INSTEP Magzine

The dying art of Pakistani filmi billboards
The dying film industry combined with economic recession and technological development has made it next to impossible for Pakistani film billboard painters to make ends meet and carry on their trade that has iconic significance to south-Asian cinema.

By Huma Imtiaz

They once adorned our cinema houses. They were sometimes ridiculed, sometimes loved. They were life-size and gaudy, but they displayed an art that was truly South Asian. But now, this art of painting billboards for Pakistani films has all but died, falling victim to the recession in the local film industry, and the usage of new technology.

Wafa Hussain is one of the few painters left in Karachi, who are still diligently making the life size posters for Pakistani films. Working at the Lalazar Cinema in Quaidabad, Karachi for over 35 years now, Wafa says he now gets orders for only two billboards a month and that too for films that don't get Panaflex posters made. For each billboard he makes a paltry 700 rupees each, which he says is barely sufficient to make ends meet. Despite these hard times, he shows me how a film billboard is painted, by using a picture as a model to create the painting. He painstakingly mixes the colours to create the contours of the faces and the gaudy colors of the heroines' costumes and manages to create a close approximation. But the 700 rupees he is paid for this work of art is inclusive of his labour and the costs incurred in making the billboards and does not take into account the fees this artist deserves.

Wafa, who has been a film billboard painter for the past 35 years, reminisces about the time when film producers cared about the subject and production of the film. He proudly shows off the poster he made for a Sabiha Santosh film, produced by Eveready Pictures in the 70s. "I used to be so busy making billboards for just two cinemas that we wouldn't even know when the day had passed. I had nine people working with me. Now I have one."

Today, Wafa is ashamed of the billboards he makes and averts his eyes as he shows me around the cinema, with gaudy pictures from the newest offering Vehshi Haseena (Barbaric Beauty). He wonders what kind of people actually come to watch films with such titles. "These films are terrible, they have no story and no character. In a cinema that can seat 900 people, only 20 or so come to watch such films."
Wafa is also disillusioned by the promises made to him by politicians. "I made a 40 feet painting of Benazir Bhutto that was put up in Karachi when she arrived here in the 80s". Showing off a picture of himself with N.D. Khan (a senior PPP leader and former Senator), he is disillusioned with the government today. "N.D. Khan promised us he would get us a store of our own and other facilities, but despite the PPP being in government, nothing has happened."

Wafa says he has not taught his children this art. "There is no point as there is no money left in this. I would rather my children do something else."
His colleague Siddique's voice is tinged with sorrow at the state of affairs. "We were treated with respect once, but no one respects this art now. People who used to work with us now run grocery stores or sell vegetables on a stall."

Wafa estimates there were once over 150 painters working in different cinemas across the city. Now, many of them have taken on different jobs. But for people like Wafa and Siddique, who are now both in their late 50s, it is too late to learn a new trade.

And it's not just the standard of films that have led a decline in Wafa's income. Newer technology such as getting film posters printed on scotchprint has led to a rapid decline in orders for film posters. Technology may have made our lives simpler, for people like Wafa and Siddique, it has been a curse and there has been no remuneration or pension from the cinema owners, who too are finding it extremely hard to keep their cinemas open. With the recession hitting every industry in the country, there are fears that the odd local film being made might soon end.

In the past year only two major Pakistani films were released: Ramchand Pakistani and Khulay Asmaan Ke Neechay. Both films were advertised used newer technology like scotchprints, to advertise their film in the country's major cities. The films produced by the Punjabi and Pushto film industry runs to near-empty houses, which explains why film producers rarely commission billboards to advertise their film, fearing they will not be able to recover their losses.

Omar Khan, who is an avid lover of Pakistani cinema art, has amassed a remarkable collection of local film billboards. His ice cream parlor chain The Hot Spot, features a plethora of billboards, some lurid and gaudy, that advertise Haseena Atom Bombs and gandasa-wielding gujjars. But despite his best efforts to save this dying art, he finds that it is now hard to keep the painters from putting away their brushes forever.
"Our cinema industry has completely collapsed. It's sad what has happened to the billboard industry, because it was full of life and flavour, and an indigenous art that is almost gone. We need to get art institutes like NCA to let the remaining few artists teach this art, because they deserve recognition and prestige, even M.F Hussain started off as a billboard painter! Apni cheez ki lekin koi value nahi hai, if Angelina Jolie had bought two filmi posters from me, then our society walas would have been running to get them and hang them in their houses."

At the time of my visit, Wafa and Siddique are putting the final touches on two billboards. They are not hopeful of any change in their state of affairs, and are despondent at how their lives have turned out.
As I wave Wafa goodbye, I wonder if on my next visit, I will even see the Lalazar cinema, and if Wafa's assortment of paints and brushes, and his small collection of old posters will be next found tucked away in a dusty corner, victim to technology and time.