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risk interview
Language of art Themes
of tragedy
They go in very very close. With their lenses, they aren't just capturing gory scenes of bloodshed, of severed heads and limbs and wasted lives. They do it so there is a realisation that this shouldn't ever happen again. Photojournalists and cameramen share their side of the story By Ali
Sultan "I wasn't very close," says Fayyaz Ahmed, photojournalist, who works for European Pressphoto Agency (EPA). "I was on a rooftop, trying to get a shot of the procession when the shooting started happening." He is recalling the gruesome incident that took place in Quetta, where assailants opened fire on an Ashura procession and a suicide bomber detonated an explosion in the crowd. 47 people were killed. This was in 2004. "It was probably the second suicide attack here, and my very first encounter with violence [Ahmed started working in 2002]. Now it seems like everyday routine. You never know what might happen." Pakistani journalists have faced a prolonged history of threats, arbitrary arrests, enforced disappearances, ill treatment and sometimes, sadly, death in the line of duty. 2007 alone has been one of
toughest years for journalists in Pakistan. The list is long, the senseless
massacre of Din Muhammad's (reporter) family in South Waziristan, the death
of freelance photographer,
Mehboob Khan, who was killed in an April 28 suicide bomb attack aimed at
Interior Minister Aftab The most vulnerable are
photojournalists and cameramen. "I knew some guys in the field when I was young," says Asif Hassan, photojournalist for Agence France Presse (AFP). "From the outside, photojournalism looked charming, it felt adventurous. It's actually the most dangerous profession." "You have to go in very very close. With our lenses, we aren't just capturing gory scenes of bloodshed, of severed heads and limbs and wasted lives for posterity, we are doing it so there is a realisation that this shouldn't ever happen again," says Ahmed. "It is very difficult," says B.K. Bangash, photojournalist with Associated Press (AP) who has been working since the last 25 years, "to explain what we feel, what we actually see when we take a photograph. It can't really be explained, by one photograph or a hundred." "Photography of conscience," said Don McCullin, a famous photojournalist, "is a great moral ambiguity. The terrible things man does to man must be brought to the world's attention." "It's extremely hard sometimes," says Bangash, who has covered the civil war in Rwanda and the Afghan war, "and especially when it's your own people who are suffering. But you have to set your emotions aside at that moment and try to factually capture what has happened." When political situations
worsen, journalists are targeted. No one knows this better than Asif Hassan. He was on the streets taking photographs on May 12, 2007. On May 29 bullets were found in his car, and a certain list was made available telling 12 journalists (including Hassan) to either change their critical views of President Musharraf and MQM leader, Altaf Hussain, or face the consequences. "I remember that," he says. "A lot of people in the office told me to take a holiday, recharge my batteries but I refused. You can't take your eyes off the truth when you're a photojournalist. When I have to die I will." While claiming emergency on Nov 3, President Musharraf blamed the press of misguiding the public by showing graphic imagery. "I think that is wrong, it's censorship. By not showing anything does not take away from the intensity of what is happening and most interestingly a photojournalist, in any given situation, especially in times of conflict, is not even showing 25 per cent of what actually is going on," adds Bangash. Rahat Dar, photojournalist for The News on Sunday, who has been at it for the last 30 years, says, " Being a photojournalist means being neutral. My political inclination, my personal ideology, are all fine as long as I am inside. When I step out to take a photograph, I leave all of that behind." But in trying to reveal truth, photojournalism does take its toll. "We have to be very strong," says Hassan "but that doesn't mean it doesn't affect us. Some nights my wife wakes up at night, and sees me staring at nothing. The images, the horror... but as a professional you can't let it take you down." "Photojournalism is "You have to be very careful, emotions are running high, something awful has happened and your poking a camera into someone's face, it's not easy," says Fayyaz Ahmed. "What I have learned is that you get in first and get out first and if something has happened and you're late and obviously still alive, you let emotions simmer down." Dar says seasoned photojournalists are stronger when it comes to keeping one's nerves. " We do this as a job, we see a lot. Coming to terms with a situation is sooner for a photojournalist than a common person." "When the earthquake hit, (Kashmir, 2005) we were the first ones in Balakot," says Bangash. "There were dead bodies, and dying bodies beneath the rubble, people were expecting help not the sound of camera shutters, but we told them that these photographs will get published and people will see and help will come. Your working under stress, your own survival may be at stake, the environment is hostile, but a good photojournalist is also a good student of psychology. In a situation like that, you listen to your subject's heart and only then photograph it." For all that it is worth, many agree that photojournalism is a very humbling experience. Rahat Dar was also there photographing the aftermath of the earthquake. "I have seen many things in my life, but there was nothing like what I saw there. I remember taking photographs, tears running down my face. There were people whose whole families had been wiped out, but they were surviving, even when all they had was lost. It shows what human spirit is."
By Babar A Mufti Zia Ziadi graduated from
the National College of Arts in 1988 and has since been working as a
freelance mural painter and writer. He has also worked as a freelance
cartoonist and illustrator with a newspaper for about five years. His latest
exhibition entitled 'Homage to Peace' was displayed at The News on Sunday: The title of your exhibition seems surprisingly appropriate in the present situation. Did you coin it after Benazir Bhutto's assassination? Zia Zaidi: Not really. I started work on this theme in Ramzan. The judicial crisis and the clampdown on media actually triggered my work. TNS: Is it correct to interpret your work as politically motivated? ZZ: Definitely so. I started on the present theme 'Homage to Peace' in view of the present political circumstances of the country. I was really saddened by the events leading to a major judicial crisis. Many of my friends came in direct confrontation with the present regime. I am an active member of Human Rights Commission and the Amnesty International myself. Here at the Nomad Art Gallery too, we have been very active in holding political discussions among friends and like-minded people. The director of the gallery, Nageen Hayat, also encourages freedom of thought and expression. TNS: Does your entire work have this political and social undercurrent? ZZ: I have done many
exhibitions before. The most recent before this was 'Letters to God'. I did
it in the wake of 9/11. At that time the fragile situation of the world peace
depressed me. The Western propaganda against Muslims was not too encouraging
either. That series of paintings was prompted by the desire to portray a
positive image of the Muslims of Pakistan to an international audience. Both
Letters to God and Homage to Peace surely have p TNS: How long did it take you to complete this series of paintings? ZZ: It took me almost three months to complete the job. There are twenty-eight paintings in this series. I did this in a particular frame of mind. I worked quite hard and it all came naturally to me. TNS:What are your other motivations? ZZ: I am impressed especially by the Sufi thought. You know that Islam was not spread by sword, as it is wrongfully claimed. It is the message of love and peace of the Sufis that attracted people towards Islam. The paintings that we are talking about were also an outcome of a sufi-like meditative mood. It was during the last series of paintings that I first time studied in detail the works of the Sufis. The paintings in the series 'The letters to God' were all done in complete dark at night. I only saw the paintings I was making at the time of fajr myself. I painted while listening to the Sufi songs of Bullah Shah and Waris Shah. Munir Niazi is one of my favourite sufi singers. This series, I think, is my first different work. It gave my life a new direction. TNS: How has Sufism affected your life? ZZ: In my love for Sufism I was helped by my friend Naveed Verdick who showed me how God is kind to all and how Quran should be put into practice through the love of humanity and social work. I have got myself involved in social work. I am the vice chairman of the International Centre for Literacy and Culture. Under this initiative, we have established libraries for the juveniles called Kiran Libraries in half a dozen cities of Pakistan including smaller cities like Sukkhar, D.G. Khan and Peshawar. TNS: How could you
reconcile the sensitivities of art with your work for Ministry of Defense as
an artist? Did they give you freedom to paint? ZZ: I separate my artwork from this kind of job. Art is a luxury in Pakistan. You cannot have exhibitions if you don't have money. The commercial work that I did cannot be counted as my representative work. TNS: What is it that you are doing different from other painters? ZZ: I have used silver leaves in my painting. I learned to use the oxidized silver in my paintings from my teacher Ahmad Khan, who made use of it in calligraphy. TNS: Are you satisfied with the overall facilities the artists get these days? ZZ: The quality is compromised now. When we were at NCA for example, we got good teachers. There is a gradual deterioration now. Our teachers were all big names like Zahoor ul Akhlaque, Saeed Akhtar, Ahmed Khan, Afshar Malik, Saleema Hashmi and Anwer Saeed. The artists and the teachers today are not mature. It is open to discussion. There is a lot of grouping and nepotism. Teaching is a twenty-four hours job. I guess that the great NCA tradition is being violated. TNS: How? ZZ: The tradition has been violated by a series of events. The standard of teachers has gone down. There is interference by rogue elements. I was in first year in 1984 when the Jamiat tried to violate our space in NCA. They thought we should become a part of Punjab University. They beat us up. But we were politically active in those days. We demonstrated against any such move. NCA was wonderful at that time. It gave us full freedom of expression. TNS: Are the art galleries of Pakistan promoting or using artists? ZZ: We have in Islamabad Nomad, Rohtas and Jharoka art galleries, which are doing very nice work. My ideal is Alhamra in Lahore where common people go. Nomad is really promoting art. They pay the artists in time. TNS: Being a painter, how devastating was the news of Gulgee's death to you? ZZ: I knew him closely. We did some NDC projects together. He was an artist out and out and nothing else. He did not indulge in the politics of the country. He was a passionate person and a mystic. I just can't explain the series of events: first Gulgee died and then Benazir Bhutto in unknown circumstances. It has been a very sad year.
By Quddus Mirza While talking about the origin and various characteristics of language in his book Mother Tongue, Bill Bryson highlights special features of some languages and cites the examples such as: 'The Italians even have a word for the mark left on a table by a moist glass (culacino)' In comparison, most languages lack that expression. Yet this gap is somewhat filled with another form of communication -- the visual art. That way almost every pictorial experience can be preserved and conveyed to others. Culacino (without knowing
the term in Italian, or any of its equivalents in local dialects) was what
one saw in the works of Asma Mumtaz, recently shown in Viewing the work of Asma Mumtaz, one finds the link as well as the distinction between spoken vocabulary and visual medium. There are many feelings and situations which cannot be described in precise words but can be expressed and alluded to by using shapes, lines, tones, textures and colours. Mumtaz tried to incorporate that aspect in her work. In some of her large and small paintings, she has built surfaces with the help of printed matter. The newspapers, with the verbal and numerical games such as sudoku (puzzle), were pasted and painted over. It appeared that the artist made a collection, of not only the paper she read, but her daily activities too. Her flickering thoughts and wandering ideas were captured in the left over mark of coffee cup, outline of the clock, and the headlines from the newspapers -- things which signified her life spent as an individual. In addition to these usual items, cardio graphic lines, contours of a kidney and shape of port city (Mumbai, with harbour and vessels) were also visible in a few canvases. Yet all these images suggested imagery that was draped under layers of whites, greys and other darker patches of colours. In fact it is the scheme of putting paint on her canvases, which distinguished Asma from many other artists and the two participants in the same exhibition. She applied layers of paint with brush and squeegee through silk screen. The range of these tools, added a tactile quality to her work, which otherwise did not offer very clear images, except traces of some identifiable items. The personal narrative of the artist was constructed with a multiplicity of mediums and methods, hence well hidden under abstract surfaces. Rehan Bashir also aimed for blending abstract surfaces with some figurative parts in his paintings. Often the full figure of a child or some parts of the body, ranging from human to animal, was composed with areas of dark or heavily textured hues. His skill in capturing the human bodies, combined with an intensity of concept -- gender -- indicated a desire to develop a personal style. Zara Mahmood's painting, on
the first glance, appeared religious, as it embodied an element of Islamic
calligraphy. The artist, after going through a Largely this show at Alhamra, in contrast to numerous exhibitions of repetitive and substandard works held at the venue, helped in changing the reputation of the place which is now hosting several exciting exhibitions. However besides the quality and visual/formal/personal concerns of the artists, the exhibition reminded of a primary issue/phenomenon: how does a young graduate from an art institute turns into an artist. Colleges and art schools encourage their students to choose art as their profession, but it is only a few who end up practising it, while other graduates spend their lives dreaming of painting, sculpting and drawing one day (presumably when they finish their family and social responsibilities and return to their studio) But that remains as a fanciful dream. It is a combination of aspects that contribute in making an artist -- individual's internal urge, ability to formulate his ideas on canvas (or in any other media) and a faith in art being the ultimate choice, are required to survive as an artist. More than all, it is the 'content' that compels a graduate to continue his creative quest. If the painter, sculptor, print maker, miniaturist or media artist has something to say, he may emerge as an artist, because the power of ideas leads to fabrication of images. It appeared that the exhibition at Alhamra was an effort to search for a 'content' by the three participants.
Tradition of marsiya, soz, noha and salam in this region through centuries... By Sarwat Ali Due to the binding clause
of being quasi religious there is greater possibility of the marsiya, hamd, The traditional format may change if the comprehensive changes that have been experienced in the recent past in other forms of art, music in particular, are quoted as examples. The entire application of the note, the intonation has varied and in the popular forms of vocalisation it is acceptable. It is not totally unexpected that the sacred texts may be rendered in the same manner as the kaafi of the Sufi poets has been delivered by some of the pop groups in the country. Since the centre of our music has been the human voice some inner civilizational bond has blossomed in the symbiosis of the word and the sur. It is not too weird to assume that the poetical and the musical forms have grown in each other's shadows. And it is perhaps no coincidence that many of the poetical forms have also been sung and some like the kaafi and ghazal could not have benefited from an outreach without the help of roving minstrels. It appears that marsiya, soz, noha, salam became a more specialised form as a distinct community of marsiya go or soz khawans emerged. From the writings of Abdul Halim Sharar on Lucknow it appears that during the Nawabi rule in Awadh, soz or marsiya khawan specialists, almost comparable to the best known vocalists or singers, were instrumental in evolving the form of recitation prevalent now. One lead vocalist while the rest identify the tonic note or at best recite the refrain seemed to have been perfected in the 19th century Awadh. The initial examples of marsiya were Hazrat Fatima's elegies on the Prophet's (PBUH) which referred bitterly to her own miseries, as well as marsiyas of Imam Hussain by his sisters which gave immediate information on the tragedy of Karbala. Imam Hussain's martyrdom was described by many contemporary poets and prose writers. The latter was known as maqatil and was read in the Muharrum assemblies. Books known as Shahdat Nama and Jang Nama were written on the basis of these maqatil and historical works. Some of these prose accounts were profusely interspersed with verses. Kamaludin Husayn bin Ali Waiz Kashifi wrote his Rawzatush Shuhada (The Garden of Martyrs) two years before his death (1503) and it was first translated from Persian into Turkish by Fazuli around 1534. While in the subcontinent different translations of this book were made in Deccani poetry. It was also translated into Urdu by Sayyid Ali Wasiti Bilgrami as 'Dah Majlis' while Haydar Buksh Hayadari titled it 'Gulshane Shahidaan'. In 1812 Haydari wrote an abridged version named Gul e Maghfirat but the watershed in these Urdu translations was Karbal Katha by Fazal Ali who used pen name Fazli. One of the earliest poets of marsiya in the 18th century Delhi was Mir Muhammed Qaim but three brothers Miskin, Haz in and Ghamgin became more famous throughout Delhi as the leading marsiya poets. Their elegies drowned the mourners in sorrow. To make them even more effective one Mir Abdullah recited these marsiyas in distressful melody and even expert musicians admitted that his marsiyas recital were matchless. But the poetical quality remained low till the leading poets of the second half of the 18th century Dard, Sauda, Mir Taqi Mir and Mir Hasan. Sauda brought their poetic mastery and perfection of form to bear on their verses and revolutionised the marsiya. Mir Muzaffar Hussain Zamir (1855) who was the disciple of Musahfi endowed his marsiya with continuity of theme, emotional expressions and dramatic dialogues. His verses vividly depicted the physical features and military talents of the heroes of Karbala. In depicting individual battles Zamir introduced elements of epic poetry into Urdu. The long introduction to his marsiya described various natural scenes with picturesque similes and metaphors. Marsiya had been recited (soz) but Mir Zamir used a popular spoken rhythm called the 'tahtul lafz'. Gradually marsiya in tahtul lafz replaced the traditional Rawzatush Shuhada and Dah Majlis. Mir Zamir's rival was Mir Hasan's talented son Mir Mustahsan Khaliq (1804). He had inherited his father's capacity to vividly versify subtle emotions and made his mark on the basis of linguistic artistry. The characteristics of marsiya created by Mir Zamir were perfected by Mir Khaliq's son Babar Ali Anis and Mir Zamir's disciple Salamat Ali Dabir, and both were the forerunners of the modern Urdu poetry in the following century. With the passage of time soz and marsiya khawans instead of reciting their own verses took to the texts of Anis and Dabir and became specialists of sorts having a niche following. The Khanqah of Lal Shah baz Qalandar popularised devotional songs on Ali in Sindhi and Shah Abdul Latif composed heartbreaking elegies on the martyrs of Karbala. Other Sindhi poets also wrote elegies but only Sachal Sarmast could match the elegance of Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai verses. In the various regions like Southern Punjab and Sindh distinct marsiya recitation are rendered in Punjabi and Sindhi while in urban areas the leading vocalists have been the main reciters of the marsiya. Noor Jehan, Mehdi Hasan, Chotey Ghulam Ali Khan, Amanat Ali, Fateh Ali, Hamid Ali Bela, Nusrat Fateh Ali, Ghulam Ali, Hamid Ali, Ghulam Abbas may not have been professional marsiya reciters but they all partook in this religious obligation. But one wonders how long it will take for the barrier of tradition and veneration to break before an invasion of sorts takes place. Hopefully it will take sometime, only after a more wholesome synthesis of style has evolved.
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Sherpao,
the death of Noor Hakim Khan, a correspondent for daily Pakistan who was
killed by a roadside bomb, the death of Javed Khan, a photographer for the
Islamabad-based daily Markaz and a cameraman for UK-based DM Digital TV. Khan
was shot while caught in crossfire between government forces and the students
of Lal Masjid. ARY One World TV cameraman, Muhammad Arif was killed covering
Benazir Bhutto's return on Oct 18. Not to mention the mistreatment and
extreme pressure the rest of the press has been facing.
not for everyone, even professionals breakdown, but you see even we are
human. It does affect you, especially young people who are coming into the
field. I remember this foreign photographer, he was taking photographs that
night, Oct 18, one second he was surrounded by people, the next, they were
all dead. He went into complete shock and flew out two days later," says
Bangash.
the Nomad Art Gallery, Islamabad where the artist showcased twenty-eight
paintings.
olitical
and social themes.
a group exhibition at Alhamra Art Gallery, Lahore. Along with her apparently
abstract canvases, paintings by Rehan Bashir and Zara Mahmood were also
displayed. All three artists are associated with NCA, the former two
graduated from this institution and Zara Mahmood spent a year before she went
abroad for studies. Besides this common aspect, there were a number of other
similarities in their works.
traumatic experience of encountering death (by drowning) and escaping it,
decided to use the sacred text in her art. In many of her works, ropes were
drawn next to smoke-like forms. But on a further view, these forms became the
lines of sacred script, especially the verse which directed the believers for
holding tightly the rope of God. The swirling shades of delicate colours and
detailed description of rope created an interesting contrast in her work. At
the same instant, it provided an unusual rendering of the holy text.
naat recitation and the qawwali rendition being less susceptible to change.
Most of the qawwali, hamd, naat and marsiya, soz, salam is rendered in the
traditional manner, composed in modal structures where the application of the
note is specifically in accordance with the indigenous 'ang'. Even when
Nusrat Fateh Ali rendered the tragedy of Karbala in the qawwali format he did
so in the most traditional 'ang'.