An acrylic on canvas by Satish Gujral at Aakriti Art Gallery

An adorable face laced with a supple circlet of leaves; an imposing Ravana shedding tears over his first son’s death; a man and woman framed together by paper boats, their lives dog-eared by a suggestive jute finish.

From veterans like Prakash Karmakar, Paritosh Sen and Satish Gujral to established names like Sanatan Dinda and Chandra Bhattacharya ? a range of figurative works by more than 13 artists was recently on display at the Aakriti Art Gallery.

The exhibition essentially focused on disparity, but interestingly, through several unifying elements. Karmakar’s minimal strokes in pen and ink generate a surprise element ? with the leaves, eyes and face merging into a spontaneous conglomerate ? while Gujral’s untitled piece, an acrylic on canvas, depicts a man-and-horse through sliced frames against a heavy, dark green grainy texture. Gujral’s familiarity with several forms and media, starting from ceramics and bronze to bricks and wood, is reflected in the pliant way he structures his lines and colours. The manner in which he produces a paradox of speed and immobility through sea-blue and yellow colour beams evidently underlines the prevalent codes of a fast-paced modern living.

As a further extension of life’s complexities, Sekhar Roy’s couple, set against a coal-brown background, conveys the complexities of a layered relationship much explored as well as depleted. The white paper boats, denoting the seed of life, however, find their way amidst the dark ripples of daily life.

On a somewhat different plane, Kartick Chandra Pyne’s oil on canvas, Night Show, is a characteristic representation of the artist’s candid style ? in terms of playing with the physical proportions of a woman’s figure. In sharp contrast, P.R. Narvekar’s four women-figures, smooth and linear, are bereft of obvious physical dimensions. Rather, the perfect pitchers on their heads seem to consume the figures. Or vice versa, the figures by default become part of these inanimate pitchers, thus surrendering to an involuntary death. Interestingly, the way the two artists use the colour yellow deserves mention. While Pyne’s patches of yellow are sarcastic and loud, Narvekar’s is even and subdued. As if taking a cue from a similar theme, Chandra Bhattacharya’s woman, eyes shut and a slight twitch on her face, reminds one of a woman turning her back on everything. To accentuate the mood, the luminous blue-green top and bottom borders tend to explode the confines of a woman’s world. The artist’s restrained lines and use of soft colours at once reveals and conceals the quiet arrogance deep within.

Finally, the imposing image of Paritosh Sen’s Ravana mourning the death of his son goes beyond the boundaries of traditional frames of good and evil. A mix of red, yellow and green are at times smudged to dissolve the accepted ethical reflexes of one’s preconceived notions. The daunting sword, turned upside down, clasped limply by Ravana, works as an important signifier pushing aggression and violence behind truthful human emotions.

The conclusive pictorial narrative weaved through an assortment of works ? diverse in colour, style and narrative ? couldn’t have been more unified as well as contemporary in spirit.