September 28, 2002

Karachi’s Momart these days has become a vibrant arena of Dilawar Mirza’s world. “His is a vision that idealizes human beings as apostles of love and peace”, someone once wrote about him. In this day and age, it is indeed a daring thought!

At 58, Mirza is still young and strong, constantly putting his artistic faith and potential to the test. Yes, he is your artist who likes to paint pretty pictures that may be of limited social relevance but his aim could be just that, to feast the eye with a visual delight. Born in Lucknow, he first took fancy to art at the tender age of eight, drawing human figures with chalk or charcoal on prohibited surfaced — walls and floors. He took his art training at the Lucknow School of Fine Arts, imbibing basic skills and studying art history.

Mirza held his first solo in 1969 and then there was no looking back as a string of one-man shows followed along with a series of prestigious awards. His last solo took place in 1988 at the Arts Council of Pakistan, Karachi. He now has hundreds of watercolour and oil paintings to his credit.

In this exhibition, he has borrowed much from the disciplines of Persian and Mughal miniature painting in terms of character, content and treatment. His subject may be hackneyed but its pure appeal of drama more than makes up for it. Human figures dominate his busy compositions, pulsating with fresh, brilliant hues. This profound sense of colour comes only with a practised eye and a expert hand. His supreme command over line and form also unfolds years of drawing experience.

A chain of stories seem to emerge through his works, forming an intriguing narrative. Wild eyed, dusky damsels enthral men with their seductive stare, while they gaze back with stars in their eyes. Some shy away from their lovers during mysterious rendezvous, others seem to rule over the hearts and minds of their seducers.

Long, luxuriant manes, arched eyebrows, painted nails and other fineries of female indulgence have all been dealt with manicured detail, creating an air of enchanting romance. Attire has played an important role too. The artist’s emphasis on skimpy cholis, tinkling jewellry, fancy khussas and flowing ghagras express the affection he has lavished on his female subjects. They are clad in clinging costume but, ironically, their tresses are draped over with unending dupattas.

The damsels are painted with a patient hand, in delicate lines, which enhance their caricatured sharp features. Figures are seated, standing, waiting, conversing, dancing, picking flowers or lounging around in the luxury of languidity. They are not static, yet time seems to have slowed down, as if no pressing duties summon them. Peacocks and pigeons listen to them perform, almost assuming a mythical presence. Their world is rather unreal.

There are broad hints of courtly life like the takht, ornate carpets and decorative architecture. In one painting, a king, presumably Shah Jehan, stands beside the Taj Mahal, wooing the love of his life. A few glimpses of domestic life also make their rare appearance, as a number of keen family portraits out of a bygone era feature in the collection.

Architecture is used widely for the backdrop, among other props. In some cases, it failed as a filler device as it crammed the space instead of expanding it. Views of meadows, gardens and hills afar, are visible through arched openings and windows. They add depth and perspective to the flat planes and bring the idle dream of an idyllic life closer to real life. What spoils this environment, however, are the gaudy golden frames encasing Mirza’s paintings.

The artist has used the gouache technique and transparent watercolour washes applied in layer over layer so that a fading glow is achieved. One’s mind cannot but escape, if only briefly, to the treasures of Chughtai. His master technique of watercolour created desired atmospheric light effects and radiated diffused light which caused profound aesthetic drama. The fading glow at sunset time, a moonlit night, etc., have all made their appearance successfully in Mirza’s works.

As we move chronologically from one piece to the next, we see an evolution in progress. His line becomes more confident and sensitive and some original ideas start finding their way into his work. In his later works, he has rendered some parts of painting in pure line while the rest have been painted. He goes further to produce an artwork in which only the multi-coloured blouses of a group of five silly girls having a tete-a-tete are painted while the rest stands done in line alone.

The drapery and fabric patterns assume another character when done in just line. This switch is called for as it is a welcome break from the predictable. These few works were more captivating than the rest because here originality had stepped in to replace the familiar and conventional.