I met Panicker sometime in 1942. It was by a surprising coincidence. I was in those days a student in the Presidency College, Madras, and a kind of student activist. Rather sour with things around I used to divert myself with paintings and scribbling and some of these paintings and scribbles found their way to Panicker’s hands through a common friend. These apparently roused his enthusiasm and he showed them to D.P. Roychoudhury, then principal of the Madras School of Art who, in his turn sent me a dramatic invitation to join the School as his special student. I did not do so for various reasons, and , in any case, that is an old story. The incident comes back to me now

When I first met Panicker I was a new-comer to the field of art and he was already a respected teacher in the school, next in status only to Roychoudhury. But that did not stand in our way. There was no reserve in the meeting; he showed his work to me and discussed art with me as if we were old friends. He was at that time quite a virtuoso. His water colours and gouaches, interweaving the lights and shadows of palm groves, had a freshness of touch that could surprise both expert and novice. His drawings had a kind of bottled excitement in them and combined to that a great professional competence. He bounced around the enthusiasm, his eyes sparkled at everything he saw, the people, the landscape, the common facts of the Madras street and his response to these was always earnest and direct.

I did finally end up in an art school two years later (though in Santhiniketan and not in Madras). I sometimes wonder whether meeting Panicker had something to do with it. Anyway, we always met thereafter whenever I was in Madras, though this was not very often. I always enjoyed the meeting and, I suppose, so did he; we went over a variety of topics, on art, on literature and the like. Panicker’s interests were large, which was fair among the artists of his time, and he was remarkably articulate. We discussed his work and mine, though there was no much of mine to discuss at that time; and I had a periodical glimpse of what he was going through at that time.

In the late forties Panicker was trying hard to slough off his virtuosity. With it he probably felt like he was still wearing the school blazers. He was trying to start afresh, keeping in front of him a kind of Van Goghian ideal, a direct expressive response to things around. His work took on a simpler image; his palette brightened up and the linearity of forms became pronounced. Not much later he made a trip to England, visiting Europe on the way. His western excursion affected him like it affected most Indian artists of any individuality; it threw him back to himself. It was as if across the seas a strange longing for his land caught him in the pit of his stomach. On his return he became a -

committed indigenist, though not in the traditionalist sense. And it started him on a new road. what he has done since is now known to a lot of people. At first his painting featured voluptuous human forms in rambling line, which metamorphosed slowly into wriggling foetal specters and later uncoiled into rhythmic lines and squiggles, moving in stages from a writhing human landscape into a microbial street of linear romanticism. They became less rolled out an intriguing carpet of colour fields and calligraphic texture, with a distant visual reference to our old manuscript scrolls.

Panicker’s role in the art world of Madras was a decisive one. He was the first person who contributed much to bring the South Indian artist out of his crisis of self-confidence. His infectious enthusiasm worked like leaven in the youth. He helped them, organized them, fought their cause on national forums to the chagrin of many. But his role in the Indian Art world is even more illustrious; he led a generation of young artists to look into themselves and their surroundings; if it led some to these into certain preciosities it was not his fault. He made them think about art in a larger perspective; the artists’ village he founded in Cholamandal is a lasting proof of this. To persuade young artists to call off their dependence  on commercial galleries and live in a kind of commune, living and working together, sharing their successes and failure, practicing art in a larger spectrum is a remarkable achievement; not only is the concept elevating, in the realities of our art situation it is a pragmatic one too. The survival of this village intact, with the same spirit and perspective, will be a living monument to his vision.

I myself do not know precisely, why I paint. Apart from a general ill-defined knowledge of the impulses behind my other activities I have had no exact assessment of these. However, from my childhood days, ever since consciousness dawned on me, what has haunted by imagination throughout was a sense of some deficiency, and a sense of inferiority. I had yet another awareness; that if I had been alone; if there were no one to see what I was doing, I would be able to do something beyond the capacity of most. This helped me to land into many scrapes. Though my tales about my imaginary daredevilry were made fun of by other children, the elders listened to these amusedly. And they used to ask me to repeat such tales. However,

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I used to feel that i had never succeeded appreciably in this diversion. And I used to wonder why. But , I was helpless to remedy it. With the narration of such tales I used to gather some sort of self-confidence. And I had nothing else to do. It was at this time that another youngster joined the school, the Madras Christian College School. Though he had been only eleven years old, he was gifted with the ebullient skill of executing drawings and paintings in simple style. He helped to open my eyes. But, on sensing his invaluable innate gift, I used to feel bewildered. I began to draw the pictures of villages and coconut groves which I had been familiar with , in my village in Kerala. Canals used to make me highly emotional. And my eyes used at such times to fill with tears. Feelings that this was unmanly, I was at pains to hide the tears from others quickly wiping them off. I began to paint continuously from then onwards. Initially, these depicted canals, coconut groves and paddy fields. And this work could be done alone, without the supervision of anyone else. And I could get immersed in such work. And it was much better than spinning out heroic tales. It used to give me similar self confidence and was of equal attractiveness.

At this stage, painting had been a source of joy. I had no serious worry. I began to gain strength steadily to reach a well defined goal. It was at this time that the goal itself was challenged. And I began to feel that the heaven which I had built for my own self was transient and insubstantial. And when I woke from my dream I felt sure of one thing- I had to build a new different world. This shifting of goals occurred at least four times during my career. Though the goal kept changing the emotional response from painting remained constant.

Ravi Varma, Lady Pentland, Cotman, Brangwyn, Van Gogh, Gaugin, Mattisse, Fauves etc., came and went, one after the other, in a series of influences. Sometimes I used to be under the influence of many such, simultaneously. But, during the early 1950s I began to feel dissatisfied with the Western influence which had been my mainstay. From then on, between 1953 and ’63, I was under the influence of a combination of Ajantha and Van Gogh. This was the period during which it dawned on me that I would be able to contribute something at sometime or other to the art of our country. But, I had to complete quite a lot of work, before attaining this goal. And the art movement in Western countries was going ahead rapidly. I was aware, early enough, that unless one was able to grasp and assimilate the fundamentals of Western modern art in would not be possible to contribute anything worth while to the art of our country. I used to hear a lot about Paul Klee even then . Egyptian pictures and hieroglyphics influenced him considerably. It was Paul Klee who roused plenty of hopes in me. Paul Klee who roused plenty of hopes in me. Paul Klee is closer to our art than Picasso or Braque. His lines are simple and full of life.

Once again, the little world which I had built, tumbled down round my ears. After learning the lessons imparted by Klee, I was at a loss how to commence work on the basis of these, from scratch. I did not like to copy him. It would be an insult to my Guru. I had to begin from the beginning, like any beginner. The past was found equally to be a help as well as a hindrance in this new venture. I was inspired and at the same time cast down. Suddenly, one day I happened to notice a page from the maths note book of a young student. Arabic figures, Latin and other symbols of Algebra

and Mathematics and the linear and other formations of Geometry, all helped to rouse in me a new idea. I had been familiar with these in the past. But, only as a student of Maths. But now these opened our a vista of creative art. With renewed ardour I plunged into the new phase, in 1963. By the time my lines had begun to assume the essence of words and symbols.