Cross-hatcher
Andrew Robinson
Indian Diary
The idea behind this book filled me with the keenest anticipation. How; would Edward Ardizzone, an artist familiar for his thoroughly English sensibility, the illus- trator of the much-loved series of sea-side adventures of Tim, one of which arrives in proof in the middle of this Indian encoun- ter, react to the mad colours, clamouring detail and complexity of India? He turns out to be a Betjeman-like figure, both in appearance and in the tone of his writing: urbane and often witty, tolerant yet firmly dismissive of incompetence or sentimenta- lity, thoroughly practical, and, as I expec- ted, largely unresponsive to classical In- dian art, while being deeply captivated by India and Indians in cities, towns and vil- lages. Indian Diary looks set to become a minor classic of travel writing. It is a curio- sity that should give enormous pleasure to all those who have experienced the min- gled delights and frustrations of travel there, and especially if they have needed to achieve something while there.
Ardizzone arrived in Delhi in November 1952 and left India at the end of May 1953. His sponsor was UNESCO, and he was to take part in their Seminar for the Produc- tion of Audio-Visual Aids for Fundamen- tal Education. It is typical of his laconic descriptions of his work that it is never
made quite clear what was required of him. With his unstinting devotion to duty, his visit became an attempt to add some ginger to the general banality of Indian art and art-teaching at that time — yet to expe- rience its post-independence renaissance — with some much-needed imagination and the introduction of new techniques. One of these, silk-screen printing, was ob- viously a bit beyond Ardizzone himself. Throughout the diary he struggles manfully to master its delicate workings and punc- tuates his efforts in other more familiar artistic directions with periodic notes of despair, culminating in a very funny draw- ing of him surrounded by students, looking down aghast at a 'horrible mistake' made in the stencil by a student Das.
The UNESCO party consisted of four: two Indians, Ardizzone, and the well- known film-maker Norman McLaren, who lectured on the much younger technique of film-making with greater success than his harassed colleague. It is McLaren who pro- vides, in. a Publisher's Note, a most appea- ling analysis of Ardizzone's method which puts a finger on the riddle of what creates the subtle charm of his impressionism, in- cluding his famous cross-hatching, which seems to transfer effortlessly to the higgledy-piggledy corners of Indian bazaar life. 'It always seemed a miracle to me how he could capture the character and atmos- phere of people and places, often with amazing economy, out of a dash and swirl of lines, dots, squiggles, hatching and cross-hatching, the totality of which ended up in a delicately balanced and rounded- out composition . .
Malcolm Muggeridge, then editor of Punch, for whom Ardizzone did several Indian drawings and who contributes a graceful introduction sketching Ardiz- zone's artistic personality, comments that Ardizzone was free of the illustrator's curse, the need or desire to make jokes. What really interested him was 'the inexo- rable disparity between our aspirations and our achievements, rather than our particu- lar absurdities'. And indeed, in both draw- ings and text, there is no trace of malice or self-consciousness, unless appropriate, as, for instance, when Ardizzone refers to 'only barbarians like myself who wear shoes into shops. Even the determined Miss Kanaka, who eventually makes a vio- lent proposal to McLaren, is apparently mildly treated, both in real life and in words. She does not appear to rate a draw- ing, however.
It is impossible to do justice here to the drawings, to the affectionate exactness with which the bureaucratic apparatus is captured, or the slyly abject posture of a beggar woman, or the vain pointiness of some Sikh beards coupled with the innately dignified bearing of the wearer. All human life, and much animal life, including the obligatory cows, is there, and special atten- tion is given to the sensuous graces of In- dian women, rich and poor. The text is in note-form and much of it is drily factual, but it complements the drawings with sin- gular ease, at least partly because it keeps pace nicely, having been set in a large type- face. Not the least of Indian Diary's quali- ties is the high standard of production on heavy paper, a worthy, though fairly costly tribute to its author's high standards.
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