildings, keeping only the skeletal streets. Around those, we painted our own imagined city. It was a fascinating exercise—building something from reality but transforming it into a vision entirely our own. Every time I encountered something new, I felt the urge to incorporate it into my work.

NS: How do you view the role of digital technology in contemporary art? Has it influenced your own practice, and what are your thoughts on how young artists engage with it today?

GS: I do use digital technology—I’ve even created digital works. But for me, it is just another medium, like oil, watercolour, or tempera. It should serve my purpose, not dictate my art.

The challenge today is that digital tools are incredibly seductive, and many young artists become completely absorbed in them, believing that digital is the ultimate medium. That’s where the real issue lies. Technology should be used as a tool, not as a replacement for artistic creativity.

If you let technology dictate your work, you risk becoming just an operator of a machine. One must resist that seduction. Use technology, but on your own terms—let your mind and imagination define its role, rather than the other way around.

NS: Your retrospective at KNMA provides an in-depth look at your creative process, including notebooks, poetry, and pedagogical writings. What do you hope audiences will take away from these intimate elements?

GS: It’s really up to the viewer to decide what to take away. The curator, Roobina, has done a holistic job—not just showcasing the large oil paintings but also including my photographs, graphic prints, digital works, and even a video. She has also brought in my writings, which—though not fully readable in an exhibition setting—may prompt viewers to explore them further.

More than just an exhibition, it’s a biographical visual representation. It traces my journey across different places, encounters with various people, and exhibitions at different sites—all leading to this moment, where I sit and look back at my own work.

What’s remarkable is how she has curated it—not as a mixed bag, but as an interconnected experience. A painting next to a photograph encourages contemplation. For example, a Fatehpur Sikri photograph alongside one of my town paintings might lead a viewer to draw subtle connections between them.

The exhibition unfolds like a journey. Each work invites the viewer to step into it, to experience something new, to reflect on its meaning. And that, I think, is what makes it truly immersive.

Of Worlds Within Worlds: Gulammohammed Sheikh, A Retrospective is on view at KNMA (Saket), New Delhi, until 30th June 2025.