The painter of trees: Rumale’s vibrant legacy

It is a truth universally acknowledged that to be considered sophisticated, a city must be in possession of an artist whose work is so deeply tied to its rhythms that it is impossible to think of either in isolation

It is a truth universally acknowledged that to be considered sophisticated, a city must be in possession of an artist whose work is so deeply tied to its rhythms that it is impossible to think of either in isolation. If Frida Kahlo shares that elemental relationship with Mexico City, so does MF Husain with Mumbai, van Gogh with Arles, da Vinci with Florence, Anjolie Ela Menon with Delhi, Monet with Paris, Mario with Goa, Andy Warhol with NYC, and Abanindranath Tagore with Calcutta.

India News

Which begs the question: which artistic personage is bound as inextricably to our own ooru? K Venkatappa, the temperamental 20th century genius at the Mysore court, who has an art gallery named after him in the city, is a possible contender, although it could be argued that much of his fame rests on his Ooty landscapes. In contrast, our second prospect, the city’s much-loved visual historian and long-time chronicler of its endearing absurdities, Paul Fernandes, would be a near-unanimous choice.

There is, however, a third, lesser-known candidate– Rumale Chennabasaviah.

By 1948, when Paul was born, Rumale had already lived several lives – that of a high school dropout, an art student, and, for over two decades, a dedicated foot soldier of the Indian freedom struggle. He would spend another fourteen years in public life, including two terms as a nominated member of the Mysore Legislative Council, before deciding to focus full time on his art, which afforded him the space to create the lush, bursting-with-freshness impressionist paintings of Bangalore’s trees that define him today.

In 1927, Mahatma Gandhi, who had been travelling extensively to promote khadi across the country, arrived in Bangalore to convalesce after a health crisis. For Rumale, then an impressionable 17-year-old, meeting Gandhiji was electrifying. Even as he pursued art intermittently, first as a student at Bangalore’s Kalamandira (the still-extant school turned 100 in 2019) and later at Mysore’s Chamarajendra Technical Institute, Rumale plunged into the freedom movement, becoming an administrator of the Seva Dal, the volunteer organisation of the Indian National Congress. He was often jailed for his pains, including at Ahmednagar Fort in 1942, where he had a most distinguished fellow prisoner in Jawaharlal Nehru.

In 1962, he returned to art. Working mainly in watercolours and occasionally in oils, this master ‘plein air’ painter was wont to get to his chosen spot (often in Cubbon Park) at the same time each day, sketch his subject with great care, and wait patiently for the light to perfectly showcase the exuberant vitality of a crimson gulmohar, golden tabebuia, or purple-blue jacaranda against a historic city landmark. Then, bringing out the expensive, imported art materials he insisted on using, he would proceed to lay his van Gogh-esque strokes thick and broad on the canvas, capturing all the dynamism of the scene.

He also executed several commissions for the government – rivers, waterfalls, and, as a pictorial record, areas marked for submergence by dams across Karnataka.

In the 1960s, Rumale converted part of his Rajajinagar home into a space for hosting his own shows. In 1973, this became Rumale Art House, the official gallery for his work. Today, the lovely, must-see gallery with its 120 Rumale originals is run with great enthusiasm and love by the scion of his adoptive family, Sanjay Kabe.

In February 1988, a road accident tragically took the life of the 77-year-old bachelor-ascetic while he was on his way home from another successful day of painting at Lalbagh.

(Roopa Pai is a writer who has carried on a longtime love affair with her hometown Bengaluru)