Sankho Chaudhuri, unlike Sarbari Roy Choudhury, may not have created likenesses of great Hindustani classical vocalists such as Siddheswari Devi and Bade Ghulam Ali singing full-throated, but it is clear from the sophistication, the rhythmic contours and elegance of his forms, composed of various materials, that music was one of the passions of this path-breaking sculptor, who helped establish the fine arts department of M.S. University of Baroda.

It is said that before his death last year at the age of 90, when he swam in and out of consciousness, he used to listen to Abdul Karim Khan and Heerabai Barodekar. The music seemed to penetrate his innermost thoughts even when his mind was elsewhere, quite literally.

The pieces on display at the Seagull Art and Media Resource Centre were created at a time when severe arthritis had restricted the artist’s movement, and his former student, Jyoti Bhatt, a well-known artist in his own right, suggested that he create shapes out of paper.

Chaudhuri, who liked to play with empty toothpaste tubes, discovered to his delight the malleability of aluminium sheets. He stumbled upon the possibility of creating origami-like forms by twisting and folding sheet metal and stainless steel. He would bend thin sheets with tongs and give shape to epoxy resin, which were later cast.

According to the foreword of the catalogue by his widow, Ira Chaudhuri, who is a pioneering potter, during spring-cleaning last year for the sculptor’s 90th birthday, a few pieces waiting to be forged were discovered. Many of these were not cast well.

A student of his, Chandrakant Bhatt, who helped him with the finish of some of his later works, offered to take on the task of completing and improving on the casting. Chaudhuri oversaw the process and the high polish of some of the pieces resembled that of Brancusi’s. This process, aided by Chandrakant’s wife, Manimala, continued even after the death of the sculptor. They religiously adhered to his instructions. Those posthumous editions, too, have been displayed here.

What strikes the viewer is the purity of Sankho Chaudhuri’s forms. Each piece permeates a great sense of tranquillity, and as the eye glides along the curves, the hollows and twisted sheets of metal like long-stemmed gladioli or the concave shapes similar to kidney beans, one cannot help wondering if these are experiments in abstraction. It is difficult to make out if they refer to living figures or if Chaudhuri had bodied forth ideas.

In some, such as S Form, fashioned out of a sheet of stainless steel, the form is decidedly non-figurative. One can imagine the shining sheet with a reflective surface like the face of a mirror unfurling like a fan or a parasol in the sculptor’s mind. The copper repoussé pieces, with surfaces the colour of burnt clay, form loops and whorls that remind one, as K.G. Subramanyan points out in his article, of the grace of Etienne Istvan Beothy, “the little seen mathematical lyricist” Chaudhuri had met in Paris.

Yet when one takes a closer look at the cusped body of copper-plated brass, it turns into a standing form similar to some of the mysterious figures Rabindranath created, albeit without their mystery. Chaudhuri erased all the details he considered redundant and captured the essence. It holds suggestions of the fragility of shell. Yet it is firm and erect, notwithstanding its distinct femininity.

Chaudhuri had the uncanny ability to capture the exact angle at which a preening bird tilts its beak and bends it wing, or a cock of the walk struts about. The peacock dances with joy, spreading out its fantail. His forms imitated real life but gained full form in his imagination.

Sankho Chaudhuri was also a remarkable figurative artist. The poise of his golfer matches the grace of the two female figures at their toilette. The two women had initially been cast in concrete. This is a more recent form.

Even more striking is the portrait of Indira Gandhi as a young woman. There is no trace of the iron lady of later years. She is a Kashmiri beauty with an aquiline nose on the verge of maturity whom Chaudhuri must have met during his years in Santiniketan. This is not a representative show of Sankho Chaudhuri’s work but it is fulfilling in its own way.