Salutations, Dear Siddharth Tagore Or Farewell to Thee, Blithe Spirit*

When old age shall this generation waste,

Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe

Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,

“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.” (John Keats, Ode on a Grecian Urn)

Siddharth Tagore, Founder Director of Delhi’s Art Konsult Gallery is no more. He cannot be contained in such a cold statement, so matter of fact like death itself. Besides the gallery, he founded magazines such as Art and Deal, Travel and Deal and many other publications. Even when he knew that he wouldn’t make any profit out of the publications, he invested money in them because he knew art wouldn’t survive without the literature surrounding it. 

Yet another venture of Tagore’s was an auction house, namely Art Bull. The name was perfect for a bullish art market of the 2000s. But the glitch was this: Siddharth Tagore was not bullish. Nor was he bearish. He was cherubic, complete with a benign smile on his face and a burning cigarette between his fingers. Whenever I came out after having a meeting with him, I would ask myself, was he cut for this business? 

Tagore could have been a poet and dreamer like his internationally renowned namesake of yesteryears.. After the pandemic period I met Tagore after a gap of four years at the Visual Art Gallery, India Habitat Centre where Art Konsult had organized a group exhibition. After the inaugural function, I shook hands with him and I realized that his hands had lost the firm grip though the warmth remained. “I have not been keeping well,” he told me. 

Then on another occasion, at the same gallery, I met him again, this time without the crowd. He preferred to wear a pair of fading blue jeans and white shirt, a reminder of those romantic 1970s when every youth in West Bengal dreamt of poetry, love and revolution. Jeans and Shirt were the uniform of love and revolution. I think, when Tagore came to Delhi as a young man, he carried those qualities along, plus his sense of dressing. Lovers in those days smoked rather constantly and drank Old Monk Rum. 

On that day when I met him, Tagore told me that he had quit smoking, which was news to me. I couldn’t have imagined the man without a cigarette between his fingers or at least a packet of cigarettes to fuss with. I understood the gravity of the situation. 

Then again, we met when Praveen Upadhyay of the Progressive Gallery at Laddo Sarai organized a talk session with art professionals that included Tagore, Prayag Shukla, Vinod Bharadwaj and myself. Tagore was supposed to talk about the art market. When the mike was handed over to him, he fussed with it for a while and said that he always wanted to make it big by promoting young artists, but somehow, he never made huge business.

Then I remembered Tagore telling the same during the market boom years that lasted in India for around ten years starting from 2005 to 2015. In 2008, the world market had collapsed, but the Indian art market using its cunning and reserve withstood the pressures and dragged the impending failure for a few more years only to revive itself by the beginning of the third decade of the new millennium. 

Had Tagore acquired a penchant for failure despite his resilience in running a gallery, publications and an auction house for over three and a half decades ? Did he enjoy calling himself a failure in the art market? Was he romantically involved with the idea of failure even when he kept others who were with him in the business, floating? I don’t know for sure. But Tagore remained grounded and rooted; he tried his best to keep himself away from the nefarious market practices. 

There were a few people who stood with Tagore in his highs and lows (lows that lasted for not some months but for years together), never deserting him, following his orders. Prashant Seal and Rajula Bisht are two people I remember. These two people have been so close to his heart and even after his twin daughters joining him in the business, both Seal and Bisht never lost their position as the confidantes of Tagore. He loved them like family. 

I met Siddharth Tagore in 1995. He had started Art Konsult in Hauz Khas Village. Meena Tagore (now Meena Varma) was with him then. Late Vijayan Kannanpally was the editor of Art and Deal. With the growth of art scene, Tagore’s gallery also grew in stature. Art Konsult was one of the few A listed galleries in the city. Tagore took it to South Delhi’s art district, Laddo Sarai during the boom years and later relocated it to Hauz Khas again. 

It was in his Laddo Sarai phase that I joined him as the Editor of Art and Deal. It was the same when he decided to start Art Bull and Travel and Deal. I brought out around ten issues of Art and Deal between 2010 and 2013, with a gap in 2012 when I joined the United Art Logistics to establish the United Art Fair. Tagore literally lent me to the other organization with a promise that I could walk into the editor’s office at any time that I wanted. And I did go back. 

As a part of Tagore’s team, he gave me full freedom to edit the magazine and curate exhibitions. I curated a few shows and introduced a few new artists of which some are very reckonable names in today’s art scene. The exhibition ‘Merging/Submerging’ was a showcasing of contemporary photography art and ‘R.A.P.E’ (Rare Acts of Political Engagement), an all-woman show responding to the brutal murder of Nirbhaya in Delhi. This exhibition was a super hit and was discussed in all the print and television media. Art Bull did do a couple of exhibitions and auctions. I did not take much interest in it though Tagore hoped that his auction house could change the scenario and also break certain monopolies. Tagore also initiated an Art History Lecture series which I conducted on his behalf. 

Siddharth Tagore remained true to his calling. With a kind of detachment, he sponsored exhibitions that he knew well, would not bring any business. He was an avid collector of folk and tribal art and together with Meena Varma, he initiated an organization called ‘Art of the Earth’ for promoting the folk and tribal art of India, much before the ‘folkploitation’ of today’s art market became rampant. Tagore helped whoever came to him with a request for an exhibition or an immediate financial relief.

When artists in Calcutta packed their wares and set out for Delhi, they knew Siddharth Tagore was there if nothing else worked (perhaps he was their primary destination), along with cigarettes and Old Monk Rum. He never discouraged the people who came to him with a clear intention to exploit. He was not cautious about relationships that brought him a fair amount of heartburn. As I said elsewhere, Tagore was a poet in his heart, with a heart ready to bleed for love and art.

*To Skylark – PB Shelly