Rathna Ramanathan: town type

The Hidden Typographers of Tamil Nadu, India

Billboard painting has been a popular form of expression in India since the early twentieth century. The first record of Indian signage written in the Latin alphabet was political.  Hand-painted banners carried three words: ‘Simon Go Back’: a strident Indian message repelling colonialism, used by freedom fighters in India in 1927.

This spirit of independence and freedom of expression has continued to pervade the tradition of hand-painted signs in India. Outdoor signage in India was, until very recently, not subject to any legal constraints. Anybody could put up a sign, pretty much anywhere on the street, saying anything. Hand-painted signs were and still are the cheapest, most convenient method of communication and therefore have been the most popular mode of advertising. Signage is one of the most effective ways of getting your message across to a large proportion of India’s masses.

The hand-painted sign is often seen as the pulse of everyday India. It can provide a sense of spiritual direction and of geographical place. It can incite anger or cause amusement. It can be a mode of worship or a reprimand. At election time, streets and walls are cluttered with symbols and promises from political parties. At festival time, they are replaced by religious messages providing colourful pedantic decoration. Messages of commerce, which advertise products from condoms to cinema, are omnipresent and do not subscribe to any particular season.

I am focusing here on the hidden typographers of India, and in particular the billboard painters or ‘hoarding artists’ responsible for the creation of a multitude of signs that pervade Chennai, capital of Tamil Nadu state. These hidden typographers are all men, ranging in age from the early twenties to the late sixties. Very few are literate, and those who are read and write only in their mother tongue, Tamil. None knows how to read, write or speak English, yet 90 per cent of the messages they paint are in the Latin alphabet.

In sponsored hoardings, the artist is often given the exact design that is to appear. His job is to copy the layout from an A4 sheet of paper onto the hoarding, usually about twenty by forty foot. Since these men do not know English, for them the Latin alphabet is just another image or mark to render or play with. The individual processes of conversion, artistic interpretation of the design, and rendering by a native hand of a ‘foreign’ language make each hoarding a playground for typographic expression.

I decided to interview a few artists making hand-painted signs. Included below are two of these interviews with Kanniyapan and Mohan. (In India, men are usually called by their family names. Kanniyapan is an independent artist residing in Chennai, who has been in the business for over forty years; he is retired now. The second interviewee is Mohan, a well-respected artist who has been painting for twenty years. He now runs a grocery shop, as he couldn’t support his family by painting hoardings. (Note: To make it comfortable in an Indian context for two older men to talk about their working lives to a younger woman, I decided on a rather formal style, hence the formalised reference to myself as ‘the interviewer’.)

Interviewer: For how many years have you been painting hoardings?

Kanniyapan: I began in 1962. I have been doing it ever since.

Mohan: I began in 1983 after I finished my tenth standard. I couldn’t afford to study further, so I began painting.

Interviewer: How and why did you get into this profession?

Kanniyapan: I was interested in drawing and painting from an early age. After I finished my schooling, I joined an arts company and worked there for five years as an apprentice. I slowly learnt the trade there.

Mohan: My father was an artist with the railways. He also worked for a company called Mohan Arts. He even named me after the owner. I used to go with him and because I was young and nimble they would ask me to do some work. Despite the fact that I was handicapped, and walk with a limp, I could still climb to any height. Slowly I began doing more and more work and it became a full-time job.

Interviewer: What are the different kinds of messages you paint?

Kanniyapan: I draw everything, from commercial hoardings with messages and ads to political hoardings. It all depends on the kind of design the client gives.

Mohan: There are two kinds of artists – letter painters and figure artists. I do both. Initially I was doing only figures. But caste plays a major role. The Acharis dominate this particular line of work. They make sure their sons get all the jobs.  I am a Chettiar. So I had to branch out and diversify.

Interviewer: In what languages are these messages? Do you know all of these languages?

Kanniyapan: The messages and slogans are in various languages –  English, Hindi, and Tamil. It does not matter whether I know the language or not. I just look at the design and copy it.

Mohan: There is no need for an artist to know the language. I just have to look at the design and draw it.

Interviewer: What is the process of creating these messages? How long does it take you to do one?

Kanniyapan: I first apply the base paint. Then I draw the outline of any figures or letters. The next step is to write the text. And finally I fill in all the other colours. It takes me a day or two, depending on the size.

Mohan: Experienced painters like me just have to look at a design or an object to paint the hoarding. Younger artists follow a ‘graft method’ where they divide the entire space into squares and paint square by square. First I apply the bare colour. Then I do the ‘head-on’ – whatever is most prominent in the design. Then I write the slogan and apply the colours. Finally, I insert the dealer’s name. If I am still not satisfied, I develop a frame around the hoarding to give it a finished look. Also, if there are any offers for that particular product, I make sure they are highlighted. I can complete a twenty by forty foot painting in about six hours with two helpers. It takes two hours for the base colour itself to dry.

Interviewer: How much do you get paid?

Kanniyapan: I get paid three Rupees (about four pence) per square foot.

Mohan: I get an average of 225 Rupees (about £3) per hoarding, about two Rupees (three pence) per square foot.  

Interviewer: Are you allowed to choose your own colours and type?

Kanniyapan: No, we have to copy the design they give. Sometimes if the design doesn’t look good, then I can make suggestions. Some clients listen and allow me to make changes.

Mohan: We can only give suggestions. For instance, there is a colour called Firoze Blue. If it is used in combination with red, the letters get blurred. Sometimes, clients are not aware of this. So we advise them to change it. But sometimes there is room for creativity. This year, for instance, I have designed innovative cut-outs for Diwali (the Indian Festival of Lights) – rockets in new shapes and sizes. But that is possible only if the client is open to new ideas.

Interviewer: What is the inspiration for your art? Are there any well-known artists or ‘letter painters’ you look up to?

Kanniyapan: No, I don’t really look up to anyone. But today, a lot of young boys look up to me. Mohan: There was an artist called Brahman. I looked up to him when I first began. I also revered my father. I draw inspiration even from things I see on the road, for instance. Earlier I would carry colours with me all the time and just stop to sketch if I got a sudden idea.

Interviewer: How do you feel about being a hoarding artist? How do other people react to your profession?

Kanniyapan: The work I do is my God. And no one criticises me for my choice of profession.

Mohan: Most people call us painters. But we are really artists – no one understands the difference.

Interviewer: What is the future for hand-painted messages?

Kanniyapan: In India, we have been hand-painting billboards from the beginning. Now times have changed and people prefer printing. I can’t blame them for that.

Mohan: The profession is dying. Today there is hardly any work for manual artists like me – eighty per cent of hoardings are vinyl. Hoarding artists only get the smaller jobs. To survive, I need to do at least 2000 to 3000 square foot a week. Where am I going to get that kind of work? I also have to pay 150 Rupees (about £2) per day for labour charges. Now even signboards are getting computerised. I would only get some work during election time. I have two daughters and a wife to support. So I have to earn my living elsewhere. (End of interview)

The Tamil typographer is a dying breed. His skills, learnt and passed down through the generations, from father to son, are now misplaced in the new commerce of glossy photographic billboards. I began my research as a record of the Latin alphabet rendered in the Tamil vernacular, but it has become a documentation of a dying tradition of typographic expression in Southern India. 

Rathna Ramanathan is a young woman from South India. She left to escape an arranged marriage, and is in the UK disguised as a PhD student researching book design.