The historian, translator and publisher on aspects of book making and Tara Books’ latest initiative, the Makers’ Series, which, so far, includes titles that present the work of weavers, boat builders and potters

Tara Books’ latest initiative, the Makers’ Series which comprises three titles as of now - Weaving with Compassion, Boat Builders of the Coromandel and A Potter’s Tale. How did you conceive the Makers’ Series? And how did you choose which crafts/artists to feature?
From the beginning of our publishing, we have been involved in the actual making of the book – our bookcraft workshop, which we set up in 1995 pioneered the printing of silk screen printed books. In order to get this going, we, along with our artisanal team, had to learn a lot about the relationship between editorial decisions and book design, and between book design and production.

Secondly, as we worked to create a children’s list, we found ourselves drawn to art pedagogy. Our first series of books in this line, grouped under the rubric, Craft without Limits, emerged out of workshops with children and artisans - puppeteers, mask makers, toy makers... and we noticed that so much of creativity happens, literally, in the doing – when accidents become occasions for innovation, and mistakes lead us into new, unexplored directions. We were fascinated by the competence and knowledge that emerge in the doing of things.

When we started working with indigenous and folk artists, it is the ‘making’ aspect of their art that fascinated us: that, for many of them, art was as much practice that had to be diligently and systematically pursued – for livelihood, among other things. And this practice, we realised, kept up with the past, whether earlier ways of rendering, or a living tradition, but in doing so, it also responded to its own context, and was shaped by the artist’s inspiration. Making in India, we learned, formed a cultural, labouring world of its own – and we wanted to put out books that captured its diverse aspects, especially, the relationship between the hand and imagination, the vocabularies to do with material, the doing, and the meaning of craftwork.

We decided to do a book on the resident potter at the heritage museum Dakshinachitra, which is close to Chennai – we had seen Ramu Velar, the potter at work, and were drawn to his ebullient personality. This turned out to be a lyrical tale, and Ramu’s words said it all - and the onsite photographs by designer Ragini Siruguri, along with delicate illustrations by Emanuele Scanziani did the rest for the book.

Our second book came to us - three researchers associated with the French Institute of Pondicherry (Balasubramanium, Denis Vidal and Gopinath), who were working on technology, craft, history, to do with boat building in India came to us with their findings - of this amazing boat yard near Cuddalore, not far from Pondicherry, where a group of fishers-turned-marine carpenters were building huge wooden freight boats with bare hands, and simple tools. They had followed this enterprise, and got to know the craftsmen and women over the years, and had written their findings up into a dense academic text interspersed with photographs. We found the photos brilliant, and were drawn to the project, but we had to convince the authors to do a different kind of book - foregrounding the boat makers’ voices, their reasons for doing what they were doing, the economics of it all. We wanted the authors to come in as narrators who share with the reader the story of their engagement with the boat builders. We also suggested they write for a lay rather than an academic audience, and they did.

As for the third book, Meera Goradia who had worked for several years with Khamir, a craft cooperative in Kutch, came to us with an idea and manuscript - on the Meghwal weavers and the ways in which they had persisted with their craft, through good times and bad. Meera wanted to focus on their inner worlds, as well, and the spiritual traditions they had made their own. We were fascinated by all that she had managed to gather, and decided to work on this project with her. We valued what she had done, by way of documenting the weavers’ world views, and these form an important part of the narrative. Ragini was the photographer for this project as well, and designed it too.

These books feature text alongside photographs. They are beautifully produced just like all other Tara Books. Are you trying to counter or rework the coffee table aesthetic in some ways through these publications?
We are drawn to photography and had done some interesting photo books in the past: Marc Riboud’s work, for instance (I for Imagine, Tara Books), featuring a set of photos from across Asia and Africa, with a focus on everyday life. These were curated to form a sort of photo alphabet book for adults. We also published a collection of studio photos put together by the anthropologist Christopher Pinney (Small Studio, Tara Books). And we did a book, featuring images of the Indian flag by press photographers (The Flag, Tara Books). The Mumbai-based designer Mayur Tekchandaney did a lovely book on his city, featuring photographs taken during early morning walks (Still Bombay, Tara Books). In all these, we were drawn to what the image does, by way of conjuring up a story, a moment, and a vision. But even as we worked on these projects, we were uneasily aware of the changing role of the photo in publishing - given the literal flood of photos that we see, post the smartphone revolution. And so, we explored ways of working with photos that looked beyond an aesthetic that celebrates the moment, and relishes the image, sometimes to the exclusion of all else. We wanted to examine other ways to use the photo image – as social commentary, visual description, and as a constituent of narrative that also included text. While we are concerned about the visual legibility of the photograph, we are also aware of the contingent nature of the image in today’s context. How does one render the photo image relevant, while being all too aware of its ephemerality? That’s our challenge, and we think that by integrating it in a wider visual and textual narrative, not as illustration, but as part of the story telling, as visual syntax, we address that challenge.

While there are several books on Indian visual artists, books like these focussing on rural/folk art and artists are relatively rare. Is that because of the inherent hierarchy within the arts, which is also characteristic of several aspects of Indian society?
While we do have books on the arts and crafts, and increasingly on these traditions of art and making, we do not always engage with the conditions of their production, the social contexts of artists, and their sense of their vocation. Nor do we call attention to the intelligence that resides in the hand and which is expressed in the doing. This is because, I guess, of the rigid division between mental and manual labour that the caste system has cultivated over the centuries, valorising the one and demeaning the other. We wanted to work against the grain of this idea and the social hierarchy that it has given rise to – and in this, I personally, was inspired by Kancha Ilaiah’s Turning the Pot, Tilling the Land (Navayana) with art by Durgabai Vyam. As a team, we at Tara are drawn to the work of William Morris, who valued craftsmanship as intelligence, and as making for a democratic aesthetic; and also John Berger, who taught us to expand our ways of seeing and to value beauty that inheres in the lives of working cultures and people. Besides, we have found these values in women’s everyday art - the kolam, the aripana, the digna – and as feminists, we are all too aware of the low premium placed on these, though they might well be the earliest form of creative expression, or as the Pardhan Gond artist, Bhajju Shyam put it, ‘the alphabet of all art’.

Do you also think of these books as an extension of your work and activism as a feminist and anti-caste scholar?
I certainly do. Also, working in Tara for over three decades has taught me to look for, acknowledge and work with art and craft traditions, and to see these as ways of doing that are valuable and from which there is much to learn - as we often point out in the prefaces to our books featuring indigenous art, these artists have much to teach us, not only about art but also about other ways of thinking about need, development... We think these books reverse the habitual aesthetic and social gaze and challenge what we have come to regard as culture and beauty.

I am also keen to know how is a book born at Tara Books? Could you walk us through your process? And what role do you as an editor play in it?
We come up with an idea for a book oftentimes, and then do the research and the writing from our end -- and identify artists and designers to work along with us for that particular project. Sometimes, we are offered a manuscript, and we work closely with the author to evolve a narrative structure that works for that particular theme and audience. After this, we work out an illustration brief, and work with the artist. Simultaneously, we have the designer and the production team come up with suggestions for how the book ought to be laid out and produced, and we ensure that this information is conveyed to the artist and author -- there is a feedback loop that then evolves, and at the end of the day, the book emerges out of a truly collaborative way of working. Not that this is easy or always smooth, but this is how we work.

With our indigenous artists, we evolve a book project through dialogue, conversation. Typically, artists visit our office in Chennai, and work with us for a while, say one to two weeks or more to flesh out ideas they have, or help take forward suggestions we offer -- our editorial inputs, their story telling and drawing come together, with the designer and production coming in at early stages to suggest what direction the project should take – whether the artist should create, keeping the silk screen printing process in mind, for this would affect her choice of colours... or if she should keep in mind the constraints set by the size of the book, and the amount of text that would go into the book.

You make beautiful books. Do you ever think of them as art objects?

Some of them are conceived of as art objects as well, though we ensure that we contextualise these, to communicate to the reader that the form, the production, and the art together make for meaning, and that one cannot be detached from the other.

I understand that the costs also increase because of the exclusive design and quality of production. Do you think that could limit the reach of the books you produce?
The costs are what they are, and also because we ensure fair wages and royalties for all involved in the making of a book. You will notice that all our handmade books feature the names of the printers - and for us, it is important that they sustain a fair livelihood. Since we sell international rights to our books, especially the ones that are silk screen printed and by indigenous and folk artists, the royalties that accrue go to them and these can be substantial, some years. Because we produce these books at our bookcraft workshop, the artisans are assured of work all year around, and fair wages. So, the costs, so to speak, sustain artists and crafts people, who create for a livelihood.

As for costs limiting their reach: not necessarily. We offer a range of discounts, and we encourage people who can afford to do so, to help rural libraries acquire copies. We also have a list of Tamil titles, which cost less than half of what their English counterparts cost.

When I think of Tara Books, I think physical books. What does the future hold for the physical book in India?
Hopefully, the physical book will stay resilient, as it has all these centuries. India is a land of many times, and even if some of us turn resolutely digital, some others, like us, will remain committed to the printed form, without necessarily eschewing the digital.

What books are you reading now or what do you like to read when you are not working?
Nandita Haksar’s The Flavours of Nationalism, and Shahu Patole’s Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada – books to do with food, caste, community and which bring back wider social concerns to the eating plate.

An interview feature with The Hindustan Times by: Prof. Kunal Ray, Faculty of English Literature, FLAME University.