While he was a student at the Goldsmiths in London, he saw the exhibition Bombay/Mumbai 1992–2001 (2001) curated by Geeta Kapur (a consistent ally and friend to the Kochi-Muziris Biennale) and Ashish Rajadhyaksha at the Tate Modern, and was dissatisfied by their claims about the city and/or representations of the artistic impulses contained by the city, which, according to him, far surpassed the limits of their curatorial premise. Whether the dissatisfaction was warranted or not is not the concern of these musings, but De-Curating was a response to this, where Krishnamachari presented portraits of 94 artists alongside their biographies, gathered over three years of research and travel, many of whom practiced outside of the radar of curators.7 One cannot help but recall Geeta Kapur’s publication, Contemporary Indian Artists (1978), which treated the biographical as a methodology for critical writing on the practices of five of the most well-known artists from India: Francis Newton Souza, Ram Kumar, Akbar Padamsee, Maqbool Fida Husain, Bhupen Khakhar, and J. Swaminathan. Krishnamachari’s ostensible inclusiveness was reactionary toward the assumed role of a curator as one who lends critical value to an artist’s practice by excluding other practices, especially at a time when curators “selected” rather than “invited” artists—as we do these days. Such hyper-inclusive gestures within his artistic practice can be further identified in various instances–one such example is the group exhibition titled Lokame Tharavadu (The World is One Family), which showcased the works of the 247 Malayali artists; another instance is the extended research undertaken by the curators of each edition of the Kochi-Muziris Biennale, prior to commencing their work, rather than relying entirely on the assurances of the art world gatekeepers in each global context that the curator would choose to engage with. It has been refreshing that the overarching conceptual framework—however loose at times—for each biennale edition has not relied on tropes and themes that were already popular with curators globally at the time, as is frequent with several other biennales. This independence emerged because the invited artist-curators often do clearly have a stake in curatorial practice and considers this endeavor to be an extension of the concerns retained by their own artistic practices, often expressing nuances through the work of their peers in ways they may not have been able to within the confines of their own work.
While the Kochi-Muziris Biennale was willed into existence by artists at a time when such an endeavor was unimaginable elsewhere in the country, the material and formal intelligence of its artist-curators have reinterpreted and revitalized it with each iteration. From the site-specific responses by artists in the first edition, we are given to reflect on the cosmological considerations of Jitish Kallat as an extension of his own artistic practice, the explorations of metaphysics and the poetics of artistic practice also inspired by his own work offered by Sudarshan Shetty, the Marxist-feminist take on alienation highlighted by Anita Dube, and marginal, alternative approaches to artistic practice delivered by Shubigi Rao. Consequently, the first five editions of the Kochi-Muziris Biennale, each of which are memorable for their unique and divergent textures of thinking and their showcasing of urgencies as perceived by the artist-curators, which were made visually and sensorially palpable in the extraordinary pre-colonial warehouses, former school complexes and colonial era buildings of the island town demonstrate that it is now more essential than ever that this type of artistic/curatorial practice continues.
The sheer celebration of cosmopolitanism at the Kochi-Muziris Biennale, especially during its first edition, has been rightly critiqued by art historian Sandip Luis. The claim to globality by the southernmost state in the Indian Peninsula was predicated upon the mythical region of Muziris, and its lore, that situated it as a tropical Atlantis, with some grounding in history. Despite being one of the most influential ports for trade in the first century B.C., its presence on ancient trade routes and maps gradually disappeared later on from the fifth century, well before the arrival of the Portuguese in 1451, leading to speculations of a natural disaster that overwhelmed and drowned this thriving, wealthy ancient urban settlement. Archeological excavations have been cursory at best, perhaps due to a result of limited support from the nation-state as the findings so far do not entirely align with its majoritarian agenda.