by Lars Holdgate // Jan. 23, 2026
‘A Story of South Asian Art’ is an exhibition that centers on Mrinalini Mukherjee but encompasses works by other representatives of contextual modernism; the thread that roughly holds this almost century-long journey together. Contextual modernism can be understood as a response to modernism; one that considers the particular historical and cultural contexts modernism enters into–in this case, South Asia. It is distinct from other movements, such as the Bengal School, which sought to position itself along nationalist lines and in opposition to British Colonial rule. This narrative is not similarly explicit here, despite Santiniketan–the school that proved so influential to the artists represented in the exhibition and by extension, Indian Modern Art–similarly embodying a rather different attitude to that prevalent in colonial systems.
Mrinalini Mukherjee and works in progress at her garage studio. New Friends Colony, New Delhi, c.1985 // Courtesy of Mrinalini Mukherjee Foundation and Asia Art Archive, photo by Ranjit Singh
Collaboration is fundamental to Santiniketan’s teachings, whether among the artists themselves or with what we would consider the “natural environment” that surrounds them. As such, it is only fitting that ceramic, fibre and fabric works created by peers, parents and educators converge in ‘A Story of South Asian Art.’
Another feature of the school’s ethos is experimentation, which is reflected both in form and style. It is difficult to describe the rich and divergent facets: some works are abstract, others appeal to traditional or Indigenous Indian styles and a minority feel somewhat familiarly modernist. Benode Behari Mukherjee’s collages, created when his eyesight had deteriorated into blindness, bear a resemblance to Matisse’s cut-out works. K. G. Subramanyan’s ‘Untitled (Reclining Woman)’ (1980) and ‘Birth of Mahavir’ (2002) seem to channel Picasso. The French and Spanish artists are cited as influences to the artists on display.
Benode Behari Mukherjee: ‘Lady with Fruit,’ 1957, paper and graphite on paper, 25.7 x 28 cm // Courtesy of Tate: purchased with funds provided by the South Asia Acquisitions Committee 2015, photo © Tate, courtesy of Mrinalini Mukherjee Foundation
If one were to view this as an adaptation of style, it can be seen as carrying with it a strength anchored in its pragmatism, cementing the power of a shared perspective that calls into question imagined and imaginary divisions. Perspective was one of the avenues I chose to go down as I made my way around the exhibition: on the one hand, a flat two-dimensionality and, on the other, magnetic volume. The seemingly static nature of works belonging to the former category is often invigorated by color: deep earthy tones, reds and browns as well as the lagoon-ish palates of blue, green, yellow and turquoise are brought to life by the glorious lighting that seemed to capture that equilibrium, where a comforting crisp coolness meets a secure but hesitant warmth. The glow began to sedate me.
Jagdish Swaminathan: ‘Untitled (Lily by my Window),’ circa early 1970s, oil on canvas, 106.7 x 121.9 cm, private collection, Switzerland // Courtesy of Sotheby’s, Inc. © 2025. © J. Swaminathan Foundation
There are also a number of bold floating sculptural silhouettes hanging from ceilings and erected within space. There is, obviously, an intentionality to the layout. The positioning of the bold plinths seemed to mirror Jagdish Swaminathan’s approach to ordering and constructing “space through distinctly Indian references” that explored “the relationship between colour and space.” If the reddish half-moons were the materialization of this idea, I wasn’t entirely convinced by the result. What I was struck by, however, was the works themselves. Specifically, the way in which the relationship between the human and their environment that contextual modernism foregrounds appears to be reflected in the “naturality” of the works’ substances: bronze, hemp, wood. Continuities of meanings, affects and effects manifest in their respective invocations.
Two bronze sculptures, ‘Emergent III’ (2007) and ‘Forest Flame IV’ (2009), both by Mrinalini Mukherjee, dazzle with their leafy coral-like shards that have been frozen in the air as they grow or melt, or both at the same time. There is a rawness to their golden shimmer, like treasure in a cave; bearing the traces of a whisk making its way through thick cake batter, or stuck in time like cement left to dry in a crumpled plastic bag.
‘A Story of South Asian Art,’ 2025-26, installation view at the Royal Academy of Arts, London // Photo by © David Parry/ Royal Academy of Arts
Ironically, this shiny preservation of a moment communicates an “untouchability” that separates them from the inherent tactility of Mrinalini Mukherjee’s monumental woven hemp works, which envelop the viewer in the thick layers that collapse onto one another. They are erotic, carrying a sense of humane familiarity based on intuition rather than experience. There is also a botanical element to them: lips morph into leaves or petals, turning the hemp sculpture into a processed and reformed version of itself and its own material. The product is a hallowed point of convergence. Mukerjee’s etchings, created at the same time as these sculptures, are also on display. They seem to be as interwoven into the hemp works as the upbringing and familial ties that were responsible for the artist working with sculptures in the first place.
‘A Story of South Asian Art,’ 2025-26, installation view at the Royal Academy of Arts, London // Photo by © David Parry/ Royal Academy of Arts
What I understand the Santiniketan’s ethos to be–and the associated sense of totality that the exhibition tries to invoke–is represented, not least, by Leela Mukherjee’s sculptural works, ‘Burgeoning cluster’ and ‘Intertwined figures,’ both stemming from a series dated 1950-89. Eras, geographies and lives seem to merge. Mrinalini Mukherjee stands centrally, but at times, the story of the circle risks being the victim of disjuncture.
The artists and their fantastic works are given space but, on occasion, I needed significantly more space than was offered in order to process and fully appreciate their depth and magnetism. Mrinalini Mukherjee’s ‘Pakshi’ (1985) and Nilima Sheikh’s large hanging canvases seemed inhibited by claustrophobia. Other sculptural works were rendered two dimensional by their positioning. The relationship between subject, object and environment was not always synergetic.
‘A Story of South Asian Art,’ 2025-26, installation view at the Royal Academy of Arts, London // Photo by © David Parry/ Royal Academy of Arts
Perhaps this is a challenge that Mrinalini Mukherjee faced herself. In an article written for the Tate, Rosalyn D’Mello notes that the artist’s woven hemp sculptures were initially more accepted in the West than in India. In different ways, I felt the influence of the environment on my perception, too. I was sucked in by the lighting; I was beamed away. But then, jumps between artists, media and eras occasionally became too much. I found myself disoriented. And yet it seems difficult to imagine how I would have navigated this challenge, which the exhibition sets itself; the creation of a complete and resonant circle.
Exhibition Info
Royal Academy of Arts
Mrinalini Mukherjee: ‘A Story of South Asian Art’
Exhibition: Oct. 31, 2025–Feb. 24, 2026
royalacademy.org.uk
Burlington House, Piccadilly, London W1J 0BD, UK, click here for map
