From Dhanmondi to Lalmatia Block D: Dhaka’s new cultural canvas
As times change and the aura of elite exclusivity around art disappears, Lalmatia is slowly replacing its bigger and pricier neighbour as the new hotspot for Dhaka’s art scene
You are wandering through the streets of Dhanmondi 27. Just before you cross into Mohammadpur, you must traverse the invisible line: Lalmatia.
If there is a change in the landscape here, it is barely noticeable anymore. Most of the red-bricked homes and sprawling bungalows have given way to high-rises.
But on lazy afternoons and evenings, Lalmatia seems quieter than its two larger neighbours. The many playgrounds turn into hangout spots.
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It is almost like any other neighbourhood.
One difference, however, is quite noticeable. Street corners, once avoided for the prevalence of muggers, now boasts a different crowd altogether: artists.
No sooner have you taken a few steps into this new world, a delightful aroma captures your senses.
To your right, a Chattogram Hill Tracts BBQ restaurant invites you in with its enticing scents and the promise of flavours from faraway lands.
But your journey today is not about culinary delights.
Over the years, Lalmatia – which gets its name from the soft red earth it presumably stands on (lal mati or red earth) – has gone through a quiet, yet colourful transformation.
Literally a couple of steps from the BBQ restaurant, there is a small door that might go unnoticed by the hurried passersby.
This is the entrance to Dwip Gallery, one of the more influential names in Lalmatia's budding art scene.
Despite its modest size, the gallery stands as a testament to the shifting dynamics of Dhaka's art landscape. Here, in one of the most unassuming studios you could imagine, lies a hub of creativity that draws the city's art lovers into its cosy embrace.
Dwip is to Lalmatia perhaps a more modest yet modern iteration of what the Dada movement at Cabaret Voltaire was to Zurich.
This is one the places in Dhaka where avant-garde comes to life – de-capitalising art and making it accessible to the masses.
Dwip Gallery is one such gallery that represents the new era of art in Dhaka, where small spaces are making big waves in the community. And they are not the only ones.
Over the years, with more such galleries sprouting up, Lalmatia has slowly started earning a reputation as an art hub. This transition from the cultural hub of Dhanmondi of the past, to the fresh innovative grounds of Lalmatia today mirrors a journey not just of physical distance but of an evolving art scene.
Back in the '80s, Dhanmondi was a place buzzing with energy, where foreigners residing in Dhaka and art enthusiasts gathered.
With a famous art gallery at Charukola, close to Dhaka University, and the Bangladesh Shilpakala Academy not too far away, Dhanmondi was like the beating heart of the city's cultural life.
Cultural centres from countries like India, Russia (RCC), France (AFD), and Germany (Goethe), make it a melting pot of international cultures.
This area was the go-to spot for foreigners, art lovers, and well-off families looking for a taste of culture and art – "well-off" being the operative word here.
But times have changed and the aura of elite exclusivity around art is slowly being shed. And with that, Lalmatia is becoming the new hotspot for Dhaka's art scene.
Could it be because these galleries can turn more profit in this area? Or could it be that up-and-coming budding artists, the ones not so famous yet, are finding their own success and making a name for themselves outside the traditional art circles?
The great tilt
Wakilur Rahman, an artist, curator, and the founder of one such gallery in Lalmatia – Kalakendra – points out economic reasons as a key factor behind the shift to Lalmatia.
Another key factor, according to him, is Lalmatia's close proximity to Dhanmondi, making it a feasible location due to its social and economic standing.
The location benefits not only the artists creating the work but also the art lovers and buyers.
Rahman points out that the shift of galleries to Lalmatia is influenced by a mix of the area's appealing location and the financial realities faced by both creators and consumers of art.
"Whether the locations are 'rentable' or not plays a huge part in the decision making when it comes to setting up galleries for the creators and consumers alike," said Rahman.
Rumi Noman, founder of Gallery Shilpangan in Lalmatia Block D, has lived through this shift.
Shilpangan started its journey in the '90s in Dhanmondi, at a time where there were no full fledged private art galleries in that part of the city.
"Back then, there used to be those old fashioned independent houses available for rent in Dhaka and that is where we started, in Dhanmondi Road 4 before shifting to Road 5," said Noman.
After five or six years, a trend started to emerge.
Land and house owners began handing their properties to developers, skyrocketing the rent of the area.
"That is when we finally had to shift to Lalmatia, a relatively smaller space," said Noman.
The shift to a new location meant that Noman had to let go of some of the gallery's visual and interactive charm.
Today, Shilpangan is located on the fifth floor of a building in Block D. But the five flights of stairs one has to climb as well as the smaller size of the space in comparison to places like Alliance Francaise make the visit less enjoyable.
Places like AFD have open areas filled with sunlight and emit a big and welcoming ambiance, allowing people to take their time looking at the artwork.
On the other hand, Shilpangan, like other small studios, offers a closer, more personal space. It is a different kind of nice, but it comes with its own inconveniences, primarily adjusting to a new way of displaying art in the limited space of a city.
More accessible?
But has the shift from Dhanmondi to Lalmatia made art more accessible to creators and consumers alike?
Back when Dhanmondi was the go-to spot for art enthusiasts, the galleries were mostly visited by upper-class families who would have their children tagging along.
However, Lalmatia is now attracting a different crowd, bringing fresh faces and visitors.
Due to the presence of schools, coaching centres and restaurants, this new demographic is notably younger, adding a vibrant and youthful energy to the area's cultural scene.
Rahman, who has seen these changes up close, said, "This is a new experience for us. It is amazing to see that now, about 80% of the people who come to our gallery are young people. Often, they visit right after their classes or after grabbing a quick bite. Their energy really brightens up the place."
The year-round exhibitions at Kalakendra have contributed a lot to the development and introduction of newer, young artists.
Overtime, in the 70 or so exhibitions that have taken place in Kalakendra till date, 48 of those were new artists' first ever exhibitions.
"Apart from handing debut exhibitions to many, we sometimes host anonymous exhibitions. You never know that you could be buying or viewing the artworks of an absolute novice or someone who has been doing it for decades," added Rahman.
Rumi Noman, has also noticed a shift in the demographic of the visitors that have been turning up to exhibitions. He says the newer crowd, quite interestingly, isn't an "art-related crowd" per se.
"This area is full of places to eat and hang out, which brings groups of friends to the galleries. They might not come to buy art, but they do come to look around and enjoy the art," he stated.
Kazi Tahsin Apurbo, founder of Dwip Gallery, went above and beyond in being vocal about how independent studios in Lalmatia such as his own have also opened the doors of art to a status quo which would not be possible elsewhere.
"Art was never meant to be confined within the grasps of the wealthy. A regular set of my audience is the tea stall vendors, the waiters of the BBQ restaurant adjacent to Dwip," he said.
Apurbo believes while the posh galleries of Gulshan and Dhanmondi might feel daunting for many to enter, galleries at Lalmatia are all the more welcoming.
Just a short, five-minute stroll east from Shilpangan and Dwip will lead you to Wakilur Rahman's Kalakendra.
Rahman believes the interesting location of Kalakendra, right next to a playing field and with its welcoming open ground floor entrance, naturally attracts many people who are just passing by.
He thinks that many of these visitors might never have thought to step inside if the gallery were tucked away on an upper floor of an apartment building. This easy accessibility and inviting entryway encourage even the most casual passerby to wander in.
"Even the security guards of the buildings around Kalakendra visit the galleries," said Rahman.
This shift in who visits the galleries in Lalmatia shows a big change in the local culture. Even though selling art might not be the main focus anymore, the galleries have become places where young people can come to connect with and think about art.
The galleries, once places only a few could enjoy, are now welcoming spaces where the creativity of the youth meets the world of art, creating a place full of possibilities.
Is the shift profitable?
The question of profitability following the shift from Dhanmondi to Lalmatia is an intriguing one, especially when considering the foundational motives behind establishing art galleries in these locales.
From the outset, the primary goal was to foster a community of art lovers and creators, rather than to chase after financial gain. The move to Lalmatia, while potentially perceived as a strategic financial decision due to more affordable rent, has not necessarily translated into increased profits for gallery owners.
Rumi elaborates on this perspective, highlighting that, aside from the benefit of lower rent, the overall financial picture remains largely unchanged. "The savings on rent are somewhat offset by other expenses, which remain constant, thus not providing a significant financial advantage," he points out.
This insight sheds light on the complex reality of managing an art gallery, where the passion for art and community engagement often takes precedence over profit margins.
The final shift?
Rahman reflects on his years spent in Germany, observing a fascinating pattern that seemed to dance through the decades. Every 10 years or so, the cultural hub of the city would shift, pulsating through the streets and alleys to find a new home. He saw firsthand how neighbourhoods that once hummed quietly under the radar would suddenly awaken.
"When these neighbourhoods became less popular with the general public, they turned into places where it was easy and cheap to live and work. The low cost and available spaces were like signals calling out to artists and creators, leading them to find studios and galleries where they could work and display their art," said Rahman.
This migration of creativity did not just fill empty rooms with art; it breathed new life into the streets. Cafes, bookshops, and small boutiques would sprout up, drawn by the same pull that attracted the artists. The once overlooked neighbourhoods would start to buzz with activity, their walls becoming canvases, their air filled with the fresh scents of paint and coffee.
As more people were drawn to these burgeoning cultural hubs, the once-quiet streets became vibrant with visitors eager to explore the galleries, attend workshops, and immerse themselves in the local scene.
This influx of interest would, in turn, light the fuse of transformation, gradually pushing up property values. What was once affordable and accessible would climb the economic ladder, becoming sought after by a broader audience.
Rahman watched as this cycle repeated, reshaping the city's landscape. Through his eyes, one could see the beautiful paradox of change: how the pursuit of creativity and community could both revive a neighbourhood and, over time, rewrite its own narrative.
As more people started loving these areas, the cost to keep art places shot up really fast. Rahman sadly notes a tough truth: a lot of these art places started because people wanted to share their art, not to make money. They were meant to be spots where artists could freely make and show their work, away from the pressure to sell.
But as living and working in these places got more expensive, the artists and the ones running the galleries could not afford to stay. They were pushed out by the very popularity they helped create.
"These galleries are not just business spaces; they are creative spaces," Rahman said. He looks at how Dhaka has changed, how its shape and feel have shifted over time. "Lalmatia," he says, "shows how the city has changed. It's like a hybrid of Dhanmondi's culture and Mohammadpur's spirit. It's a new kind of place, where Dhaka's creative heart is trying to settle down."
However, Rahman feels that another eventual shift to other places such as Bosila, just on the outskirts of Mohammadpur, could be the location of a lot of these galleries in the future.
