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interview review Virtue
in versatility
interview “I am a
generalist: Once I become interested in a country, I spend a few years, and
then I become interested in something else. It means I’ll never be a great
specialist. And I enjoy it that way.” Born in Kigali, Rwanda,
Amin Jaffer spent his formative years in Kenya, Belgium, England, Canada and
the USA. His first exposure to art was at the age of six when his mother
took him to the Louvre. With a degree in History
of Art from Trinity College, Toronto, and a Masters and PhD from the Royal
College of Art, London, he’s the author/editor of several publications
including ‘Luxury Goods from India’ and ‘Maharaja: The Splendour of
India’s Royal Courts’. His reputation as one of the world’s leading
experts on Asian Art has made him the International Director of Asian Art at
Christie’s. His name may conjure
Indian aristocracy but, in person, Amin Jaffer is every bit the New York
artist. On a rainy Sunday afternoon, he’s wearing bone white skinny jeans,
moccasins, and a bright vermilion polo; his loosely cropped dark brown hair
is speckled with wisps of gray. He talks with a quiet energy, introspective
but chatty, carefully confident, in a velvet voice, impish smile and
debonair etiquette. In the interview with The
News on Sunday, on the occasion of the recently held Lahore Literary
Festival, he quips about transitional spaces, and things that inspire him
from lived experiences to socio-cultural phenomena. By Aasim
Akhtar The News on Sunday: Can
you talk a bit about the early days of your institutional career? Amin Jaffer: My career
really started at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. I’d studied
History of Art in Canada, and had come to London for a Masters degree. That
is when I became much interested in objects that were hybrid — things
caught between east and west, typically made in one culture for another
culture. They had always fascinated me partly because of my own background,
which was quite mixed at least in terms of cultural experience and
upbringing. I was very lucky to finish
my thesis on ‘Furniture in British India’ and landed a job at the
V&A in 1995. I started slowly working on their collection — writing,
publishing and lecturing — and had the opportunity to organise some very
important exhibitions at the museum. It was during that time
that my first book, ‘Furniture from British India and Ceylon’ came out
in 2001. These objects fascinated me because they were made by South Asian
woodworkers and furniture makers. The woodworkers themselves sat and lived
on the ground but they were making things that were used for elevated living
like chairs and tables, cabinets and desks, and so on. In this sense, these
objects were foreign to the makers and to the users because they were exotic
and different, mainly because they were Indian or South Asian production. The V&A drove the
project, and we had a co-publication with Peabody Essex Museum in the US,
rooted in those two museum collections. We were fortunate to get funding
from the British Academy and LeverhulmeTrust, when at that time there was no
real scholarship in that particular area of the arts! TNS: What is your response
to the ‘Legacy of the East’ supplanted from its original context,
plundered, and displaced in an alien culture or boxed in museums by the
former colonial powers, such as the British Commonwealth? AJ: I cannot comment on
the official or governmental policies. My philosophy is that it’s hard to
speak of “what belongs” or of “what doesn’t belong”. History is
history, whether it makes one happy or unhappy! I do believe that
relationships between different people and different countries and different
movements are constantly evolving and constantly changing. The history of British
India from an Indian perspective is an unfortunate one, for the people were
eventually subjugated. But it’s a very rare history and you have 300 years
of continuous involvement of the British in India. So, although, it’s not
ideal, particularly when it comes to sculpture and architecture the way it
was actively removed and taken abroad, this type of pillaging is not unique
to South Asia; it has happened everywhere. The British might say, “look at
the great things of English country houses that went to America in the early
20th century”. The Native American people may have a grudge, so would the
Italians, and so forth. It’s a fact of history, and it’s a fact of
conquest. Carrying off of prize and loot is an intrinsic aspect of conquest.
Often the reason why people went to war is for that prize. Now, of course, things
have changed — post 1970, in particular — and there has been a very
strong international movement to ensure that countries and nations got back
their material heritage. Until the mid-twentieth century, however, the
attitude was totally the contrary. It’s very difficult to reach back to
history about something that happened in the early nineteenth century and
pass a judgment on it in the twenty-first century. TNS: Would it be
legitimate to mark a methodological shift of interest in your career as it
took a U-turn from V&A to Christie’s? AJ: In 2007, I was
headhunted and I joined Christie’s where I’ve been ever since. At
Christie’s, I work with a team of people who are engaged with art from
South Asia. We have sales of this art in New York once a year and in London
once a year. We work with international collectors, museums, institutions
and we find sponsors. My role is much driven by what comes out of this
region in terms of creativity. I am very impressed by the
quality of art that comes out of Pakistan. It’s extremely well-executed
which is quite rare in these circumstances. Pakistan has an extraordinarily
rich culture of art education, and I think Pakistani artists have great
international potential. The quality of their work is being recognised
curatorially increasingly, so we see institutions responding to curators,
responding very well to the creativity of the region, whether it’s artists
who are trained here and practicing in different countries or whether it’s
artists who are trained here and live here. The fact is that they carry with
them a particular eye for detail and high-quality execution. I think
that’s a kind of hallmark! I think many people might
think of miniaturists first when they think about the contemporary art scene
of Pakistan. There is a group of artists notable for miniature work but
it’s not exclusively miniature painting. Perhaps, the most well-known
contemporary Pakistani artist is Rashid Rana. TNS: Do you subscribe to
the conjecture that practitioners of contemporary art in Pakistan are
churning out what they apprehend to see a demand for in the international
market? AJ: I don’t think I
agree with that idea anymore than I would agree with the fact that any
producer would respond to a market. It’s very hard to judge contemporary
art today. It’s often thirty or forty years later that we’re able to
reflect with a wider picture on a practice. We have had many cases of
artists who worked in isolation producing things that didn’t necessarily
respond to the market but who, a generation later, were considered to be
great artists even though in their lifetime they may not have been. I am not
saying that in relation to Pakistan. I am simply saying that with the
artist, the market, the creator, the full understanding of the market
happens towards the end of the artist’s life rather than early on. TNS: Should ‘cultural
signifiers’ inform art? AJ: In my opinion, a work
of art doesn’t have to relate to a specific identity. If you look at the
work of Anish Kapoor, its appeal lies in its universality. The fact is it’s the
viewer who reads into a work of art. Whether it is his “reflective” work
or “cavernous” work, it’s more about the individual — the observer
and viewer’s experience — than about Anish Kapoor’s origin. On the
other hand, there’s a very fine Indian artist Atul Dodiya whose work is
heavily about himself. When you look at the
Indian moderns — the Progressives — producing works of art (even among
the Progressives, it’s hard to generalise — each had a very different
path), sometimes they were together and sometimes apart, geographically,
idealistically and philosophically. They were practicing art, which was
initially highly figurative, but if you look at later works of Ram Kumar or
Tyeb Mehta, they become highly internationalised in their impact. It’s a
question of individual journey. Certainly these artists came out of a
figurative tradition in a different way. They were educated at a very
different time when the meaning of art was very different. There were much
tighter parameters and much tighter norms especially when it came to judging
works of art. I think the expression
today is much lighter and looser, and that there’s a much wider variety of
mediums. I don’t think making such a statement is to call art
anachronistic! I saw Salman Toor’s work at Rohtas Gallery recently, firmly
rooted in the western classical idiom. I think he’s been successfully able
to apply a western traditional technique to say something, which is
contemporary. TNS: As opposed to a
catalogue essay, the text in ‘Made for Maharajas’ intends to mirror the
aesthetics of the stately princes. What are the other layers of proposition? AJ: I’ve always been
interested in things made in one culture for another. I was interested in
how the Indian princes were obsessed by western luxury goods. I had just
finished the ‘Encounters’ exhibition when a publisher approached me and
proposed why don’t we work together on a book that’s focused on design.
He said let’s move away from the great works of art or patronage within
the subcontinent and dwell on the Indian commissions from the West. This was
something I’d been building up material on for years, so I was really
excited by the project. ‘Made for Maharajas’
was a relatively quickly written book but I spent a lot of time doing
research at the India Office Library for the little chapters. It was a great
exercise and what was real fun was working with different luxury houses
because they still had records. Even the Library had extensive records in
the archives that were just amazing. It had an incredible in-depth
information about the movements of the various princes throughout their
trips as to what they ate, where they shopped, where they went, what their
responses were, etc. — huge and copious information. I did not use the
Alkazi collection of photographs. I was more interested in images of princes
in the West made by London and Paris photographers.
review It
is rare that architectural spaces serve to differentiate between the
worth of art works and direct the order of display, except in the case of
Alhamra Art Gallery, Lahore. Whether it is the Punjab Artists’
Association’s exhibition, young artists’ annual show, or display of
calligraphers and photographers, works placed in the first gallery are
always of better quality compared to other rooms. This hierarchy of built
areas towards the quality of art works has become such a norm that no one is
surprised to see the same pattern repeated in the 9th annual exhibition of
young artists ‘Memoirs of Future’ (April 8-27, 2013). The exhibition is
a commendable step by the Alhamra and especially its curator Tanya Sohail
but it seems the order of display is permanent. Thus the first room and the
upper space next to it are allocated for works with interesting visuals and
concepts, but this progressively deteriorates and, by the time one reaches
the last room in the gallery, one starts to lament upon the time, material,
money and effort wasted in making works which are not suited to be included
in the show. Despite this curatorial
hiccup (there is hardly a gap between two paintings or prints), the
tradition of inviting young artists to display their works at Alhamra is a
rare effort of the government and semi government bodies. The exhibition
provides a platform for artists on the threshold of their creative journey
and inspires others to be a part of this annual event. Most participants are
either recent graduates or students of art schools from all over the country
but their works show how the new artists are moving away from traditional
course and are seeking new expressions and idioms. It is interesting to see
how they are not concerned with issues that were picked up by the artists of
previous generations. Thus subjects such as “tradition” or
“violence” are hardly seen in these works; instead, one gets to see many
other ideas which relate to their lives and times. Among these, the
self-portrait of Shah Abdullah appears as a strong statement towards
authorship, and the distinction between what is created and the creator. In
his mixed media on paper, Fill in the Blanks, the man (the painter) is holding a pencil and
finishing his own image. This self-referential
image seems more about the act of art making, a theme that is visible in the
work of Kiran Saleem too. Her painting perplexes a viewer; from a distance
he notices a canvas on the wall but as soon he comes near, the reality of
work is revealed which is just the illusion of a canvas painted on the
gallery wall. The work, a comment on the history, function and construction
of painting being an illusion — specifically after the European
Renaissance — pushes the idea of illusion to its extreme limit by blending
the actual and virtual into one. It is perhaps the first time in the history
of Alhamra that an artist has depicted an illusion rather than put a
painting on its walls. A similar kind of
site-specific sensibility is experienced in the work of Sana Kazi, in which
sheets with faces drawn are stretched on the stairs; this is not only an
unusual space for display but hers is a surprising approach towards the
preciousness and purity of art object. Among the works that stand
out and remain etched in memory is a small miniature, in which one rupee
note is rendered in realistic manner, but shown as if it’s fabric — like
a woollen jumper is coming off and ending in a roll of wool. Standing in
front of this small work on paper, titled
Brush Knitted Memories,
one is amused on how the artist, Sidra Liaqat from LCWU, has
commented upon the commercial, economic and social fabric of a society,
which like the currency note is being disintegrated. The choice of the main
image from our immediate surroundings and recent past (one rupee note is
redundant now) and expanding its symbolism make this work memorable. Other works included in
the show relate to usual subjects, ranging from figurative compositions,
landscapes, portraits and political themes. But the artists have tried to
find new ways of seeing and saying. For example, Iqra Tariq from LCWU with
her two intimate miniatures: in the
Lost Generation I, an army general is drawn or rather constructed by
joining tiny patterns (made in pencil) but his medals are fully and clearly
drawn in detail with actual hues. In her other work,
Lost Generation II, she has shown a roof top of houses with kites
flying in the sky. Both the buildings and kites are composed of small
motifs, thus connecting them to each other as well as to the tradition of
art making (especially from our region/history). Her work denotes how the
outside reality is just an extension of one’s imagination and expression. Amid walls filled with
paintings, one stops in front of an uncommon object. A trouser inflated, as
if with human legs inside, is stuck on a panel, with portrait of a female
painted in between the gap of legs, but it continues and covers one leg too.
Realization of Sensation
by Aneeka Zia is a daring piece that suggests the relation between
sexes as well as the connection between genres. It would be unfair if the
review is restricted to only a few art pieces because a number of other
works affirm how the young artists are moving away from well-trodden paths
and creating new venues and vocabulary for them. Each displays a remarkable
level of skill and an impressive display of ability which is not disjoined
from the concept and merges effortlessly with the idea. Looking at these works,
one wonders about the future of these young Turks because most of them would
be unable to retain this vitality after some years. Mushtaq Ahmed Yusufi has
described this phenomenon when he says: “Pakistani children are very good
until they grow up!” Perhaps, at some point, the curator Tanya Sohail may
like to revisit one of the exhibitions held before and see what happens to
these names in the span
of a few years, thus melting the future with the past for the sake of
present. caption Kiran Saleem. caption Sana Kazi. caption Aneeka Zia.
Virtue in
versatility Suchismita Das,
who was visiting Pakistan from India, is an accomplished vocalist, her real
forte being her versatility. She can sing the kheyal with all its parts of
expanding the raag in the slow and fast tempo, and render the thumri with
its entire evocative lure. Not only restricted to that, she can sing kajri,
bhajan, ghazal, geet, pop and even film songs, especially those of an
earlier period when melody ruled the roost in Indian films. She has been a vocalist
all her life and does not remember a single day when she was not required to
practice and sing. Her training started when she was barely five as it
should be with musical training. The younger you start, the easier it is for
the corresponding growth and development of the physical side of the human
body. It is moulded and fashioned as one goes along; in later life, the
already formed vocal chords are the most difficult barrier to break. When one listened to
Suchismita Das, it was clear she had a highly trained and cultivated voice
which could only be the product of ceaseless riyaz. During the course of her
education in music, she was finally accepted at the Sangeet Research Academy
in Kolkata, the prestigious learning institution for music which has
produced many a fine musician/ vocalist during the course of its existence. There she was formally
apprenticed to Pandit Ayoy Chakarvarti and has since been his shagird. The Sangeet Research
Academy is an amalgamation of the traditional and modern method of imparting
musical knowledge to the younger generation. The traditional ustad shagird
or guru shshiya parampara totally hinged on a personalised transfer of
musical knowledge while the modern methods doted on an impersonal method for
the transference of something as fine and subtle as music. The latter was
found to be not fully suited to the requirement of our music. A number of courses have
been planned, the most serious being a longer one spanning over years of
intensive training based on a personalised transference of knowledge thus
accepting the superiority of the ustad shagird system. In a way, it is also
backed by the conservatory system followed in Europe found to be more
suitable for transference of practical musical knowledge. There is one for
the less committed and those wishing to take music up not as their sole
concern but as an allied subject to something else that they were pursuing;
other courses at different levels are conducted with two to four year
duration. It presents a good balance and mix of the traditional and the
modern, the blend of the very serious practitioner and the scholar in
musicological terms. Ajoy Chakarvarty was the
shagird of Ustad Munawwar Ali Khan, the son of Bare Ghulam Ali Khan. The
latter lived most of his formative years in Lahore and it was here that he
established himself as a front rank vocalist of kheyal, thumri and kaafi.
The people of Lahore somehow think they have a very special relationship
with him and anything associated with him needs to be treated with loving
respect. They are particularly keen to receive and listen to any one who has
a musical connection with Bare Ghulam Ali Khan and it was thus gratifying
that Suchismita Das gave performances in private concerts to discerning
audiences. Her singing, particularly her versatility, was duly acknowledged.
As with most vocalists and
musicians trained in India, the musical performance was extremely
methodical. The progression of the raag was systematic, according to the
book and all the aspects of a rendition were demonstrated according to the
laid-down rules. Suchismita Das’s performances according to the prescribed
principles were very neatly executed. Chaiti, kajri, baramase
and, to some extent, tappa were the more well wrought versions of the folk
music of the Ganga Jamuna doab. Thumri, too, was sung in Lucknow and Benarus
and it was only the Patiala Gharana that situated a Punabi ang in thumri.
During the nineteenth century, these forms rested somewhere between kheyal
and geet in the semi-classical categories. These were not sung in the Punjab
and Sindh where probably kaafi gradually became a form that was rendered
with greater virtuosity. After the partition,
popular folk forms in the Punjab and Sindh were paid more attention to and
the forms that had developed in Delhi and Uttar Pradesh were less sung, with
the result that gradually these forms started to die out as likewise Punjabi
and Sindhi kaafi have fewer takers across the border. On the harmonium with her
was Ajoy Joglekar, a very adroit player. Harmonium had become a standard
accompanying instrument all over, especially in India, because it is thought
to be non-intrusive. It was probably Ustad Amir Khan who promoted the use of
the harmonium in kheyal performances because he felt uncomfortable with the
sarangi, presenting a parallel melodic line. Harmonium could not do so, and
remained a step behind in repeating the melodic line without at any time
creating the impression that it was more evocative than the vocalist’s
development of the melody. Awards and achievements Suchismita Das
started winning prizes and awards early on. In a competition organised by
the Russian Consulate, for the young musicians she was duly acknowledged.
She has won the West Bengal State Sangeet Academy Award and first position
in the All India Radio Music Competition. She has also sung for the IPL with
Shankar Mahadevan, provided vocals for Bollywood films; she has been the
anchor for ‘Zee Bangla Sa Re Ga Ma’. She has also sung on the invitation
of the Thomas Newman a playback score in the Golden Globe Award nominee film
‘The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel’. She has performed at
Thumri Kajri Festival Vanarsee, Qutab Festival New Delhi, Times of India
Concerts, Saptak Festival Ahmedabad, Kala Godha Festival, Mumbai, World
Habitat Centre New Delhi, Mallhar Utsav, World Congress of Religions 2012
Washington DC, World Peace Convention New York, India Fest US, NABC
Baltimore, NABC Las Vegas and ABP Ananda Utsav, New Jersey.
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