There is a profound vulnerability in returning to a space you once abandoned. For architect and artist Muneeb Ali Khan, his solo exhibition ‘Heda’a Kaar’ represents exactly that: a return to a sanctuary within the heart. It is a grounding mechanism against the rigid, concrete demands of everyday life.

Hosted at Studio B2 in Islamabad, a venue owned by Fatima Hamid, the exhibition features 29 intricately stippled pieces. Utilising a careful mix of pen, pencil, watercolour, felt-tip marker and a distinct dash of ashwood veneer, Khan has mapped out a cartography of personal history, societal critique and spiritual reflection.

The exhibit’s title sets a hauntingly beautiful tone. The expression heda‘a kaar is a linguistic hybrid that blends an Arabic root with a Persian suffix to honour the oral tradition of Alheda’a, which is used in Saudi Arabia by herders to direct camels through the desert. It invokes the image of a lonely traveller in a vast desert, humming a rhythmic song to his camel companion so that, in the absolute darkness of the night, their heartbeats synchronise against the solitude.

For Khan, these paintings are a representation of that very synchronicity. After having spent years navigating the corporate grids of architectural practice in Islamabad and in the United Kingdom, it was in the process of creating these artworks that Khan found a path to harmonise his inner life with the outside world.

A solo exhibition in Islamabad explored loss, love and the fragile synchronicity between one’s inner and outer worlds

Divided into four distinct chapters, the exhibition functions as a visual memoir, elevated by the sensitive addition of collage work by the exhibition’s curator Muhammad Hamza. The conversation between the artist and the curator appears tangible through Hamza’s shared material narrative, which adds a rich framing to the entire collection.

The anchor of the exhibition lies in Khan’s exploration of loss. Having lost his father at the tender age of 15, the artist spent decades wrestling with the abruptness of death. One painting with tiny, meticulous felt-point lines acts as literal and metaphorical thread that reconnects Khan to memories of his father. Khan notes that, as he painstakingly drew these lines, a sense of consolation washed over him. He realised that his father, though gone too soon, had lived a full and meaningful life.

This ancestral thread beautifully loops into the present in a companion painting that features Khan’s daughter. An ethereal painting set against a vibrant, orange-tinged background, this piece shifts the narrative mood from the shadow of loss to the warmth of continuity.

Khan moves his lens from the personal to the universal in Facing the Wall. Here, a figure is depicted in a seated pose but without a chair. It is a striking metaphor for the modern professional, the worker bee of the nine-to-five corporate grind, who must constantly perform repetitive labour while suspended in mid-air, stripped of any grounding endeavour.

In sharp contrast to this corporate stagnation is Lover Boy. Bursting with coloured lines and a chaotic, vibrant mishmash, the piece perfectly encapsulates the frenzy of an adolescent body, heart and mind. Khan points out that this piece attempts to capture a fleeting moment in time before the harsh realities of adulthood hit the boy.

The exhibition takes a heavy turn with the War Series. Bound by rusted steel frames that mirror the decay of conflict, these four paintings display the crushing burden of war on an individual. Red dominates the canvas, overpowering all else. The work leaves the viewer with an unsettling impression of a soul caught in the crossfire of violence.

Khan reflects and meditates on the physical act of calligraphy through the monochromatic, repetitive writing by hand of the Arabic expression Astaghfirullah [I seek forgiveness from Allah]. The script, stretching languidly across the surface, captures the organic beauty of the creative process. Placed in stark contrast is the same expression generated by a computer. Cold, precise and perfectly uniform, the digital script feels hollow, a mockery of a deeply personal spiritual reflection. The contrast highlights how automation dilutes human devotion.

For the viewer, walking through ‘Heda’a Kaar’ is not a passive experience. As Khan navigates his life, caught up between building structures by day and carving out his soul on canvas by night, he leaves us with subtle, intricate details that demand a close look. Seemingly surreal and abstract, it is an exhibition that offers no easy answers, instead allowing viewers to experience the transcendent power of artistic language.

‘Heda’a Kaar’ was on display at Studio B2 in Islamabad from July 10-26, 2026

The writer is a PhD scholar working on Punjabi poets. She can be contacted at ayesharamzan83@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, July 26th, 2026