June 21, 2003

On the hottest day in Lahore, probably one of the most exciting exhibitions of this season was inaugurated. The show, titled Around the Miniature, Too was held at Royaat Gallery (June5-17), and comprised 42 works by 30 artists. It included paintings, drawings, etchings, miniatures, computer generated prints, animation, mixed media works and installations.

Curated by Quddus Mirza, the show was a rehashed version of another show he curated last year at Karachi’s Canvas Gallery. Although the exhibition in Karachi, called Around Miniature was based on the same theme, the recent show in Lahore was significant for many other reasons. Primarily it was organized in a city known for the recent revival/resurrection of miniature painting, especially in the ateliers (or is it alters?) of NCA.

Owing to its immense popularity, the art of miniature has acquired a value, unprecedented for other art forms here. If at one point it has turned into a genre linked with the past, and a means to identify with the aesthetic heritage of this region, it is also the most suitable coin in the art market today because of its small (manageable) scale. Hence it is not astonishing that every foreigner art lover immediately falls in love with this ‘exotic’ art form.

The exhibition at Royaat Gallery, according to the curator, was “an attempt to view miniature in a broader context. This is to an attempt to relieve/liberate it from the confinements and the sanctities of scale, laborious craftsmanship and traditional imagery.”

The work, collected at the show presented a wide interpretation of this art practice so much in vogue these days. Not only it included works in diverse mediums, but from different periods also, as the earliest one was a large painting by Zahoorul Akhlaq made in 1974. In a canvas divided in two parts, he incorporated the figures found in miniatures, but rendered these in minimal hues and a few strokes. This painting testified that Zahoor was looking at the possibility of miniature painting’s contemporary usage as early as the mid-seventies (well before the so-called, recent popularity of miniature among the artists of Lahore).

Now to anyone in his/her right mind Zahoor does not come across as a miniature artist, but as Borges writes about Kafka, that he has not only influenced his followers but changed our perceptions of his predecessors also. Similarly, the rise of miniature painting since the mid-eighties has altered our understanding about the works executed before that era. So one locates the links of miniatures in the works created earlier and in other techniques/mediums.

The other side of this picture is that the increasing popularity of a certain way of working brings along a kind of ‘dissident’ approach too. In fact, that approach, being a deviation from the orthodox practice, serves to introduce new elements, thus becoming a means to continue the tradition.

A whole new generation comprising Shahzia Sikander, Aisha Khalid, Imran Qureshi, Talha Rathore, Nusra Latif, Waseem Ahmed and Saira Wasim, have been experimenting in this art form. Their work — which can be termed contemporary miniature — is being shown round the world besides attracting admirers at home.

A variety of these approaches towards the art of miniature were visible at the exhibition in Lahore. The works by Khalid Saeed Butt and Saira Ansari were the examples of conventional methods. While some other painters, employing the same technique aimed to introduce new imagery — or the same imagery in a new format. The works of Murad Khan, Khadim Ali and Attiya Shaukat (all presently studying miniature at NCA) can be mentioned in this regard.

Two mixed-media works by Imran Qureshi — with one miniature print (from a book on the subject) hung close to an unframed miniature painted by the artist — seemed to be a comment on the current practice and beliefs about the art of miniature: That it has acquired a prestige and value as a traditional art (craft) form.

It also addressed the issues about copying old samples, using references from other visual sources and the matter of adapting various ‘non-conventional’ materials. In this piece Imran chose to display the work executed by him in a casual and unimportant way, whereas the mechanically printed reproductions of the genre were put inside the golden frames.

Almost in the same manner, Rashid Rana challenged the notion of originality and sacredness attached to the art of miniature. In his work, I Love Miniature, the figure of Mughal emperor (Jahangir) was composed with multiple images of the commercial signboards. From a distance these appeared as the painterly components of the miniature painting. In the manner of its construction — and more so the technique of its execution — the computer digital printing posed a question to the notion of craft and artist’s touch associated with the old miniature.

Through this piece, Rashid focused on a pictorial element, the billboard, which at the moment is not acknowledged as ‘art’, but certainly is part of the urban visual culture in present-day Pakistan. In addition to that, the computer-generated print — a montage of small pictures of bill boards — operated on a visible contrast. And the irony: the commercial hoardings, which in reality were huge objects, were reduced to a tiny scale while the miniature painting was enlarged out of its usual and normal dimensions. The altered size of the two genres, in a subtle way, stirred our perception about these modes of image making.

A few other exhibits also presented uncommon views on the methods of miniature making. For instance, the triptych made by David Alesworth, Adnan Madani and Mariam Abbasi, which was called R.G.B. The work consisted of text piece, a sequence of photographs and the imprint of a squirrel’s body on traditionally prepared paper (used for painting miniature on it).

In this work, the reference was made to Iqbal’s famous poem for children narrating a conversation between a squirrel and a mountain as well as towards the custom of killing the animal in order to create ‘exquisite works of art’. Hence the whole process of getting hold of squirrels was recorded in small pictures in one of the panels. The humorous, ironical and critical tone of the work turned it into a distinct component of the show.

A similar attitude was evident in the work produced by Bani Abidi. Her animation, made like a computer game was played on a laptop, placed in the middle hall of the gallery. She combined the items from the ordinary miniature paintings, i.e. the garden with cypress trees and flowers, the figure of the king and the details of his dress.

All of these precious ingredients were exposed to a small icon from the video games, which systematically devoured each object, and on every stage the screen kept on flashing the reward in increasing points. Till the only thing remained on an empty lot was the turban of the king, thus alluding to the short life of power.

The other artists, who used the computer, or its sensibility, were Muhammed Ali Talpur and Asima Khan. The former altered a love painting by replacing the head of the prince with his own and inserting the text “You don’t know how much I love you” in the shape of a blob resting on top of the picture. The latter built her surfaces with the help of small-pixilled squares to create images which harked back at our politics and history.

Alongside the inherent political ideas and formal devices, many participants in the exhibition employed a variety of materials also, mainly fabric of different kinds. Although this material was present in the works by Reeta Saeed and Aqeela Shirazi, Sania Samad fully utilized fabric in her installation Breeding Slaves. The work was constructed with several small velvet pieces cut in the pattern of a dress and functioning as the frames to display various miniatures from history.

The artist made her intervention in the art of the past by replacing the faces of the kings and ministers with the those of known women and her friends and relatives. The piece in its professional execution conveyed multiple meanings.

With works of this diverse nature, curator Quddus Mirza made interesting connections through placement of these pieces. The works were arranged by the similarity in themes and identical concerns, by diversity of mediums and by the common visual elements or techniques they showed.

On the whole, the show reflected a creative scheme of display, apart from the curator’s own painting being part of the show. A practice, which is not observed or respected elsewhere, but probably in Lahore it is not an extraordinary act. This reminded one of the recently held 8th National Exhibition in which paintings made by the director general of the PNCA and four other members on the executive committee organizing the show were included in the exhibition.