market
Painting a better picture
How arts and culture can change negative perceptions of Pakistan on the international stage
By Farzana Baduel
Pakistan can trace its cultural history back throughout the millennia – from the Indus Civilisation of 8000BC through the Gandhara, Sikh and British periods right up to our Independence and beyond. We are a country blessed with breath-taking natural beauty, a rich, vibrant culture and a warm, welcoming people. 
Unfortunately, ask somebody what comes to mind when they think of Pakistan — and more often than not, apart from cricket you’ll hear Taliban, terrorism, corruption and a slew of other such words, none of them particularly flattering.

art
The self in art
The power of persuasion of a work of art does not depend on its source of
creation. This was the dominant sense at the exhibition titled ‘Unbruised’ at the Drawing Room Gallery Lahore
By Quddus Mirza
French philosopher Jacques Derrida in his book Writing and Difference writes about the nature of language and how one can decipher the real meaning of word, not by understanding that particular word, but by discarding all other options closer to it.
For instance, how do you distinguish between a woman and a girl? But you must because it is significant to know the age, and experience, of a person. A person who has lived longer may view the world and surroundings differently from the young people even though they are more trained, intelligent, and have more exposure and better understanding of people, situations and issues.

A living cinema
As the Indian cinema nears its century, the writings on probably the biggest industry are focusing on analysing and evaluating the journey
By Sarwat Ali 
The books published on cinema in India have been on the increase. In the beginning, the printed material revolved around scandals and most of the stuff was purely sensational but, with the passage of time, as the profile of the industry has become bigger, the writings too are more varied and diverse. 
As cinema has built on its initial image and progressed more towards a serious expression, correspondingly, criticism too has dwelled more on cinema as a form of art the evolving schools of criticisms during the course of the century of its existence.

Power play
The power of money and its ability to control those in power is something that keeps cropping up in political reporting, particularly in the developed world (or as we used to refer to it in the past: the ‘first’ world)
The influence of big business and multinationals on political and economic decisions has been distilled to its basics in the Channel 4 thriller Secret State, which concluded last week, and which claims to be ‘inspired’ by Christ Millins’ novel A Very British Coup.
The four-parter starred the wonderful Gabriel Byrne as Tom Dawkins, a man who, unexpectedly, becomes the prime minister and tries to hold a huge oil company, Petrofex, accountable for an industrial accident in one of their facilities in a small Scottish town. Not surprisingly, Petrofex treats the PM like an irritating insect whose buzzing they can only tolerate for so long...And, of course, our hero does have a skeleton in his closet, relating to his army service in Bosnia, which Petrofex is happy to pull out as needed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  market
Painting a better picture
How arts and culture can change negative perceptions of Pakistan on the international stage
By Farzana Baduel

Pakistan can trace its cultural history back throughout the millennia – from the Indus Civilisation of 8000BC through the Gandhara, Sikh and British periods right up to our Independence and beyond. We are a country blessed with breath-taking natural beauty, a rich, vibrant culture and a warm, welcoming people.

Unfortunately, ask somebody what comes to mind when they think of Pakistan — and more often than not, apart from cricket you’ll hear Taliban, terrorism, corruption and a slew of other such words, none of them particularly flattering.

 In 2007, CNN published an article entitled ‘Branding Pakistan: In Need of an Extreme Makeover?’ This article highlighted Pakistan in the news for all the wrong reasons — violent demonstrations, declarations of a state of emergency, troops on the street, terror training camps, violence against women, religious division and insurgency flare-ups, the list goes on. It is now 2012 and Pakistan is still in the news, and for all the wrong reasons; a Karachi suicide bombing, Malala Yusufzai’s shooting ordered by the Taliban, and an acid attack by parents on a daughter who looked at a boy. Then there was the Christian pastor who was jailed for blaspheming and a Lahore school attacked by a mob.

While they are not necessarily inaccurate, they do not do paint a complete picture of the country — so why is it, then, that this negative perception of Pakistan has come to dominate any positive ones? And more importantly, what can we do to change this? How can we, as a country, work on our public relations as it were, and start to change stubborn and deep-ingrained (and often pre-determined) negative perceptions of Pakistan?

For those who have not visited Pakistan and experienced the unparalleled hospitality and warmth of its people, perceptions are largely fuelled by negative stories in the press. This has a catastrophic effect on tourism, trade, direct foreign investment, revenue streams and infrastructure investment. Potential tourists are too scared to step foot in Pakistan and spend much-needed tourist dollars, while investors who have seen investment potential (ie textiles, natural resources) consider the country high risk.

Meanwhile, Pakistani arts and cultural exports are struggling to stand on the world stage with an equal footing to their contemporaries. There is currently no cohesive government-backed strategy to support them on a large-scale. Out of 118 countries, this year’s FutureBrand Index, based on global perceptions, ranked Pakistan at 117, down four positions from its place last year, coming in just above Afghanistan. The declining ‘brand’ of Pakistan is something we can no longer afford to ignore.

Let us start with arts and culture. These two elements are often a country’s strongest ambassadors and go a long way to starting intercultural dialogue, promoting Pakistan’s positive aspects. Pakistan has a wealth of artists, musicians, designers and more, but for the purpose of this article let us focus on the visual arts. In addition to Modern Masters, Pakistan has produced top-tier contemporary artists — think Faiza Butt, Shazia Sikander, Rashid Rana and Shezad Dawood — so how can we use our cultural assets to negate what damage has been done to our image by years of political wrangling and religious conflict?

“Unfortunately, the Pakistani Contemporary art scene is more recognised and appreciated outside Pakistan than it is in the country itself,” says Nadia Samdani, Founder and Director of the Dhaka Art Summit in Bangladesh. “Pakistani art deals with a wide range of themes — from political feminist statements to post-colonial neuroses and societal change.”

Surely art this complex and sophisticated should be nurtured and supported within Pakistan. The issue is not that Pakistan doesn’t have arts and culture — it most definitely does. Nor is the issue that we do not have successful artists — we do. Rather, artists seem to receive better representation and support from international galleries, and, without a cohesive strategy to promote our arts and culture, we are not making the most of opportunities that would allow us to leverage our cultural scene to combat the negative press swirling around Pakistan.

Cultural diplomacy is a powerful tool. It allows us to exchange and understand ideas, and foster a better understanding of each other’s cultures. Indeed, many countries have successfully used arts and culture as a soft power initiative to promote understanding and dialogue. The Ukraine and India have both launched inaugural art biennales — in May 2012 and this December respectively — such initiatives go a long way towards changing perceptions. Bangladesh also has such events, with the Asian Biennale in Dhaka running since 1981, and the inaugural Dhaka Art Summit held earlier this year.

“Art has a universal language and Pakistan can communicate its intellectual side, its creativity, long history of culture and the fact that there is a progressive and educated community in our country — all of this through its art,” says art consultant Mehreen Rizvi Khursheed.

If we are to ‘rebrand’ Pakistan, then branding starts at home. If India and Bangladesh are hosting major art events, opening up their cultural scene to the international art circuit, why not Pakistan? “A major cultural event would open up possibilities for Pakistani artists to converse with their contemporaries in an equal and shared vocabulary,” agrees artist, critic and curator Quddus Mirza. “It would also focus international attention away from sensationalism and the cliché-oriented representation of Pakistan that currently dominates.”

The question, of course, is whether Pakistan can support a biennale or an event of this size. “The viability of an art fair or biennale, of which international participants and viewers are an important component, depends on factors such as security and stability,” says Abha Housego of Indian auction house Saffronart, which regularly holds Pakistani art auctions.

Security is, unfortunately, an issue, when it comes to holding large-scale events such as biennales and art fairs. “With no government support and a major lack of corporate and private funds, art events take a backseat,” says Khursheed. “I guess with the situation as it is in education and healthcare, not to mention lack of basic amenities such as electricity, art is not deemed a necessity or a priority.”

But what about top galleries and museums? We need to be encouraging their establishment so that there is a platform within Pakistan for artists to grow. “Pakistan, despite having no international events of its own so far, has already gained recognition internationally,” says Samdani. “It is high time that they host an international art event in Pakistan, and I strongly believe it will attract art lovers from all over the world and definitely create a positive view towards Pakistan. Local patrons should also come forward to support this initiative.”

So, what can we do to help? Supporting arts and culture requires a long term vision — while security issues and infrastructure will relegate large-scale initiatives such as an art fair on the backburner for the near future, there are several things we can do to begin to lay down the foundations that will support cultural diplomacy. The majority of our charities are focused on basic needs such as healthcare and education — all important, but we cannot focus all of our energy on fire fighting, we need to be able to set aside resources to support the arts as well.

The Diaspora can do its part by supporting our artists, and, in the absence of governmental funding, help to build galleries and museums, sponsoring institutions and much-needed artistic exchanges that would allow our artists to widen their scope, whilst simultaneously introducing their talent to new audiences.

Corporations can sponsor art events, and a cohesive strategy to use Pakistani arts and culture overseas can be applied by our diplomatic missions overseas. By working together for a common goal, we can maximise all of our hard work and efforts into slowly changing public opinion.

It is time to unleash creative Pakistan. We need to free arts from stifling judgement and censorship and show the world that we have a vibrant arts scene on par with any in the world. If art patrons and philanthropists unite to fund a platform to promote Pakistan’s arts and crafts, we can begin investing in creating a positive brand for Pakistan.

The question arises as to why we should channel resources into arts and culture when basic poverty needs have not been met within the country — a valid point and one which cannot be ignored. However, by investing in our ‘brand’, we can reap the rewards in the future and boost trade, foreign direct investment, tourism and educational partnerships. Let’s change the narrative — let’s invest, promote and celebrate Pakistan. Let’s support its galleries, museums and institutions, let’s create international commercial platforms and allow them to flourish and educate the world on the diversity and true faces of Pakistan.

The writer is Founder and Managing Director of Curzon PR, a boutique communications and public affairs consultancy, working across arts, culture, business and policy in growth market

 

 

 

art
The self in art
The power of persuasion of a work of art does not depend on its source of
creation. This was the dominant sense at the exhibition titled ‘Unbruised’ at the Drawing Room Gallery Lahore
By Quddus Mirza

French philosopher Jacques Derrida in his book Writing and Difference writes about the nature of language and how one can decipher the real meaning of word, not by understanding that particular word, but by discarding all other options closer to it.

For instance, how do you distinguish between a woman and a girl? But you must because it is significant to know the age, and experience, of a person. A person who has lived longer may view the world and surroundings differently from the young people even though they are more trained, intelligent, and have more exposure and better understanding of people, situations and issues.

This brings us to the question: how important is personal experience in comparison to information from other sources or learnt knowledge.

In fact, the two are linked, even though their processes and mechanism may be different. A person goes to a faraway land, meets strangers, looks at extraordinary scenery and enjoys unusual cuisine; so he gathers a unique body of information through personal experience. In contrast, another individual stays at home but has access to all sources of knowledge, collected and provided by innumerable people across ages and in a variety of languages. So, in the duration equal to the one who went out, he will have a lot more information about that land without ever stepping out of his threshold.

But you cannot prefer one over the other, because both have limitations. An actual experience with a few people, places and interactions cannot lead to a complete and comprehensive view of an alien reality. Similarly, the other option gives you a second hand and remote source of data at best.

The problem — of experience versus exposure — arises when we look at works of art, especially of autobiographical nature, where artists have used their own lives or past convincingly or how have employed their collective body of knowledge into art. Artists can draw inspiration from their pervious years in order to create works of extremely engaging quality. On the other hand, they could assimilate their education and power of imagination towards fabricating pieces of art or literature, which convey life or characters different from their own. Thus, middle-aged male writers have written stories about dogs, women and transvestites, all from research and fantasy.

Yet, when confronted with a work of art, its power of persuasion does not depend on the source of creation. Works derived from individual experience may fail to impress, and art emerging out of second or even third hand sources may appear the most convincing, and vice versa. This was experienced in a recent exhibition of three female artists showing at the Drawing Room Gallery Lahore. This exhibition, titled ‘Unbruised’ (held from Nov 20-26, 2012) included paintings by Amra Khan, Mizna Zulfiquar and Maria Khan, all graduating in the same year from the MA. Hons. Visual Arts, NCA.

Even though the artists belong to the same course and do not have much difference in their ages, their approach to work and life reflects stark diversity and individuality. Zulfiquar has painted miniature-like works, depicting her daughter in a number of poses, postures and moods against different backgrounds. Maria Khan has made large-scale stylised figures, mostly in black, in a seemingly naïve and simplistic scheme. Amra Khan’s canvases are small, in gilded and gaudy frames, portraying strange figures, like transvestites, wearing little school girls’ uniform or distorted figures and faces with imaginary backgrounds.

Comparing the three artists’ works, one realised how the element of personal was crucial in developing the imagery. Zulfiquar’s works on paper appear obvious, simple but blown-up face of a tiny kid; the addition of crows and other objects in the backdrop suggests element of fear and uncertainty in our situation. Even though the work has a clear autobiographical aspect, this (societal) feature was necessary in order to make the work more believable and to extend its meaning and impact.

Likewise, Maria Khan’s painting reveals a link with the artist’s own physique since she has stylised, thus monumentalised, her figures. The fat ladies in floral attires with a sinister grimace look like the sketches of a person who is not much different from the painter. In addition to the subject, the formal sophistication in the construction of these images is also significant because the artist has relied, mainly, on the application of a single colour — black. She has carved the features of her characters, employed matt and glaze colours and introduced some areas of other hues (in drapery).

All of these turn Maria Khan’s work into highly personal and impressive pieces in terms of her craft; this could not have been possible if she had not focused on herself. Similarly, Mizna Zulfiquar’s works are convincing due to her honest depiction (not one-dimensional though) of her little daughter, a symbolic presence. They portray the plight of all those who are destined to live in these conditions, where fear is not a fictional or poetic experience, but a painful political substance.

On the contrary, Amra Khan has relied on a ‘chosen’ topic, may be due to its exotic and extraordinary nature, but this brings a certain distance in her selected theme which does not turn into ‘real’ characters.

The show indicates there are more than one ways to deal with visual concerns, and it does not matter what age, gender and class the artists come from because art-making, in a strange way, extends all these limitations and makes it universal.

caption

‘White Blossom’; Mizna Zulfiqar.

 

 

   

 

A living cinema
As the Indian cinema nears its century, the writings on probably the biggest industry are focusing on analysing and evaluating the journey
By Sarwat Ali

The books published on cinema in India have been on the increase. In the beginning, the printed material revolved around scandals and most of the stuff was purely sensational but, with the passage of time, as the profile of the industry has become bigger, the writings too are more varied and diverse.

As cinema has built on its initial image and progressed more towards a serious expression, correspondingly, criticism too has dwelled more on cinema as a form of art the evolving schools of criticisms during the course of the century of its existence.

As the Indian cinema nears its century, the writings on probably the biggest industry is focusing on analysing and evaluating the journey of the years from the first film made by Dadabhai Phalke, a silent ‘Raja Harishchandra’ to the advent of the talkies, the surge during the early years of independence and then the current phase of the last 20 years. It now expresses a new confidence about the achievements that have characterised this century of filmmaking.

When Anupama Chopra joined film journalism after returning with a degree from the United States around the mid-nineties, her mother was ashamed of mentioning her profession in her social circle. Now that blot or stigma associated with the films has been washed away. Initially the upper classes and the socialites thought it was beneath them to see an Indian film, let alone discuss it in their drawing rooms, but now they feel more confident in making it the topic of their conversations — holding their heads high due to its growing stature.

According to Chopra, the ill repute was due to the old school with its rigid hierarchies and conservative mores. The producer was oily in a safari suit, clutching a suitcase full of cash, the stars worked on multiple projects and rushed like headless chickens from one set to another and the distributors gave creative inputs demanding sensuous rain scenes or bloody fist-fights. The directors were always over 45, the producers asked for ‘original’ scripts, which had been done before, all based on lifting and awash with ill-gotten cash — a cohabitation of the underworld and glitz.

Shah Rukh Khan, who has penned the foreword to the book, has particularly focused on the last 20 years and has described the change as being very fast, almost like an upheaval. When he was making a debut, he was told that he had to pay money to become a star, that his image as an actor was to be of a man not well-educated but hailing from the boondocks, that he was not to ask for a story of the film but the stars that were cast in it. The importance was to be given to the appearance of the actor, the producer stayed back in the shadows, while the director insisted on a lot of song-and-dance. The shooting at times went on non-stop for 72 hours. There were no bound scripts and, more films meant brighter chances of becoming a star.

“Doing film in those days was like doing street theatre. You made up as you went along,” he writes.

He insists things have changed; however he does not take credit for it entirely — there are stories, the shootings take place according to schedule, the production is more planned, scriptwriting and writing softwares have come in, the banks offer credit and, whether through multiplexes or single screen theatres, the retail section is more organised.

Though Shah Rukh Khan misses the madness of yore, people becoming bankrupt making the film and selling their house for putting up with the expenses and money coming in from shady sources. The chaos of the films being made on hope and destiny was a passion like maddening love.

All this is captured in the book and, though much has changed, many aspects of the industry still lie rooted in its ethos and its initial years that chartered its course. Many would insist that little has changed and the essential core of the industry has remained the same.

But since nothing succeeds like success, one has to sit up and take notice of what is being written about the biggest show business machine next door. Where does all this leave us because we shared the first 35 odd years of this cinema and even till now many outstanding personalities of that cinema either migrated from what is now Pakistan or have their roots here.

In Pakistan, the critical writings on cinema never went beyond the sensational. The beginnings were quite promising, as in the ‘Pakistan Times’ Faiz Ahmed Faiz paid particular attention to what was being written on cinema, particularly the Pakistani cinema, and the first cinema critics were the likes of I.A. Rehman. Much later, in the 1970s, he went on to edit the only serious magazine that was published under the aegis of NAFDEC from Islamabad, but, unfortunately the magazine too folded up with the demise of the PPP government and NAFDEC coming under a cloud.

It is an axiom that film criticism only thrives if films are being made. A living cinema spawns criticism that is meant to place those films within an enveloping climate of meaning by unleashing various levels of relevant interpretations. It can also put the cinema on a corrective course and also arrogate upon itself the right to set its direction.

For Pakistanis, can writings about cinema in a society that does not produce a sufficient body of films, be the source of inspiration for it to kickstart the process of production is the only valid question.

First Day First Show

 

 

 

 

 

Power play

The power of money and its ability to control those in power is something that keeps cropping up in political reporting, particularly in the developed world (or as we used to refer to it in the past: the ‘first’ world)

The influence of big business and multinationals on political and economic decisions has been distilled to its basics in the Channel 4 thriller Secret State, which concluded last week, and which claims to be ‘inspired’ by Christ Millins’ novel A Very British Coup.

The four-parter starred the wonderful Gabriel Byrne as Tom Dawkins, a man who, unexpectedly, becomes the prime minister and tries to hold a huge oil company, Petrofex, accountable for an industrial accident in one of their facilities in a small Scottish town. Not surprisingly, Petrofex treats the PM like an irritating insect whose buzzing they can only tolerate for so long...And, of course, our hero does have a skeleton in his closet, relating to his army service in Bosnia, which Petrofex is happy to pull out as needed.

Secret State is compelling viewing. It is perhaps not subtle, and it has been much criticised for various reasons including how seriously it seems to take itself and how ludicrous some of it is. But it is drama not documentary, and as drama it does make an impact and does manage to convey the sense of collusion and conspiracy that underlies government policy.

I particularly liked the photography: especially the image of Watkins standing in the devastated Scottish town. This haunting image is used as a visual refrain, and it punctuates the action as Watkins charges on, trying to get justice (or something, anything) for the Petrofex victims.

The arrogance of power is another thing that is excellently conveyed in this drama. Watkins is surrounded by colleagues who want his job. They might say “yes Prime Minister” but they would be happy to stab him in the back at the first opportunity. The attitude of the defence chief is telling too: the friendly “we are both soldiers, and thus superior to politicians” attitude soon gives way to scorn as the PM fails to toe the defence line.

Despite the criticism that Secret State is ‘obvious’ and ‘clumsy’, it is good viewing. It has an excellent cast and Byrne is terrific (although you’d think the PM would be able to get a haircut). Secret State is dark and tense and fairly creepy. But what I also loved was the fact that it makes you feel that, in the form of Tom Watkins, you actually have somebody in you corner, battling the big banks and the oil companies and the multinationals, fighting the good fight.

It’s an illusion perhaps but still a pleasant idea. Watkins challenging the blackmailing power of big banks and financial corporations is memorable. He has my vote. Too bad he doesn’t exist.... But this Drama is a reminder that there are still people like him in there, in the system, trying to fight the power of money and the might of Mammon.

Best wishes

Umber Khairi

 

 

 

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