The Story of Nek Chand’s 25-Acre Outsider Art Masterpiece

On the outskirts of Chandigarh in northern India, an enchanting scene unfolds. Cement statues adorned with vibrant beads and broken glass bangles depict women bearing baskets, dancers, athletes, police officers, and more. This array of figures, representing rural village life, stands serenely alongside mystical creatures like concrete monkeys and oxen. Visitors navigate through narrow pathways, deep gorges, and cascading waterfalls, immersing themselves in this magical realm.

This sprawling 25-acre fantasyland, known as the Rock Garden, is the creation of Nek Chand Saini. A former highways inspector, Chand spent years crafting this extraordinary landscape in secret. Amidst Le Corbusier’s imposing modernist designs for the Punjab capital, Chand’s Rock Garden emerged as a spiritual counterpoint. “What Le Corbusier built is the sky,” Chand said. “My work is the earth.”

Fragments of Chand’s Rock Garden are now on display in London at the Gallery of Everything, which celebrates self-taught artists. In Marylebone, one of Chand’s bearded sadhu figures gazes out from the gallery window, surrounded by spiritual beings crafted from broken ceramics and roadside debris. Inside, more of Chand’s creations await: dancers, a police officer, and bejeweled figures, all intricately assembled by this imaginative artist.

Gallery founder James Brett, who met Chand several times before his death in 2015, regards him as a multifaceted creator. “He was a sculptor, architect, urbanist, and land artist, who devoted his life to capturing the essence of everyday India,” Brett said.

Chand’s secret project began in 1958, coinciding with the completion of Le Corbusier’s Secretariat building. While the latter stood as a brutalist tribute to right angles, Chand’s “Kingdom of Gods and Goddesses” embraced curves and organic forms. It was also a tribute to his lost childhood. Born in 1924 near Lahore, now in Pakistan, Chand’s family fled to India during the 1947 partition. His garden became a canvas for childhood tales his mother had shared.

Familiar with Chandigarh’s infrastructure, Chand identified unused land north of the city for his project. He cordoned off the area and began working on it secretly, often cycling miles to collect stones and discarded materials. “What they threw away, I used,” Chand said. Over time, he crafted a wonderland from broken bikes, rusty coins, bottle caps, and other discarded items, turning them into elaborate sculptures adorned with symbols from various religions.

A film showcased in the exhibition takes viewers on a journey through the garden’s passageways and arched doorways. The walls, covered in plug sockets, create a unique, coral-like texture. Swings hang from columns designed using jute sacks filled with mortar, presenting a stark contrast to Le Corbusier’s concrete walls. It’s hard to believe that such an immense creation could come from just one man.

In 1973, local authorities stumbled upon Chand’s hidden world while clearing land for urban development. Recognizing its tourism potential, they decided to preserve it. At age 52, Chand was appointed “creator-director” of the now-official Rock Garden of Chandigarh and was given a team of 30 workers. The project expanded to include elaborate watercourses and a dedicated plant nursery, among other developments. Today, it attracts over 5,000 visitors daily, becoming even more popular than Chandigarh itself.

The garden’s survival hasn’t always been secure. Proposals in the late 1980s and 1990s threatened its existence, including plans to replace parts with a botanic park and to build a road through it. Public outcry prevented these changes, and the Nek Chand Foundation was established to support ongoing maintenance.

As Chand’s 100th birth anniversary approaches this December, celebrations are being planned to honor his unique contributions. Though immortalized in a wax figure shrine within his garden, Chand remained humble. In a 2013 film, he downplayed his fame, stating, “I never thought anything about it. I just go on working, working, working.”

Source: The Guardian