Those crows, recently painted on linen, are the work of Kacper Abolik, a Polish American artist and son of Jewish war refugees who found himself feeling homesick. The birds reflect deep ancestral memories that span generations. Abolik was invited to create at the gallery after spending three weeks painting a mural on a restaurant wall in Bandra. He completed the entire bird series in just two days, but their quiet presence carries the weight of history, reaching back to World War II when this very space served as a sanctuary for strangers fleeing persecution.
From 1940 to 1962, before it became an art gallery, this space operated as a guest house within Clark House. It was run by an unlikely partnership: a Jewish man from Baghdad and a Jewish woman from Eastern Europe. Together, they opened their doors to sailors, professionals, and artists who were escaping the Holocaust. The guest house became a haven for those with nowhere else to turn.
Abolik's crow paintings draw inspiration from the works of Stefan Norblin, a self-taught Polish painter who escaped Warsaw with his actor wife Lena in 1939. Their desperate journey took them through Baghdad and across Asia before they finally reached Bombay in 1941, carrying little more than hope and artistic talent.
"He was fleeing war and found recognition in India," explains curator Sumeshwar Sharma, speaking about the Polish artist who eventually made his home on Nepean Sea Road. Norblin's story represents the kind of cultural exchange and refuge that the space has always embodied.
By 1942, Norblin's oil paintings had gained enough recognition that one won third prize in a Red Cross lottery in Bombay. Within a few years, exhibition advertisements proudly described him as a "Reputed Polish Artist." His talent caught the attention of Indian royalty, and maharajas from Jodhpur, Morvi, and Ramgarh became his patrons, commissioning works that blended his European training with Indian themes.
In Jodhpur, Maharaja Umaid Singh gave Norblin his most ambitious commission: decorating the walls of Umaid Bhavan Palace. The Polish artist spent three years creating Art Deco interpretations of Indian mythology, covering the palace walls with works that merged his European artistic background with the rich storytelling traditions of India.
"Once Sumesh showed me Norblin's work, I immediately felt a kinship—not just because of our Polish ancestry, but because I remember seeing his work as a child," says Abolik, whose own artistic style draws heavily on post-war expressionism. The connection spans decades and continents, linking two Polish artists through shared heritage and the universal language of art.
In 1944, Norblin's son Andeew was born in India, making him part of a generation that would grow up between cultures. However, a health scare forced the family to make another difficult move, this time relocating to San Francisco. Unfortunately, the fame and recognition that Norblin had found in India did not follow him to America. Lena was forced to work as a manicurist to support the family, while Norblin, suffering from both glaucoma and depression, tragically died by suicide in 1952. His American dream had turned into a nightmare of obscurity and struggle.
In the decades that followed Norblin's death, his artwork gradually faded from public memory, and the Colaba space underwent its own transformation. The building that had once served as a refuge for war refugees transitioned from a guest house to a shipping office. In 1955, Ram Bahadur Thakur & Co, operated by the Sharma brothers, moved into the space. Initially focused on trade, the company maintained business links with the Middle East, Eastern Europe, and Japan. Over time, however, these commercial connections evolved into cultural collaborations that would define the space's new mission.
One particularly significant initiative was Lidice Memorial Day, which honored the victims of the 1942 Nazi massacre of the Czech village of Lidice. This lesser-known historical event brought together artists from around the world, including India's K.K. Hebbar and British-Indian sculptor Chintamoni Kar, who donated works for a planned memorial museum. This international collaboration, documented by Austrian art historian Simone Wille, further strengthened the gallery's legacy of universalism and cross-cultural understanding.
"The architecture of our space holds those memories close," says Sharma, reflecting on the building's layered history. "We draw inspiration from thinkers like Babasaheb Ambedkar and Senegalese historian Cheikh Anta Diop. Our aim isn't to look westward, but toward exchange with Africa and South America, toward solidarity with people whose histories have been erased."
This philosophy of global solidarity and cultural exchange has attracted artists from every corner of the world over the years. Senegalese artist Souleymane Bachir Diaw used the space to explore the psychological burden of masculinity in contemporary society. Mexican artist Ximena Labra examined the devastating impact of the Spanish Inquisition on Aztec civilization, creating works that spoke to the universal experience of cultural destruction and survival.
In 2012, Pune-based artist Prabhakar Pachpute undertook an ambitious project, recreating an entire coal mine on the gallery's walls. The installation spoke to India's industrial history and the human cost of economic development, transforming the gallery space into an underground world that visitors could walk through and experience.
"What we know of human existence comes from wall paintings made by our ancestors in caves," Sharma explains, placing the gallery's mission in the broader context of human artistic expression. "The murals of Ajanta are reminders of an equitable society that once existed." This connection between ancient cave paintings and contemporary gallery walls suggests that art has always been humanity's way of preserving memory and expressing hope for the future.
Today, the gallery maintains a guestbook that keeps track of all the strangers who pass through its doors, with visitors spanning from Pennsylvania to Poland and everywhere in between. The book serves as a modern record of the international community that continues to find refuge and inspiration in this historic space. Fittingly, this guestbook is maintained by the same smiling man from Panvel who has just finished painting his very first canvas, bringing the story full circle from refuge to artistic creation, from stranger to artist, from past to present.
