Building blocks of creative energy

An art institution is not merely a building made of bricks and mortar, but a living organism. It is not just a container of creativity, but a space that shapes the way we perceive, engage with and experience art. It holds within itself an atmosphere that is both material and immaterial — packed with potential and meaning.

At the heart of this experience lies architecture. The architectural design of an art institution does more than providing a roof and walls — it sets the tone for what is possible within.

Architecture and art have always shared a blurred boundary. Both speak in the language of symbols, space and form. Both communicate complex ideas — not always with words, but with experience.

In art institutions, architecture becomes an active participant. It enhances the viewer’s journey by offering environments that are not only functional but also emotionally and culturally resonant.

Buildings are charged spaces where a corridor is not just a passage, but can evoke a moment of silent reflection. A staircase can be a stage. A courtyard can become a site of unexpected encounters — places where a conversation sparks or a relationship begins. In such spaces, anything can happen.

And yet, one cannot help but notice the contradiction: when a hospital is designed, doctors and medical professionals are involved from the very beginning, ensuring that the space meets the specific needs of its users. Why, then, is there such tardiness when it comes to designing spaces for the art? Why are artists, curators and cultural thinkers not brought into the process from the very start? Shouldn’t an institution meant to inspire creativity be created with creativity?

Bharat Bhavan in Bhopal was designed by the acclaimed architect Charles Correa, one of India’s great architectural minds. His vision was to develop a modern architectural language that was both specific to India and distinct from the influences of European Modernism.

Rather than imposing a foreign vocabulary of design, Correa rooted his structures in the local climate, culture and context. Local materials like red sandstone and brick work reflect a deep understanding of space as a social and sensory experience.

The design features terraced gardens that cascade gently down towards the famous Bhopal lake, with the journey that starts from the entrance and flows downward through a pedestrian spine, flanked by courtyards. These spaces are not only aesthetically pleasing, but also purposeful. They encourage movement, reflection, and interaction. Correa’s architecture doesn’t just house art, it creates the conditions for art to converse and provoke.

In the context of art institutions, the building is not a neutral backdrop. It is part of the artwork, part of the performance. It shapes the way we see, think and feel. This is why it matters — why the design of these spaces must be given the same care, attention and collaboration as the art they will eventually host. To see buildings not as passive shelters, but as active participants.

The inauguration of Bharat Bhavan on February 13, 1982, marked a watershed moment in Indian cultural history. The atmosphere was charged with aspirational optimism and creative energy. Under the visionary leadership of Ashok Vajpeyi — poet, cultural administrator and tireless institution builder — the ‘idea’ of Bharat Bhavan came to life, not just as a structure but as a confluence of India’s varied artistic strands.

Vajpeyi not only conceptualised the institution but also had the rare administrative will to realise it. The vision was bold: a space where tradition met modernity, folk and classical, verbal and visual, urban and rural arts would coexist and converse. Set against the serene backdrop of Bhopal’s Upper Lake, Bharat Bhavan stood as a physical embodiment of this ethos, inviting openness, reflection and dialogue.

The inaugural day itself was electric — alive with artistic fervour and intellectual ferment. A host of India’s greatest minds and creators were present, their energies combusting in vibrant exchange. Among them was J Swaminathan, director of Roopankar, the museum of modern and tribal art housed within the complex. Swaminathan had a radical, inclusive vision: to break the silos between so-called “high” modernist art and indigenous folk and tribal expressions.

His curatorial practice was nothing short of cultural reclamation. By challenging urban-centric definitions of art and modernity, Swaminathan made space for alternative narratives rooted in soil, memory, and myth. His deep interactions with tribal artists, often seated with them informally on the steps of Bharat Bhavan, created a unique atmosphere of camaraderie, shared purpose and mutual respect.

I recall him vividly — his gravelly voice, tousled hair, and the inevitable bidi in hand — descending the steps, in his white lungi and flip-flop sandals.

It was Swaminathan’s reputation and affable nature that drew India’s leading modernists to work hands-on towards readying the gallery for inauguration. Tyeb Mehta, Krishen Khanna, MF Husain, Akbar Padamsee and others contributed tirelessly. The energy was collaborative and raw.

I remember Manjit Bawa, precariously balanced on a stool, hammering a nail into a freshly painted wall to hang a Ram Kumar painting, while the rest of us scurried about arranging chai and pakoras, warding off the winter chill with snacks and bonhomie. In hindsight, those were rare days — when India’s art community came together not for prestige or protocol, but out of shared conviction. A time when dreams were not feared, but welcomed.

The inauguration’s cultural reverberations reached far beyond India. Peter Brook’s visit to Bharat Bhavan would later inspire his iconic production of the ‘Mahabharata’, first staged in a French quarry. His workshops here embodied the institution’s spirit of cross-disciplinary exploration, blending Indian narratives with experimental theatre practice.

Simultaneously, the dynamic BV Karanth, heading Rang Mandal, infused Bharat Bhavan’s performance spaces with theatrical innovation. His productions embraced regional dialects like Bundelkhandi and Malwi, folding India’s folk idioms into Western classical texts. Whether in the open-air Bahirang amphitheatre with the lake as a backdrop, or in the intimate Abhirang studio, Karanth’s work was both rooted and radical. The inauguration of Bharat Bhavan by Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was more than a ceremonial opening: it was a cultural festival. A veritable who’s who of Indian creativity assembled: musicians, dancers, painters, poets, writers...

Performances of folk and tribal music, alongside classical recitals, filled the air. The founding of Vagarth, the centre for Hindi poetry, and Anhad, focused on classical and folk music, reflected Bharat Bhavan’s integrative ethos — bridging divides of form, language and tradition.

Ashok Vajpeyi’s ability to navigate bureaucratic corridors while resisting their rigidities was pivotal. He created a space where creative freedom flourished without the weight of hierarchy. Alongside Swaminathan and Karanth, Vajpeyi built Bharat Bhavan as a living institution, not a sterile museum.

Artists, scholars, and tribal creators mingled on equal footing. There were no elite corridors, only shared courtyards, steps, and open conversations. The vision was egalitarian, informal and deeply rooted in Indian cultural values.

Even today, Bharat Bhavan’s courtyards and terraces hold echoes of those heady early days. One can almost hear the nirguni bhajans of Kumar Gandharva — ‘Sunta hai guru gyani’ — sung before a swaying crowd. Or see Jangarh Singh Shyam, the Gond artist, painting a mural that came alive with each brushstroke.

Bharat Bhavan was born out of visionary leadership and a unique historical zeitgeist. But institutions cannot live on legacy alone. Over time, many such spaces risk slipping into routine and complacency. Programming becomes predictable. Bureaucracy creeps in. The founding manifesto — of pluralism, artistic freedom and dialogue — risks becoming a hollow slogan. They must be continually reinterpreted and embodied by those who lead. Without such human commitment, institutions stagnate. The torch lit by the stalwarts must move forward, not by replicating the past, but by reimagining its spirit for the present.

To remain relevant, Bharat Bhavan must return to its founding courage. It must become a place where artists take risks, where audiences wonder and where art is nurtured not as a product, but as a process.

— The writer is a Chandigarh-based theatre director