|
 |     |
 |     |
|
Playing with a Loaded Gun: |
|
zoom: cliquer sur la photo |
 |
Le jeu avec un fusil chargé: Texte de la commissaire Atteqa Ali On dit que les opposés s’attirent – certains artistes contemporains au Pakistan les réunissent même de force. Ils examinent les questions sociales, culturelles et politiques les plus difficiles de la Nation en employant des techniques et des matériaux paradoxalement beaux et enjoués. Cette nouvelle génération d'artistes fréquenta l'école d'art après la dictature militaire de Zia-ul-Haq qui se termina en 1988. Son soutien des arts s'étendit seulement au paysagisme apolitique ainsi qu'à la calligraphie Islamique. Alors que les artistes n'ont jamais cessé d'utiliser d'autres formats et d'être politisé, maintenant une horde critique travaille avec une variété de techniques dans le dessein d'interroger la société Pakistanaise. Certains se servent de la technique de la miniature, élégante et fine comme un joyau; d'autres intègrent dans leur travail des images, matériaux et styles issus de la vibrante culture locale de masse. Ce sont ces oeuvres par lesquelles les artistes de cette exposition dévoilent la nature contradictoire de la vie contemporaine au Pakistan [Il ne nous est malheureusement possible que de traduire le premier
paragraphe en français. La suite du texte est en langue originale
anglaise]. |
|
|
|
 |
|
Take for example Saira Wasim’s series of miniature
paintings Honor Killings. The artist examines the practice of
murdering a daughter, sister, or wife who is perceived to be promiscuous
in order to preserve the family’s honor. Her paintings charm
the viewer even as they allegorize slain victims who are represented
as delicate and beautiful flowers. In her art, Wasim draws attention
to a subject that she believes many people in the country ignore.
In fact all of the artists in Playing with a Loaded Gun use their
artwork for political means, yet they do so in nuanced ways. By
creating works that pose more questions than provide answers,
the artists present current Pakistani issues in a manner that
engages viewers in a dialogue, rather than submitting them to
a soapbox speech. |
|||
 |
|
Like Wasim, Adeela Suleman also highlights a hazard women
experience in Pakistan, but her approach is quite different. She
creates an installation about the dangers women face riding motorcycles.
For the sake of modesty, women risk riding sidesaddle behind men,
even though the smallest bump can jar them from their precarious
position. Suleman displays practical accessories, such as helmets
in a rainbow of colors and a variety of styles; these items make
it possible to ride safely while, most importantly, maintaining
a fashionable hairdo. |
 |
|
Masooma Syed also comments on the strict conventions
of female beauty and propriety. In her minimalist sculptures,
Syed collects and manipulates the remains left in a comb or brush
and nail clippings. In Pakistan, a woman without long hair and
well-groomed nails is said to be without beauty. Syed restores
radiance by transforming abject materials into elegant objects. |
|
 |
|
By merging seemingly divergent sentiments - grim and
pleasing - artists in Pakistan push the envelope on propriety
by publicizing private, ugly truths in unexpected ways. Reeta
Saeed opens the door to examining domestic violence in contemporary
Pakistan, yet she does so with a delicate palette. Drawing mainly
with graphite on a white or beige surface, Saeed lifts imagery
from older miniatures and transplants these pictorial elements
onto items found in the marketplace such as shirts, bags, and
fabric. She uses graceful images from the past that depict the
age-old theme of the lovelorn in order to look at the terrible
subject of abuse today. |
|
 |
|
Finding some humor in tragic situations is essential
for life in Pakistan, where even the founding of the nation combined
the joyous celebration of independence from British rule with
the violent events that ensued when it partitioned from India.
As they celebrate Pakistan’s fifty-sixth anniversary, people
continue to face the tragic consequences of the nation’s
beginnings. For example, the nuclearization of both Pakistan and
India and the struggle over Kashmir still threaten life in both
countries today. Humorously and problematically, Imran Qureshi
comments on these political tensions. The artist robes and displays
nuclear weapons as Mughal emperors, the powerful Islamic rulers
of South Asia from the 16th to the 19th Century. In his miniatures
made from recycled book pages, bombs receive the full regalia
and respect typically bestowed on a king. The nuclear bomb is
shown as the most important ruler and protector of the nation;
yet this king has the potential to destroy the country as well. |
|
 |
|
Similarly Ambreen Butt alludes to current conflicts in
her pristine paintings. Although Butt is now living in the United
States, she mirrors the imagery of the artists working in her
native country. She draws on the miniature painting tradition,
which has a complicated history in Pakistan where it relates to
the nation’s Islamic heritage because of its extensive use
in Mughal court workshops. A simurgh, a legendary bird depicted
in older miniatures, finds its way into her contemporary images
defecating bombs. In mythology, the simurgh is defined at times
as a protector, while it is also described as a destroyer. Perhaps
this dual interpretation can also be applied to bombs. |
|
 |
|
Like Butt, Alia Hasan-Khan lives in the United States
and also comments on the potential devastation of bombs in unexpected
ways. For this exhibition she created dessert boxes that poke
fun at the humanitarian food packages that the U.S. military dropped
in Afghanistan in October 2001. In her version, Hasan-Khan included
a ludo, a sweet Pakistani cake, prepared with wires and instructions
for how to eat it. The artist comments on the ongoing miscommunication
and misunderstanding between countries and cultures and reflects
on the American campaign that probably caused more damage than
good. The food packages were the same color as yellow cluster
bombs also being dropped by the United States during its war against
the Taliban. As a result, when starving civilians saw yellow objects
falling from the sky, they believed that they represented the
rations that would save their lives. Instead they faced injury
and death upon retrieving them. While fought in the neighboring
country, this war had a great effect on life in Pakistan. |
|
 |
|
Many artists realize the significance of looking beyond
Pakistan’s borders to better understand the nation. Among
other topics, they explore the influences of the West on Pakistan.
Rashid Rana considers the function of Western television, newspapers,
and magazines during wartime. In This Picture Is Not at Rest he
manipulates mass-produced posters that Pakistanis use to decorate
their homes cheaply. These represent tranquil scenes in European
urban areas. He disrupts the peace by inserting images of military
actions taken from different news media, pictures of dead victims
of war, and also corporate logos of multinational companies that
reap the benefits of battle when they swoop in to rebuild devastated
nations. Both the idyllic posters and the disturbing images are
imported from the West, even as the battles are waged in the East. |
|
 |
|
Although they face external pressures along with internal
instabilities, Pakistan’s citizens enjoy the pleasures of
life including everyday rituals of eating culinary delights and
the more significant festivities such as the birth of a child.
After becoming a mother, Risham Syed began to include references
to babies in her work and in Evolution Threads she incorporates
three baby-sized kurtas, traditional shirts worn in Pakistan.
Fully aware of the dangers of growing up in this region, she has
made the shirts not out of the typical white fabric; instead she
uses army camouflage and Rexene, a plastic-like material used
on parts of rickshaws and bus seats. On them she embroiders missiles.
Stitching and embroidering, brought to South Asia by the colonizers,
reflects the Victorian English values instilled into the upper
class of Pakistan today. |
|
 |
|
Hasnat Mehmood goes further back in history and refers to the legacy of the Mughal Empire in Pakistan. He appropriates the Mughal miniature painting tradition in works that he creates in the same manner he would approach writing a letter. His is a stream-of-consciousness technique in which he jumps from one subject to the next - from personal stories to the horrors of war. In the end he includes a postage stamp that he designs as a profile bust of a turbaned man sometimes colored black, other times painted in a camouflage print. The stamp, used in countless mailed items, is an ideal way to convey messages to a large and vast public. What do these artists want to tell, and to which public? Together, the works in Playing with a Loaded Gun offer a critique of Pakistani politics and society. Even though the audience in New York may not appreciate what certain images mean for people in Pakistan, recurrent symbols such as guns and bombs will convey the impression of violence. But then the dazzling beauty of some of the works and the playful techniques of others will serve to complicate a one-sided reading of Pakistani society. In the end viewers from anywhere will be left with a multidimensional appreciation of life today in Pakistan. © Atteqa Ali, Septembre 2003 |
|
|
|
© |