NEW DELHI — At the India
Art Fair, a mammoth annual event here that drew crowds of artists,
curators, buyers and gawkers this year, it was clear where women
belonged: on an equal platform with the men, often running the show. But
their visibility also raised an old and tricky question: Why haven’t
female artists caught up with the men when it comes to pricing?
The answer to that question isn’t obvious. At the Art Fair, as in the
broader realm of Indian art, there seemed to be two levels at which
women participated and were accorded respect. The works of women like
the sculptor Hemi Bawa and the photographer Dayanita Singh drew as much
attention as the works of men like Jitesh Kallat or Subodh Gupta. And
the Indian art world is a hospitable environment for women in other
roles — as gallery owners, art fund managers, curators and auction house
managers.
Back in the 1940s, there was little room for female artists. Amrita
Shergil was one of the few of that era to make her mark, but the advance
of modernists in India was dominated by men for the next few decades.
It was in the 1970s, the art historian and critic Gayatri Sinha recalls,
that the floodgates opened for female artists. But while women have
enjoyed equal gallery space and critical praise, their works haven’t
commanded the same prices, and women don’t rank among India’s top five
artists measured by the admittedly blunt instrument of sales figures.
“The difference in pricing is not a conscious gender divide,” said the
art critic Deepanjana Pal, who is based in Mumbai. “Despite the fact
that we have so many women gallerists and artists, the ones who are
taken more seriously are the men. As a society, we take women less
seriously. When you look at artist couples — Atul and Anju Dodiya,
Bharti Kher and Subodh Gupta — both might be taken equally seriously by
critics, but for a long time, the pricing was completely different. It’s
an unconscious bias.”
In 2010, there were a few signs that things might change. “Wish Dream,” a
multipaneled canvas by Arpita Singh, an artist based in Delhi, sold at
the Saffronart auction for $2.24 million — the highest price ever
achieved for a work by an Indian woman at auction. (The highest price
fetched by any Indian artist in recent times was $3.4 million, for
“Saurashtra,” a painting by S.H. Raza, which sold the same year at
Christie’s in London.)
One of Ms. Kher’s signature sculptures, a life-size elephant slumped on
the floor, its skin marked with hundreds of bindis — the forehead
decoration of many Indian women — sold at Sotheby’s, also in London in
2010, for a record $1.5 million, placing the artist in ninth position on
a list of India’s 10 top-selling artists compiled by an art gallery in
Delhi.
Opinion in the art world is divided on the question of whether these
women are outliers, or indicators that women in general might be
catching up with men in terms of pricing parity.
Anjali Purohit, an artist based in Mumbai whose career spans three
decades, suggests that pricing is only one way to look at differences
between the sexes in the arts, here and elsewhere.
“The situation in India reflects the status of women artists everywhere
in the world,” she said. “How many women artists have gained prominence
in the wider world? In India, if you look at why the work women artists
produce is not taken seriously, start with their early careers. Men are
seen as professional from the moment they start working as artists.
Women have to prove their credentials, because they’re seen to have
other competing priorities — children, the family. A gallery thinks
before investing in a woman artist: How seriously does this woman take
her art? Will she last?”
The same questions, Ms. Purohit and many female artists say, don’t apply to men.
Some women do break through, says Ms. Pal, the art critic, cautioning
that there is a difference between “appreciation and valuation.” Kishore
Singh, a former art critic who heads the Delhi Art Gallery, would
agree, and he has a nuanced perspective to offer.
“We mustn’t forget that the contemporary Indian art scene started with
about four women artists to 70 male artists, roughly, and it’s improved
since then,” he said. The discrepancy in pricing is not conscious or
obvious, he added, given that the market is driven by female artists,
gallery owners and buyers — to a much greater extent than several other
art markets.
He said he had noticed a pattern at his gallery that may be of some
significance. As with many other buying experiences in India, from cars
to household goods, he noted, women tend to do the browsing and
selecting, but men tend to make the final decision. Mr. Singh’s
observation is corroborated by many other art dealers, who say that
women tend to be more curious, but men tend to control the checkbooks.
“When you look at the distance we’ve come over the last few decades,”
Mr. Singh said, “you might argue that the art world has been getting
more equal, on all fronts. Even with pricing, perhaps it’s catching up.
Eventually it has to happen, as art becomes more democratized and as
people concentrate less on the signature and more on the artwork.”
And perhaps, he said, the international art market might inadvertently
contribute to gender-blind pricing in the Indian art world.
“A buyer or a collector abroad can’t tell from the names whether an
artist is a man or a woman,” Mr. Singh said. “With Indian art becoming
more international, that might actually work better for women.”
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