Cinema’s characteristic forte is its ability to capture and communicate the intimacies of the human mind, legendary filmmaker Satyajit Ray had once said. That idea quietly shapes Faces and Facets: Satyajit Ray in Colour, DAG’s ongoing exhibition of photographs by Nemai Ghosh at its New Delhi gallery. Running till July 4, the exhibition brings together 126 colour photographs of Ray, many of them shown publicly for the first time. Taken across a 25-year association between filmmaker and photographer that began during the shooting of Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne in 1968, the exhibition is far more than a visual archive, becoming an intimate portrait of artistic companionship and creative labour.
Nemai Ghosh, who passed away in 2020 at the age of 86, photographed many filmmakers through his career, yet one immediately senses that Ray occupied a singular place in his imagination. These images are not detached records but carry the warmth and persistence of someone who deeply admired his subject. Ghosh followed Ray for decades, often described as shadowing him through sets, rehearsals, conversations and solitary moments. Ray is never presented here as a distant monument of world cinema. Instead, he appears deeply human, absorbed in his thought, casually interacting with collaborators, sketching, composing music, directing actors, listening quietly or simply sitting alone.
The exhibition unfolds broadly in two parts. One focuses directly on Ray himself. The other explores the ecosystem around him with the actors, assistant directors, musicians, technicians and collaborators who formed the world of his films.
Warmth of Memory
Some of the most striking images are almost ordinary in their simplicity. Ray is seen amidst cast and crew, discussing scenes or leaning across wooden tables scattered with papers and notes. In others, actors like Smita Patil during Sadgati, Utpal Dutt during Agantuk, or Swatilekha Chatterjee from Ghare Baire appear relaxed, conversational and deeply immersed in the creative environment around Ray. There is no distance between “artist” and “person” in these frames. The photographs often resemble moments from an extended Bengali family gathering rather than a film set.
That familiarity becomes one of the exhibition’s most moving qualities. The images evoke a distinctly Bengali cultural world of cotton sarees, thick-rimmed spectacles, cluttered study tables, afternoon adda, cigarettes, tea and long conversations where art, politics and cinema overlap naturally.
At times, the exhibition feels uncannily personal. A photograph from Shakha Proshakha, where actors sit around an oval wooden dining table, carries the emotional familiarity of an old family album.
This emotional recognition is intensified by the colour photographs themselves. These are not colours associated with today’s digital sharpness or saturation. Instead, they possess the warmth of memory. Reds lean softly into orange, whites carry faint traces of grey, and natural light settles delicately across faces and interiors. A slight grain runs through many images, giving them texture without diminishing clarity. The photographs preserve atmosphere as much as visual detail. One begins noticing textures that black-and-white photography often abstracts away such as the weave of cotton sarees, wooden desks worn by years of use, the softness of afternoon light inside Kolkata homes, the muted tones of old walls and furniture.
Total Artist
One particularly memorable image reportedly shows Ray sketching costume ideas for the character of Bimala in Ghare Baire. Suddenly, the jamdani sarees and visual textures of the film no longer feel incidental as they reveal Ray’s extraordinary involvement with every aspect of cinematic creation. Through Ghosh’s photographs, Ray emerges not merely as a filmmaker but as a total artist, writer, illustrator, editor, music composer, costume thinker and visual architect.
This multidimensionality becomes one of the exhibition’s quiet revelations. Ray’s genius appears grounded not in flamboyance but in discipline and attentiveness. His surroundings in the photographs are strikingly modest. Plain cotton kurtas, functional wooden furniture, cluttered desks and slightly untidy rooms dominate the frames. Nothing appears deliberately aestheticised. There is no visual performance of artistic grandeur. Yet from these spaces emerged some of the most sophisticated works in world cinema.
That contrast feels deeply significant today. Contemporary visual culture often associates creativity with spectacle, branding and carefully curated personas. Ghosh’s photographs reveal the opposite. Ray appears profoundly ordinary in material terms, and perhaps that is what makes him extraordinary.
The varying print sizes throughout the exhibition further shape this experience. Larger prints lend Ray a monumental presence, reminding viewers of his immense cinematic legacy. Smaller prints, however, feel intimate, almost like personal keepsakes discovered inside an old trunk or family album.
Ashish Anand, CEO and MD of DAG, reflects on this enduring relationship between photographer and filmmaker when he says, “Ray’s dedication to his craft led Ghosh to follow him like a shadow and conditioned him to the exacting demands of the maestro.” Over time, that relationship evolved beyond professional collaboration into something deeply personal.
What ultimately makes Faces and Facets: Satyajit Ray in Colour so affecting is its refusal to mythologise Ray in predictable ways. Ray’s brilliance appears rooted in observation, simplicity and sustained engagement with people and spaces around him. Through Nemai Ghosh’s lens, he becomes less a distant cultural icon and more a working artist immersed fully in life. It documents an entire artistic culture, of a period in Indian cinema where collaboration, conversation and intellectual intimacy shaped creative practice. One senses a slower, more reflective rhythm of filmmaking and living. Ghosh’s photographs preserve not only the making of films but the atmosphere in which those films became possible.