Kanayi’s Yakshi
turns 47 this month but still makes gawking men go weak-kneed. A tribute to the
power of art and the demons it can tame
She sits naked, all
of eighteen feet, in a straddled triangular posture – challenging every man’s
libido and fantasy. She seems to be in ‘unmaadam’, a joyful madness, even as
the verdant grass caresses her long thighs in an orgasmic state of union with nature.
Nestled in
the foothills of Western Ghats, in hearing proximity to the cascading waterfall
of Malampuzha, ‘Yakshi’ stands out as the biggest nude woman sculpture in the
country to date. Yakshi turns 47 this October and Kerala 65 in November.
At first sight,
Yakshi seems to represent the mythical character she is: an unbridled goddess
of sensuality and a creature of the wild. But a closer look reveals she is
definitely much more than that. For one, she is not ashamed of her nudity, nor
does she strike a coy position; instead she holds up a mirror to viewers, as
she looks upwards into the sky, as if empowered enough to take the world into
her.
For sculptor Kanayi
Kunhiraman, Yakshi is a union of the manifold aspects of womanhood, her
sensuality, fertility, empathy and freedom, the ultimate possessor of the
natural wealth of the earth.“There is nothing obscene in her nudity and if
people feel so it is because they are conditioned to see women in that
way,’’ says the 78-year-old sculptor. After completing a two-year sculpture
project, Akshara Shilpam, in Kottayam in June this year, Kanayi is recovering
from a severe sprain and is undergoing ayurvedic treatment in the state
capital.
Kanayi Kunhiraman
In all his works,
Kanayi was perhaps searching for that elusive love and motherhood, he missed so
much in his fragmented childhood. He was forced to run away from home at the
age of 16 to Madras, in order to escape the clutches of his tyrannical father
who was a murderer. “If it was not for the one life-long love, that is
sculpture, I would have been long dead by now,’’ he says.
It was in 1968 that
the state irrigation department approached Kanayi for installing a work of art
in the park adjoining Malampuzha dam. “They were not getting enough tourists.
The park was remaining unused and they wanted to make it a major tourist
attraction,’’ he recalls. Kanayi had just returned from London after completing
a three-year Commonwealth scholarship course in sculpting at the famous Slade
School of Fine Arts at the University of London. “The exposure gave me an
opportunity to interact with world’s best painters and sculptors,’’ he says.
During his stay, he
travelled across Europe and studied the works of modernist painters like Henri
Matisse and Pablo Picasso. “I realized while Indian painters like Ravi Varma
looked westward for artistic formats, painters like Picasso were inspired by
tribal African art forms,’’ he says.
Yakshi, for him was
a sort of going back to his roots, but with a modernist expression. But the
concept did not occur to him all of a sudden. Kanayi stayed in a hostel in
Palakkad near the dam and for two months he would roam the countryside to find
a suitable expression for his work of art.
Then, one day
he observed that the contours of one of the hills in the valley resembled a
woman lying with her tresses flowing. “I then decided the sculpture
should be that of a naked woman in tune with the wild mountain landscape. I
envisioned various postures and finally came up with the posture of a woman who
is ready to take in or maybe deliver a new creation into this world,’’ he says.
But once Kanayi
began to work on the sculpture with the help of ten local chisellers, news
spread that he was making a naked statue and there were protest rallies to the
site to stop the work. He was forced to stop work for three months but
fortunately the protests died out and he began his work again.
“We used to work
from eight in the morning to six in the evening, braving the sweltering
Palakkad sun. One day as I got down from the bus, a group of locals beat me up
for apparently denigrating Indian culture. They asked me to go back or else
they threatened that my dead body would be seen floating in the dam. But
I did not bother to file a police complaint which would have escalated the
situation and instead continued with my work silently,’’ he recounts.
Kanayi was
influenced by Dadaism and the works of Marcel Duchamp who believed in the
notion of anti-art. “I would never want my sculpture inside a museum. I believe
sculptures should be in public places so that it connects people to that unseen
force beyond the routine life,’’ he says.
Art critic Vijay
Kumar Menon – who was commissioned by Lalit Kala Akademi to write a book on
Kanayi’s work –says the Yakshi myth is an integral part of Indian tradition.
“But over a period of time we had good yakshis and bad yakshis. Kanayi’s
larger-than-life Yakshi blends into the wild landscape of Malampuzha
symbolizing an unmitigated freedom,’’ Menon says.
All his later
sculptures, be it the Jala Kanyaka at Thiruvananthapuram, Mother and Child at
Kannur, and Mukkola Perumal at Kochi, touch the aspects of love and nature in
all its forms. Kanayi still remembers how tribal people staying in the
Malampuzha forests began worshiping Yakshi once it was completed, lighting
mud-lamps in front of the statue. Yakshi had come up at the exact spot where
the tribals had a small stone shrine of Yemuramma, a tribal goddess, which was
removed for the construction of the dam. “Was that a sheer coincidence or
divine interference, I still do not know,’’ Kanayi wonders.


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