Vamona Navelcar, Uma Pessoa: The Poet in the Painter

Vishvesh Kandolkar

(With thanks to R. Benedito Ferrão for his critical input.)

On one of my first visits with the octogenarian artist Vamona Ananta Sinai Navelcar in 2015, he gave me a book of Portuguese poetry by Fernando Pessoa. I happened to mention to him that I had taken up a beginner’s course in Portuguese. At first, I thought Navelcar’s message was only a literary one, to not just study a language but, rather, relish it through its poetry. Later, I realised, there was much more to the artist’s gesture. It was an implied message from this fellow-Goan, hinting that Pessoa is also a part of Goa’s history, and therefore learning about the Portuguese poet would only enrich my understanding of our past. Navelcar’s art, though, is far more specific in conveying similar meaning in being a wonderful reflection of Goa’s complex global connections. The Portuguese poet Pessoa is one of Navelcar’s many muses, which include Christ, Rabindranath Tagore, and Mozambiquan women. Navelcar’s fascination with Pessoa, however, signifies something far more profound. Pessoa is not just a muse and an inspiration to Navelcar. Rather, their lives bear remarkable similarities.

Just as a young Pessoa had left the shores of his homeland Portugal and moved to South Africa in the 1890s, Navelcar too had to leave his home in Goa to study art in Portugal in the 1950s upon receipt of a scholarship. That Navelcar subsequently worked as an art teacher in Mozambique, further marks the similarity in career trajectories between the artist and his poet-muse in the continent of Africa. In his article, ‘Vamona Navelcar as Performance Artist’ (Muse India, Jul-Aug 2013), R. Benedito Ferrão writes, “Navelcar’s very life, in its historical and geographical entanglements, cannot be separated from the artistic labour it has inspired”. Each of the figures in Navelcar’s work are a reproduction of his global exposure. Pessoa’s emblematic formal attire is in glaring contrast to the artist’s depiction of other figures. Navelcar often exaggerates the poet’s thin bodily frame, dressed typically in a fato, a bow tie, a hat, and with his signature round spectacles on his nose.

Navelcar’s working methods also seem to mirror those of his muse. Pessoa is known to have been hooked to writing, as he often jotted poems on whatever writing surface was on hand, be it books, loose sheets or scraps of paper, used envelopes, and even receipts. Navelcar demonstrates a similar trait as his choice of canvas seems to be inconsequential: the backs of pages of calendars, bits of cardboard, and pages of magazines have all been the recipient of his artistry. He even drew a sketch of Pessoa on the inside cover of the book he gave me.

The book, Poesia de Árvaro de Campos, is now witness to another common trait demonstrated by both these figures of the Lusophone world: their use of pseudonyms. While Pessoa wrote this book under the fictitious name of Álvaro De Campos, Navelcar signed his sketch of the author with the name Ganesh, which he adopted in memory of his deceased brother. The use of a local deity’s name, though, is not random, as it reflects a more ‘authentic’ version of the Hindu local names that are popular in Goa. Vamona on the other hand, is such a Portuguese name, in that in Konkani it would be Vamon. One wonders if the choice of pseudonym Ganesh is a desperate measure by Navelcar to gain recognition in his native land. In tandem with India’s move to the far right, Goa’s support of cultural production reveals its religio-nationalist biases, and is to the exclusion of an artist like Navelcar whose art incorporates Christian and African themes among others. That such remarkable talent and hard work like Navelcar’s goes unrecognised speaks to the lack of imagination of the State and the ways in which it seeks to limit how Goa itself can be imagined through the art of its visionaries.

Pessoa left behind trunks full of writing, many pieces of which are still awaiting publication. Similarly, many of Navelcar’s works also lie unseen in multiple portfolios and have not been archived or exhibited. Without State or institutional support, Navelcar has to make a living by directly selling his work, which is a huge loss to the Goan public, as only select audiences enjoy his art. The tragedy is that recently many of the artist’s works have fallen prey to white ants, that endemic scourge of Goa. Setbacks, though, have not dimmed  Navelcar’s enthusiasm to produce art, as he continues to paint every day.

It is remarkable that Navelcar’s experience of Portugal, during his time of study there in the 1950s, is emblematized by his portrayals of the figure of Pessoa who was not as popular in his homeland then. This is especially because, during that era of the dictatorial regime of António de Oliveira Salazar, the Portuguese State was actively promoting the classic seventeenth century poet Luís de Camões, as a part of their nationalistic propaganda, while ignoring modern poets like Pessoa, who died in 1935. Nations generally look for ‘authentic’ symbols to represent the country. Pessoa did not fit the bill because “his first writings were in English with a South African tincture” and “he turned to Portuguese only in 1910” (George Steiner, ‘A Man of Many Parts’ The Guardian, June 3, 2001). For the Salazarian regime, the diasporic Pessoa did not possess the commensurate amount of “Portugueseness” in the fashion that de Camões did. It is also easier to use “heroes” from antiquity as symbols, because those in power tend to manipulate the politics of these deceased legends. Pessoa’s writing was not nationalistic enough, whereas de Camões was useful to the State precisely because his works are in the epic tradition and speak to the glories of the Portuguese empire. Perhaps Navelcar relates the side-lining of Pessoa by Portugal to his own mistreatment by the State of Goa – a ‘postcolonial’ Goa that has deemed Navelcar to be not ‘authentic’ enough to be officially recognised.

What the post-‘Liberation’ State fails to realise is that Navelcar’s life in Goa, Portugal, and Mozambique, is often a reflection of a Luso-specific trend of migration that is common to many Goans of a past era. Navelcar is aware of this complexity and therefore remains proud of his multiple experiences of places across continents. He claims to be at once European, African, and Goan, just as many other Goans of his generation might.  Navelcar’s art, as much as his life, is emblematic of Goa’s global connections, which is why Ferrão refers to him as a “performing artist” (Muse India). The State does not seem to embrace Navelcar because to do so would undermine their nationalist politics, which is contrary to what the artist and his art represents in embracing multiplicity. Nevertheless, the figure of Navelcar is a powerful one: he is a living bridge between histories, states, and empires. This is the poetry of his art. And his downfall.

[This article was first published on Joao Roque Literary Journal on 9 May 2017]

Thomassons de Goa

Have you come across any Goan examples of Thomassons, lately? The word coined by the Japanese artist Akasegawa Genpei denotes any architectural relic that is found in good condition but does not serve a purpose. Today, old Goan architectural artefacts that lay forgotten and neglected amidst the spiralling growth of new urban developments are quickly falling into the category of Thomassons. Take for example the chapel behind the Hotel Mandovi in Panjim, or the beautiful baroque cross on the other side of the road from the St. Inez Church, or even the city of Old Goa and its monuments. It can be contended that the transformation of colonial monuments into Thomassons through wilful neglect is an attempt at erasure of the markers of Goa’s history.

An article titled ‘The Inexplicably Fascinating Secret World of Thomasson’ (Jan. 18, 2017) on the blog Messy Nessy, narrates the interesting story behind the emergence of the term Thomasson. The article notes that Japanese artist Asakegawa Genpei was interested in locating useless urban artefacts in Tokyo in the 1980s and wanted a term to label such relics. Around this time, the Japanese baseball team Yomiuri Giants had hired an American professional player called Gary Thomasson for a huge amount of money. However, the acquisition of this player turned out to be disastrous to the Yomiuri Giants as he did not fit their system of play and therefore they left him on the bench for most of the two seasons of his contract. Genpei adopted the use of the analogy of Thomasson, an exclusive player with a useless position on the team, for urban architectural artefacts that are in good condition, but are functionless.

In Goa, for most casual observers, architectural relics found in unexpected places might seem like Thomassons. Take for example the aforementioned cross near St. Inez Church, which shares same architectural history as the church. Today, a busy road severs the relationship of this cross to the church and, therefore, it appears to be a misplaced artefact. However, this cross was in fact a part of the church square, as can be gleaned from other similar cases such as the Holy Spirit Church square in Margao. Clearly, the road in St. Inez was introduced later. The traffic on this road has considerably increased making it difficult to imagine this cross as an element of a larger architectural setting that comprised the church square. What will further compound the matter is, over time, there will emerge plans for widening this road, leading to the demolition of this important marker of the city’s history. The Municipal Corporation needs to identify such heritage urban spaces and restore them at the earliest. While it might not be possible to re-route the thoroughfare in St. Inez, an urban design effort should be made to create at least sense of a city square. This could be achieved in multiple ways, including having common stone pavers that would connect the disparate parts of the entire area; in effect, this would create a platform, similar to the one at Kala Academy.

Goan monuments are undergoing a process of Thomassoning, as evidenced by their gradual decay. Another example of devaluing a historical structure is St. Anthony’s Chapel in Calangute, which has been reduced to a glorified traffic island. The zooming vehicles around this monument make it difficult for worshippers and visitors to approach it, making it seem like a useless relic. In Goa, town planners give high priority to roads, constantly widening them while destroying our natural and built heritage in the process. There are many monuments, which have become Thomassons, partly because of poor planning and misplaced priorities like road widening. The story of Old Goa is no different, especially because the state seems to have ignored its history while constructing a massive six-lane highway into the erstwhile capital, almost grazing and bruising the heritage city in the process.

The neglect of old monuments by the State is a reflection of the treatment of local Catholics whose heritage is marked by these structures. In part, this is precisely the process of ruination Ann Stoler refers to in the book Imperial Debris (2013). Ruination, Stoler argues, is a political project that lays waste to certain peoples, relations, and things that accumulate in specific places (p. 11). The region’s colonial architecture, as much as the Goan Catholic culture it represents -  are both portrayed to Indian tourists as Thomassons - rendered useless and maintained merely as relics.

Despite these challenges, local Goans continue to engage with their monuments. The magnificent buildings in Old Goa, for instance, might appear to be abandoned relics of a bygone era to the typical Indian tourist. These visitors fail to see how Goans use these monuments, often marvelling only at the architecture. On the contrary, old buildings like the Basilica of Bom Jesus are in fact living monuments. The clearest testimony to this is the gigantic gathering of people during the decadal Exposition of St. Francis Xavier and the yearly feast. Locals continue to resist their invisibilization by venerating the monuments in large numbers because they serve as symbols of Goan identity and as a reminder of the claims of a minority on the State. Of course, national news channels and national newspapers in India conveniently ignore the coverage of these events because such images of large gatherings for the veneration of a Catholic saint would invariably challenge the brahmanical-hindutva idea of nationalism in India. Even as it is troubling that Goans are reduced to being Thomassons in their own homeland, they continue to resist.

[This article was first published on The Goan on 09^th Feb. 2017] 

Projects Won’t Trickle Down

Urgent need to address alternative modes of architectural practices for Goa

Architect Arijeet Raikar, one of the resource persons for the workshop organised by the Indian Institute of Architects - Goa (IIA), impressed upon the audience that it was possible to build a first-rate residence for a family within rupees seven lakhs. The problem though is that it is financially unviable to run this kind of an architectural practice within the existing ideology of practice, where the norm is that the architect’s fees is a small percentage of the total project cost. Enabling such alternative practices, with commitment from architects as much as from the State, would go a long way to satisfy the housing needs of the locals as well as the design challenges enjoyed by architects. Ensuring employment opportunities to young architects while continuing to address the specific needs of development in Goa will require the change in the architecture of practice itself. 

Architects have a major role in shaping the development process in Goa. We often act helpless and complain in private realms about the situation of crazy real estate development, while continuing to ruin the very environment we love, professionally. The question is what can young architects do in scenarios where elites from Indian metros, ably aided by the local real-estate industry, have taken up the reins of development here. While this development continues to deprive locals of affordable housing due to escalating costs, the local architects, contrary to the belief, do not benefit from these projects as the designers of these luxury second-homes also often happen to come from Indian metros.  Therefore keeping both Goan environment and employment of local architects in mind, there is a need to change the ideology of architectural practice itself. In the film, The Pervert’s Guide to Ideology, philosopher Slavoj Zizek states that it takes a lot of effort to recognise the current capitalist ideology. The predominant ideology in architectural practice means being slaves to glamour buildings as consumerist objects (even so-called sustainable second-homes), emphasizing form at the cost of everything else, catering to clients’ needs whatever they are, making big-bigger-biggest projects, turning a blind eye to corruption and over-pricing in budgeting, and so on.

  Goa is undergoing rapid and uncontrolled urbanizations, which are largely guided by the aspirations of elites from Indian metropoli. The Indian elites who buy second-homes in Goa are not here to settle. They are here to consume Goa and move on to greener pastures when the going is not good and the green is gone. In the 1980s and ‘90s, it were the super-rich who started the trend of buying second homes here. Since the turn of the century, with the liberalisation of the Indian economy and the boom in the Indian middle-class, this trend has changed and many more are acquiring second-homes here, making Goa their weekend getaway.  Clearly, the focus has moved from merely enjoying Goa for its sights to the ownership of sites, in the form of real-estate properties.

Most professionals assume that faster development will lead to bigger employment opportunities, seldom realising how the capitalist economy works. In his article, “Trickle-Down Economics -- The Most Destructive Phrase Of All Time?” (Forbes, 6 Dec. 2013), George Leef, writes that “[i]n a free society, wealth doesn’t trickle down, or up, or sideways. It is earned. What people … don’t understand or won’t admit, is that people of all economic strata, and no matter their race, religion, sex, or anything else, have far more opportunities to earn in a society with a small, efficient, frugal government than they do in a society with a huge, wasteful one.” This line of thinking is critical to Goa and especially for practicing architects. The impetus given to large-scale development projects in Goa is usually in the hope that there will be a trickle-down effect.  Local Goan architects for instance are under the illusion that the trickle down economy is going to cater to their needs, and deliver to them some projects. We passively allow economic policies to be thrust on us, hoping against hope that some of the project opportunities will trickle down to us. The grim truth is, they seldom do, except maybe to a few cronies of those at the helm.

At another level, architect Rahul Mehrotra, the keynote speaker at the recent Z-axis conference in Panjim, highlighted that, today, the State’s contribution to the neoliberal economy has been restricted to the development of infrastructure, such as highways, flyovers, expensive bridges, and so on, which are meant to benefit corporate projects, while the important “mainstream” projects like housing have been left to the mercy of private developers. Architects, he rued, are either co-opted by these developers, or contend with boutique practices like designing luxury second homes. While the developers’ practice is that of crunching numbers to maximise the saleable spaces of apartments, the boutique practice has become the practice of indulgence, both on behalf of the elite client as well as the architect. Mehrotra also identified the media as being guilty for encouraging glamourized boutique practices by creating signature ‘hero’ architects.  Usually architecture practices as represented in popular lifestyle magazines largely represent the projects commissioned by the rich. Today, it is important to break this hegemony of the popularly accepted ideal architectural project like luxury second-homes, so that new categories of practice emerge, categories which address the unique development model that Goa requires.

(This article is based on the keynote address I gave on ‘Refiguring the Architecture of Practice’ at a workshop organised by IIA Goa on the occasion of World Architecture Day.)

[This article was published on The Goan on 23/10/2016.]

Buildings as (Bad) Ideas

South African architect Ilze Wolff suggests that we work towards an architectural practice of radical openness.

As a tribute to its namesake, a three-day international architecture conference was organised by the Charles Correa Foundation at Kala Academy in the first week of September. With the theme “Buildings as Ideas”, the intention of the organisers, as written on the conference programme booklet, was to “explore further what Correa believed – that buildings are ideas that manifest and take form.” However, as one of the presenters, Ilze Wolff from Cape Town, South Africa, reminded the audience, if buildings are ideas, they could also be bad ideas. It is this precise notion that is scary, because most times energy is only invested in making a building aesthetically and functionally ‘good’. In an environmentally sensitive place like Goa, for instance, no building or less building is also a good idea. But let us assume that buildings have to be constructed, in which case it is imperative to ask what constitutes bad ideas in architecture?

Wolff stood out amongst all the other guests because she seemed to be most sensitive to the context of her practice. She argued that buildings that were designed by architects in the apartheid period endorsed discrimination based on class, race, and gender. Apartheid was the official policy of racial segregation formerly practiced in the Republic of South Africa, involving political, legal, and economic discrimination against non-whites. In this regard, Wolff referred to the case of the garment-manufacturing factory, Rex Trueform, a modernist building designed in 1938 in Salt River, Cape Town. Segregation based on gender and racial stereotyping was manifest in the zoning of activities in the building, where areas were earmarked based on race, gender and class. Discrimination was also made apparent in the factory by having separate entrances and staircases for different people. There also was a difference in the amount of area given to people, based on race and class. The most privileged were the white male employees from the management, whereas the black female factory workers were the worst off. Wolff was sensitive to reading the (bad) ideas inscribed in the buildings in order to “unstitch” them by dismantling the biases in her own design projects. Most importantly, her building philosophy makes a point to not differentiate between people based on race, gender, or ability.

Ilze Wolff

Another problem with architects is their limited understanding of the ‘context’ for their design. Common responses of many architects presenting at the conference to ‘context’ were superficial interventions at the level of the physical forms, like mixing the local soil with cement in order to transform the colour of concrete. This allows architects to play at being modern - by using concrete, the archetypal modernist building material, while appearing ‘sensitive’ to local context - by matching the colour of buildings to the surrounding landscape. Similarly, in Goa, while I love the overall design of Kala Academy, a Correa project, I harbour deep reservations about its use of laterite pebbles on the walls to imitate laterite stone masonry, probably in an attempt to merge the building with the surrounding context. Such form-based ideas are a limited way of addressing local issues of context. As Wolff advocated, ‘context’ in architecture must not be reserved solely for understanding the physical surroundings of the building, but must include broader references such as ‘context of freedom’, ‘context of race’ or ‘context of ideology’ to name but a few. Only when design starts responding to these contexts can architects aspire for a practice of radical openness.

As suggested above, Wolff was the only architect present at the conference who seems to be “working towards an architectural practice of radical openness”, as quoted by her. An Indian architect, Sameep Padora, in contrast, was proud to present the design for a temple project. Given that projects like temples promote segregation, both on religious grounds as much as on the basis of caste, it seems like a bad idea to have included the temple project in the conference. The Jetavana Centre built for Buddhist Ambedkar Dalit Communities, and designed by Padora, also embodies bad ideas in its architecture. For this structure, Padora prescribed cow dung coating as a finish for all the floors. This is despite “most vocal members of the [Dalit] group wanting to use tile and concrete” (quoted from Padora’s admission, as written in an Architectural Review article by Mustansir Dalvi, 16 May, 2016). In India, it is always women of the marginalised communities, who happen do the job of applying cow dung. Imagine the suffering of Dalit women having to apply cow dung to the floor of the entire project every fifteen days. Architects promote such terrible ideas usually under the garb of protecting “Indian values” to achieve sustainability. Such bad ideas for buildings continue to discriminate against people based on caste and gender.

Unlike their South African counterpart who seems to have accepted the problems of race and tried to address the issues of discrimination in her design, Indian architects have not even accepted that casteism is a problem, let alone one that is reflected in the designing of buildings. This is probably because most practitioners of architecture in South Asia are themselves beneficiaries of caste privileges and, accordingly, perpetuate such discrimination in their own design practices. Conferences like Z-axis are thus important to critically evaluate architecture for good ideas as well as bad.

[This article was first published on The Goan on 25/09/2016]