ABHAY SARDESAI: LET ME begin with a simple but relevant question. Do you feel that your profiles as collectors have changed
over time, especially, with the changing shapes of your collections?

Pheroza Godrej: I didn’t set out to be a collector. My background was in painting and that’s how Cymroza Art Gallery started in 1971. I grew up surrounded by art at home but, in those days, parents never encouraged one to start a gallery – painting was OK, but a career in it was different. In fact, I didn’t even think of it as a career. I thought of the gallery as a space where like-minded people could meet, could talk about art and discuss their problems. The only other institute I remember which had done something similar was the Bhulabhai Memorial Institute, which I frequented throughout my childhood. The Institute had shut by the time I opened Cymroza. I hoped to fill this lacuna.

Zehra Jumabhoy: Was opening Cymroza related to your decision to collect?

Pheroza Godrej: Artists have to live too. Why did I buy a Manjit Bawa, an Arpana Caur, a Rekha Rodwittya? Because no one believed in them at that time, no one was buying their work! If you believe in someone’s work enough to show it, then you end up buying it.

Abhay Sardesai: Yes, but does your role as a gallerist contradict your role as a collector? Or does it complement it?

Pheroza Godrej: I don’t buy works only from artists, whom I exhibit at Cymroza. There is never any conflict of interest because the works of artists I collect come from other galleries too. And these days, we have Indian auction houses – if you like something you bid for it. I remember sitting with Jehangir Nicholson at an auction and asking if he wished to share the ownership of a particular sculpture with me. Well, he just kept outbidding me and the only person laughing all the way to the bank was the owner of the auction house. I find it very strange when people say, “my artist”. You can’t own a person, can you? It’s the rapport that you build. This is something that all older galleries understand.

The collection belongs to my husband and myself; the works adorn our offices and guesthouses. But I am a bit worried – the people occupying these offices may not know that these works are valuable. Besides, when the offices are renovated, the works could just, well, get lost. When the Godrej Memorial Hospital came up at Vikhroli, we decided that we would put up tribal art instead (I am not in any way degrading it but it is easily replaceable) and children’s art.

Abhay Sardesai: The art you collect, finally, also collects you. It shapes your tastes and your personality, doesn’t it? Czaee, is there a dedicated pattern of collecting that you follow?

Czaee Shah: Why did I start collecting? And what do I collect? I’ve had dialogues with Amrita about the challenges a collection poses. As a young girl, I used to collect old maps and books, and I used to spend all my time at a bookshop in Bhendi Bazaar looking for old photographs and books. At some point in the late ’80s, I meandered into Jehangir Art Gallery and walked up the steps to Gallery Chemould and that was the beginning of a very significant change in my life. I happened to buy a Raza. And since then, I’ve engaged
with art produced in India. What’s peculiar is that traditionally, it was always men who bought art. They didn’t have to ask their wives or answer questions. People would find it amazing when I started collecting because they would ask how I wasn’t asking my parents or
my husband. I was lucky to be financially independent. My collection is my journey. My husband is an important co-passenger in this journey. One of the questions I ask myself is: who else is going to be interested in this journey? Will it appeal to my child? The future of a collection is a major issue for all collectors.

In the early years, it was fun collecting; in the last 25 years, it has got so much more complex. But, I would like to talk about a few people who supported me. One was Chester Herwitz. He used to say, “Kiddo, you have a great eye”. At first, he used to indulge me, but then towards the end – the year that he died – we were virtually battling for the same work. He was the one person that gallerists kept all works for – I am talking about the ’80s and the ’90s. Until he died in ’99, he was a very important voice in my head. The other person is my husband Suketu – he has allowed me to collect whatever I wanted to collect. He would often come home to find an installation being put up!

I was very committed to buying Indian art because I felt that our artists needed the support. Today, you can buy art outside the country for less than the art here. However, I think I shall continue to support Indian art; it’s like being utterly and totally faithful.

Amrita Jhaveri: Good, we need to be faithful! (Laughter) My journey was totally different. I worked at Christie’s before I began collecting. I didn’t
start collecting properly until after I met my husband [Christopher Davidge] in 2000. I began by collecting pre-modern art – like 18th and 19th century Anglo-Indian furniture. I got quite friendly with curator Amin Jaffer of the Victoria & Albert Museum, London. We often went to fairs together. Then, an ex-client of mine wanted to sell their collection of contemporary Indian art. My husband thought we should buy it. But, having worked in this field, I didn’t really want to get involved. I sold the collection for a small amount of money and really regretted it. I started going to galleries and because I had been in the field for seven years, I didn’t have to make the mistakes that every novice collector makes.

Namita Saraf: Well, honestly, I am not what you would call a true collector. I don’t have the passion to possess works. I don’t go to galleries and buy art. I spent the first eight years of my marriage in Nepal. When our hotel, Yak & Yeti, was being renovated, we decided that we had to include local contemporary art and craft to promote artists and craftsmen. This led to collaborations including commissions by Rolf Kluenter and various craftspersons. When I moved to Mumbai, I realized how much was happening in the realm of Indian art. When we set up the Grand Hyatt in Mumbai, my husband encouraged me to get involved in the art design and installation. That was when I met the curator Rajeev Sethi. At that point in 2002, he was working on The Silk Road show for the Smithsonian Folklife Festival. I went to see it and was convinced he could work convincingly on the scale we needed. When he saw that our hotel had clean lines and plenty of space for art, he agreed. Now, Sethi is working with us on a hotel project in Chennai at Mount Road. The theme
will be interdependence – ‘Like a bee to a flower’.

Amrita Jhaveri: I think commissioning work is the greatest thing a collector can aspire to. So, I disagree with Namita when she says that she is not a collector.

Namita Saraf: Well, commissioning work certainly spoils you. Because you've developed a rapport with the artist, the commissioned work becomes special to you.

Czaee Shah: We don't have a history of commissioning work within India; we have very few public commissions, for instance.

Amrita Jhaveri: But private patronage has always been there, Czaee. Think of the Tatas.

Czaee Shah: Yes, but then, the works in these collections do not belong to public memory. For instance, when I look at the works that I commissioned for Shah House in 1987, I realize that they define an age. But today, how many so-called collectors of Indian art or people involved with the art world even know about them?

Pheroza Godrej: But, it’s our responsibility as collectors to make sure that this does not happen. We know how cranky we can be – what with the permissions involved, it’s easier sometimes just to say, “No, we no longer lend works”. That’s how the best works are lost to the public domain.Think of when Jehangir Nicholson’s collection was shown at the NGMA
in 1998. I don’t think anyone knew what he had in his collection before that! I don’t think even Jehangir himself knew!

Czaee Shah: I think this is an issue all collectors face. Barring our friends, who gets to see the work?

Amrita Jhaveri: I think all of us have a desire to share. I know that I am never going to build a private museum, but if someone requests that I loan something, I would try my hardest to. But, I wouldn’t lend to purely commercial shows. The problem these days is that so many works are not easy to loan – because they are made in situ.

Czaee Shah: In the United States, private collectors often have an arrangement with a museum that whatever they buy will end up there. So, from the very beginning, there is a public commitment. But here, from the second it goes into a collection, there is no public record of a work.

Amrita Jhaveri: That's changing now. Of late, galleries do document their shows and publish catalogues.

Abhay Sardesai: How do you respond then to the idea of bequeathing your collections to a museum or to a larger audience?

Pheroza Godrej: I have made it very clear that I want my children to be involved. A work is like a piece of jewellery, an heirloom that you pass on to the next generation. It would take a lot of courage to give my collection to a museum. Which museum would take care of it? I would happily give my collection to the state, provided I was convinced that it was going to the right place.

Abhay Sardesai: Yes, but you have a real example now with Anupam Poddar's private museum, which allows for carefully curated shows and pedagogic initiatives.

Zehra Jumabhoy: If you had a private museum, that would give you more control than giving it to a government institution.

Amrita Jhaveri: Yes, but then you would have to be wealthy enough to endow a private institution, so that it goes on after you. And that's a huge commitment. I would be terrified of having that sort of responsibility. The Poddars have done a great job. But, we'll have to see in 10 years if they are just as active, just as excited as they are today. It's difficult to sustain interest.

Abhay Sardesai: When you look back at the works you have collected, do you feel that you have edited the history of modern and contemporary art in a way that reflects your take on it? In other words, what does your collection tell you about yourself?

Pheroza Godrej: Oh, that's a hard question. Taste is one thing, but what I do notice is that once I start collecting a particular artist I like to collect his or her work consistently. This has happened with Rekha Rodwittiya, Ram Kumar, Akbar Padamsee, Manjit Bawa and M.F. Husain.

Amrita Jhaveri: These days, I feel that people who call themselves 'collectors' are actually trophy hunters. They aspire to have one work by each artist. I own a small number of artists but usually have more than one work by each.

Czaee Shah: My collection is about artists from my generation - or closer to my generation - like Jitish Kallat. But I only collect when a particular work has some resonance. Just because Atul Dodiya has a show, I won't compulsorily go off and buy a work from it. I often joke with artists that their journey is my journey. Dodiya has great integrity. Kallat has dynamism - I find it difficult not to get drawn in even though his art has changed so much.