Gallery for all
City Museum Peshawar a complete profile of the major cultures present in the region since the Indo-Greek time
The Gor Khutree site museum in Peshawar, known commonly as the City Museum, founded in 2006, comprised of two galleries — an archaeological gallery and an ethnological gallery. The galleries are located in an ordinary looking building originally built for local administration.
The artefacts on display in the archaeological gallery present the unique feature of the site as the only place which holds the complete profile of the major cultures present in the region since the Indo-Greek times (2nd to1st BC) till the British Raj.

Once upon a time sports writers represented a vital link in the bridge between sportsmen and their supporters. Once upon a time cricket fans waited impatiently for the dispatches from Omar Kureishi, his words bringing alive the magic of a particular innings or the atmosphere towards the end of a closely contested Test match.

In the days before television, these words meant a great deal to lovers of the game who waited impatiently each morning for the soft thud of a newspaper tossed over the gate.

To some degree at least, like a great deal else in the media industry, this has changed in the age of television. The screens that bring sporting contests into living rooms in a flashing blaze of color and much razzmatazz make the printed word seem somewhat dull in comparison. Today, especially as far as newspapers go, sports writers are less relevant than before. People have become accustomed to watching images move rather than follow lines of printed words.

Around the world newspaper readership is on the decline. But a number of highly talented young writers, from Pakistan as from other places around the world, have created a new niche for themselves on websites dedicated to sport. The growing number and sophistication of these sites, and the fact that they can bring news and results almost instantly to viewers, suggests they represent the way forward into the future – with fans everywhere able to gain instant access to information and analysis of every kind.

The love of sport in Pakistan is as old as the country itself. While cricket has, through time, assumed a dominant position, sports writers in the country have traditionally been expected to cover a variety of events. Writers such as the late S.A. Bokhari had for decades written on a variety of sports, with his sometimes surreal pen, and so did Imtiaz Sipra and Zakir Hussain Syed; Syed today continues to bring his expertise to readers of his columns.

Other writers, beginning with those who have become legends, including Omar Kureishi who dominated cricket writing through the 1960s and 1970s, and later Gul Hameed Bhatti, concentrated chiefly on cricket and all its intricacies. Somewhat ironically, even though English is a language used only by a tiny minority in the country — many of the best known sports writers have been known for their work in that language. While there are indeed writers in Urdu, some with a huge degree of expertise, the structures and mechanisms of newspapers, as well as the patterns of reading in a country where even today barely 50 per cent of people are literate, have kept them somewhat restricted.

Limitations on budgets and the particular set of priorities prevailing within the media industry have meant only a handful of writers have been able to regularly travel overseas. This has been a major factor in the struggle of Pakistani sports writing to keep pace with that from countries where luxuries such as greater specialisation, more money and wider readerships buoy sports writers to greater heights and greater fame.

In many instances, for reasons linked to pay structures, writing has not been a full-time occupation even for some of the bigger names in the field. Careers in some cases have been short and sports writing has not always been the first choice of those in the field. Today many have chosen — not just at home but also around the world — to combine it with work on TV.

In the past, combinations have ranged from radio commentary to totally unrelated professions. This has often brought a wider vision into the sporting arena from the world that surrounds it, but of course also brought with this many disadvantages in terms of time devoted to the game at hand or the ability to follow up on stories.

Weaknesses in the way sport is set up in the country have sometimes hindered writing on it. At the domestic level, there is little real following for competitions which often lack color or excitement and this means skills for those covering events are built essentially in the setting of elite sport or international contests. The other, wider issues of journalism, including politicisation, corruption and alignment with specific cliques have also of course had their impact on sports writing.

While this was less true of earlier times, today the powerful pull of cricket has meant there has been little effort to explore other sports, or take on an examination of issues. The matter of why boxing talent arising in places like Lyari has not been properly promoted, or why squash has declined to such a marked degree have of course been written on, but perhaps not given the amount of attention they deserve. The element of investigative journalism that has considerable potential in sports has not been fully developed.

But of course much about sport — the good, the glorious, the bad and the ugly — have been brought forward by sports writers. The failures in hockey, notably since the end of the 1980s, betting in cricket and in the last few months the triumphs of Pakistani women on the cricket field, and, rather unusually, the skiing slope, have all been brought before us by sports writers.

The interviews they conduct and the images they paint can stay with us much longer than images on the TV screen. There are in houses everywhere in the country scrapbooks filled with columns or dispatches from the past, the faded yellowing newsprint and the accompanying pictures perhaps passed on from one generation to the next, a lasting reminder of the victories and defeats from the past. The same process of penning words continues, and the writings from today will one day form a part of our sporting history.

Along the way there have been some rather unexpected twists in the story of Pakistani sports writing. The nation has produced a number of women covering contests most notably in cricket, but also in other sports. Their presence in media boxes has often come as a surprise to those with stereotypical ideas about the country and its culture. The tradition continues, with women continuing to write on sport as eloquently and with as much passion as their male counterparts.

Sports and sports writing of course go together. They cannot be separated. Through the years much of the national enthusiasm for sport has been built by those who write on it. The foundations from the past continue to be built upon, with new flair and expertise added on layer by layer as the structure continues to grow stronger and rise higher.

 

(The writer has been a cricket correspondent and has covered international contests in various countries)

Since the onset of spring one has been noticing the lack of feverish activity that usually characterises the coming of this season. Traditionally, spring has been welcomed in this part of the world with the cultural tools honed by the community over a period of time.

If this dampener continues, it is feared that our country will become a mere consumer of cultural products rather than its producer. We know of many countries in our neighbourhood, which are massive consumers of cultural products while not enjoying the ability or the open environment needed to be creative.

In the recent past, in some countries awash with money, not only well-known ballet and opera productions have been invited to perform in newly-built lavish halls but very reputable museums and art galleries have set up opulent outlets as well. Even in museums and art galleries, the works on display are more about other cultures, peoples and histories than their own. Rather than being a journey of discovery into the past, it is more a spectacle of precious items grandly displayed. Many awards and other such glitzy ceremonies regarding films produced elsewhere are held regularly in the name of cultural activity.

In our society, too, there is a dichotomy — which does not object to participating in artistic and cultural activity but is totally abhorrent towards the people who create it and distances itself from the artistic process itself. These people are only concerned with the finished product without wanting to mire themselves with the unruly passions of the creative act itself. Oblivious in this duality, the partaking of enjoyment of art is his or her right but its creation is the responsibility of someone else.

And obviously this not a new trend or tendency, nor can it be attributed to the policies of one recent government, or for that matter the policies pursued by various governments since independence. For it has less to do with the policies of governments and more to do with the cultural moorings ingrained in us.

Being cheap and portable, film has been one form of cultural product that even if not permitted could be viewed in private due to the nature of its technology. The domestic television channels, bland and sanitised, are substituted by the satellite that expose a whole new world. It is viewed massively despite ritualised opprobrium at the personal level, fear of societal backlash and restrictions by the government.

But our region even in the worst of times has been a producer of cultural products — the people’s creative talent has always overridden the ruthless censorship imposed either in the name of politics, religion or morality. But this year seems to have been marked by reduction in the level of activities.

As it is, all the companies and business houses too chose this season as being propitious to celebrate their achievements and propagate so through some cultural extravaganza. Similarly, the governments also chose this season to organise at the state/governmental level many activities to show a positive response to the change of season and the corresponding hopes, aspirations and emotional reactions of the populace. But it appears that this year generally there has been a general dampener about the departing of winter and the coming of spring.

Some of our cultural practices which had been thriving and flourishing for the past centuries have been bracketed with religions and hence forbidden. If Basant is Hindu then Baisakhi is Sikh and the recent Valentine’s Day celebrations wholly Christian. And the rest, a grand imperialist design to enslave by making us weak through the twin overdoses of indulgence and lasciviousness.

Usually in such repressive conditions it is the people who escape society that provide relief. The diaspora has been one segment of the population that thrives in more open conditions and creates its cultural expression that shows the way to the people back home. Now the new venues that have been introduced through technological breakthroughs have created platforms of alternative expressions not that easy to control by the mechanism of the state.

We should owe this to the media, which has made the distant cultures very close and also has a finger on the pulse of changing trends and attitudes.

Trends in cultural activity becoming more obvious by the day may give an insight into our attitude towards the arts in general and the performing arts in particular. If there had been no media coverage through satellite the World Cup matches that could not be held in Pakistan would have seemed very distant. The media annihilated the distance and reduced the pain — and we live in the illusion as if the World Cup is being staged as close and intimate as our bedrooms.

Pakistan television channels and those on the satellite have been brethrens in the past decade or so and have liberated the people from the sneaking hunt for news and entertainment. Ours is similarly a huge market for Indian films and other cultural products because we have stopped producing films and as strictures are laid at the door of any other cultural activity or product the field has been left wide open for any other player.

It is not only repression that can drain talent away — it is also opportunity and finances. There was hardly any repression in Europe but the best of their talent was plucked by the much mightier Hollywood. The net result has been that European cinema which stood its ground, as an alternative cinema to the polyglot Hollywood got totally emaciated to perilously survive on state handouts.

Under-the-counter moves are always taking place and much in show business and advertising is being exchanged between India and its smaller neighbours. There is nothing insidious about it but if our own cultural expression is always put down in the name of either politics, religion or morality it will resurface is some form in some other area. So let us be creators of cultural products rather than being mere consumers — and take pride in our productions rather than splurge money on what the others have created.

Several months ago a friend of mine organised a huge exhibition of children’s drawings at Alhamra Art Galleries, Lahore. Contrary to her expectations, no art critic reviewed the show which, according to her, displayed some brilliant examples of child art. Although parents and relatives of participating children bought a number of works, the show was not covered in the mainstream press and so the public remained unaware about the event.

For my friend, children’s drawings were much better than many works of professional artists. These, she thought, should have been written about and praised in the same manner as other artists.

Understandably, her views are passionate and exaggerated to an extent but generally most work produced by children is of an extraordinary nature; it offers the untutored, untrained and unconditioned approach towards image making and use of materials. However, these qualities — which many painters (including Pablo Picasso and Mark Rothko) wished to have — do not elevate a child into a master or professional painter; this happens when he grows up, adopts art as his chosen area, and manages to exercise and display the same creativity and imagination that he possessed as a young boy.

On a slightly different plane, some of my other friends have similar views about their pupils’ art pieces. Often their opinion is unrealistic and superficial. For instance a favourite point of discussion for many tutors is the query about meaning in the work of art. If a student is dealing with some technical issues or trying his hand at formal solutions, these efforts are usually neglected. Instead, a whole baggage of meaning and symbolism is attached to the work produced, which the student himself may not be aware of.

This way, the teacher keeps dictating his own reading of a student’s work, and eventually the student picks vocabulary and terms which are not even understood by him or remotely linked to his work. Under the influence of his tutors, he starts to believe in the great meaning of his works, which was not intended at all. Examples like random choice of turning an initial square into a rectangle, or a casual preference for one shade of orange than the other, which any artist knows are decisions taken without much deliberation or planning (or sometimes are the outcome of professional incapability) are usually interpreted in such an exaggerated and superfluous tone that one loses sense of reality in the act of art making.

This is especially true about the business of making images, which is not about loading each shape, shade, stroke or mark with some heavy or complex meaning. Because art operates on many levels and not just as a set of coded messages to be deciphered and deconstructed. Though one could analyse the way a painter applies his paint or the movement of hand as part of a bigger concern, like the American artist Jackson Pollack’s shift from brush and easel painting to throwing paint on a canvas spread on the floor is seen a conscious move towards letting the unconscious express and reveal itself; but if one tries to pick a single line or a drop of paint and explain its significance and meaning, it would be stretching it to the level of ridiculous.

Often this kind of attitude develops because of our academia’s distance from the activity of art making. Normally art critics, professors (often blamed for being ‘failed’ artists) and writers approach a work of art in a literal sense; responding to our ancient custom of naming and describing each and everything in order to understand and control it. So in the name of comprehending a creative product, the dominant tutor or critic injects his own meaning into it.

The other aspect of this role and position of an art teacher is the process of turning students into their clones. It is often observed that students in an art institution follow their teachers’ style, technique and imagery. This is partly understandable since these teachers also, during their course of studies, had imitated their instructors and seniors, because to follow another artist is a means to learn something new. The problem arises when a student is unable to think individually or work independently and only imitates his mentor (Probably this was the reason why veteran art teacher Khalid Iqbal always avoided showing his own work or talking about it in front of his students).

Two recent exhibitions in Lahore and Karachi illustrate different approaches towards learning from a master. In the exhibition called Silsila, artists who studied drawing or painting at the studio of R. M. Naeem showed their works. The fact that these artists — including several important names of the present day art scene of Pakistan — were connected to R. M. Studio by and large did not affect or modify their styles, positions and practices. A number of these artists devised their own vocabulary, distinct from their teacher’s art.

Wahab Jaffar’s exhibition in Lahore indicates how a person, once inspired from a leading painter (Ahmed Parvez), is still associated with his imagery. Jaffar’s works on canvases are developed from Parvez’s paintings, but one could find a marked difference between the source and the inspired one. If compared, Parvez’s work appears vibrant, loosely constructed, casual and open, whereas Jaffar’s canvases are more controlled. Thus the element of female face against a colourful background and the subject of flower vase seem like variations on the same scheme. One feels that the artist has obediently followed his mentor, but lacks his vitality — a vitality that was possible because of the artist’s ability to plunge into dangerous domains.

This relationship of mentor and follower reminds of an anecdote about William de Kooning. Interviewing him, art historian and critic Henry Geldzahler asked if he is worried that everyone was making a good de Kooning those days. The painter brushed aside the question, saying ‘not at all; because he is the only one who can make a bad de Kooning also!’

 

Gallery for all

The Gor Khutree site museum in Peshawar, known commonly as the City Museum, founded in 2006, comprised of two galleries — an archaeological gallery and an ethnological gallery. The galleries are located in an ordinary looking building originally built for local administration.

The artefacts on display in the archaeological gallery present the unique feature of the site as the only place which holds the complete profile of the major cultures present in the region since the Indo-Greek times (2nd to1st BC) till the British Raj.

The terracotta pieces from the Indo-Greek period mainly have lamps, animals, and human figurines. A very elaborately decorated female figure, usually known as ‘the Baroque Lady’, show the ornate nature of style in vogue among the ladies here more than two thousand years back.

A few quern stones on display here show the continuity of the tradition with this period, which were operated by the ladies of the households, attended from the neighbourhood and is said to be the birthplace of the famous tappa genre in Pashto poetry. There are still some direct references to the quern stones sung in some tappas today, in which the grain-grinding lady misses her beloved who is away on the farms.

Stone relics from the Sytho-Parthian period — 1st century BC to 1st century AD — are the only major variants form its predecessor on display here.

The major shift was brought by the Kushans (first to fourth AD) who converted to Buddhism and used schist, chert, and soapstones for religious and utilitarian purposes. The terracotta findings from this period show additions like pitchers, ovens, and a variety of bowls.

It was not until the Hindu-Shahi period (eighth to ninth AD) when the use of glaze was introduced to this site. They have inscribed some glazed pottery with Sarada inscriptions on them. A very interesting piece from this period is a pot with green glaze, spout, a raised bottom, handle, and spout. The exact use of which is still not known.

Ghaznavid period (10th – 11th AD) has left interesting pieces of grey ware, glazed and unglazed pottery with elaborate geometric, floral, and calligraphic patterns and inscriptions. The local artisans are still following some of the floral and crisscross patterns. There are soapstone cooking plates, jugs, bowls, and terracotta lamps with handles and pedestals.

There are very interesting pieces of jewellery and ornamental objects on display from the Sultanate period (1205 – 1526 AD). The use of glass for bangles and beads, metal for utensils and rings, and semi-precious stones are the usual findings from this period.

It was the Mughal period (17th – 19th AD) that has left traces of some nude human busts from both genders, made with terracotta.

The coins collection on display at the museum covers all periods starting from the Indo-Greek to the present. All these coins were found on the site in various excavations that commenced in 1992 and still going on.

— Naeem Safi

 

 

 

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