Convincing nine Calcutta-based galleries to join hands and mount an equal number of exhibitions against terrorism in the city is no mean task. The exhibition, Art Against Terrorism (March 23-April 21), began at the Aakriti Art Gallery, and ended at the same venue with a Chisel Crafts-Khoj show. While it was quite a significant show in terms of size and logistics involved, its quality was in inverse proportion to its physical dimension. To begin with, there were too many artists — 157 in all — and too little space for all the works, which included elaborate installations, to be shown to advantage. Once again, the need for ruthless curators who would extricate dross without batting an eyelid was acutely felt. For example, it was easy to overlook Debnath Basu’s drawing, which was displayed in a room that was turned into an installation by Adip Dutta in Gandhara Art Gallery.

However, it goes to the credit of the organizers that they had brought out the well-produced catalogue on the day of the opening itself. It includes images of at least one work of each participant along with his or her profile and statement as well. This at a time when the recession was already giving gallerists and artists sleepless nights all over the country and openings were unheard of. And here in poor Calcutta, we had nine openings, all in quick succession!

In all fairness, although the series of nine largish exhibitions had their share of banality and appalling crudity, the occasional redeeming feature was not missing. These, however, could easily have been overlooked, thanks to the rooms overcrowded with art work. So, instead of throwing out the baby with the bath water, it would be a better idea to highlight the positive aspects of the exhibition.

The series opened with the exhibition at Aakriti Art Gallery in which artists of the calibre of Jogen Chowdhury and Partha Pratim Deb were among the participants. But the painting that immediately caught the eye was that of Kartick Chandra Pyne. The childlike directness with which he told his tale of violence and rancour was amazing for an artist of his venerable age. He did so without taking recourse to footnotes, theory or long-winded statements.

The exhibition at Akar Prakar was one of the better ones in this series. Debanjan Roy’s ‘Gandhi memorial’, with an armed man standing guard, conveyed the irony of the situation in a rather heavy-handed style of expression, but this sculptor’s preferred style of expression leaves nothing to the imagination. Both Aditya Basak and Samir Roy did so in a more symbolic manner. However much we may try to overcome it, viciousness and aggression seem to be second nature to most living creatures, and this simple truth was powerfully stated by Mithu Sen and Samit Das in their videos.

Gandhara Art Gallery was chock-a-block with installations. Both Adip Dutta and Sanchayan Ghosh and his team had turned two rooms into installations. The sense of security and privacy in a bedroom is shattered by the intrusion of the television set that broadcasts news of terrorist attacks from all over the world. Dutta conveyed this through a simple device: bandaging bedroom furniture with yards of cotton cloth to emphasize their vulnerability. Ghosh’s ‘butterfly effect’, created with participants from regions where terrorist activity is high, was, on the other hand, circumlocutory. Kazi Nasir usually paints with confidence, and there is an enigmatic element in his paintings. The various elements of his installation, however, did not seem to be tightly woven together. On the other hand, Snehashish Maity’s painting in K2 Gallery, of the pressure cooker with the time bomb ticking inside, was marked by precision and a touch of gallows humour. This was not unexpected in an artist known for his rather over-the-top self-images.

The weakest link was Gallery Sanskriti. Prabhakar Kolte may be an admirable artist but what was the point of his inclusion? The one displayed here was like any other work of his. Shuvaprasanna’s ‘installation’, with its recreation of a scene of violence, reminded one of a theatre set. This sage-like artist’s ideas are touching in their naivety. Jaya Ganguly’s macabre visage with its exaggerated lights and shadows was like the face of a clown screaming in pain. With its dramatic use of black and white, it was the only notable exception in this group. The Seagull Foundation for the Arts mounted an exhibition of books and films titled The Aftermath of War.

Last but not least came the shows at Emami Chisel, followed by the Chisel Crafts and Khoj exhibition. There were some well-known participants here. But perhaps the organizer should have cut down on the number of works. Size often matters.