The floods ravaging Pakistan are biblical: 20 million affected, 16 million displaced, 1 million homes washed away and 2 million jobs lost. Hunger, disease and exploitation loom large. The disaster response to provide emergency relief and support for recovery, however, has been far from adequate or satisfactory.

This much pretty much everyone agrees on -- whether they are the affectees or the helpers, and whether they are in Pakistan or abroad. What no one even after five weeks agrees upon in Pakistan is how much needs to be done and how. And who should do what. Or from where to get the resources needed to overcome a challenge even the most developed countries would struggle to. And a big part of the reason for this is the media coverage of the disaster.

What is becoming clear are the public perceptions and global impressions -- for better or for worse -- about who is doing a good job at providing succor for the aggrieved and who is struggling and who is failing. The general impressions are that the governments, both federal and provincial, are failing and the army is succeeding. That the politicians have been found wanting and the civil society are only marginally better. That the international community, particularly the West, has been tight-fisted with the purse strings while the Muslim world has been helpful. All these impressions, honed by the media, are questionable.

Coverage of floods and flood relief are two things

The Pakistani media -- much heralded, in most parts correctly, as the principal influence in positively shaping opinions and mobilising public support on the monumental socio-political national shifts that have occurred in the past five years, such as movement for an independent judiciary, transition from military dictatorship to democracy and fighting terrorism -- has emerged as a bit of a misguide on the issue of coverage of flood relief.

While the coverage of floods and the destruction is concerned, make no mistake the media has been top-notch, bringing vital, consistent and reliable information from the waters as they washed away lives and livelihoods across large swathes of Pakistan, to the dry lands of people and policymakers’ homes and offices. This information has helped people and groups galvanise to coordinate relief efforts.

However, the media coverage of the flood relief efforts is found wanting in general and unprofessional, inappropriate and inconsiderate and even misleading in many instances. Consider: the coverage of relief centres on help offered by four sectors – efforts and success of the governments (both federal and provincial), the military, the civil society (including non-governmental groups and individuals) and the international community. There has been criticism, sometimes harsh and unwarranted, on all counts, except for the military.

The army and the

government are one entity

While understandably the main focus of the coverage has been the government’s response to the crisis and the inevitable inadequacy of the scale and scope of this response, this coverage is almost always "balanced" through almost equal billing to the relief activities of the army and in many instances a comparison of the two responses, particularly in talk shows that dominate Pakistani evenings on current affairs television channels. This is perplexing because the army is part of the government, not a separate entity. The army is neither an NGO, nor an international group or even a private national enterprise. So why should the government and the army’s relief activities be compared in the first place comes as a surprise.

The media, in general, is not, for instance, projecting the flood relief activities of Wapda, Pepco, Pakistan Railways, PIA, the state gas companies, PSO, PTV and the police, etc – which are all government owned and managed, and all of which despite themselves being affected by the floods are mobilising their own scarce resources for the disaster affectees and which are also keeping the essential services running and making the larger relief operation possible. And yet while the army does the same, the media portrays their activities as stand-alone, independent and out of proportion to the other government actors doing the same.

What is not in question are efforts being done by the military for the general relief, but what is unprofessional is media’s packaging and presentation of this effort as independent of the government. The military is run, managed and supported by taxpayers money, not through private business, therefore, its output has to be seen as part of the government’s effort. The media is failing to see the wood for the trees just because the army has uniforms and the other government departments or organisations don’t have them.

Choppers and boats belong to people, not army or government

Also, when the military is portrayed as the principal actor in saving lives and the stranded people by using helicopters and boats, the unspoken but inherent message being conveyed to the public is that the government is failing in this task by not using these instruments. Well it is the military part of the government that is supposed to have them and use them. The helicopters and boats have been purchased by people’s money through the government. The media is failing to make the distinction that the military using helicopters and boats is actually the government using them to rescue people.

A comparison of the Pakistani media coverage of the 2005 earthquake and the 2010 floods shows that an absence of media hostility against the military government in general (the hostility was only born in the wake of the 2007 sacking of the chief justice by army chief General Pervez Musharraf) meant that the media focused on only the relief effort. And because the military was in power the media in 2005 did not make the distinction between the army and the government. In the case of flood relief coverage, however, the media is clearly making a non-existent structural distinction between the civilian government and military leadership.

There aren’t two sides but only one side to choose

This is sad because the media is projecting its general hostility to the civilian government -- largely driven through a near universal media dislike of President Asif Zardari -- to its coverage of relief effort. Irrespective of whether media’s general hostility to the civilian governments, both federal and provincial, is well-placed or not, employing the general perception of the governments being inept and even indifferent sometimes to construct a parallel with the military means the media is directly responsible for propping up the military as a governance alternative to a bumbling democracy by treating the two as separate standalone entities rather than parts of a whole.

There is no doubt the military is doing great work in the relief phase. The credit goes to the government that one of its biggest departments is doing well, just as its other departments are also doing albeit to varying degrees. The general inadequacy of the government’s response should not be oversimplified by the media because of which people’s perceptions are shaped disproportionately to actualities.

The government definitely needs to do far better to match the expectations of the unfortunate millions affected by the floods but the kind of understanding and support the media offered in 2005 helped build the confidence and trust of all Pakistanis and the international community and massive amounts of resources were mobilised that went a long way to help the affectees of the devastating earthquake. Partly because that isn’t happening now and the media continues to construct and choose sides, Pakistan struggles to respond to a crisis of gargantuan proportion that even the super powers would have had trouble tiding over.

Ustad Asad Ali Khan is probably the last great exponent of the rudra veena. Now well in his 70s, he has dedicated his life to the mastery of his very difficult instrument.

Acknowledging his virtuosity and the contribution to music, Renuka George under the banner of Suroor Productions has made a documentary film highlighting the man and his significance to the higher musical tradition of the subcontinent. This film will be formally launched in the first week of September at the International Centre, Delhi.

The film is of great significance for the music lovers in Pakistan -- for Asad Ali Khan has been duly recognised by the connoisseurs, and the story that he narrated in the film should resonate among the music circles of this country as well because of the similarities in musical systems, the state of classical music and the parallels in musicians lives.

Asad Ali Khan now lives in Delhi but the focus of the film is Rampur where he grew up, learnt music and then performed in those early days after independence. The Nawabs of Rampur, Kalbe Ali Khan, Hamid Ali Khan and Raza Ali Khan were great patrons of music among the rulers of the princely states. Such was the extent of their patronage that a whole gharana of kheyal is attributed to Rampur. Besides all great instrumentalists were either patronised by the state or came to perform there because it was considered a singular honour to play to an audience so well initiated.

Of course, all this was in the past -- in the film, the nephews of Nawab Raza Ali Khan only reminisce about those days. They had to leave the Rampur Fort in 1949, the family handing it over to the Uttar Pradesh government, and moved to other properties like Khas Bagh; where most of the film was shot.

Khas Bagh was the venue built by Raza Ali Khan for musical erudition and gatherings, and many of the memorable performances that Asad was a witness to and participated in. These were private mehfils where the patron and a few of his friends were invited or musical performances were organised to celebrate a wedding in the royal family. But these too were intimate affairs restricted to only those invited.

He was born in 1935 in Rampur where his father Ustad Sadiq Ali Khan was employed. From a line of distinguished musicians, Asad traced his lineage about 11 generations to one Shahji who was probably associated with the court of Alwar. The line included his grandfather Rajab Ali Khan, uncle Musharaf Ali Khan and father Sadiq Ali Khan who was associated with the court in 1937 and stayed there till 1962 when he moved to Lucknow -- and died there in 1964.

When he was young, he was discouraged from choosing the rudra veena as an instrument to play because it did not have a ready audience. He picked up the gauntlet and attained a stature, which few have. Asad started to perform in 1954 but his real big test came in 1961 when he performed before stalwarts like, Hafiz Ali Khan, Omkarnath Thakur, Mushtaq Hussain Khan and Nisar Hussain Khan affixing an approval seal on him. Since then he has been acknowledged as a maestro. He is trying to pass on his immense knowledge and understanding to his adopted son Zaki Haider and the film has many scenes of their teaching in the traditional ustad-shagird style, the same method through which he learnt his music.

His father used to practice at night and insisted that the son slept in the same room as an infant. So, first as an infant and then as a toddler, when Asad Ali Khan slept he was surrounded by the sound of music.

Been or veena is one of the oldest musical instruments of this region. It has been mentioned in the ancient text and shastras, and was used not only in lighter and folk varieties but also in the rendition of marg and samik music.

Since the beginning of musical tradition in its developed form, it was divided into marg and desi music. Veena has been the primary instrument representing some of the basic characteristics of our music like the correct evocation of the shrutis. Being a string instrument it has an immense musical potential to play the hidden nuances of surs.

Veena has had many forms and variations. In Pakistan, Ustad Sharif Khan played the veena with great intensity as beenkar. Rudra veena belongs to the family of veenas with two gourds and it is played not by placing the two gourds on the ground but by putting it in an upright position with one gourd resting on the shoulder and the other in the lap. When not played in that position it tends to go out of tune. And for this particularly there cannot be a mass production of the rudra veena as it has to be customised to suit the physique of the individual performer.

According to Asad Ali Khan, the invention of this instrument is attributed to Shiv who designed it according to the figure of his consort Parvati. It rests across the torso of body of the player giving the illusion of it being wrapped around it. Like all veenas its most essential musical potential comes out in the slower tempo when the various shrutis can be best enunciated.

In the documentary various raags are sampled like yaman kalyan, gaur sarang, madhmaad, pilu, darbari and tori to give a flavour of the evocative power of the instrument.

The documentary also has interviews of various well-known people on the art of Asad Ali Khan -- the nephews of Nawab Raza Ali Khan as they recalled the glory of the bygone era, and exponents like Ustad Ghulam Sabir Khan, K.L.Pandit Ustad Fahimuddin Dagar, Ustad Sabri Khan and Pakhawaj accompanist Mohan Shayam Sarma.

Identity crosses
In his solo show at Grey Noise, Basir Mahmood explores the idea of identity.
By Quddus Mirza

Not many people may have heard of Basir Mahmood who is currently exhibiting his works at Grey Noise Gallery, Lahore. The fact that he is new and unknown seems irrelevant as the works on display show a maturity not only of technique and composition but of ideas too. Actually it is difficult to de-link formal concerns from conceptual aspects in the works of Mahmood who is a recent graduate of Beaconhouse National University (BNU).

The solo exhibition, titled "In the Time of Telling", comprises six works in different mediums, all created with the help of the lens of a camera. Camera is essential in order to understand the art of Mahmood, as it also holds a key to decipher the work of many contemporary artists. A number of them are using this device to create art pieces, either in digital print, video installation, video animation or even paintings in oil and acrylic, rendered with the help of a photographic reference.

With this gadget that can ‘effortlessly’ record everything available to them, artists are faced with a dilemma -- relating to their role, intervention and inventions in image-making. There are diverse examples in which artists have transformed the world of appearance to an image, an ordinary visual into an individual vision -- by using special effects, switching colours, alternating scales, altering backgrounds or combining contradictory views. Beyond these formal solutions, it is the content that actually contributes in converting a scene into a landscape or a face into a portrait. Artist introduces his angle and idea in such a way that a viewer, familiar with the visual, is forced to look at the world through the eyes of the artist.

In the case of Basir Mahmood, it is the idea of identity that is instrumental in modifying the outside appearances into a personal narrative. The issue of identity is dealt with in multiple manners. In one video installation ‘Manmade’, an old man who looks like a peasant or a labourer is in the process of changing his dress, from indigenous kurta and lungi to European jacket and pantaloon. The whole act, shown in two screens next to each other, indicates the unease and clumsiness of a man who is not accustomed to wearing Western clothes. But somehow the face, hair and posture betray his unsuitability to that ‘sophisticated’ suit.

The work can be interpreted as a comment on altered identities, and the ultimate failure in this pursuit. But the video reminds of other ‘identical’ works by artists also associated with BNU.

Another work invokes the contradiction of single and multiple personas. Three portraits are fabricated by pasting features from different faces, so the photo collage instead of portraying a particular person depicts a combination of people. These works, besides conveying the artist’s skill, allude to racial, cultural and societal traces of a human being because no one possesses a singular identity in this or any other culture. Similarly the name which is considered personal and a form of identity is not unique to its owner, since many before him had the same name and several will be called by it after him. Likewise a man’s opinions, views and thoughts are shaped by influences from others, through his training in the family and by his interaction in the society. In a way, all of us are collages composed of elements from several humans, in physical, psychological, emotional areas.

Addressing the issue of identity, Basir has created a series of photographs, taken from a height -- as if by some close circuit television. In these pictures several men are seen in their surroundings, but their faces are pasted with the tiny cut-outs of the same images, in a scheme that one is unable to recognise a particular person. Hence the phenomenon of capturing the movements, acts and lives of citizens through the invisible eyes of surveillance devices (camera, TV) is reversed because the faces of people in these 12 photographs are not identifiable.

Similarly, a small video installation, ‘My Father’ does not reveal the face of the person who is trying to insert thread in the needle of a sewing machine. Although one just glimpses the hand, thread and the needle, but the position of needle fixed downward suggests the presence of a sewing machine and hints at the profession of the protagonist -- a tailor (may be the reason to hide his face!). The focus on the banal attempts to put thread through a tiny hole turns it into a metaphor of human struggle. The artist, has intelligently chosen a small screen to convey an activity that is confined to a few fingers and a needle, hence the subject, image and the scale of the work appear harmonious and linked, logically.

All of these pieces except My Father echo Mahmood’s work presented in his degree show at BNU, held during June 2010. This connection is not surprising because of the short span of time between the two bodies of work. One sincerely hopes that Basir Mahmood does not fall into the habit where young artists often repeat the performances from their academic careers, and then keep rehashing them till they are lost into the abyss of oblivion.

(The show that started on

Aug 29 will remain open till

September 15, 2010)

Many art critics abhor the idea of segregating the art of male and female artists. A gender-based approach has, nevertheless, encouraged looking at the works of female artists in a distinct and different perspective.

A show displaying the works of purely female artists, called Elles@centrepompidou, has been up at the George Pompidou Centre in Paris since May 2009. Besides its sheer scope, the context in which it is up is noteworthy. It is a provocative and significant international overview of the contributions made by women artists over the last century. I found this thematic exhibition extremely engaging. Never before have I seen, under one roof, a selection of over 500 works by more than 200 women artists -- from the beginning of the 20th century up to the present day. No small wonder that it took Camille Morineau, who curated this exhibit, 20 years to put it together.

The show starts on a somewhat humoristic note with Agnès Thurnauer’s Portraits Grandeur Nature, consisting of 12 large colourful buttons that feature the names of well-known artists and architects turned into women’s names. So Andy Warhol is rechristened Annie Warhol, Jackson Pollock is Jacqueline Pollock, Francis Bacon is metamorphosed into Francine Bacon, and the famous architect Mies van der Rohe becomes Miss van der Rohe!

A set of posters, sponsored by the ‘Guerrilla Girls -- conscience of the art world’ shout out from the walls. One of them asks, "Do women have to be naked to get into the Met Museum? Less than 3percent of the artists in the Modern Art sections are women, but 83percent of the nudes are female."

Besides these humorous interventions, however, the show displays other compelling works such as those of the French installation artist Annette Messager, who created ‘Les Piques’ in 1992-93. Intended as an offensive series, she mixes drawings, photographs and torn rag dolls, reconstructing these confrontational displays with shreds of cloth, stockings, and pantyhose. She says that she was clearly thinking of street protests, of the pikes from the French Revolution. Her repertoire of forms and materials make her one of the most important European artists of our time.

Another French artist, painter, sculptor and filmmaker Niki de Saint Phalle (1930-2002) rejects the conservative values of her family as well as those of society at large. Commenting on the various roles of women in the statement that accompanies her life size dolls ‘Brides’ (La mariee ou Eva Maria, 1963), she declares that ‘these brides represent something that is beyond them. The bride is a sort of costume, (…) clearly totally bankrupt of individuality, due to male shortcomings in practising true responsibilities, and I think we are reaching a new social state, matriarchy…"

Photographs by Iranian artist Shadi Ghadirian jolt the viewer into contemplating the inner sentiments behind faceless women who perform their household chores day after day without questioning their fate. The ‘Like Every Day’ is a series of chadar-clad women that shows nothing but their forms wrapped in printed fabrics, and an everyday domestic object such as a plate, an iron, or a teapot stuck onto the upper centre, instead of the face.

I found the labyrinth ‘Untitled (Passage II)’, created by Spanish artist Cristina Iglesias, particularly fascinating. Made up of simple forms woven in organic jute string, her work evokes interplay of form and material where the boundary between illusion and reality disappears. Through her installation, the artist seems to comment on the human condition and its relationship with the global ecosystem.

The human condition is again the subject, this time shown in a different idiom, in Swiss artist Eva Aeppli’s eerie installation comprising thirteen people sitting on chairs. Dressed in black, their mask-like faces and skeletal hands are the only body features visible. On a plaque nearby the explanatory statement of the artist reads: "In western culture, a group of thirteen figures around a table evokes The Last Supper, but at my ‘Table’, one sees neither Christ nor his apostles. The men and women gathered together represent the human condition."

Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama’s ‘My Flower Bed’ (1965-66), made of painted, covered mattress springs and stuffed gloves shows a fragmented bio-morphism and a lush and out of control blooming.

The work on display is presented in chronological order by themes, but the work of some significant women artists is not adequately covered. Among these, I feel that Frida Kahlo, represented only by a solitary self-portrait entitled "The Frame" (1938), deserves more space and attention in such a milieu. Wish female artists from South Asia, particularly from our country were also included as there is such a high ratio of successful female artists in Pakistan. Nevertheless, But one grants the curator her due, and can only admire the perseverance and courage with which this exhaustive collection has been presented.

Elles@centrepompidou will continue until February 2011. Other issues in the show include urban myths, dislocation, dis-empowerment, motherhood, and more.

It is said that residents of Muslim Spain -- when Granada was at the pinnacle of civilisation of its time -- reached a level of sensibility where giving a single fruit as a gift would symbolise sharing a part of one’s life.

Pakistan, a tiny country in terms of its stature, and all time low on the charts of civilisation, is witnessing something roughly similar in its spirit to the above-mentioned sensibility. Sanjh (togetherness, exhibition’s title) by RetroArts has brought together around 100 artists to raise funds for the flood-affected Pakistanis. The exhibition, which includes paintings, sculptures, photographs, and digital prints, has opened yesterday at Alhamra Art Gallery and is scheduled to remain open for a fortnight.

It is one of those rare art events where one will find such an overwhelming number of artists -- senior as well as new -- from Pakistan and abroad, showing under one roof, setting an example to set aside all differences, if there were any, and connect for a better and secure future. Apparently, all this may sound like a cliché, but in reality, is not that common.

The donated artworks, mostly, were originally produced in other times and with different moods and intentions; it is the collective objective behind their display that makes this particular exhibition different from the others. The visual artists have put in their bit, by gifting some pieces from their lives to get some bread and medicine for the flood victims. Now it is for the art collectors, the donors, and the public to show their level of sensibility.

The Pakistani apparatus could learn a few lessons from its counterparts in the First World for how they have used, and are still using, visual and performing arts for the promotion of their respective ideologies, especially in the second half of the 20th century.

It is not easy for everyone, and especially artists, to remain indifferent to the reality that surrounds them, particularly when the reality is predominantly dark and grim; a spark of light is always welcomed. While the local and foreign media -- driven by the pressures of their respective marketplaces, and greed; the soulless leaders -- political and other; the ever-growing mass of pessimists; and above all the fundamentalists, are painting everything black in Pakistan, let the artists come out of this chaos, head to the forefront and splash some colours on the horizon, neither for left nor for right, but for hope and life. The artists must spearhead the quest for identity, as they are usually the first ones to break on to the other-side.

Some of the featured artists in the show are: Saleema Hashmi, Ahmed Ali Manganhar, Ayaz Jhokio, Farida Batool, Huma Mulji, Aasim Akhtar, Mohmmad Ali Talpur, Ayesha Jatoi, Asif Ahmed, Amira Farooq and others.