Nothing compensates for a live performance. Period. And this unshakeable truth is at the heart of the gloom performing artistes (and their audience) both feel as the virus continues to gnaw at the edges of our collective fear.
The global pandemic has hit the world hard, bringing to a standstill many sectors. Lives have been snuffed out and livelihoods affected, almost irreversibly. As our health and social well-being takes a beating, the performing arts stare at an existential crisis: their live link with the audience stands ruptured and there appears to be no sign of it being restored in the immediate future.
Art, dance, live music and theatre are not only about pandering to the sublime tastes of human beings, but they also bolster the economy by providing employment, promoting tourism and advocating sustainable development. Senior artistes like Arundhati Nag, T M Krishna and Madhu Nataraj have pooled their might and held online concerts to raise funds for dancers, musicians and other artistes struggling to make both ends meet. But there's only so much one can do.
Strong policies directed towards providing social and economic security for artistes is the need of the hour. While many artistes have adopted and adapted to the hybrid model of teaching and performing, there's no replacing the live performance. The claps, cheers and adulation are all being missed and nothing is the same, rue the artistes.
DH on Sunday spoke to a cross-section of well-known artistes from various fields and asked them how they have been coping with things over the past 18 months and what the future holds for the performing arts sector.
'Government must intervene'
As a vocalist in the Carnatic tradition, T M Krishna was among the first to reach out to folk artistes affected by the pandemic across the country. He hosted a virtual concert in the early months when the pandemic broke out, the proceeds of which were used to support the struggling artistes. Between April 2020 and January this year, he and a few other artistes managed to raise Rs 1.4 crore and support 4,000 artistes across the country. "But our efforts were just about touching the surface. I know of three artistes who committed suicide, there may be more unreported numbers. Performing arts require people to gather. Performances in the digital space, as we see it now, is not helping the rural artistes, who are accustomed to playing at temple festivals and social gatherings. They form a large chunk of the performing arts industry," Krishna says.
He doesn't believe that anything positive has come out of the pandemic for Carnatic musicians. "If you are talking about musicians who are able to do more things online, then it is just about entrenching ourselves in power structures. So I am not going to say it has done much good. The hype that because of the pandemic, everything is happening digitally is just a façade. The truth is that half the musicians are struggling to make ends meet. Popular faces find space because they are popular and famous and they do what they are able to do on the internet. But what about the violinist, mridangam artiste and kanjira artistes? Where will they go and what will they do. They are just about getting by and managing with a few classes here and there," he reasons.
Krishna says that many artistes, who were already engaged either as labourers in agricultural lands or working in some shops, have taken to it full time. "I know of a fabulous artiste who is now driving an auto rickshaw to make ends meet and I know of another Koothu artiste who has turned a farmer. Such is their state," he rues.
While there's only so much that senior artistes can do to support their less fortunate brethren, he urges the government to come up with a legislated socio-economic security system, especially targeted at the marginalised artistes. "It is very doable and I will be happy to talk about this to any government which is willing to do it. The government has to play a role here and has no choice in the matter. We have to use this opportunity to plug the gaps in our system and not wait for another crisis to hit us. If you have a system in place then it will take care of everything else," he says.
'Miss the energy of the audience'
Raghu Dixit, whose music is strongly rooted in Indian traditions and culture, says that not being able to perform live before an audience has been rather suffocating for him and many Indie musicians like him. "The energy that live musicians draw from the audience is definitely missing. Today, performing before a computer or a mobile phone is nothing when compared to the real thing," says Raghu.
He has been doing a few solo concerts to raise funds for those affected by the pandemic. "My band members earn nothing at all because there are no concerts. Many Indie musicians are surviving by teaching and doing solo concerts, but that's not enough to get by. They have suffered financially," he says.
While the pandemic has forced musicians to turn to newer technologies, the older artistes are still struggling to understand how it works. "We have been able to record live and collaborate with artistes from across the world to make music. Software available on Zoom and 'Listen to' offers a musician umpteen opportunities to make music from the comfort of one's home. But performing in front of a computer is so insipid," he says.
When the second wave hit, Raghu converted his studio into a war room and helped people procure oxygen and beds. "That was a trying time and I took off from work for two months; the many deaths and watching people suffer made me plunge into Covid duty full time. We formed pockets of groups across the city to save and serve people," he says.
However, now when things look a bit settled, Raghu has returned to recording and is also contemplating getting into performing for weddings. "August is the month of weddings. I may be looking at performing at weddings. The pandemic has forced me to think out of the box just to stay relevant and viable," he says.
'Exhaustion has set in'
Performer, choreographer, educator and artpreneur Madhu Nataraj says the pandemic has forced her to reboot, recalibrate and also revise her pedagogy to adapt to online teaching.
As early as April 2020, Madhu switched to online classes. "We had to take the plunge through our own creative thinking. As artistes, we depend on the ritual of gathering people, whether it is for art is created or the teaching experience. But social distancing took all that way from us," she says.
Madhu launched her online presence in a big way in May when she birthed India's first digital dance conference called 'Dr Maya Rao Kathak and Choreography conference'. "In place of a 500-member viewership, we had two lakh viewers. During the pandemic, we also started two diploma courses — one in Kathak and the another for people who have never studied dance before. A lot of people could join and the arts offered respite, reflection and rejuvenation for the world," explains Madhu.
She also held a virtual concert, the proceeds of which were used to support folk artistes, who are also daily wage earners, to buy rations for them and support their other financial needs. She continued the movement education session in rural areas and slums. "We taught children in slums and rural belts for free through Zoom and cell phones. One of my students, currently in London, teaches students in Kolar. We adapted online to make sure the students don't lose touch with the arts because it is therapeutic," she says.
She feels that performing arts is always the first casualty in situations like this. "We have done many performances for videos and creating 'dance-in-camera projects', but it is not the same as doing a live performance. The performing arts industry still hasn't learnt how to monetise the online shows because people don't pay to watch. Struggling to make ends meet, we have seen many dancers take to lighting work and making video edits while teaching remains the mainstay. We have also seen a drop in enrolments in classes due to online fatigue," she observes.
Madhu feels hybrid is the future. "People are now so used to doing things from home; we will encourage our students to attend one class in person and if they want to do the other online, we will welcome the move. We lost many lives and people have been scarred forever. What has seen us through these testing times is the resilience of the artistic community. But, over time, we have seen that nerves are frayed and exhaustion has set in."
'The real thing will always be the real thing'
Thespian and multilingual actor Arundhati Nag, who built Ranga Shankara, the state-of-the-art theatre space in Bengaluru 15 years ago, says the space wears an empty look without performances. "Ranga Shankara largely caters to amateur theatre artistes. These artistes got by because they took to theatre as a passion. It dampens their life when you take that away from them. Performing live and performing online is like chalk and cheese," Arundhati says.
Theatre lovers in our country are not yet ready to watch plays online, feels Arundhati. "Ranga Shankara has kept its online presence. We've noticed that whenever it is a free performance, it is well attended, but when it is a paid show, it is not so easy to get an audience. The online festivals have 200 people while the stage performances are a packed house with not less than 300 people attending every show," she adds. "The real thing will always be the real thing".
Theatre groups haven't found it easy to galvanise their flock in the last one and half years, says Arundhati. "A lot of work that happens at Ranga Shankara is amateur theatre. It is not done to earn living, not for religion or for any political party, it is pure passion that drives these artistes. Theatre artistes and theatre performances are neither triggered by government, nor is it a state sponsorship. It has had its own evolution. Theatre will come back once this recedes," she says with confidence in her voice.
While Ranga Shakara waits for the situation to get better, they opened their doors on August 15. "We opened with a play by an amateur theatre group that has completed 25 shows. I also performed in 'Iti Ninna Amrita' in the same week," informs Arundhati.
Actors, who have depended on theatre for a livelihood, have been affected beyond repair, she says. "Their homes run with the income that they get from theatre. It is paralysing to take away the dignity of a mridangam player or a ghatam player, who are accompanying artistes for dance recitals. Hair dresses, flower sellers, make-up artistes... have all been rendered jobless by this pandemic. It is debilitating to not know when your next performance is and upsetting when you realise that the wait is endless," she says.
She is confident that people will return to watch live performances and singers will soon get invited to 'Kutcheris.' "Human beings have the capacity to imagine. And, so long as people tell lies convincingly, theatre will be alive," Arundhati signs off.
Forced to adapt to technology
Western classical music is best understood when taught and performed live. Concert pianist, conductor, singer, teacher and composer Neecia Majolly, recollects that she was in a state of shock when the pandemic hit and lockdown was announced in March 2020. She had never taken virtual lessons and she couldn't fathom what she was going to be in for.
"I didn't have a clue about online classes. I had no clue what the difficulties might have been. I thought this was a temporary thing and remember scheduling seven lessons all in one go on a particular day. At the end of the day, I was completely exhausted. I never ever envisaged network issues, the lag, the sound quality, inability to hear dynamics, let alone how to explain theory, etc. I was so dejected. However, there were some students sitting for music exams, so for their sake, I ventured forth with a few online classes," recollects Neecia.
There are many like her who have had to adapt to technology and struggle their way through the pandemic. She says, "With western classical music (that too, with advanced piano), it was very difficult to hear fine nuances, and so I encouraged my students to send in recordings. But how do you stop them when you want to, in a particular passage to correct something? It was tough. With the vocal students, it was difficult to judge tone, as the output was distorted online. In fact, I spent more time checking theory and other aspects of their lesson on the email, typing in detailed comments hoping they would understand."
She says that concerts were almost nil. Neecia remembers venturing to make videos of concerts for their Young Performers Concert Series and annual students concert. "It was quite fun overseeing the edits, but very time consuming, and expensive, so I stopped in 2021," she adds.
She says some bands did virtual gigs, while some others did FB live concerts, YouTube premieres or YouTube live concerts, but it is just not the same, especially financially. "I was part of some online concerts where I submitted videos of myself playing/singing. It was fun and different, but nothing beats the 'live' feel of a concert," she adds.