TALES FROM THE CAPITAL CITY – 149

Fragments of a Forgotten Atelier: Early Works of Raja Ravi Varma

Despite the considerable corpus of research on Raja Ravi Varma and his oeuvre, relatively little is known about his early career in Travancore, particularly during his tenure as Court Painter under Maharajah Ayilyam Tirunal. Due to the scarcity of surviving records from this period, one of the few ways to trace the evolution of his artistic sensibilities and technique is through a close study of the works he produced during those formative years.

However, a significant impediment to such inquiry is the limited accessibility of Ravi Varma’s early paintings to art historians and researchers. Most remain in private collections, often undocumented and unseen by the wider public. The documented phase of his artistic career is typically said to begin with the commissions he received in the 1870s from Kizhakkepat Krishna Menon, a Sub-Judge based in Thalassery.

In the course of research for my forthcoming book, I encountered several early works by Varma from the period when he served as a dedicated painter in the royal atelier. Today, I wish to introduce one such painting: a portrait dated to around 1880, depicting Nagan Narayana, also known as Nanoo Pillai (1827–1886), who served as the Dewan (Prime Minister) of Travancore from 1877 to 1880.

Dewan Nanoo Pillai, painted by Ravi Varma c.1880.

Ravi Varma, then a young but already accomplished artist, was widely praised for his ability to capture a striking and often flattering likeness of his subjects. In this portrait, he renders Nanoo Pillai’s face with finesse, attending closely to the rich embroidery of the turban and the detailed textures of the Dewan’s attire. Yet, as the viewer’s gaze moves away from the face, it is drawn to a striking anomaly — a disproportionately elongated arm, with unnaturally long fingers hanging downward.

This curious flaw stands in contrast to the otherwise meticulous execution of the work, offering a glimpse into the complexities and evolving practices of the artist during his early years.

Another noteworthy detail in this painting is the subtle and ingenious way in which Ravi Varma incorporates his signature. The Dewan is depicted holding a small piece of paper—presumably a letter—and inscribed upon it, facing the viewer, are the words: “Wishing you all happiness, I am Yours Very Sincerely, Ravi Varma.” This discreetly embedded signature suggests that the painting may have been intended as a personal gift from the artist to the esteemed minister, whose tenure concluded in 1880, shortly after the passing of Maharajah Ayilyam Tirunal.

It is important to note that 1880 marked a pivotal moment in Ravi Varma’s early career. The death of Ayilyam Tirunal, under whom Varma had enjoyed patronage and prominence, heralded a shift in the court's artistic climate. With the accession of Maharajah Visakham Tirunal Rama Varma, whose disapproval of Ravi Varma was reportedly well known in courtly circles, the artist's position within the Travancore court became increasingly uncertain. This transitional phase thus adds a layer of poignancy to the painting, which may be read as both a farewell gesture to a valued patron and a quiet reflection on changing fortunes at court.

In the 1940s, G.R. Natham, an artist based in Nagercoil, was commissioned to retouch the Dewan’s portrait. What renders this episode particularly noteworthy is that, fully aware of the painting’s provenance, Natham chose to inscribe his own name on the restored work.

Far from being an act of irreverence, this gesture may be interpreted as a conscious assertion of artistic agency. Like many followers and imitators of Raja Ravi Varma, Natham positioned himself within the extended lineage of the master’s legacy—an attempt, perhaps, not merely to restore a revered artwork, but to participate in its ongoing history and to claim a modest place within its narrative.

Sharat Sunder R

21.04.2025.