|
|
|
|
 |
 |
  
|
view review Ruffling many
feathers The
dark side view point The mirror and the maker Much has been written about deliberate
manipulation, distortion of fact, provocation and cynical exploitation in the
media. But there is one area where not enough By Sarah Humayun A form of the no-alternatives argument that we have heard so often regarding Pakistani politics is now being advanced about the direction of the media in Pakistan. The same moves are in evidence: There is one ‘media’; the convention of unironically using a plural noun for what passes as a single phenomenon is now irrevocably established. This media is the voice of the people, the awam. The people is also one — there are no ‘people’, just masses, another plural form which has come to be understood as a singular. Or perhaps people only count for the ‘media’ as an aggregate, as they do in politics. This one media is the voice of the one people, the mirror of its reality; where the one people does not exist, the media is the tool that fashions it, the mirror that shows an image that ought to exist. The media is at the same time a reflection of reality and the creator of reality. But this duality exists — as all contradictions, paradoxes and dualities do — because the system is imperfect and corrupt. In a state of perfection, media and society will be seamlessly and mutually reflective of each other. But in the world as it is, the choices available to the media are either to passively reflect or actively create the masses. The exigency of being awami demands that we know when to take active or passive stances vis a vis the awam, to reflect or shape events. But both, it should be underlined, must be dictated by the democratic will of the people. The media, the mirror and the maker, is finally an expression of the popular will acting — or reacting? — upon the people. It is an affair of the self, the self of the one people, which reflexively shapes itself and wishes to see itself beamed back at itself. This is a picture of the media as it seems to exist in the minds of many of its current practitioners. According to this description, it has no choice but to be what it is — a projection and tool of the people’s collective self. If it abandons its organic link with the awam, it will become insignificant, valueless. The commercial logic of the mass media, if we develop this line of thought, their slavish deference to readerships and ratings, is a monetisation of the relationship between media and awam. Nothing scandalous. Cynically, we might say that the media sells the awam its pet prejudices and hates; but even then, it is obvious that we think that this is what the awam will put down its money for. The commercial imperatives of the media are not opposed to its ‘mission’, if this mission is to show the awam its own telescoped visage. This inherent bias towards populism is not the exclusive property of the right or the left, liberal or conservative. Both claim that they are advocating the true interests of the awam. It is not difficult to find voices within the liberal or leftist media who will exclude certain perspectives or follow certain conservative news formats in the belief that they are infallible diviners of the awami spirit. It is also not difficult to find, both within left and right, mediapeople who want to educate the masses, to lead them as shepherds towards whatever they see as social progress. My point is not that any of this is wrong or right — that would depend on the circumstances — but that the awami spirit in journalism is by no means a black and white affair. Populism in the media always runs the risk of translating into conservatism, though it need not do so in any given instance. This danger is present across the political spectrum. Much has been written about deliberate manipulation, distortion of fact, provocation and cynical exploitation in the media. But there is one area where not enough questions are asked: the style and tone of journalism. Journalists, particularly the well-trained types, will tell you that they do not pose as experts. They do not pretend to have mastery of a topic. Some old-school types will even tell you that display of expertise is not what media space is meant for. Mostly sincere, this disclaimer nevertheless masks the way the journalistic product is projected. The two staple journalistic forms — reporting and comment — are aimed at bringing instantaneous and simplified order to a set of ‘facts’, and at presenting an opinion so that a hypothetical audience can find it immediately comprehensible, unambiguously ‘pitched at its level’. In both, there is a claim to the validity of the immediate, the presentation and analysis of the ‘moment’. The commentator wishes to act as a cipher or a spokesperson of the ‘now’. He speaks in a tone that solicits immediate agreement and identification, asks questions whose relevance appears obvious. He is more often than not confident, knowing. This is something different and also something more than an expert: the mediaperson positions himself as one through whom the expertise of the ‘masses’ is confirmed. He wants to be the mirror in which they see their claim to foresight and authority, fragmentary and driven by urgency as it is. (This is not to deny that there are and have been in the past all sorts of media practitioners who have stretched and complicated these forms.) A change of tone, if that is what might facilitate a move towards a less conservative media, is not a simple or superficial thing. Can the media experiment with discursive strategies and styles, not offer unambiguous lines or position, not persuade or affirm anyone in their conviction? Can it do this some of the time, and when is a good time to do it? This will entail a re-engagement with the mass media’s projected rationale: communication with and in the name of the abstract Everyone. Some of this is already happening, here and elsewhere in the world. The moot point is, how far can and should it alter the intents and practices of ‘mainstream’, awami journalism? Another question stands behind this one: how political should the media be? Is it merely a conduit for political aspirations, even progressive, democratic ones? The mass media are, arguably, commercial through and through. But perhaps a complication of this picture would not be a bad thing. The question one might ask, if only out of idle curiosity, is: If the mass media do not always speak to and for the people, what would they look like? Would they become unrecognisable? Would the nature of the product merely bewilder and fail to engage the readers? It is possible; but this is a risk which might be interesting to take.
review Violence,
terror and tragedy come in handy for Khadim Ali and Reeta Saeed’s work at
Rohtas 2 By Quddus Mirza Reading newspaper or even
taking a quick glance at it if one is in a hurry is an early morning ritual in
most households. I too The photograph — showing details of burning buildings, clouds of smoke and a few bystanders in black — was so ‘beautiful’ that I couldn’t help but admire it as an image. The tonal relationship and chromatic subtleties were appealing to the eye and appeared as if composed or painted by an accomplished artist. However, the content of the picture was not happy. Quite the contrary, it depicted a catastrophe that killed a few humans and ruined many households who were dependent on the commercial market for their livelihood. The reaction of an aesthete was instant and unblemished. One could enjoy the pictorial elements at their best in this picture. Dark smoke, moving into lighter shades next to a rough textured wall of the building, offered a tactile and engaging view. So much so that one hardly noticed the text in small white letters on the picture: “At least 3 dead, 35 injured; 30 fire vehicles and a helicopter fail to contain fire.” This seemed more like a pictorial necessity than to communicate grim information. This situation, or dilemma shall we say, is faced by a number of artists, critics, exhibitors and even collectors. Whenever we encounter a negative image, experience or happening, at some level we tend to admire it — also because of its potential to generate art. Hence, grave incidents in human history like the Holocaust have provided raw material for great works of art and literature. The novel ‘Fateless’ by Noble laureate Imre Kertesz and the film ‘Life is Beautiful’ directed and co-written by Roberto Benigni are just two examples where the writer and director have composed works that give pleasure to senses and mind, the depressing subject notwithstanding. Despite the fact that the
consumer of cultural products is moved by the power of images or the effects
of words, the creative Multiple works displayed in our art galleries are made on themes and images that are based upon unpleasant — though not irrelevant — subject matters. Perhaps the recent works of Khadim Ali and Reeta Saeed shown at the Rohtas 2 in Lahore (Feb 4-12, 2011) can be seen in the same light/league. Both artists currently live away from their land of origin (Ali in Australia and Saeed in Canada) and as such are concerned about the situation back home. Yet their works reflected a distance that develops when one is more interested in utilising the material on a surface level than in exploring the real causes of the conflicts. Both artists have chosen the subject of violence, terror and tragedy, employing different imagery and technique. The two were trained in miniature painting from NCA so there was a link with the traditional art form in their work on display, but each treated it in a different manner. Reeta installed bonnets of cars, painted/printed with female portraits from conventional miniature painting along with black and white miniatures inserted within threadbare sacks resembling the flags of Pakistan, India and USA. Likewise, Khadim has drawn his images of Djinns and Rustam, the mythological wrestler, a theme he has rendered in past. His new works have some added elements, such as dark sunflowers and intestine-like forms in tones of red. The blackened flowers and bodily forms affirm the painter’s intention of describing death and destruction but the repeated appearance of this content — in varying compositions — indicates the artist’s flirtation with the subject matter. The inheritance of artistic tradition often turns into a convenient formula. While the genre is regenerated to suit the demands of making ‘contemporary’ art, the subject of violence and death is acquired to justify the work produced in this era/area. In this sense, one cannot separate sentiments while dealing with a work of art or a situation in real life. On each step and stage, a person has to appreciate the contradictory chemistry of aesthetic experience. A work of art may invite sympathy for a group of miserable human beings, but at the same time it can arouse the viewer through its pictorial aspects: A contradiction that an artist understands and lives with but a normal viewer experiences only when a pretty picture of a great fire is printed in a newspaper. Thank God, it happens only rarely.
Zafar Iqbal’s documentary film ‘In Search of Rasa’ recharges the debate about the aesthetic value of music By Sarwat Ali The effect and appeal of
music has been universally recognised and much has been written about the
mysterious ways in which From ancient to modern times, there have been many theories about the magical effect of music. While the modern theories are more inspired by the hypothesis based on scientific research that rules the world these days, the ancient theories more founded on the philosophical underpinning that governed man’s worldview perceived music as one of the universes that had an overarching value. In this land, the ancient theory that tried to analyse or built an argument about the effect of music was the Aesthetic Theory Of Rasa. There were nine rasa and the music was supposed to evoke those rasa in order to be more meaningful and integrative. In the ancient Sanskrit texts the theory of rasa was talked about copiously, and in the absence of any reference point this abstract entity called rasa was considered as a valid criteria for understanding the intangible. It is perhaps easier to discuss and analyse something which is tangible. To talk about something that cannot be seen or touched but only heard increases the level of mystery and obfuscates true understanding. It has always been a challenge as to form a comprehensible form to our response to music generally. The raga was supposed to be the repositories of rasa. The structure of the raga were so formed that it was supposed to evoke a definitive rasa. The root of the word rasa, rung and raag being the same emphasises the commonality and organic bonding that exists between the three. In contemporary times does the raga evoke a corresponding emotion among the audience or the listener? This question has been examined and explored by Zafar Iqbal, who has made an hour-long film on the subject, titled ‘In Search of Rass’. He interviewed most of the musicologists and even practitioners of music and thoroughly discussed and examined the topic. Is there rasa in our music, and more poignantly does it exists in the rasa based music which is practiced today. If not, then either the basic premise has been proven untrue over time or that there has been some misunderstanding in the way the entire subject has been broached or comprehended. The persons that he interviewed and then edited to put in a definite sequence have been Badaruzzan, Pervaiz Paras, Ghulam Abbas, Amal Hussain, Sarah Zaman, Naila Riaz, Ustad Ghulam Haider, Salim Bazmi, Mujahid Hussain, Anayat Abid, Zahida Riaz, Fahim Mazhar, Mehdi Hasan and Ustad Amir Khan. The documentary is studded with clips from the performances of Ustad Salamat Ali Khan, Noor Jehan, Amanat Ali, Fateh Ali, Mehdi Hasan and Ustad Amir Khan. Nearly all of them have pointed to the absence of rasa in contemporary music and that very few pieces corresponded to the classical definition of rasa. The reasons could be many — the changing taste of the audiences, the different ways in which music is composed and structured, the undue emphasis on certain musical aspects that border more on virtuosity and the display of technique. The mastery of craft overweighs the true sprit in the absence of an integrative environment where the audience and the performer work on an agreed value system of aesthetics. The paucity of outstanding performers, the stress shifting from the essentials of music to its mere commercialisation or marketability can also be the major factors. Obviously in such abstract expression or debates over abstract principles the definite answer is hard to arrive at. Probably one should not be looking for a definite answer. It is more about generating a discussion on the value of music, and the complex method it works round our systems of perception and evaluation. As it is, the debate about music is hardly ever conducted in this country, and Zafar Iqbal has ruffled many feathers, challenged stated positions and questioned safe assumptions to recharge the debate about the aesthetic value of music. Classical music in the country too is facing great odds and through such films and demonstrations it may refocus the area of debate and discussion and create an environment where new answers may be discovered to old questions. The dark side Dear All, As the countdown to the
Oscars begins, everyone seems to be talking about two films: ‘Black Swan’
and ‘The King’s Speech’. ‘The King’s Speech’ is an interesting film: it is the story of how King George VI of Britain overcame his stammer and coped with the pressures of being thrust into the limelight as a wartime monarch after his brother abdicated in order to marry an American divorcee. It is very well-written and extremely well-acted. The cast includes the wonderful Colin Firth whose great fan I have been ever since seeing him in the 1988 film ‘Apartment Zero’ (he was pretty unknown back then), and whose smouldering Darcy in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ I loved as much as his endearingly comic Jack Worthing in ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’. Then we also have Helena Bonham Carter and the consistently impressive Geoffrey Rush — so some very good performances. Plus the film has a really good, humorous script and some atmospheric photography so it is fairly entertaining. But ‘The King’s Speech’ is receiving attention not only because of its cinematic weight but also because it deals with a terrible, but rather underrated, disability: stammering. In Britain at least, the film has focused attention on this and has helped raised awareness, which is good. But the film has also received attention for some negative reasons: some critics are unhappy with the historical liberties that have been taken in it and others criticise it for glorifying royalty and being part of the recent trend of costume drama nostalgia in the ‘Upstairs, Downstairs’ vein, where we are supposed to be interested in the rich privileged toffs who lord it over the oppressed elite as they are perched right at the top of a rigid class structure. Anyway, nice film, and I really hope both Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush win awards. So on to the other film: ‘Black Swan’ which I saw with the family last week. I have to say I was actually rather disappointed: Black Swan is basically the story of an uptight, highly driven ballerina descending into madness. Despite the sugary visual prettiness of ballet and ballet dancers, this is basically a horror film, scary and gory and full of suspense. Yes, Natalie Portman is rather brilliant as the repressed and disturbed Nina, but by the end of the film one has just had enough of her and all the other unpleasant and creepy characters around her... Of course, this is a well made, interesting film but somehow its tempo is rather monotonous and the photography and editing dark and jagged. This has been described as a ‘psychosexual thriller’ and I guess that is what you can call it so don’t watch it with your family as you will often feel quite awkward. A very uncomfortable film to sit through and all I could think of, as it ended was that Portman, the pure Princess Padme of the ‘Star Wars’ films, had finally gone over to the Dark Side... I know I don’t sound very enthusiastic about these films, but they are just not moving, and these days what I am really excited about is a brilliant four-part production on Channel Four called ‘The Promise’. This is set in both modern day Israel and 1940s Palestine, as a young gap year student retraces her grandfather’s footsteps. Really gripping stuff. Forget about the Oscars and the cinema — The Promise is what I think is recommended viewing. That and Channel Four’s adaptation of William Boyd’s terrific novel Any Human Heart. Oh, and of course there is my favourite weekly TV show, the wonderful legal-political drama ‘The Good Wife’, which is in its second season and just keeps getting better and better. It deals with law and politics, sleaze and corruption, family management and the problems of old flames (past loves) never really being extinguished. I have also started watching the new Laura Linney show ‘The Big C’, a darkly humorous show about a woman diagnosed with cancer — which, strangely enough, is rather entertaining. Happy
viewing and best wishes, Umber
Khairi
|
|
anxiously wait for the newspaper in the morning. On Tuesday, Feb 8, like any
other day, I got the paper and opened the pages of local news. The headlines,
about the devastating fire in a big cloth and chemical market of Lahore a day
before, made me sad till I saw the accompanying picture and said to myself
“Wow!”
individual sometimes faces an internal conflict: of ‘using’ the misery of
others or his own to shape a work. Of course the created work has the capacity
to be enjoyed, understood and experienced on various levels, including formal,
technical and material. But one does feel guilty of infusing artistic elements
into a harsh reality. For some, the act of converting terrible content into
art is a means to negotiate with the unpleasant personal, communal or national
experiences (like Anselm Kiefer’s art that addresses the issue of German
past and participation in the World War II). But for the majority, this is
just a matter of locating some topic to construct works that are loaded with
serious matter and meaning. Their attempt to include narratives of grief can
become a way to diffuse and disguise unbearable facts through art.
music casts its mesmerising spell, and as yet much remains unexplained about
this intriguing subject.
Though both are rather good are certainly not great. So not really a very
exciting year for the movies.