market art A
living cinema Power
play
market 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 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 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 Author: Anupama Chopra Publisher: Penguin Books
India, 2011 Pages: 376 Price: Rs. 499 First Day First Show is available at Liberty Books)
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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