Centuries-old motifs are being used in innovative ways in the fashion industry. Images on Sunday takes a closer look at its evolution, meaning and history.

Going back to our roots

Fashion has brought indigenous designs back into the mainstream. Is it cultural appropriation or reinterpretation?

by Salwat Ali

Two years ago Zaheer Abbas showed his design collection called ‘Ajrakistan’ at the Sindh Cultural Festival in Karachi. The ajrak fabric was tweaked into skirts, hot pants, tunics and even statement top hats. “I wanted to work with ajrak [fabrics] for some time and the festival just ended up happening at the right time,” says the designer.

Not only did the use of traditional motifs garner Abbas a lot of media attention, it proved to be a good business decision. “I got a lot of orders for the collection and, in fact, Pakistanis living abroad particularly bought it. It was trendy and yet it resonated with their nationality,” he points out.

Abbas is not the only designer to turn to traditional motifs for inspiration and materials to work with. From the new guard (Nida Azwer) to the old (Faiza Samee), Pakistani designers continue to deconstruct and reinvent traditional textile motifs and patterns such as paisleys, ajrak, truck art, floral motifs, etc (see Heritage meets haute couture).

Today traditional motifs are enjoying a new life as emblems of cutting edge contemporary fashion. Overstated with heavy embroidery, embellished with ornament and finery or restated with the subtleties of Western design they are fodder to the next generation’s designer sensibility. Ruling the ramps and filtering down into street-wear, they are bold, in-your-face and chic.

Some critics point out that such designs have been stripped of their historical context (see The story of design) but there’s no denying that they are the foundation of a thriving fashion business. “The paisley is very often seen in various designer collections. It is one of the most popular motifs [and is] used by Khaddi, Sana Safinaz, Maria B., Zara Shahjahan, Mina Hasan, Shela Chattor, Elan. There is hardly any designer who has not used this motif in some form or the other,” points out Faryal Hussain Khurram, a member of the Pakistan Institute of Fashion Design (PIFD).

Khaadi’s reinterpreted paisley shows how much success can be drawn from a modern twist on just one motif or pattern. “With a strong influence of jamavar motifs, it has created its own distinct motifs. These motifs are not only beautiful but so appealing to the customer base that it’s hardly ever that one goes to a Khaddi store and [does] not find it thronged by customers,” Khurram emphasises.

Designers and textile mills are also flooding the market in digital prints and new-age fabrics based on reinterpreted motifs and techniques: the ultimate example of new-age technology meets age-old traditions. According to the PIFD member, “[the] types of motifs that are popular are phulkari Pakhtun, Sindhi and Balochi motifs. … Not only are they popular with [the] youth but they also strike a chord with people from these provinces. Traditional embroidered necklines are used in modern prints and even mirror work can be seen in the form of print.”

“The rise of digital prints has meant that original necklines, borders, etc are arranged on Adobe Photoshop and then printed on fabric. These are used by a lot of different brands namely Kayseria, Gul Ahmed, Al Karam, [and] Firdous among others,” she adds.

Mining the rich repository of traditional motif and pattern, as a contemporary idiom, Pakistani designers are creating an extraordinary spectrum of fashion, from ornate bridal ensembles to minimalist daywear.

Is reclaim and revision of heritage the new fashion aesthetic?

“It seems to be,” says Noorjehan Bilgrami, a veteran textile designer and artist. However, she is quick to point out that “Fashion is always short-term — a deliberate positioning of the commodity and directly related to consumerism — a Western concept that has steadily escalated. In Eastern philosophy, the emphasis was on timelessness; hence what was worn by [our] grandmothers remained relevant in terms of quality and craftsmanship.”

In other words, how generations viewed what and how they wore has been turned upside down with commercialism. The reincorporation of indigenous designs into contemporary fashion, even if driven by commerce, is, according to Bilgrami, still a welcome transition from the earlier philosophy-driven designers.

“It certainly is a refreshing change to see that the current [design] direction and inspiration is from our heritage and not the bizarre medley of Western-Eastern fusion but, there is still a great vacuum — in-depth understanding is lacking — and the need for research based interventions are necessary.”

Many critics and experts draw parallels between the miniature art revolution that revitalised art in Pakistan and the motif and pattern resurgence that has energised the country’s fashion industry. Just like contemporary miniature was spiked with cheeky socio-political critique, the highly creative East-West fusions reflect the changing face of society. Today’s cadre of designers and artists draw from their cultural past to create fashion that reflects the changing local-global times in which they live.

What’s in a design?

However, design being a symbol of the times is not a new concept; historically motifs and patterns capture the geography and identity of their creators. For instance, in rural areas, the ajrak pattern, the Swati motif and phulkari spread or the Kashmiri kairi variations are still symbols of regional identity even though in urban centres their real formations have transformed.

Bilgrami points out that colours and designs of motifs are often dictated by what was available in the area. “Colours were dictated by the natural vegetation which grew in that area and the patterning [embroidered, woven or printed] remained exclusive to that region. These became the identity and an intrinsic part of the existence of the people [from] that particular region.”

It was also rural areas that were spared the commercialisation of design brought on by British colonisation of the subcontinent and its textile industry. And thus, unlike in urban centres, Bilgrami argues, “in the distant, inaccessible areas, the indigenous patterns evolved very slowly, retaining the high canons of geometry and design sensibilities that were almost sacred to the area and communities”.

However, this general perception that motif and pattern are powerful cultural markers is underscored with subtleties. Two textile professionals — Bilgrami and Iram Zia Raja — airing their opinions on the subject brought greater definition to this perspective. Pronouncing the statement that ‘motif and pattern are powerful cultural markers’ as “absolutely correct,” Bilgrami observed that “historically, from the time of Kot Diji, in the Indus Valley Civilisation, spread over the subcontinent and beyond, there is a common repertoire of pattern evident on the pottery, the architectural ornamentations, woodwork, stone and metal works. These patterns echo in the textiles of the subcontinent, whether woven, embroidered or hand-block printed.”

Concurring only partially, Raja, faculty head of textile design at the National College of Arts (NCA), points out that, “In our milieu, motif and patterns were once powerful cultural markers but not anymore”. She feels that “to associate culture with a sense of history will not be right. Culture denotes something alive and history is perceived as knowledge of bygone and forgotten times. The third industrial revolution and neo-colonialism has finally ripped every culture of its identity and uniqueness in unimaginable ways.”

Is it reinterpretation, appropriation or colonisation?

Both Raja and Bilgrami point out that the process of the stripping of historical and cultural context from motifs can be traced back to colonisation. According to Bilgrami, the commercialisation of the subcontinent’s indigenous design began when “the East India Trading Company, commission[ed] hybrid designs in Indian textiles to satiate the tastes of the elite in France and England where it had become fashionable to wear chintz and paisley. The new patterns then became part of the design repertoire in the urban market.”

Khurram similarly traces the evolution of design to colonisation but points out that some motifs such as the paisley were brought to the subcontinent from elsewhere. “It originates in ancient Persia [and was] later used a lot in Emperor Akbar’s reign on Kashmiri shawls [which] were usually worn by men on ceremonial occasions. The paisley or Kashmiri boots [back] then had absorbed a lot of influence from China, Middle East and India. The paisley in Mughal time was not as we see it now on shawls but it was a curving flower motif with roots and stems. During the British Raj, the shawls were imported to England and the motifs further evolved.”

Raja argues that the current reinterpretation and commercialisation of motifs is, in a way, the continuation of colonisation of design. “The tragedy this time is that the industry located in our own country and managed by fellow citizens is directly acting as a coloniser. Earlier in the 18th and 19th centuries, our crafts were played with in order to boost the industry of faraway lands, through their representatives in our lands first as trading companies, and later as imperial government. Now the industry ‘dictates’ and appropriates. The sanctity of culture and its representational motifs and patterns is degraded all the time without any sense of remorse.”

Bilgrami laments the disconnection between the maker, culture and motifs that has emerged as a result of centuries of commercialisation. “Now the ajrak and susi are cheaply produced by silk screen or power loom,” she says, noting how “this has undermined the original time-consuming, labour-intensive textiles. In present times, when the traditional artisans are almost gone … the tastes are dictated by the masses [with] … whom the artisans or the producer of the textiles have no contact with.”

And many experts argue that what one sees in the marketplace and mainstream fashion may not necessarily be considered a ‘reinterpretation’. In Raja’s opinion, “Deconstruction and reinvention of traditional textile motifs and patterns is happening in a few art institutions but not in the marketplace. Such concepts are too complex for our market hence these are never encouraged resulting in lack of innovation based merchandise. We are happy just copying.”

One wonders, if any new motifs and patterns have been added to the existing traditional repertoire. Surely in the age of information technology, represented by the barcode, pixel and QR code as characteristic symbols, textiles too, should boast a string of new motifs that illustrate our contemporary cultural sensibilities. Bilgrami, however, isn’t so sure about that.

“In a superficial way, for ‘motif or pattern’ to be of any lasting significance, it has to have an entire cultural ethos in its making … otherwise they are little bubbles on the surface, bursting and forming. Perhaps we need to address what are our ‘contemporary cultural sensibilities’ before any new design can be attributed towards it,” Bilgrami replies perceptively.

Heritage meets haute couture

There is a great demand for traditional embroidery and patterns, and both the old and new guards of fashion have experimented with it

by Maliha Rehman

Heritage fashion is always in vogue. Deep-rooted in tradition, it derives its beauty from an aesthetic honed over the years and an intrinsic individualism. This especially rings true for the subcontinent, with its wealthy genealogy of craft, fabric and motif: the ajrak print of Sindh, mirror work from the interior regions of Sindh and Balochistan, rilli patchwork, gota and myriad stitches that have etched magic through history: kamdani, resham, dabka, gota, vasli and the delicate chashm-i-bulbul among them. Paisleys have long wound their way through the subcontinental canvas, lotuses have floated, peacocks have danced and phulkari has twirled in multicoloured petals.

“Traditional elements in fashion hold great value but only if the designer knows how to interpret them in modern, trendy variations,” observes Wardha Saleem, a young designer with a definite penchant for age-old craft and technique. “I have clients who come to me consistently for ajrak-inspired block prints, and rilli work. The jaali, the poppy flower, phulkari and Mohenjodaro-inspired motifs of geese and lotuses will always be in fashion. I also frequently use indigenous fabric like khaddar, hand-woven silk, formal khaadi and Maysoori net.”

Another designer committed to reviving craft and working it onto modern lines is Sonya Battla. The designer’s store in Karachi reflects a balanced, streamlined convergence of the past and present, thoroughly on-trend and yet, anchored in age-old technique. “Fashion’s very roots are entrenched in craft, often borrowing and building from it and reinventing itself into new avatars,” says the designer. “Kashmiri shawls and paisley are my special love and I also constantly dabble with the phulkari, rilli, hand-loomed fabric, tie and dye, and block prints.”

There are innumerable instances where fashion continues to take inspiration from history and weaves it into spellbinding new creations. On the international high street, one has witnessed skirts, shirts, and even bikinis in ajrak by Forever 21. Zara, meanwhile, dabbled last year with waistcoats worked with ethnic floral embroidered motifs.

Locally, ethnic designs are bestsellers in the extensive market for lawn. Kayseria, for instance, has always proclaimed its predilection for reviving craft, dedicating entire collections to Nasarpuri patterns, truck art, geometric ornaments and the art of Naqqashi.

In couture’s realm, Rizwan Beyg’s designing career is highlighted by the consistent use of techniques like gota-patti, chikankari, mirror work and gota work. His last collection to feature on the catwalk — back in 2014 — paid ode to truck art. Faiza Samee’s work, similarly, is synonymous with the revival and promotion of hand-crafted design.

And the atelier of bridal couture, Bunto Kazmi’s is unparalleled in its traditional craftsmanship. The paisley is stylised by neat stitches, primordial birds swoop down from flight, their wings in variant hues and every floral buti has a design of its own. There is such finesse in Kazmi’s craft that her embroideries resemble paintings from afar. It is only when you come closer that you realise that this is the painstaking brilliance of a thousand tiny stitches.

Nilofer Shahid, another designer renowned for her passion for the past, recalls how she introduced coulorful kora and dabka-work in the country. “Back in the early ’90s I recall how I needed to infuse colour into hand embroideries and sat down with karigars to develop colour in kora and dabka work. I was also one of the first designers to work on heirloom fabrics like kamkhwab.”

Heritage is also a predominating factor spurring some of bridal design’s younger maisons. Nida Azwer’s atelier lays great focus on craftsmanship and thereby, traditional motifs feature frequently in her work. The House of Kamiar Rokni takes inspiration from heirloom pieces, translating their ethos onto ornate, kaleidoscopic, avant-garde fashion.

Heritage fashion is, undoubtedly, timeless and inspires in its wearer a sense of belonging and pride. Tweaked and fine-tuned by modern-day designers into new avatars, its longevity appears guaranteed.

The story of design

Evolving over a period of 5,000 years, Pakistan’s textile arts have their origins in a rich and dynamic past

Some of the most familiar motifs and patterns around us once had deeper and more fascinating meanings and associations than we now realise. The earliest traces of motifs employed in contemporary textiles are from the Pre-Indus Valley Culture (First Period Culture) pottery excavated in the renowned Amri and Kot Diji sites. Checker boards, fish-scales patterns with and without dots, multilinear outlined rectangles and scallops, peepal leaves, chevrons, concentric circles with three rings and sun motifs were common pottery decoration then.

The motifs typical of contemporary Cholistan applique embroidery or rilli (or rallee derived from the Urdu word ralanna which means to mix and connect) work, preserve some of the decorative elements of the early Bronze Age pottery findings of circa 3500 to 2500 BC discovered in Gumla in the Dera Ismail Khan District of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and in Quetta and Nal in Balochistan.

The diamonds and triangles surrounded by multilinear outlines, sometimes enclosing central cross motifs, decorating the Quetta pottery are among the typical rilli motifs. The paintings on Nal Pottery reveal the unique use of multi-coloured designs in red, black, white, yellow, green and blue. These colour combinations are typical not only of Cholistan but of rillies in general, and continue to be characteristic of all textile media from the desert region of southern Punjab and eastern Sindh.

Many decorative elements from the First Period, such as the intersecting circles and the sun motif, continue to appear in the Second Period Culture or Indus Valley Civilisation (2500-1500 BC), some with new variations. Among the new motifs, the swastika and the peacock stylisations painted on pottery or engraved on steatite seals, presumably symbols of distinct religious beliefs, enjoy many contemporary interpretations.

A specific example of the highly evolved use of symbols as ornamentation is the trefoil on the tunic of the Priest King from Mohenjodaro. It also appeared in Sumer, Mesopotamia, one of the ancient cultures where the concept of trinity evolved. The trefoil is believed to be composed of three sun-disks fused together to represent the inseparable unity of the power (or the gods) of sun, water and earth. The use of triples and triangles became part of the decorative composition of Sindh and is preserved today in their repertoire of embroidery motifs.

Birth of the paisley

The symbolic significance of the triple continued during the Fourth Period Culture or the Age of foreign invasions(500 B.C-500 A.D)when migrating people from the north-west brought their diverse cultures and established political dominance in this area. The earliest trace of kairi, known internationally as the paisley is also from this period.

Often composed of three concentric compartments, the central area sometimes contains three flowerettes and the paisley — in this form, it probably symbolised the power of the ancient trinity. It is further embellished with leaves and flowers which further accentuate its life force and is also contended to symbolise wings representing the Soul Bird which protects life and fights the evil eye. The paisley later became very popular particularly in Kashmiri textiles and is a dominant pattern in the famous pashmina shawls. Its Western name derives from the town of Paisley, in West Scotland, a centre for textiles where paisley designs were produced.

Foreign influences shaped our traditional motifs

The Greek contribution during this period is the Swati motifs that are preserved in their embroidery. Their particular way of breaking space into geometric patterns is clearly unique among motifs used in Pakistan. Whether it is a cross or a diamond, the central pattern is surrounded by a symmetrical series of triangles and squares, which extend into continuous divisions of space in an orderly fashion. They do not have radiating lines from the central pattern or curvilinear motifs as are dominant in Sindhi designs based on sun motifs and triples in the form of triangles. In Swat, the embroidery is called bagh, or flower garden. Elsewhere in Pakistan it is called phulkari, an Urdu word derived from phul, meaning flower. In Swati decorated textiles, either the cloth is packed with ornamentation, or the space is stabilised by a centre medallion and decorated with borders.

In the Fifth Period Culture from the 8th to the 15th century a wave of Islamic missionaries, traders and eventually conquerors came from Arabia to the coastal areas of Sindh and Balochistan. Their influence made a great impact as far as Bahawalpur and Multan. Non-figural Islamic arts dominated by infinite variations of repetitive geometric and floral prints adorning monuments in Sindh are still a great source of inspiration to contemporary Pakistani textile designers and an integral part of traditional block-print patterns of Sindh.

During this time Arabia, Egypt and the southern regions of Pakistan shared common craft traditions. A particular method of block printing with indigo called ajrak is a term derived from azraq, an Arabic word for blue. During this period, it was a well-established craft in Sindh and was known to the Arabs not because of its name but because the centres of ajrak production, such as Thatta, were located near the ports of Arab trade. Ajraks were probably exported to Egypt as their method of using mordant and indigo suggest that they were familiar with these prints.

The Sixth Period Culture is dominated by the influence of the Mughal Empire which was founded by Babur in 1526. The Mughals were Muslims of Turkish and Mongolian origin, and besides introducing their own artistic traditions, the emperor Humayun brought in Persian influence when he returned from his exile in Iran. His son, Akbar imported craftsmen from Iran to establish imperial workshops. Later, Akbar’s son Jehangir married Noor Jehan, a Persian patroness of the arts.

The new age of design

Initiating a renaissance of classical arts and uniting the already existing traditions of the subcontinent, the Mughals ushered in a new age acclaimed as the era of Mughal arts. The transformation in designs and motifs was gradual and imperceptible. In the 16th century, the old designs were replaced by Persian floral motifs. Akbari paintings show half-blooming flowers, the Jehangir period, full-blown blossom and the Shahjehan period, tiny blossoms with emphasis on the leaves.

In the 19th century, with the advent of British rule, there was a drastic change in designs. Importing raw material from their colonies and exporting finished products to them, they also dictated the quality, nature and use of motif and pattern. Some brocades started depicting English wallpaper designs to suit the tastes of the British rulers. British monopoly of the subcontinent’s textile production and the introduction and competition of machine-made textiles were two major factors which led to the decline of traditional textile art (see Going Back to our Roots).

— Salwat Ali

Historical data and images have been sourced from Threadlines Pakistan published by the Ministry of Industries, Government of Pakistan.

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, July 10th, 2016