18 September,2022 10:30 AM IST | Mumbai | Mitali Parekh
Most of the pieces on display are part of Nita Barua’s time in Israel
Nita Barua doesn't like a fuss - not about herself; not about her art. But debuting on the art scene at the age of 90 warrants a small amount of it. She sits in a wheelchair wearing a sharply ironed kaftan, coiffed silver hair and pearls in place. "I was there for her coronation," she says, "I wonder if I will be able to see his on TV." She means, of course, the coronations of Elizabeth II and soon, Charles III.
It's the one thing she wishes she could see as her eye-sight disintegrates. "I can see a bit of colour," she says without self-pity. Her hands make long sweeping actions as if painting walls when she adds, "Sometimes I feel like getting oil or poster paints, but I can't sit on the [potter's] wheel, and you need the whole setup⦠the kiln and so on⦠Besides, everything is done on the computer now. It must be fun for some people, but not to meâ¦"
Barua trained to be a graphic designer, first with a foundation course at JJ College of Arts, and then at St Martin's in London. "And then I would go for courses at JJ for batik or other kinds of things," she says. She did a smattering of commercial work - some posters and booklets with textile revivalist Pupul Jaykar for the Cottage Industry, and catalogues for cosmetics manufactured by Godrej - but nothing she'd pin self-worth to. Her Malabar Hill home has some of her work, but not much, as she usually gives it away. It's no wonder that she radiates a deep sense of detachment.
ay was her last medium, and pieces from her work between 2001 to 2015 have been chosen by ceramist Shirley Bhatnagar for the Back to Earth show at 47-A: Design gallery at Khotachiwadi. "I liked how clay feels," says Barua, "and prefer to construct it with my hands instead of on the potter's wheel. The wheel makes the shape too regularâ¦too perfect. I like making irregular things, like that anemone. It's chipped nowâ¦" She motions for her helper to bring a large vase-like artefact, glazed blue and green. Other works hold her plants in the gallery.
Working with clay came with a second chance at love. She was first married to a Navy man, who passed away. Barua was making a trip to Israel with some friends, and approached the consulate with the name of a former classmate, Danny Toren, perchance they would be able to find him. They came back with a phone number. "We made plans to meet in Tel Aviv with my friends, but slowly they dropped out, and it was only me and him."
After studying at St Martins where he was "all over the place. I didn't like him much", Toren returned to his father's studio in Israel, doing a lot of commercial work. "It was a large industrial building with several studios within it. He had built up the business well," she says. "It was easy for us to get along now because he too had lost his wife. But we didn't collaborate artistically. He would call me to contribute to something and rub it off almost immediately after I was done."
Over the next 15 years, Barua lived in both countries and when Toren passed away, she came back to India. She gave away most of her pieces, and what remained, came back with her. Now she fills her days with classical and jazz music from Spotify, audio books and taking care of her plants. Her friends visit often, as do her children and grandchildren. "When they come, they tell me about new technology, install something that plays music or reads out books. I get news about the world, and what's happening," she says, "but to tell you the truth, I like living alone; I like my peace. I have no regrets; I have lived well. I've been to England by ship two to three times. It would take about 20 days. And then I went by propeller planes. In fact when the jets came [as commercial airplanes], I was scared to get on them. My father laughed and said they were safer than the ones I used to go on. Now I have to find a way of going to my art show..."
