Mark-Making

Using Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s verses for the title of a show or the art works is a popular trend these days, especially when 2011 is the year of Faiz’s 100^th birthday. Not to say that it’s a bad thing to do, but with such actions comes huge responsibilities. And the question is; is Faiz only being used as an advert, a symbol or is it an honest expression of solidarity?

“Jo dil pe guzarti hey raqam kerte rahein gay”

is the title of Khalil Chishti’s solo exhibition at Rohtas 2, Lahore, from 9^th to 17^th December, 2011. The burnt marks on paper, enclosed in frames that are made of metal pipes, welded together, hanging above eye level, are to be viewed by climbing on a step stool, through a magnifying glass chained to each frame. Next to each work, except two, is a sheet of paper requesting the viewer to ‘please suggest a title for this work’.

Khalil Chishti, Please suggest title for this work IX, welding spark drawing on acid free paper, 2011

Please suggest title for this work III, welding spark drawing on acid free paper, 2011

In the absence of the titles and any artist statement accompanying the works, the questions that this work raises are so typical yet so crucial, that in answering them, I shall not only help myself understand Chishti’s work but also explore some of the issues that are the core of contemporary art, concerning the problem of ‘painting’ and ‘drawing’. Is mark-making a sort of drawing? Are not these pictures really abstract paintings with no titles? Do titles of abstract paintings really matter? Does giving a title deny it something because of the resulting emphasis on subject matter? Or is it to exploit the technical aspects of painting? What Do they Represent, when titles do not say and pictures do not show(referring to Michael Corris’s book)? Is it a retreat from names, identification, and language itself? What is the function of titles that are given by the viewer? Or why they might be regarded as important? What does the task of looking through the magnifying glass and giving a title, do for the viewer? Is it to make the viewer an active participant only? Or does it reveal something that one might have overlooked without the given task? Does it challenge the conventional associations art historians like to construct through titles, like the surrealists who use to hold sessions in which they suggested titles to each other? Or are titles considered confusing diversions, like the abstract-expressionist believed? Does it help generate an inexhaustible flux of random images for the viewer? Is it a comment on representational attributes of art? Is titling artwork part of the explanatory problem that faces artists and historians alike or is it part of its solution? One explanation might be (note: read in an extremely exaggerated manner :p) The meaning, the message of these paintings lies inside the viewer. Instead of trying to look for something in the image, let the image seep deep inside of you and listen to your inner voice. Let the universe share its meaning with you, that has been yearning to be heard. Hear a message intended just for you. Apologies for being impolite, but on a serious note, I do agree that its not about trying to find something recognizable, though many may do so as their way of giving the painting meaning, ultimately, it is about looking at the images in a relaxed way, devoid of pressure. But the significance of this truth depends on the way in which this explanatory task is registered in the work, and my primary concern is the way in which it remains unclear as to its function.

Please suggest title for this work I, welding spark drawing on acid free paper, 2011

Can such abstract or automatic drawings possibly have the same meaning and affect today that it did in the past? What do they express? Are they automatic drawings? Or are the frames and markings only a by-product of a welding activity? As the description of the mediums reads, ‘welding spark drawing on acid free archival paper’? The possibilities are endless. These sheets of paper attacked with a vigorous gestural expressionism are freed from the need of describing through the framework of mark-making. A sort of a script, preserving the smallest and most fleeting traces of the maker’s hand. Also these marks reveal the physical energy used in their making a bit like music, in its use of harmony and orchestration, combining both subconscious and more deliberate marks, a sort of a partnership between; the maker, the welding spark, the metal and the paper, rather automatically. The magnifying glass did help engage me more actively and made me wonder about how to interpret different line qualities from crisp and sharp to soft and diffused, from raised and overlaid to recessed and inlaid, from the burnt edges to the metal emitting from the holes punched in paper and the incidental text on the glass written in reverse. The possibilities are truly endless!

Ek arz-e-tamanna hai so hum karte rahenge

FAMILIAR NAMES

Art exhibitions bearing the name of a curator but often lacking a curatorial perspective is a common situation. But the artist-as-curator, especially when his/her work is part of the show is a rather new phenomenon in Pakistani art circle. And such incidents makes one wonder if it is to challenge/critique the art establishments, to explore new ways of seeing, to find ways of introducing/empowering a certain muscled out group or a rather experimental art or for any other number of reasons? Similarly when I heard about Familiar Names displayed at the Drawing room gallery in Lahore, in Novemeber 2011, showing the works of 12 young BNU graduates, curated by Shiblee Munir (one of the artists in the group) I began to wonder about the significance of the title of the show, the choice of the works...e.t.c, only to realize at the end that its pretty random. Curating and organizing exhibitions, even though looks quite impressive on one’s resume, needs to address the characteristics and responsibilities of curators as interpreter, facilitator, catalyst, instigator, e.t.c, more seriously.

If I were to discern some commonality between the works in the show, it would have to be the interplay between conception, construction and representation. This effort to try and balance the conceptual and the material, exploratory and explanatory or individualist and idealist aspects of the work, is only natural for these young artists, whose experience of making and presenting their BFA degree shows, is not so distant. Which is why, despite the widespread diffusion of computer-aided art, most of the works in the show were made from traditional materials and techniques, in a deliberate attempt to exhibit their skills.

Shahzad Ali’s metal rack with glass jars, containing rubber casts of minar-e-Pakistan, titled The showcase, is a very straightforward representation of the country’s troubled identity. Making reference to the pickle jars, it makes one wonder, if the miniature minarets were actually pickled or at least preserved in a similar solution instead of water, it may have made more sense in the context of the meanings attached to the word ‘pickle’, making the irony more prominent, visually. His other work, titled White! Back ground, is an installation of dead doves scattered on the floor of the gallery. My first guess was that these birds are real, but on close encounter they appeared to be made from cotton or some other soft material. These silicon birds are made very realistically, located in a space between the actual and the virtual.

This space in-between real and fictional is also a feature of Pratima Thakali’s surreal painting, titled Little Flyer. Resembling the print media, particularly advertisement, in design aesthetics and color compositions, a simultaneous reality exists within the frame of this large canvas, juxtaposing nonlinear mutidimentional realms of experience across time and space, that appears to be operating through chance, independent of the author’s will, yet also making references to the everyday/familiar world.

Simultaneous realities are also the subject of Haroon Mughal’s photomontages, made by overlapping different images off the street that are paired with silhouettes of a familiar object or another reference to the street, voicing his concerns about the socio-political confusion of the present and the uncertainty of the future.

Shiblee Munir’s minimalist representation of Another Realistic Painting done with black watercolor on a white board is in my humble opinion, a dialogue with the medium primarily, perhaps an attempt to get in touch with one’s rather instinctive/unconscious side through almost automatic drawing. Munir may not need to support his abstract work with more abstract words, like in the artist statement.

Fahad Hameed’s Point Zero and Breeze, is not only an optical illusion but an endurance test. Breeze, with black thin ribbons stretched vertically across a frame, hanging against a white wall is almost impossible to look at, without feeling noxious. Not as a particularly disgusting encounter but as a natural consequence of looking at those black stripes that are continuously moving from right to left and left to right because of the fan installed on the ceiling. Concerning the interaction between illusion and picture plane, between understanding and seeing, existing in the midst of limits and possibilities of making, seeing, looking, experiencing, changing perception and revelation.

Movement is also inherent in Hira Rafi’s paintings. These landscapes, as if experienced while in a car, although painted in acrylics on canvas, note the presence of the camera. A possible impediment for the viewer in actually experiencing this movement is perhaps the scale, I wish that the canvases were much larger than 8 x 10 inches.

Shahzad Hassan Ghazi’s exploration of the mediums is demonstrated in scratching, drawing and painting the cityscapes on rusted tin. Waqas Anees’s Fossils is a similar investigation of materials and process. His bricks, encasing non-recyclable plastic items speaks of outdated (or perhaps not) ideas of technological advancement, industrialization and its affects on environment. Faiza Bashir, Ayesha Yousaf and Salman Hassan’s mixed media works also have a lot of potential that perhaps needs a lot more time to simmer before presenting it for viewing or may be I’m being severely critical and its premature to be making such judgements, most of it is thesis work after all.

TRUTH ABOUT PERCEPTION:

“...though we cannot know these objects as things in themselves, we must yet be in a position at least to think them as things in themselves; otherwise we should be landed in the absurd conclusion that there can be appearance without anything that appears.”

—   Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason.

Our relationship with both physical and abstract phenomena, the ‘existence of nature’ in contrast with ‘the perception of this existence’, has been a subject of inquiry for philosophers and artists alike. Without going on a wild goose chase regarding such questions, in my humble opinion, beyond perception most concepts do not even matter, that is to say, there is no relationship between objective and subjective reality, since all reality is subjective by definition and vice versa. And that is where the essence of Art lies, as Ayn Rand writes (explaining her philosophy of Objectivism in the context of Art), “as a selective re-creation of reality according to an artist's metaphysical value-judgments". This re-shaping of non-empirical ideas into physical form is the curatorial foundation of SCORE, exhibiting works by Ehsan Ul Haque, Imran Ahmed, Iqra Tanveer and Sajjad Ahmed, at Drawing Room Art Gallery, Lahore, from October 12 – 22, 2011.

In a country like ours, each one of us is so busy wheel-running like laboratory rats, expending so much effort on issues of political instability, shortage of electricity, gas and petrol, extremism, terrorism, e.t.c, that even the Art exhibitions barely get a chance to look beyond the rim of the wheel - such an exhibition then, is a moment of relief. But that does not imply that the work is not political in nature, how can it not be when society itself is the physical aspect of the world we inhabit. 

Ehasan ul Haque, Physical Existence of Belief.

Ehasan ul Haque’s Physical Existence of Belief, a 4’ x 4’, concrete cube, is a kaaba of personal realities or perhaps the monolithic power of the authorities. It defines man's nature and the nature of the world in which he lives, recalling the old axiom, if we truly believe a lie it might as well be the truth for the impact it has. The construction of beliefs that rests in the realm of non-physical is made into a physical object in concrete, a medium that is not simply experienced phenomenologically but is associated with social references, particularly of ruins and construction sites.

Imran Ahmad, Hypothalamus

Naan (flat breads) is the medium and the subject of Imran Ahmad’s Hypothalamus: region of brain controlling hunger, thirst and body temp, addressing the physiological needs for human survival. These 11 or 12 kinds of naans, that are made from different ingredients, instantly bring to my mind the image of a menu card of any restaurant, a list accompanied by their prices and it makes one wonder about needs measured against luxuries. The piece (to me) is a bit nervous or unconvincing, so to speak. This literal translation takes a rather bland approach towards parody, perhaps just a little bit of irony could have made these naans extraordinary instead.

Sajjad Ahmed, Play Field.         Iqra Tanveer, Paradise of Paradox 

 Where as, the formal aspects of Iqra Tanveer and Sajjad Ahmed’s work require experiencing the physicality of these works in person. Ahmed’s Play Field, a digitally manipulated print of a football field, despite being a 2-dimensional image, appears to be a 3-dimensional illusion and creates (if only for an instant) a kind of a doubt/uncertainity about our knowledge about things (our understanding of geometry) and the existential facts of objects. Tanveer on the other hand, addresses the nature of perception, representation, space, materiality and absence through a play of light and dust. Paradise of Paradox, is a darkened space created within the gallery, testing the truth about perception. It is a niche, which omits light from the thin slits on both sides, and beyond that is placed a blower that blows dust into the air every few minutes. This transformation of air and light into physical matter, demands a hypersensitive looking, feeling, listening, smelling and knowing. This creates, if only for a few minutes, a thin film of dust particles with the use of light, that appears so tangible that one is compelled to poke his/her finger, hand or head through it, creating that doubt about seeing, knowing and experiencing. Though the piece is not without its shortcomings, particularly in terms of its carpentry, because of which instead of creating this illusion of a film of dust edge to edge, it was only visible in a small portion, but each one of her audiences had their moment of awe.

“the autobiographical enacts the self that it claims has given rise to an ‘I’ and that ‘I’ is neither unified nor stable – it is fragmented, provisional, multiple and continuously in process”. (Interfaces: Women, Autobiography, Image, Performance,pg 9).

i ≠ i is the title of a group show that opened on 14^th October, 2011 at Nairang gallery. The exhibition is a product of a 2 week workshop with final year (BFA and MA) students at Beaconhouse National University, conducted by Kathrin Becker, who is a curator and art historian from Berlin. As the title of the show suggests, the 19 artists in this show indulge themselves in authoring, narrating and acting the ‘self’, investigating the subject of embodiment and the embodiment of subjectivity, interrogating the subjective dimension of ‘being’ and examining the dislocation and fragmentation of that ‘being’. Though, autobiographical self-representation has throughout history been the subject of art but this autobiography, while expanding modes of self representation through a process of self-knowledge and self-telling, reveals the conception of the ‘self’ as an imaginary construct, “fragmented, provisional, multiple and continuously in process”.

                   Demonstrating the permeability of the self’s physical and symbolic boundaries, the works in the show, reflect on memory, negotiate the past, engage aspects of gendered selves, lived experiences, popular culture and critique socio-political and cultural constructs/narratives, all of which co-exists in the same space. Mirza Ruknuddin Ahmad's I love Art, is a site of conflicting social definitions and a ground for examining the constructed and mediated roles. Hanifa Alizada, redefines her gendered Afghani (war-torned) identity with a fine balance of humor in Who we are? Rabia Anwar’s Split, in an investigation of similarities and differences between her mother and herself as brides, becomes the articulation of female subjectivity. Zeb Bilal’s I am the ‘Other’, traces the history of hybrid identities exemplified in dresses of the colonizers and the colonized. Similarly Sadaf Chughtai in Three views of Lahore Fort, traces the history of modernity and progress, the final image is a hybrid of old and new Lahore exemplified in the architecture of her Fort. Umair Iqbal’s representation of identity is also associated to a city and culture but to something more tangible, perhaps ‘only’ tangible. Lying somewhere between rebellion and submission, Raiha tul Jannah’s works address issues of her gendered identity, difference and the politics of representation. Among the participants also, are; Sofia Shahi, Shimul Saha, Anees-ur-Rehman, Shumaila Noor, Saima Noor, Ahmed Faizan, Maimoona, Eliza Khosa. It is practically impossible to discuss all the works here, so i shall briefly present some of them, all of which approach the issue of identity from divergent perspectives.

Rabia Anwar, Split (2011),                 Saima Noor, Untitled (2011),

digital print on photographic                 salt prints on paper

paper.

                                                     

Sadaf Chughtai, Three views of Lahore Fort (2011), digital Print (archival ink on cotton paper)

Saleem Abbas’s Identify??? is a short video, in which Abbas, who is easily identifiable because of his long black hair, has used himself as a site and a metaphor for the representation of the self. The screen, split into two, shows Abbas, from the front and back view on either side, combing his long dark hair, wearing a pair of jeans and no shirt. Diminishing the distinction between front and back by covering his face with hair and wearing the pants and the belt inversely, Abbas confuses his audience, even if only for a few seconds, and makes them ponder over the process of identification. 

Komal Naz, Untitled (2011), video, 2:50 min.

Similar in aesthetics, is Komal Naz’s presence in her almost 3 minutes long untitled video. Confined in a close frame is a wooden stool laying on its side that Naz, tries to fit into. While Naz struggles with this seemingly meaningless task, illustrating an existential crisis, one waits for nothing to happen, as if stuck in motion for time immemorial, which could be further highlighted if the video didn’t fade into black every time before restarting, it could easily do without marking the starting and the ending especially when there was no starting and ending and could have worked better in using it as a metaphor for the space which the mind occupies. Nevertheless, this video was one of the most engaging pieces in the show.

Zaib Haider, Untitled (2011), digital prints on photographic paper

Use of family snapshots open reservoirs of memories, but it’s certainly the objects and not the people in those photos that Zaib Haider is after; household details, toys, shoes, bags, e.t.c, fraught with meaning, besieged by domesticity, drained of life as mundane objects, a very important feature of family albums. Haider intends to appropriate, disturb and manipulate images that look simple, naive and sacred, resulting in distortion, disorder and disintegration by highlighting certain details while blurring the others.

Amber Hammad, Hum KEH Thehray Ajnabi (2011), digital Print on canvas (edition 2/3)

Amber Hammad, unlike others is not directly the subject of her work. Her digitally manipulated, Hum keh Thehray Ajnabi is an image made with photographs of bazaars from both Lahore and Delhi. The uncanny resemblance between the sister-cities is further highlighted by baring the image off any cultural references to bodily differences and reducing the people to black silhouettes. Pointing out the similarities more than the differences between the two, Hum keh Thehray Ajnabi while negotiating between self and other is a comment on close familial ties, shared histories, displacement, nostalgia and unfriendly relations, calling into question the true status of seemingly fixed categories of identity and our reliance on socially, politically and culturally assigned identities.

These artists challenging the notions of prescribed identities, however superficially, have at least begun to analyze the reality of their own fiction. Also, its a good drill for people who will be putting together their degree shows in only a few months.

i ≠ i

is the title of a group show that opened on 14^th October, 2011 at Nairang gallery. The exhibition is a product of a 2 week workshop with final year (BFA and MA) students at Beaconhouse National University, conducted by Kathrin Becker, who is a curator and art historian from Berlin. As the title of the show suggests, the 19 artists in this show indulge themselves in authoring, narrating and acting the ‘self’, investigating the subject of embodiment and the embodiment of subjectivity, interrogating the subjective dimension of ‘being’ and examining the dislocation and fragmentation of that ‘being’. Though, autobiographical self-representation has throughout history been the subject of art but this autobiography, while expanding modes of self representation through a process of self-knowledge and self-telling, reveals the conception of the ‘self’ as an imaginary construct, “fragmented, provisional, multiple and continuously in process”.

“the autobiographical enacts the self that it claims has given rise to an ‘I’ and that ‘I’ is neither unified nor stable – it is fragmented, provisional, multiple and continuously in process”. (Interfaces: Women, Autobiography, Image, Performance,pg 9).

            Demonstrating the permeability of the self’s physical and symbolic boundaries, the works in the show, reflect on memory, negotiate the past, engage aspects of gendered selves, lived experiences, popular culture and critique socio-political and cultural constructs/narratives, all of which is co-existing in the same space. Mirza Ruknuddi Ahmad’s I love Art, is a site of conflicting social definitions and a ground for examining the constructed and mediated roles. Hanifa Alizada, redefines her gendered Afghani (war-torned) identity with a fine balance of humor in Who we are? Rabia Anwar’s Split, in an investigation of similarities and differences between her mother and herself as brides, becomes the articulation of female subjectivity. Zeb Bilal’s I am the ‘Other’, traces the history of hybrid identities exemplified in dresses of the colonizers and the colonized. Similarly Sadaf Chughtai in Three views of Lahore Fort, traces the history of modernity and progress, the final image is a hybrid of old and new Lahore exemplified in the architecture of her Fort. Umair Iqbal’s representation of identity is also associated to a city and culture but to something more tangible, perhaps ‘only’ tangible. Lying somewhere between rebellion and submission, Raiha tul Jannah’s works address issues of her gendered identity, difference and the politics of representation. Among the participants also, are; Sofia Shahi, Shimul Saha, Anees-ur-Rehman, Shumaila Noor, Saima Noor, Ahmed Faizan, Maimoona, Eliza Khosa. It is practically impossible to discuss all the works here, so i shall briefly present some of them, all of which approach the issue of identity from divergent perspectives.

            Saleem Abbas’s Identify??? is a short video, in which Abbas, who is easily identifiable because of his long black hair, has used himself as a site and a metaphor for the representation of the self. The screen, split into two, shows Abbas, from the front and back view on either side, combing his long dark hair, wearing a pair of jeans and no shirt. Diminishing the distinction between front and back by covering his face with hair and wearing the pants and the belt inversely, Abbas confuses his audience, even if only for a few seconds, and makes them ponder over the process of identification.

                                                                                          Similar in aesthetics, is Komal Naz’s presence in her almost 3 minutes long untitled video. Confined in a close frame is a wooden stool laying on its side that Naz, tries to fit into. While Naz struggles with this seemingly meaningless task, illustrating an existential crisis, one waits for nothing to happen, as if stuck in motion for time immemorial, which could be further highlighted if the video didn’t fade into black every time before restarting, it could easily do without marking the starting and the ending especially when there was no starting and ending and could have worked better in using it as a metaphor for the space which the mind occupies. Nevertheless, this video was one of the most engaging pieces in the show.

                                                                                          Use of family snapshots open reservoirs of memories, but it’s certainly the objects and not the people in those photos that Zaib Haider is after; household details, toys, shoes, bags, e.t.c, fraught with meaning, besieged by domesticity, drained of life as mundane objects, a very important feature of family albums. Haider intends to appropriate, disturb and manipulate images that look simple, naive and sacred, resulting in distortion, disorder and disintegration by highlighting certain details while blurring the others.

            Amber Hammad, unlike others is not directly the subject of her work. Her digitally manipulated, Hum keh Thehray Ajnabi is an image made with photographs of bazaars from both Lahore and Delhi. The uncanny resemblance between the sister-cities is further highlighted by baring the image off any cultural references to bodily differences and reducing the people to black silhouettes. Pointing out the similarities more than the differences between the two, Hum keh Thehray Ajnabi while negotiating between self and other is a comment on close familial ties, shared histories, displacement, nostalgia and unfriendly relations, calling into question the true status of seemingly fixed categories of identity and our reliance on socially, politically and culturally assigned identities.

            These artists challenging the notions of prescribed identities, however superficially, have at least begun to analyze the reality of their own fiction. Also, its a good drill for people who will be putting together their degree shows in only a few months. 

LOST IN TRANSLATION:

In the last two decades, a lot has changed in the Pakistani art scene. Every year young graduates from art schools are entering the art world by the dozen. The ‘Art market’, that was practically non-existent earlier, is considerably established now, especially with the expansion of media coverage there is an increased interest in the country’s art internationally also. It has resulted in an active showing and viewing of a varied art practice at local galleries and this shift, in how art works are looked at and experienced, has opened up new avenues for artistic expression. Of course it’s a good sign, but now galleries want quantity and artists submit to that by doing lots of mediocre work, most of which is sheer repetition, cliche and strangely unconsidered political and cultural mysticism that tiers one’s eyes and brain with its uninspiring pseudo-conscious ramble. But I doubt if a (traditionally) restricted art world, with only a handful of stewards, is the solution to protect us from this fate of an art scene swamped with mediocrity. But on the other hand what matters is the variance, the overall distribution and probabilistically speaking, more art works mean more ‘great’ art works (not to say that there is an explanation for ‘great art’). And besides this perfunctory encounter that reduces art to good, bad or mediocre, the spectator’s real task is to adopt a semiotic approach to reading visuals that has relevance for understanding the process of interpretation, in an endless production of meaning because of human subjectivity. But that just puts a lot of pressure on the spectator's poor shoulders and evades the artist from much responsibility. Or perhaps this is only a result of my preoccupation with a rather philosophical attempt to understand the ‘experience of art’ (not in a particularly academic way, but as a reader).

As three shows opened in Lahore this month, I only managed to get a peek at two. One at Rohtas 2 (of works by Mariam Ibraaz titled Excerpts from Eroded Inner Verses) and the other at Greynoise (showing works by Basir Mahmood titled I Won’t Leave You Till I Die). Mahmood’s realism and Ibraaz’s surrealism, both examine the spaces that inform our understanding of the present. Ibraaz’s fine sense of composition is certainly the strength of her digitally manipulated photomontages. Expressing the unconscious/subconscious through suggestive yet indefinite visual references, Ibraaz writes; “Each work in ‘Excerpts from Eroded Inner Verses’ is a psychological space, imitating reality, revealing emotional states of mind and experiences.” These obscure landscapes, collaged with some shadowless objects, removed from their context and reassembled within anomalous landscapes, accompanied by even more obscure titles, surpass the limits of nature. Shifting back and forth between two and three dimensionality, between foreground and background, these juxtapositions deceive the eye, exploring reality beyond physical reality. This special attention to the expression of emotion/feeling resembles the form of poetry, and I wasn’t surprised when I read, “The imagery is mostly derived from my poetry; it is subtle and layered, allowing the viewer to enter the space and read it at a more personal level (mentioned in her artist statement). I secretly wished that the artist had planned a reading of excerpts from her poetry, at least for the opening, or perhaps our personal narratives imprinted on those visuals makes the experience more compelling.

Mariam Ibraaz: Slumbering in the the aftermath & For the longest time i carried it on my shoulders.

Basir Mahmood, I won't leave you till I die.

Basir Mahmood, Islamic Lion.

Once someone said, “Images are easier to misread”, but so are words, I thought. Whether titles help us understand the work better or they change the visuals or dominate them or disrupt the flow, are questions that vary from work to work. But in Mahmood’s case, I can’t seem to decide. Anyway, contrary to Ibraaz’s work, Mahmood’s is rooted in the here and now, containing an element of reportage. The work deals heavily with the political and cultural tensions in Pakistan. The narrative style of his documentary works is charged with humanism that is subtle, while the titles provide a touch of irony. For example, in ‘I Won’t leave you till I die’ (three channel video installation that runs on a loop) there is one man in each, who is caught in a scuffle with an invisible person who morphs with the white background from time to time, making the other figure as present as the clothed man yet absent, creating an interesting variety of appearance and disappearance of lines and shapes. Similarly ‘We’ve been ruled by many’ and ‘Fruit for all, land belongs to know one’ (digital prints), are also socially conscious works that address the core problem of inequitable land and natural resource ownership in a country where the politics of land reforms have always been dubious. It is extremely difficult to de-link formal concerns from conceptual aspects in Mahmood’s methods of production, through highly diversified mediums. From video to digital prints the imagery is both recognizable yet abstract, especially in ‘Islamic Lion’ and ‘The Goat’, that are a display of zoomorphic calligraphy in white, appliquéd on a white canvas. This time it is text that morphs into living forms, such as a lion (or just a hanging piece of raw meat in case of ‘The Goat’). Mahmood’s realism, (be it in the practice of acceptance of reality, the view that the subject matter of politics is political power and not matters of principle, the act of representing reality accurately, or in the art historical context of rejecting traditional ideas about beautiful and appropriate subject matter in favor of simple, sincere and un-idealized treatment of contemporary life) is an examination of our experiences of the everyday that shape our interpretations of the present. Such deconstruction is hence the only legit form of interpretation in both making and viewing.