Motion and stillness: An oil on canvas by Anjum Singh

The current show at CIMA, titled ‘Concepts and Ideas’ and on till September 18, boasts a youthful verve, an extravagant assertion of the urban identity. And no wonder, since seven of the eight artists presented are in their 30s and early 40s. Interestingly, the eighth participant, Partha Pratim Deb, is almost a generation senior to the rest of the artists. Remarkably, however, he hasn’t allowed the years to weigh down his creativity. Indeed, the sense of adventure, the stylistic dare, the will to test new avenues of articulation make him one in spirit with the youngsters.

Deb shows what can be called drawings, sculptures and installations. The tentativeness in labelling his works is a measure of his individuality. For example, a particular series of simple scratches on printed paper—neither painting nor, strictly speaking, drawing — immediately draws the viewer’s attention. The thickness, density and pattern of the scratches combine to illustrate the dynamic rhythm of lines. Another work, Animal Planet, builds up a sensuous tactility in its terracotta pieces. His installations with colourful shoes and paper boxes quote impeccable pedigree, particularly the strident argot of pop art which he has made his own.

Pop art, Rauschenberg, the famous Warholian riff can be heard in Anjum Singh. Again, it is the urban milieu that fuels her creative energy. In Chakka Jam she brings together contrary suggestions at different levels: motion and stillness, periphery and centre and even a philosophic intimation that connects a car tyre with the bindu and the wheel of life, unending as all circles are. Prasanta Sahu’s textured, digital portraits indicate an unspoken sense of disquiet, of a grim anonymity inevitable in the levelling of particularist cultures in urban living.

However, Shreyashi Chatterjee’s radiant pieces, combining the feminine craft of patchwork with embroidery, insinuate an eternal social narrative: the centrality of the woman in her home. It is only her thrifty care that redeems and re-invents discarded bits of rag. Sumitro Basak experiments with form, reducing physical proportions to flat cutouts that bring to mind Matisse’s simplification. No less crucial is the arrangement of blocks and stains of colour and doodled motifs that counterpoint interludes of white space.

Mattresses, cushions, pillows, bed linen. It is with these prosaic items, with the intimate ritual of routine under a mournful blue half-light that Indrapramit Roy composes pensive little visual haikus. One shows a crumpled bed, the mosquito curtain still partly up, cradling the lingering refrain of night and sleep, of togetherness and parting, of hasty disruptions, or a desolate end: a picture poised between presence and absence.

Chintan Upadhyay’s amus-ed, often subversive squint at the things around has made him an artist to watch out for. He seems to relish going for the viewer’s solar plexus, socking it with the unexpected. An invasion of computer imagery fetches virtual babies, robotic babies with miniature iconography painted on the skin. There’s something vaguely threatening about these creatures. The cute charm associated with children is mocked as the futuristic images provoke a cautious recoil in the viewer.

No less engaging is Hema Upadhyay, who has built up a visual paradigm of urban isolation. Her works, ultimately, seem to be monologues: the same self trying to come to terms with its persona, its identities, through thought-numbing occupation and the obligatory business of living.