Jamini_February 2014

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AN INTERNATIONAL ARTS MAGAZINE |

February 2014

crafts

AN INTERNATIONAL ARTS MAGAZINE |

February 2014

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crafts crafts and rafts

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Giorgio Guglielmino the artisan's tales Naveed Islam craftsmanship and collective work in contemporary art Giorgio Guglielmino

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a mask tells us more than a face Jafrin Gulshan

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preserving our crafts heritage Kashfia Arif and Fahim Siddiqi

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putul story Shawon Akand

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weaving the breadth of the universe Anna Baldi

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crafts in the age of mechanical (re)production Syed Manzoorul Islam

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embroidered dreams Niaz Zaman

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the crafts conversation Syeda Samara Mortada

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open space the earth as seen from the moon Giorgio Guglielmino artists of the 15th asian art biennale Mushfiq Zaman

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rafiqun nabi in 2013 Iftekhar Chowdhury

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in between

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looking back

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reviews

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london

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buenos aires

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market

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amini was launched in 2003 amidst a resurgence of cultural activity in Bangladesh. The art scene was particularly vibrant at that time. Jamini aimed to focus on this scene as well as trends in art internationally. The hope was to let an international readership know about art happenings in Bangladesh and to expose Bangladeshis to important art movements overseas. Twelve issues of the magazine were published to widespread acclaim over a period of five years; so much so, that even though it ceased to exist in 2009, art lovers in many parts of the world still remember it fondly almost a decade later.

Bangladesh's artists are now exhibiting everywhere. An ever increasing number of them participate regularly in festivals, fairs and exhibitions abroad; a few foreign painters, sculptors, printmakers, and conceptual and graphic artists have also been exhibiting their works in our galleries or hosting workshops and seminars here. Gala events such as the Asian Art Biennale, Bengal Classical Music Festival and the Dhaka Art Summit have been providing a forum for artists, musicians, critics, curators and collectors from all over the world. It is against a backdrop of such exciting developments that we are launching Jamini again, hoping with this new series to present to a worldwide readership the latest and best artworks of the region and to showcase the leading artists of our time.

The inaugural issue of this new series deals with crafts as both a marginalized art form and threatened tradition. Bangladesh's folk art and handicrafts are rooted in its countryside. Our artisans have used our country's flora and fauna to fashion handmade tools and objects of everyday use for centuries. However, due to advances in technology and the easy access of imported products, the handicrafts sector is now in decline.

Naveed Islam's essay on the lives of our artisans reveals the challenges they have to overcome repeatedly while Syeda Samara Mortada's interview with Ruby Ghuznavi indicates how we can not only preserve but also promote handicrafts nationally and internationally. Jafrin Gulshan interviews eminent artist Saidul Haque Juise who has been keeping the age-old mask-making tradition alive. Syed Manzoorul Islam's piece spotlights the modernization and monetization of the crafts trade and reflects on the consequences of mass-produced craft goods replacing handmade crafts in the marketplace.

Kashfia Arif and Fahim Siddiqi's piece muses on the importance of handicrafts as symbols of our cultural identity and touchstones to the past after visiting the Sonargaon folk arts and crafts museum. Shawon Akand discusses the storied history of doll-making in the Indian Subcontinent while Niaz Zaman elaborates on the art of embroidered quilts.

While different crafts have often been regarded as 'low art' due to their commercial and functional uses, Giorgio Guglielmino's essay proposes that the techniques so closely associated with this neglected art form can be found in fine art as well. Anna Baldi profiles Shafiqul Kabir Chandan, a Bangladeshi artist whose unique brand of 'fibre art' blends elements of handicrafts with contemporary art forms.

In addition to crafts, the inaugural issue of the new Jamini series also covers national and international art events in a section called “Open Space”. This section includes, “Looking Back” where we revisit major developments and important exhibitions that have taken place in the last few years, both in Bangladesh and abroad. The “Market” part of the section discusses the crucial role played by the art market while “Reviews” contains pieces on recent exhibitions in Dhaka. “In Between” is a new feature providing artists with space to express themselves through original work in the form of writing, sketches, paintings, etc. The first “In Between” entry features renowned artist Monirul Islam.

We would like to thank H.E. Giorgio Guglielmino who served as the guest editor for this issue. His guidance and input were invaluable to the editorial team and his creative vision was instrumental in reviving and redefining Jamini for a new global readership. We hope you will delight in all issues of this new Jamini series. Do help us present the best in art from Bangladesh and beyond with not only your essays and reviews but also your suggestions. For sure, your support, through subscriptions, contributions and suggestions will make this new Jamini series last forever!

February 2014 Volume 1, Number 1 Jamini ISSN 1728-5747

Publisher Abul Khair Chairman of the Editorial Board Anisuzzaman Editorial Board Fakrul Alam Kaiser Haq Syed Manzoorul Islam Editor Luva Nahid Choudhury Guest Editor Giorgio Guglielmino International Publications Director Zeenat Chowdhury Managing Editor Nobonita Chowdhury Associate Editor Naveed Islam Layout Designer Shamim Chowdhury Contributing Designer ARK Reepon Published by Abul Khair on behalf of ICE Media, Ltd. Kushal Centre, Plot 29, Sector – 3, Uttara C/A, Dhaka – 1230.

Printed at Binimoy Printers Ltd., 25 Central Road, Dhanmondi, Dhaka – 1205.

Cover

Shafiqul Kabir Chandan, Grace of Earthen Hedge, cotton, wool, synthetic threads and cords, cloth, paper – 142 x 102 cm, 2009.

letter from the guest editor

Sketch by Dhali Al Mamoon

crafts and rafts Giorgio Guglielmino

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o start a new series of Jamini with a topic like “Crafts” will no doubt strike some as a peculiar decision. When we think of crafts, we think of a medium that is closely linked to tradition, embedded in manual work and far from cutting edge contemporary art. This indigenous art form stands in stark contrast to Bangladesh's contemporary art scene which is discovering new concepts and experimenting with new modes of expression. But, it is precisely this act of looking back at old traditions with a new gaze that can lead us to a better understanding of how not to go backward but ahead.

In order to illustrate this point, we turn to two concepts expressed by two great contemporary artists.

The first is by the Italian artist Mario Merz who is regarded as one of the founding fathers of the “Arte Povera” movement. The second is by British sculptor Tony Cragg. Merz became known for having used the numbers of the Fibonacci series in many of his works.

The Fibonacci progression is generally used in science to explain the growth of various categories of natural phenomena. It proposes that each number in the series is the sum of the two numbers that precede it: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55 and so on. It is a progression that Mario Merz considers applicable to the history of art as well.

Any contemporary artist cannot progress beyond a certain point without being aware of past artistic experiences. And the art of the past involves manual work and craftsmanship. The capacity of utilizing a

technique, even if it is not used in every work produced, gives the artist an additional tool to use and a privileged point of view. Technique is therefore a tool that allows an artist to look further, as is evident in these lines from Tony Cragg: “When I was a student, somebody told me of a photograph he had seen of a group of Eskimos standing in a close circle, throwing a man high in the air to enable him to see more of their surroundings. I never had the opportunity to verify this as fact, but given an Arctic terrain and its lack of trees, I accepted it, and it impressed me greatly. It has led me to consider the importance of a vantage point, and other techniques for seeing more.”

Handcrafted objects and the manual skill that created them represent rafts, where we can rest during those moments of indecision, doubt and concentration that precede creation. They provide respite from the sea of mediocrity. To borrow from sentences that Tony Cragg uses in another of his writings: “Go into a museum, even a mediocre museum showing art, and you will automatically be confronted with a whole category of objects that are all, every single one – because of the concentration and the commitments of the individuals that have stood behind them and made them – fighting against mediocrity, a fight for not converting the whole material world into dumb things.”

Like it or not, Jamini is committed to combating mediocrity, standing firmly like a raft in the middle of a storm.

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crafts

life stories of master craftsperson’s award recipients

the artisan's tales

by Naveed Islam

The Master Craftsperson's Awards were presented to artisans who displayed extraordinary skill in their respective mediums. Naveed Islam interviews the recipients of these prestigious awards to look at the lives of ordinary craftspeople. These stories reveal the everyday struggles of those working in this dying trade and highlights the importance of ensuring its survival.

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Visitors at the Crafts Fair.

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rafts, as both a commercial good and as an art form, is slowly losing its relevance in modern Bangladesh. Several activists, intellectuals and organizations such as the National Crafts Council of Bangladesh (NCCB) and the Bengal Foundation have championed the movement toward its revival in the marketplace and in the cultural sphere. The Master Craftsperson’s Award is part of this initiative, by recognizing handicrafts as a legitimate art form and craftspeople as artists deserving of wider acclaim.

The National Crafts Council was formed with the goal of preserving the country's centuries-old crafts heritage. The project was spearheaded by renowned artist Quamrul Hassan and eleven others, to protect the endangered folk arts from extinction. In 2010, the Council formed a partnership with the Bengal Foundation, which works to promote Bangladesh’s

rich culture, and organized the annual Crafts Fair and Master Craftsperson's Awards. Their aim was to support crafts and keep these traditions alive.

A researcher was commissioned by the Council to conduct a nationwide survey of handicrafts. He spent several months visiting villages and collecting samples of crafts work done across the country. The selections were submitted to a jury who chose the four winners from four different mediums. The awards were presented at a three-day Crafts Fair, held at Bangla Academy from 11-13 January, 2013. The award recipients’ works were displayed and sold at the Fair alongside a wide variety of crafts from across the nation.

We were given some insight into the lives of these ordinary craftspeople in their short speeches to the crowd, but were not able to learn much more. Their

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Master Craftsperson’s Award winner for wood crafts, Md. Shariful Islam, playing his favorite dotara.

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stories are not only inspiring and revealing, they also allow for a deeper understanding and appreciation for crafts. With this in mind, Jamini interviews the four recipients of the Master Craftsperson's Award, Md. Shariful Islam, Pradeep Kumar Das, Md. Arifuzzaman and Subodh Chandra Paul, to learn more about their struggles of surviving in a dying industry. md. shariful islam I met with Md. Shariful Islam from Kushtia, who is receiving an award for woodcrafts, at the Crafts Fair grounds on a cold winter morning. Cheerful and energetic, Shariful's mood is not fazed by the chilly weather as he begins recounting his life story.

Shariful, like many other craftsmen in Bangladesh, did not come into this profession solely for his passion or creative need. His father was physically challenged and it fell up to him to earn for their household. Shariful stopped going to school when he was still in Class 5 and began looking for work then.

His first job was with a man named Jibon, a carpenter who made furniture. It was then that he learnt the basics of working with wood.

He made chairs, tables and beds, but did not find this work fulfilling. “It was a lot of work but for very little pay,” recalls Shariful, “I thought I had to find something else I could do. I had become skilled as a carpenter and felt that I should stick to working with wood.” He spent his days as an assistant to a craftsman, before coming under the tutelage of Amirul Islam, a famous and award-winning artisan living in Kushtia. He spent six years studying woodcrafts with Amirul before he decided to venture out on his own.

He specializes in making musical instruments called dotaras.

The dotara is widely regarded as one of the most important instruments associated with folk music in Bangladesh. It is a stringed instrument, similar to a lute or mandolin and is made of hardwood. It is played by plucking the strings and applying pressure at various points along the neck to produce a wide range of tones. 'Do' means 'two,' suggesting two strings, but dotaras can also have four or five strings. Shariful Islam also makes ektaras which have 'ek' or 'one' string.

The steel strings are stretched from a round soundboard at the base of the instrument, along a narrow wooden shaft and up to a peg box at the top.

The head is elaborately carved, employing decorative animal motifs, such as birds or other animals. Shariful Islam cut peacock shapes into his dotaras, their proud

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The head of one of Md. Shariful Islam’s dotaras, crafted with a bird motif.

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tail feathers etched along the base, at the point where the belly tapers off into the neck. Shariful also carves faces of famous people like Rabindranath Tagore or Lalon Fakir onto his creations.

“Dotaras are very popular in our village,” said one of Shariful's helpers, “if you stop by one of our markets, you'll see dotaras everywhere.” There is no shortage of craftsmen who practice woodcrafts in Kushtia, but despite this Shariful cites finding and hiring help as one of his biggest challenges. “I just don't have the money to take on more workers,” he says, with a sad smile, “we manage to get our work done on time but it would be easier if I had some help.”

Now that he has won a Master Craftsperson's Award, Shariful is hopeful that this will no longer be a problem. “I can use the money I've won to hire people,” says Shariful, “there will also be more people who will want to work with me now that I have this award. It will surely help me get more orders for my work.” His biggest clients are patrons living in the city and showrooms where these instruments are on display. Shariful hopes that his work will appreciate in value now that he has received this award.

When we finish talking, Shariful's helpers bring out a large slab of wood, shaped like one of the dotaras displayed along the walls of his stall. He takes a pencil and begins sketching the outline of a peacock on the side of the wooden slab. “I draw birds a lot but make subtle changes in each of the works I finish,” he notes, “if they were all the same, my work wouldn't be as valuable.” At Shariful's insistence, one of his assistants shows me two dotaras they brought along for the fair.

One had quite an ornate peacock-shaped head while the other was simpler in its design.

With the shape sketched, Shariful takes a hammer and chisel and begins hacking away at the wood.

Passersby stop to admire Shariful's work and take his picture as he carefully makes cuts along the outline he has prepared. His favorite species of wood to use is neem. “It's good for you,” he says, “When you're playing a dotara, you're holding it close to your body for a long time. Neem actually helps you improve your health as you hold it. The wood is also strong and doesn't attract bugs so it lasts longer.”

Shariful has a favorite dotara which he made and kept for himself. His helpers quip that its shape and size is perfectly suited to the small craftsman's body.

Shariful takes a break from his wood carving and sits down with the dotara, plucking and tuning it. I move to another stall as a crowd gathers to hear him play.

Master Craftsperson’s Award winner for bamboo and cane crafts, Pradeep Kumar Das preparing to weave a basket.

pradeep kumar das I meet a thin, young man at a stall on the other end of the fair grounds. He is Pradeep Kumar Das, a Master Craftsperson’s Award recipient from Kushtia who specializes in bamboo and cane crafts. He is surrounded by baskets of various shapes and sizes, all of which he made over the last few days and brought over with him to Dhaka. A quiet and reserved young man, Pradeep lets his companions speak about his career though he chimes in to fill in the blanks or add details.

Pradeep was born with four brothers and one sister. One of his brothers has his own business, another has left for India and two others work in hair salons. His father was once a craftsman and ran the household with the little income he earned from selling his works. But since becoming diabetic, Pradeep's father can no longer sit at the workshop.

The young Pradeep, who spent his childhood watching his father work, took it upon himself to learn the craft. When his brothers refused to send money, (a part of his life which Pradeep seems reluctant to talk about) he decided to take care of his family's finances.

He left school when he was only in Class 8 to devote his life to mastering bamboo and cane crafts. “We were very poor,” he says, “I couldn't afford to go to school any more so I left and worked hard for 9 years studying how to do my father’s work .”

The baskets Pradeep makes vary in shape and size.

The one which earned him a nomination for the award is a small basket, with holes near the top. This type of basket can be seen at shops or in the backs of pullcarts anywhere in Dhaka. They are commonly used to hold small animals, like chickens or ducks, that are being transported to markets and butcher shops. “It can take me half-a-day to make a good one,” replies Pradeep, “I'll make one today for the fair. But I would have liked to get an earlier start on some of the work we brought over from my village.”

The young man sits down and takes a blade out from his bag. He places the blade beneath one foot, balancing it by pressing down on the handle. Then, he takes thin strips of cane and runs it along the sharp contours of his instrument. Bamboo and cane are favoured materials for making handicrafts due to their

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Pradeep Kumar Das with one of his prize-winning creations.

softness and flexibility. Pradeep bends them to test its quality. “I think anyone can make the big ones you see over there,” he says, pointing to a few large, round baskets that were flatter than the small one he had shown me earlier, “it takes a lot of skill to do these little ones.”

He has never been to Dhaka before, and seems eager to see it when he finds the time. “I'm only here for the Fair, and our schedules are busy,” he says, “I'd like to be able to take a break and explore the city.” He believes that his award will help him tremendously.

“I'll be able to progress in my field. This title means so much to me,” says Pradeep. He does the bulk of the work himself, spending between 9-10 hours a day in his workshop. It costs around 500 taka to gather

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everything and make his baskets but his works sell for only 60-80 takas. “Good quality material is costly,” he says, “but after work I also have to go out and shop for dinner before the shops close for the day. I have to run the family by myself and am responsible for getting food for my parents,” he says, with some pride.

One of Pradeep's companions pulls out a finished basket as Pradeep continues to work, a piece of thread in his hand. Several strips of cane are laid out in a circular pattern in front of him. “This small basket was Pradeep's first sale,” the man says, “he sold it for 4 taka and now this has won him an award.” The quiet and somber young Pradeep flashes a boyish grin, as he swiftly begins tying the strips together till a basket's shape emerges. I leave him to his work.

Pradeep Kumar Das’s handcrafted baskets made from bamboo and cane.

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Master Craftsperson’s Award winner for Shatranji weaving, Md. Arifuzzaman.

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md. arifuzzaman I look for a man named Md. Arifuzzaman, who has received the award for workmanship in Shatranji, asking one staff member to point me in his direction.

After a short walk, I come to a stall whose bamboo walls are decorated with ornate rugs. A boy in his midteens is busy folding and stacking the contents of a large bag in small piles along the wall while a man works in the corner. I tap the man on the shoulder, introduce myself and ask if I could speak to him. The man, knowing whom I had come to interview, chuckles. To my surprise, he points to the wide-eyed boy now holding a large rug who turned out to be his son, Md. Arifuzzaman.

Arif came to Dhaka for the Crafts Fair and Master Craftspersons' Award ceremony with his father Anwar. The boy belongs to a family of Shatranji weavers; his father, mother and sister are all involved with this craft. Anwar learnt weaving Shatranji from his wife who studied it under her parents. “I was very close to my mother when I was growing up,” reveals Arif, “I started working with Shatranji under her guidance and learnt how to make it from her.”

He is still in school, studying in Class 10 and has an interest in science. “His teachers love him,” says Anwar, beaming with pride, “he's a good student and they say he has a bright future ahead of him if he chooses to stick to science.” But Arif hopes to enroll in the Faculty of Fine Arts at the University of Dhaka. He believes that a deeper understanding of aesthetics will help him improve in weaving the handcrafted rugs he and his family make.

Shatranji is a type of handwoven carpet that is made out of fine thread. It was popular during the Mughal era; Emperor Akbar was said to have adorned his palace in New Delhi with intricately designed Shatranji rugs. But, as was the case with many mediums in the handicrafts industry, it declined in popularity with time and eventually lost out to imported and factory-produced alternatives.

Fortunately, several entrepreneurs, activists and NGOs took the initiative to try and revive the dying craft, generating employment for thousands of workers, who weave Shartranji for sale in numerous stores and showrooms.

The Rangpur district, where Arif is from, is famous for producing high-quality Shatranjis. He and his family are very well-respected in their village and are doing well financially. Each Shatranji sells for 60 taka per square feet, and can be sold at even higher

Handwoven shatranji rugs at Md. Arifuzzaman’s stall.

prices depending on the size. It can take anywhere between a few days to a month to weave one highquality Shatranji carpet. They are also in demand as prayer mats and table spreads.

Arif ’s family holds a key position in their village for being able to provide jobs for their neighbours. Anwar is able to employ several helpers, many of whom are women. “There are lots of women in our village and nearby communities, who have left their husbands or were abandoned by them and now need to find work,” says Anwar, “we teach these women how to weave in our spare time and start employing them in our workshops when they're ready.”

It is for this reason that Arif does not want to leave his parents' trade when he finishes school. “They all depend on us for jobs,” he says, “if I don't stay then what will they do when my parents are gone?”

Anwar and his son are both very eager to keep this crafts tradition alive in their village and in Bangladesh.

Despite his son's success in school, Anwar believes that Arif will stay in weaving. “It has become a matter of pride for us,” he says, “I know I won't be able to talk my son out of it, when the time comes. This is what he wants.” When asked how he thinks the Master Craftsperson's Award will help him and his family, Arif says that the money will allow them to employ more people and his award will attract more buyers.

Later, when the visitors arrive and begin to examine the various stalls at the Fair, Arif takes his award and proudly places it against the rugs he was stacking earlier. A loom is set up at one side of the stall, for weaving the thick strands of thread to demonstrate the craft at the Fair. As Arif begins working, his father attends to their customers, who haggle but eventually purchase some of their rugs. I bid them goodbye and wish the young boy luck on an upcoming exam before going to the next stall.

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Master Craftsperson’s Award winner for tepa putul, Subodh Chandra Paul.

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subodh chandra paul The Master Craftsperson's Award recipient for toy crafts, Subodh Chandra Paul, sits with his daughter at their stall. Paul is a quiet man, whose enthusiasm seems tempered by years of struggle. His daughter, a shy but polite girl, smiles at shoppers scanning their wares for something eye-catching.

Paul comes from a long line of doll makers. His father passed the skills down to him when he was still only a little boy. He has spent the last 25 years mastering this craft. However, in his long career he has never received an award for his work. “I have come to the city many times,” he says, “they've asked for my dolls to be displayed at fairs and museums. But, today I am finally winning a prize.” Paul is busy working for the whole year but makes most of his money during festivals . As with many other craft goods, dolls are very popular items at fairs when they, along with other traditional items, sell well.

Tepa putuls are a popular type of clay doll that is shaped by pressing one's fingers down on clay. Paul's stall displays a wide assortment of dolls arranged in several rows and columns. These range from animal motifs, to human and mythological subjects. Visitors to the stall who take closer looks at Paul's work were able to make out the details, such as the etchings on the clay animals and human figures, or the careful strokes of paint applied to the coloured pots and masks.

“I make my dolls in the same style as my father did,” says Paul, “we get our inspiration from nature and make many animal dolls. They're popular, especially with tourists. Children like them but so do adults.” I point to a small group of pots, with cobra heads sticking out from the sides and ask where that motif came from. Three cobra heads emerge from behind the pot - one is positioned to strike at the viewer from directly behind the pot, while two more heads peek out from either side.

“These are from Hindu myth,” says Paul, “we do a lot of such work for Puja and other Hindu festivals.”

Small masks are also on display alongside his dolls.

Paul’s masks depict characters from the Ramayana, such as the 10 different heads of Ravana, the demon king of Lanka who kidnapped Rama's wife Sita in the Hindu epic. These are used in festivals held in villages across the country where actors reenact these stories in their shows.

The dolls, or putuls, sell for only 10-20 taka. Their usage has declined in recent years thanks to the

Subodh Chandra Paul’s clay creations.

emergence of new imported toys. These clay dolls are now sold in the city as souvenirs or as decorative items for someone's coffee or side tables. Paul believes that this is why so many craftsmen have left the profession.

“I know a lot of people who stopped working with dolls and started their own shops in the city,” he says, “they would rather work there because it's just not worth the effort to make these dolls only to sell them for a few takas.”

Paul hopes that being a recipient of this prestigious award will change his fellow craftsmen's negative perceptions regarding his craft. He thinks it will motivate them to not give up and continue working with dolls. A television camera and crew soon stops by the toy crafts stall. Paul speaks into a journalist's microphone with confidence, proud of his accomplishment while maintaining his humility. He has, of course, reason to be proud as a representative of the crafts tradition and as a Master Craftsperson’s Award winner.

Activists have predicted doom for the handicrafts industry and cautioned the general public to save this art form before it is too late. But the stories of these artisans, whose lives are often fraught with disappointments and hardship, are often overlooked behind these

ideals. When the time comes for the ceremony to begin, each craftsman is called up to receive his award and asked to say a few things to describe their feelings.

They thank God, their families and the two organizations responsible for the event, before leaving the stage and returning to their stalls. The audience disperses immediately after the ceremony to look at the various crafts on display at the fairgrounds. The dialogue shifts from the ideals of crafts preservation at the ceremony to the buying and selling of goods at each stall. Somewhere along the way, the stories of these individual craftsmen are lost or only vaguely alluded to. It is our hope that these brief but revealing accounts of the lives of four Master Craftsperson’s Award recipients will leave lasting impressions on our readers so that they can appreciate this art form and understand why it is so important to preserve it.

Naveed Islam is the Associate Editor of Jamini.

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crafts

the art of alighiero boetti and donald judd

craftsmanship and collective work in contemporary art

by Giorgio Guglielmino

Alighiero Boetti and Donald Judd are two artists who have used external collaborators, those existing outside and not involved with the conceptual stages of preparing the artwork, in the creation of their art. They do so by using skills commonly associated with handmade crafts. Giorgio Guglielmino examines the close ties between two separate modes of expression - the craftsmanship of humble folk art and the elitist concepts of contemporary and conceptual art.

(right page) Alighiero Boetti, Essenza E Sostanza, 1987.

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Donald Judd, Untitled, 1974.

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he use of craftsmanship in Western contemporary art – although it did not enjoy a vast and varied influence – is, nevertheless, present as an essential component in the works of a few important artists. Even though the end results may differ considerably, for such artists the practice of craftsmanship, in the sense of employing the collective hard work of others to create a work, has not only an aesthetic value, but also a conceptual one.

The Italian artist Alighiero Boetti and the American artist Donald Judd – though vastly different from one another – are two artists who collaborate with workers and craftsmen to create their art. In both instances, the collective or “external” effort, in relation to the original concept as envisaged by the artist, represents an intrinsic component of artistic conceptualization, of the manner in which a work is perceived and, ultimately, of the predominance of concept over form.

When Boetti and Judd’s works are compared to Marcel Duchamp's readymade, a difference is observed. With Duchamp, one witnesses the conceptualization of a pre-existing object. The decontextualization of the object – and thus, its removal from its natural context or from its common use (for

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instance, the bicycle wheel, or the bottle rack) – turns it into a work of art because the artist makes the object his own. In the case of Boetti and Judd, on the other hand, the object shaped by the craftsman or worker is created with the artists' specific instructions and, without the original idea behind it, it would never have existed.

Alighiero Boetti (Turin 1940, Rome 1994) belonged to the Italian “Arte Povera” movement which began in Turin at the end of the 60s and came into its heyday in the 70s. While the other exponents of the movement created works (sculptures, in particular) using deliberately “strong” mediums (carbon, steel, lead) far removed from those of classical sculpture (marble, bronze, clay), Boetti has used extremely coloruful everyday elements and commissioned teams of craftsmen or specific groups of people to produce his works. In this way the artist has involved an extremely skillful number of external collaborators in his art.

Alighiero Boetti's best-known works are his embroideries. The artist thought of phrases made up of 16 letters (in the case of the smaller hangings), sometimes going up to 25 or even a few hundred letters, in order to fill up all the empty spaces in a

Donald Judd, Untitled.

square grid. He then commissioned female weavers to create embroideries that contained his sentences that were intended to be read from top to bottom, and written out in block capitals.

Some of the smaller hangings carry very simple phrases, such as IMMAGINANDO TUTTO (IMAGINING IT ALL) or CINQUE X CINQUE VENTICINQUE (FIVE TIMES FIVE IS TWENTYFIVE). Up until the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, Boetti commissioned Afghan women to create his tapestries and then, subsequently, shifted production to Pakistan.

In spite of the artist's many visits to Kabul, where he also lived for a while, he inevitably commissioned works from a distance most of the time, often leaving weavers ample freedom in their choice of colour combinations. Once a phrase was chosen, the entire craftsmanship and creation process was carried out by local women who were a great distance away from the artist, not just physically but also socially and culturally.

The embroideries were then shipped to Italy where artists would sign and exhibit them.

Another really well-known series of works by Boetti is Biro, named after the famous ‘Bic’ ballpoint pen. Here too, after having devised a few words or

even a sentence, Boetti would hand out sheets of white paper along with a few ballpoint pens to inmates or former convicts with specific instructions on how to “write down” the words: all letters of the alphabet to the left with a comma after each of the “useful” letters. The six letters making up the word VEDERE (to see) are identified by commas on the sheet of paper covered for the most part in small vertical blueink strokes. An extreme example of such collaboration was obtained in the creation of one of Boetti's later series of works with the help of students from French art colleges and the skilled craftsmanship of hundreds of Pakistani rug weavers.

In this case, Alghiero Boetti gave 100 groups of students 100 grids made up of 100 squares each. Each grid or board, ten by ten squares, had to be filled in following a given pattern: in the first grid, an initial white square was followed by all-black squares; in the second grid, two black squares were followed by allwhite squares; in the third grid, the first three squares were white, the rest black, and so on. Students were given total freedom in how they chose to alternate the white and black squares. 100 completely different patterns were created by the 100 student groups involved. These patterns were subsequently

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Alighiero Boetti, Mettere Al Mondo Il Mondo, 1973.

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Donald Judd, Untitled, 1990.

reproduced on just as many tapestries. In this case, the artist simply worked an abstract idea – the alternating pattern of white and black squares – that took physical form in the imagination of the students and that was later reproduced by the craftspeople. This process was akin to the work of the artist being pared down to the bone, to the bare minimum, to the unique creative moment at the heart of the idea driving the work.

Donald Judd (Excelsior Springs 1928, New York 1994), along with Dan Flavin and Carl Andre, belong to the American Minimalist movement and is one of its major exponents. Judd's minimalism could not be further apart from the colourful cheerfulness and light imperfections characteristic of the handwork permeating Boetti's creations. Not surprisingly, Donald Judd preferred to use industrial materials, preferably iron and Plexiglas, to produce aesthetically cold, and perfect end products.

Judd always used skilled workers and industrial production-line factories in the creation of his works and never created a single item within the confines of his studio. Thus, even in his case, the creation of the work was entrusted to external individuals who produced the pieces by following the artist's instructions. The artist's lack of hands-on involvement was key to Donald Judd's conceptual work.

It is important to point out here that the actual makers of such works, both as regards to Boetti and Judd, were not the artists' assistants. It is different with artists like Damien Hirst, Jeff Koons, and Takashi Murakami, who in the past have transformed their studios into factories (some of them ended up employing about eighty assistants at one time), where paid full-time staff worked constantly under their supervision in creating pieces or complete works of art.

The creation of works by people from outside the art world (craftspeople in the case of Boetti, workers in that of Judd) was a crucial component in their concept of the artist's creative moment, although it was totally separate from the actual production process.

Giorgio Guglielmino is the Guest Editor for the 'Crafts' issue of Jamini.

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crafts

saidul haque juise on mask-making in bangladesh

a mask tells us more than a face

by Jafrin Gulshan translated by Ahsan Akbar

Renowned artist and mask-maker Saidul Haque Juise offers his views on the mask-making tradition. In his interview with Jafrin Gulshan, he sheds light on the state of the mask-making craft and its position in today's global culture.

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nthropologists believe that man created tools in order to survive. This fact becomes obvious when you consider some of our oldest inventions, such as the wheel or hammer, which serve practical purposes. But why did we decide to make masks? It seems odd to place these objects alongside clay pots or woven bags in terms of usefulness. And yet the mask was just as important to prehistoric society and is just as integral to our understanding of ancient customs and traditions as the aforementioned tools. This must be why we find so many examples of the mask-making trade among several great civilizations including the Mesopotamian, Byzantine, Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Mongolian and Mughal.

In the Indian Subcontinent, masks first came into use several centuries ago. B.M. Pande, in the INGCA volume on Mind, Man and Mask (2001) reveals evidence in the Mesolithic and upper-Paleolithic cave paintings in Cantrell, India which shows that masks

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have been made in South Asia since roughly 15,000 BC, and could even have existed long before then. But what do these artifacts tell us about the mask's functions in society? In the rock art of Bhimbetka we see dancers in tribal ceremonies who are depicted wearing masks, some with animal motifs and others with more abstract designs. This reveals that masks were used primarily in connection with religious rituals and provided entertainment during cultural festivals.

Today, the mask-making tradition in the Indian Subcontinent is a craft on a very small scale. Masks are still used to entertain rural communities with dramatic presentations of religious or mythological stories. But due to their loss of significance in present-day society, the middle and upper classes remain largely unmoved by masks. Even amongst the art community, there remain very few artists who work closely with masks.

Saidul Haque Juise, an eminent Bangladeshi artist, developed a fascination for making masks when he

Saidul Haque Juise, Dancing Puppets, 2011.

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Saidul Haque Juise in his studio.

was a student at the Faculty of Fine Arts at the University of Dhaka. He has continued to work with them since then and has not only produced new masks, but also developed new techniques and in the process has discovered new materials to make them.

He also shared his skills with others in mask-making classes and workshops.

I had the pleasure of meeting him for tea recently at his home in Uttara. We sat amidst his collection of local and foreign masks, collected during his travels in Australia, Africa, Europe, Latin America, China, Japan, the Middle-East and South Asia. This collection represents a wealth of cultural knowledge from all over the world. We spoke about the mask-making craft and its evolution alongside the other art forms in Bangladesh.

Jafrin Gulshan You collect masks from various different cultures. What are the unique elements which tie them strongly to their countries of origin?

Saidul Haque Juise The origin and invention of masks is similar across cultures and represents the mystical or supernatural beliefs of a society. Masks evoke magic between this life and the afterlife. Masks also represent a technique of survival, since pagan societies saw them as protection from vengeance of supernatural deities. Every culture adds distinct nuances to the masks it produces. The African masks are typically made of wood and feature a unique lined relief process made with carvings, to give a simple and firm dimension. The Nepalese masks, like the houses they build, are very bright and colourful. In fact, many countries in South Asia, such as Sri Lanka, Bhutan and India, have masks painted with bold hues and feature the colours prevalent in that culture's palette, i.e. – colours seen at their cultural festivals and in everyday life. In essence, masks are a reflection of a particular society's beliefs and customs. I think that's why they've survived for so long, and that's also why we should work to preserve them as a craft.

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Saidul Haque Juise, Birds (top), Elephant (bottom left), Tiger (bottom right).

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On that note, where do you think the future of mask-making is headed?

I think it will continue to be featured in a select few exhibitions and at most cultural festivals. I am doing my part to keep this tradition alive, by teaching it to others in classes or at workshops. They are learning to use my techniques and have started to make masks as a hobby. I wish there were a village where people would only make masks. There are a lot of rural communities who are involved in a single craft trade and I wish there were something like that for masks.

The skills would be passed down through a hereditary system from one generation to another. That way, the craft's survival could be guaranteed – at least on a small scale.

time to time and it's a very different process from when I work on my own personal projects. My creativity and imagination are what shine through when I make masks for an exhibition or a workshop but when I work with a theatre production, the appearance and character of each mask is dictated by the script. Masks have fallen into the category of traditional goods and are very popular at cultural festivals. In fact, when I was a student at the Institute of Fine Arts at the University of Dhaka, my friends, classmates and I started the trend of making masks for the celebration of Pohela Boishakh, the Bengali New Year. It's still a very popular attraction and over the years has become an important part of Boishakh festivities.

Can you talk about some of the techniques you've developed for making masks?

Sure. I make masks using a variety of different materials such as wood, mud and paper. I developed the paper-folding technique where you can make the form and shape of the mask by folding pieces of paper. It's simple and can be done with minimal time and expense. In 2004, I started making masks in the elongated form and also experimented with sawdust and sand. I apply colours to each mask by using the colour lining technique. We use colours to create the mood of a mask and give each work a unique character. One has to see the colours in accordance with the dimensions of the mask. Then you must choose the right colours to go with the design. I have observed mask designs from across a variety of cultures very closely and found that the techniques used to lay down the lines on each mask are simple but elegant. Each stroke carries a lot of beauty and creates a sense of harmony and rhythm in each piece, even where there are strong contrasts in colours.

Masks today have lost their ritualistic use in everyday life. But, we continue to be fascinated by them as objects of mystery and intrigue. In contemporary art, they are used as objects to hide layers of meaning. In drama, literature and film they are used as a character's disguise to create a sense of mystery and danger in the plot. But why do we enjoy masks? What result is derived from wearing a mask? In his essay, Pen, Pencil and Posion: a Study in Green (1889), Oscar Wilde quipped that “A mask tells us more than a face.� Wilde believed that we can understand a person's character based on his choice of a mask to hide himself. Perhaps this psychological vantage point can help us to not only understand the mask, but appreciate the aesthetic depth of the medium as an art form. It is both a treasured craft item and a representation of the human psyche.

Is there still a demand for masks in today's society?

I think that people are drawn to masks. There is still some demand for it among the younger generation who buy them to decorate their homes. But masks aren't as popular as they used to be. I also see a lot of foreigners who buy masks at fairs and festivals as souvenirs or as gifts for their friends. I collect masks too and personally feel that they make great decorations. Drama troupes also incorporate masks into their stage productions to portray characters in a play or a dance drama. I make masks for them from

Jafrin Gulshan is an artist and art critic, living in Dhaka. She also writes on fine art for several leading newspapers and magazines.

Ahsan Akbar is a translator, poet and writer, originally from Dhaka. He now divides his time between Bangladesh and England.

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crafts

the sonargaon folk arts and crafts museum

preserving our crafts heritage

by Kashfia Arif and Fahim Siddiqi

The Sonargaon Folk Arts and Crafts Museum was established by Shilpacharya Zainul Abedin to store craft objects for future generations. He hoped to promote the steadily declining trade, encourage the skill of its producers and preserve the hundreds of years of history that crafts represents. Kashfia Arif and Fahim Siddiqi investigate the history of this monumental project and reflect on its importance.

The Folk Arts & Crafts Museum at Sonargaon was established in 1975 by Zainul Abedin Photographs by ARK Reepon

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he economic marginalization of the handicrafts industry has been a problem in Bangladesh that precedes its independence.

Folk arts and crafts are important to our culture as symbols of identity and remnants of history. And yet, the influx of cheaper alternative goods, made in factories by big corporations, has pushed these handmade treasures out of daily usage. It is fast becoming imperative to save and preserve this endangered art form, as socio-economic forces beyond the ken of humble artisans dwindle the small pockets of demand this industry still retains. Zainul Abedin, the artist, pioneer and visionary who helped shape the course of modern and traditional arts in Bangladesh, proposed the creation of a facility to store these crafts, as examples of fine workmanship and as treasurers from Bangladesh’s rich cultural past.

The Sonargaon Folk Arts Museum was built in 1975 and became the fulfillment of his mission.

Craftsmen in ancient Bengal were commissioned by kings and feudal lords to build several mosques, temples and palaces for their use. But, in the early19th century, the demands of the ruling class began to reflect a shift toward modern tastes thanks to new

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technologies and a growing Western influence in the region. This change left craftsmen to cater to the needs of their respective villages. Pots, utensils, toys and other everyday items were made using available raw materials such as clay, bamboo and cane, collected from these small agriculture-based communities.

Today, folk arts and crafts survive in these villages, where small groups of craftsmen live and sell their wares. But, the goods that these craftsmen produce are no longer an integral part of our daily lives.

Bangladesh's rapid modernization is encroaching upon markets where crafts still retain their popularity.

A folk arts and crafts museum, built to preserve this endangered art form, represents an important step towards saving the handicrafts industry from extinction. These objects, such as brass pots, embroidered bags or terracotta works, were not meant to be placed inside glass cases or displayed on walls.

However, the invasion of foreign and factory-made products into the domestic market has pushed handicrafts into niche corners, under the banner of “traditional” goods. This tendency led several craftsmen to pursue different lines of work, while many others slowly lost their motivation and skill for producing top-quality crafts. A museum, can act as a reference point for these craftsmen to study the goods made by their predecessors and improve their own work. There is a marked difference in quality between the Jamdani saris and nakshi kanthas of old and the ones made today. Contemporary craftsmen can appreciate and learn from these exhibits and make better crafts. The museum also serves a historical function by giving us a rare glimpse of the lives of our ancestors through the everyday items they used.

Crafts were once sold at every shop and bought by people from all walks of life. But their declining use by large segments of the population necessitates their placement in such a museum, to serve as examples of the fine workmanship of craftsmen and as remnants of a nearly forgotten era of our history.

Zainul Abedin, the famous painter and pioneer of the modern art movement in Bangladesh, was the chief advocate for the creation of a folk arts museum.

His work as an artist and his role as an activist who wished to preserve and protect the indigenous arts of his country have been inspirational and has helped define the breadth and scope of both modern and traditional Bangladeshi arts. Abedin's paintings reveal the depth of his love and concern for the rural

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communities of Bangladesh. Men and women who face and overcome natural or man-made disasters are a recurring theme in Abedin’s work, appearing in many of his most famous paintings. His preoccupation with the daily struggles of village life explains his activities as a crafts preservationist. A native of the Kishoreganj district in Mymensigh, Abedin eventually settled in Dhaka following the partition of India. For his success as an artist and teacher, Abedin was called upon to re-establish Bangladesh's cultural identity in the wake of the country’s liberation movement. He became an activist, working hard to preserve and promote the local arts of Bangladesh and to find a voice for his people. His enthusiasm gave birth to the concept of a folk arts museum, to collect and house the dwindling number of handicrafts from these surviving traditions for future generations. For his many contributions to the arts, as a painter, visionary, educator and activist, His students, fellow artists and the general people began calling him “Shilpacharya” or “Great Teacher of the Arts.” He died of lung cancer a few months after the Sonargaon project was completed.

The site for the Sonargaon folk arts and crafts museum was chosen based on a number of factors; chief among these was Sonargaon's ability to accurately represent the rural setting in which the crafts tradition was born and continues to thrive. In order to create such a backdrop, Abedin and his fellow crafts preservationists needed a large area of open land. Plans for the complex included, in addition to the crafts museum, a crafts shop, boating and fishing services, spaces for crafts demonstrations and markets and small houses built in the same style as the ones seen dotting the village landscape. These ideas would manifest themselves as the crafts village, workshops and fairs hosted at the facility today. The decision to recreate aspects of village life was made to evoke the context in which our country's folk arts and handicrafts were originally conceived. Visitors are invited to learn the history of the crafts tradition at the museum, and immerse themselves in culture,

(right page) The courtyard of Sardar Bari, a zamindar villa that now houses the museum’s displays.

thereby gaining a greater appreciation for this old and underappreciated art form. Such a facility would not have been possible in a city. It would also prove costly and cumbersome to build the museum in a place like Dhaka, where the difficulties of finding space to accommodate the facility and the additional costs of landscaping to add authenticity to the village setting would pose major challenges.

Sonargaon is thus the ideal location for the folk arts and crafts museum, not only for its proximity to rural crafts communities or the open space it has, but also for its history as a commercial centre and as a production hub for crafts. The “golden village,” (a literal translation of its name) was once the administrative capital of eastern Bengal when Muslim rule was first established in the region. According to the written accounts of scholars who traveled through the Indian Subcontinent, Sonargaon was once a river port where goods from nearby countries were collected and sold. It was also a trading point where some of Bengal's finest products were made and exported to foreign markets. Sonargaon's muslin gained worldwide recognition when it was taken abroad by rich merchants to their respective homelands. But, the city lost its commercial and political significance when the Mughal Empire established Dhaka as its seat of power in 1608. Today, we find evidence of Sonargaon's former glory in the medieval township situated within a few kilometres of the city. Adventurous visitors who choose to take a quick detour from the crafts museum will be able to see the remains of several ancient mosques and zamindar villas, some of which predate the arrival of the Mughals, being built before the area came under Muslim control. Visitors should also take note of the nearby villages which are home to several communities of craftsmen, the descendants of muslin weavers whose works were known all over the world as some of the finest fabrics ever made.

The museum's collection is displayed inside a twostoried aristocratic building that seems to have survived since colonial times. Sardar Bari, as the building is known, was once the home of a feudal lord and its architecture reflects the social strata to which the house's owner must have belonged. The arched gateways welcoming visitors into open courtyards, the balconies and the decorative stucco work done along the walls, must have been expensive. Jyotindra Jain, an anthropologist, art historian and expert on indigenous

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arts, who prepared a report on the Sonargaon folk arts and crafts museum at the request of UNESCO and the Government of Bangladesh in 1983, deemed the building unsuitable for its purpose. He argued that Sardar Bari was unfit to house a collection of crafts “not only because it is dilapidated and lets in ample dust and humidity, but also because the humble village objects which are displayed inside stand out in sharp contrast to the palatial characteristics of the building.”

Converting a nobleman's house into a museum for village crafts seems like an odd choice for the administration, who was reportedly concerned with maintaining the authenticity of rural life. However, it could also be argued that Sardar Bari was a display item itself, a testament to the hard work and fine craftsmanship that went into building and beautifying this palatial estate. Jain's second point regarding the climate and its effects on the handicrafts on display is a cause for concern. The hundred-acre compound features ponds and a picturesque lake, which add to the beauty of the complex. But they also pose a danger to the crafts stored in the museum because these water bodies can greatly increase the humidity in the air, particularly during the monsoon season, causing harm to the craft objects inside. Jain recommended making substantial renovations to the building or moving the displays entirely to a more well-equipped facility within the grounds. Today, the Sonargaon folk arts and crafts museum still houses its craft items in Sardar Bari but has received a sum of Tk. 100 million from a Korean organization for restoration work. Today, the museum complex houses a crafts village, workshops and picnic spots. Visitors can eat at one of the many cafeterias, go for a boat ride, or fish at the lake and watch craftsmen at work.

They can spend a day enjoying and experiencing Bangladesh's rich cultural heritage at their leisure.

The museum stores many artifacts of cultural and historical significance. However, it is important to note that the quality of these items may not be a true representation of handicrafts made during the height of the trade's popularity. Time has taken its toll on the

(right page) The arched entrance to Sardar Bari.

objects displayed here, causing significant damage to some of the works seen in the museum. The collection itself is not uniform in quality due to difficulties the administrators faced in finding the best examples of every crafts medium from the Indian Subcontinent. The administrators caution that with each passing year it becomes more and more challenging to procure these samples. This is why it is doubly important for crafts preservationists and activists to generate funds and collect more craft works before they are lost to time. The items on display in the Sonargaon folk arts and crafts museum include the following: idols The region was predominantly Hindu before it fell under Muslim rule and so there is a mixture of both cultures in the art. This can be seen in the selection of idol statues found in the collection. From earth to wood to metal, all sorts of variations in material and forms are observed. The majority of the idols are of Ganesh and Krishna. The folk arts museum is the only place which houses an eight-armed statue of Ganesh, a rare piece since the Hindu deity is most often depicted as being four-armed. Idols of the goddesses of wealth and education, Lakshmi and Saraswati respectively, can be seen as well. folk artwork The museum has several galleries dedicated to the folk artwork of Bangladesh. From tapestries to woodcraft and paintings, the selection is diverse. The technique and style of artistry is in simple bold lines and details with vivid colours. They tell stories and local myths that were popular at the time of their conception. One such piece is the depiction of the life story of Raja Harishchandra painted on a carving created from a single piece of wood. Another is a kantha-stitched tapestry of Krishna and his famous tale of stealing butter. masks In royal courts, theatre was the preferred form of entertainment after music. The use of masks in plays carries significance. It allowed actors and entertainers to depict a variety of characters and expressions, making their performances that much more interesting and dramatic. Various masks portraying expressions, gender and even animals (like tiger masks) are on

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exhibit, showing the rich theatre culture that is part of Bangladeshi tradition. musical instruments Baul songs have their roots in Bangladesh and a complete collection of the musical instruments that accompany the artists as they sang their music is present in the museum. The ektara and the dotara, fashioned out of bamboo, wood and strings, are the most common instruments crafted and used by these traveling musicians. A variety of them, showing the development of the instrument from historic to its more modern forms, are in the museum. There are also more complicated, multi-stringed instruments such as the sitar on display too although these were used in the creation of music for court performances later on, and aren't of Bangladeshi origin. Other traditional Bengali instruments such as the dhol (large percussion drm) and flute are also part of the collection. boats On the grounds, there is a picturesque boathouse in the shape of a peacock. This nod to the inherent water-based traditions of the region is shown in an array of wooden boats in the museum. These boats symbolize the river culture of Bangladesh, showing the progression of boat crafting in this country. There are around 150 miniature models crafted out of wood.

They are patterned with designs that replicate the actual artwork done on their life-sized counterparts.

The artwork on these model boats are carefully carved out from wood or embellished with bamboo sheets and hand-painted. The Foundation plans to re-create these miniatures, scaled to their life-size measurements, for visitors, who can then gain a finer appreciation for the skill and technique required to make them. terracotta art Terracotta Art is the earliest form of plastic art in

(right page) The interior of Sardar Bari.

A bust of Shilpacharya Zainul Abedin on the museum grounds.

Zainul Abedin’s Songram painting made into a statue for display in the museum compound.

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which Bengali artists excelled. The climate and the geographic position of the country allowed Bangladesh to access this material since the rivers of the deltaic country and the alluvial soil present at its banks made brick and clay baking smoother and easier.

The art products in terracotta or burnt clay satisfied the creative impulse of the artists and also met the domestic and ritual needs of ordinary people. The museum has a collection of terracotta bricks designed with different patterns. The use of terracotta bricks has always played an important role in the historical architecture of Bangladesh. Thus the museum displays a selection of terracotta, showing the change of designs from that time to modern periods. The collection reveals both Hindu and Muslim traditions of crafts. The variety is not only restricted to bricks that were used for construction but also terracotta plates, plaques and discs created for artwork. Just as their Hindu predecessors had decorated their temples with animal and human figures in plaques and plates, the terracotta panels extensively used on Muslim buildings for the ornamentation of the architectural monuments have exquisite floral and geometric carvings and abstract designs. baking utensils Pithas are native to Bengali culture. This food item is present in nearly every cultural festival of Bangladesh and has a variation for every season. The museum pays homage to this tradition through its wide range of pitha cutouts that were used to create designs on the culinary masterpieces dating back to the 19th Century, from bird and animal shapes to floral patterns to geometric outlines. weapons and tools Among the objects in the museum is an assortment of weapons and tools used. Shields woven from bamboo and cudgels fashioned from wood reminiscent of the pre-metal era are on display.

Weapons and agricultural tools such as hoes and spades and other digging apparatuses with metal fittings are also there.

A visit to the Sonargaon Folk Arts and Crafts museum shows us exactly why we must not let our history go. Safeguarding these examples of expert workmanship means not only preserving a dying trade, but protecting our cultural heritage and identity as well.

Tepa putul in the Sonargaon Folk Arts Museum.

KASHFIA ARIF is a student of English Literature and writes poetry. She was previously a feature writer for ICE Today.

FAHIM SIDDIQI is a staff writer for Jamini.

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crafts

history of doll making in bangladesh

putul story

by Shawon Akand translated by Md. Shakhaowat Hossain

Doll making is one of the most enduring craft traditions in the Indian Subcontinent. Its past is steeped in mythology and mysticism but its present is plagued by market forces and globalization. Shawon Akand explores the rich history of this unique and underappreciated art form, by examining four popular doll making mediums - clay, wood, metal and shola - and their unique ties to our land and culture.

Clay dolls left to dry

Clay dolls.

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t is difficult to point to a specific era in human history when dolls were first made. But archaeological evidence leaves no doubt that they have existed in several parts of the world since prehistoric times. Dolls can be found in almost every ancient civilization in the world, including the Greek, Roman, Egyptian and Chinese empires.

In Greater India too, there were dolls in the cities, villages and settlements. Proof of this lies in the archaeological sites of the ancient Sindh civilization.

Researchers and experts have commented on why these dolls were made and for what occasions they were used in society. They believe that dolls originated for the purposes of sorcery, religious rituals, children's games and home decoration. In the beginning, clay, wood, stone, metal and bone were used to make dolls.

The practice of using these materials in doll-making differed between regions and depended on their availability. For example, clay and wood are the most easily found and commonly used materials in Bangladesh for making dolls.

Subsequently, other types of materials were also used as a result of advancements in technology. For example, in Europe, plastic, synthetic fibers and other modern resources have been used to make dolls and

toys since the industrial revolution. Today, Bangladesh has many different types of dolls. Besides using different mediums to make dolls in our country, artisans have also developed their own signature styles for designing and characterizing their dolls. Those who make dolls also come from diverse cultural, geographical and professional backgrounds.

In this article, we will try to understand the characters, types and nature of Bangladeshi dolls. We will focus primarily on clay, wood, metal and spongewood dolls, and the cultural, religious and historical significance of these types of dolls in this region, particularly in Bangladesh. Let us begin this discussion by looking at clay dolls and potters. clay dolls Dolls made from burnt clay have existed across parts of the Indian Subcontinent for thousands of years. They have been found in Mangolkot, West Bengal, and in Wari-Bateshwar, Mahasthangarh, Paharpur and Myanamati in Bangladesh. Similar types of dolls or clay statues are still made in Bangladesh's rural areas today. These dolls are crafted by moulding and pressing clay by hand and with very simple tools; these techniques haven't changed even after several

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centuries. Stella Kramrisch, an art historian who specialized in the indigenous arts of South Asia, called these miniature statues “timeless.” They come in different sizes and formats in Bangladesh.

Clay dolls have been made and used for three purposes in Bangladesh – for performing rituals, for decorating homes and for use as toys for children to play with. These dolls were also often associated with folk beliefs and traditions. The miniature human statues, for example, had certain features – the belly, hips or chest were shown in an exaggerated manner.

These dolls are believed to have symbolized fertility or the earth goddess. Animal dolls were made for different purposes than human miniature statutes but still served a religious function. The custom of sacrificing clay elephants and horse dolls to gods and goddesses is still practiced in rural Bangladesh.

Sacrifices are made in the hopes of fulfilling a worshipper's wishes or desires. For example, horses are still sacrificed to the ghora peer or the saint of horses at the shrine in Dhamrai in Dhaka. It is believed that the horses and elephants are used as transportation for the peer or represent the peer himself. Potters from the shrine make these types of dolls, which are then offered for sacrifice. These dolls are also bought by visitors as decoration items.

Clay dolls or toys are burnt by the sun or in the fire. Women from the potter families are usually given this task. These dolls may be made for commercial use or to fulfill a personal need. The designing process begins when the dolls are raw or half-made and different colours are applied after they have dried. Clay dolls are made almost everywhere in Bangladesh but Kagajipara of Dhamrai, Kakran of Savar, Bijaypur of Comilla, Basantapur of Rajshahi, Gomjani of Tangail and Koya of Kushtia are among the most well-known regions that make them. These dolls have different names depending on the areas in which they are made – Tepa doll, Goalini doll, Ma Sashti, etc. Horses from Panchmura, Bankura or dolls from Krishnanagar of West Bengal are also very famous.

Potters from Kirshnanagar are renowned as doll makers. Like many potters in Bengal, the artisans at Krishnanagar also began their craft by making statues of gods and goddesses. But slowly their style deviated from the traditional ones used to make clay figures.

The main reason for this deviation was that the potters from Kirshnanagar became very skilled in making reallife characters or objects. Kirshnanagar pottery has

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also received appreciation from international fairs and exhibitions. Some of the famous potters from Kirshnanagar are Jadunath Pal (1822-1929) and Gopeshwar Pal (1894-1944).

Not all types of potters make all types of pottery.

Some make only cooking utensils while others focus exclusively on dolls or idols. Among those who do make clay dolls, however, many are women and children. Another important point to note is the relation between pottery and the potter. It is like the relationship between water and fish. For any potter, the availability and accessibility of good clay or soil is of paramount importance. If there is a shortage or complete lack of any clay at all, a potter is forced to leave the village to find a more suitable place to work.

This is common and happens in many villages across Bangladesh. For example, families from Palpara and Jugia of Kushtia were forced to move to a new area called Koya, within Kushtia, due to a shortage of clay.

The properties of clay and soil are different in different areas. A specific type of pottery usually flourishes in a region, depending on the characteristics and quality of the soil in that area. For example, it is not possible to create Krishnanagar's lifelike dolls or statues with the clay of Dhamrai. Even bringing artisans from Krishnanagar to Dhamrai will not help because of the marked difference between the soil of both regions. It would also not be possible for the potters at Bankura to make the famous clay horses of Kirshnanagar because of Bankura clay's softness. In other words, the characteristics and quality of the soil will determine the type of pottery that develops in any region.

The clay dolls and statues made by potters across various regions in Bangladesh demonstrate extraordinary imagination, finesse, skill, commitment and creativity. This ancient craft, a tradition that is over thousands of years old, is alive and well today. wooden dolls Wooden dolls hold a special position in Bangladeshi folk tradition. Kadam, amra, jial, sheora, chhatim and shimul woods are commonly used to make these dolls. The carpenter will first make the shape of the doll out of measured quantities of soft wood. He will need hammers of different sizes, a blade or a hatchet and some thread to make measurements.

Heavy tools are used in the early stages of the doll-

A painted wooden elephant doll.

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making process but more sophisticated and precise tools are needed in the final phase to add texture and detail. The carpenter must then apply colour to breathe life into his doll and give it individuality or uniqueness. Red, blue, green, yellow, white and black are some of the most commonly used colours for making dolls with a local flavour. Visual details are added to the eyes, nose, mouth and clothes by using a variety of different hues while brighter shades are applied to ornaments or accessories. Bangladeshi dolls are usually between 10 to 25 centimetres in size, but larger dolls are also made. These wooden dolls are sometimes called mummy dolls, due to their resemblance to mummies found in Egypt.

Elephant and horse dolls are also very popular in Bangladesh. As in the making of the mummy dolls, the wood is first cut into shapes that resemble these animals and colours are applied, with bright hues used on ornaments. The most popular type of horse dolls, interestingly, have wheels instead of hooves at their feet. These figures are sold at bazaars and gift shops across the country and remain a popular item.

Carpenters also make wooden puppets for puppet shows and dances in the rural villages across the Indian Subcontinent. These dolls were made in some areas of West Bengal and in Brahmanbaria in Bangladesh. Paint was needed to create the eyes, nose, mouth and other physical features while traditional fabrics were used for the clothes these puppets wore.

However, the demand for this type of doll has decreased since puppet shows are no longer a popular pastime. This has greatly affected the carpenters for whom making dolls is more of a financial necessity than an artistic pursuit.

Carpenters in Bangladesh are most commonly known as kaath mistri or wood workers. They are also sometimes called sutradhars or sutars for their use of threads or suta to measure quantities of wood. There are both Muslim and Hindu carpenters across Greater India. Many, such as the professional carpenters from the Hindu communities, are born into the trade, inheriting skills and techniques passed down by generations of carpenters. Scholars believe that members of the sutradhar community were once masters of stone, clay and painting works before they specialized in wood. Research reveals that the sutradhars also enjoyed a very high status in ancient Indian society, but their rank decreased over time.

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Wooden dolls representing various animals and deities.

Ashutosh Chandra Sutradhar, painted wooden horse.

They consider themselves to be descendants of Vishwakarman, the god of crafts and follow the Baishnab faith. Sutars can also be found in the Shakta region as well.

A sutradhar family living in Sonargaon, on the outskirts of Dhaka, is well-known for making elephant, horse and mummy dolls. A variation on the mummy dolls the family makes is called the threeangled wooden mummy doll. The carpenters use kadam wood to make these types of dolls and apply plastic paint for colour. Ashutosh Chandra Sutradhar who lives in the Shahpur village of Naryanganj is also very skilled at making these types of dolls, a trade he learnt from his father. His family makes angled wooden dolls, elephants, horses, carts, sleeping cots, palanquins and more. Sutradhar communities in other areas of Dhaka, Faridpur, Mymensingh, Comilla and Chittagong are also skilled at making wooden dolls.

The most-renowned Bangladeshi wooden doll makers are from Bardhaman, Hooghli, Howrah, and Medinipur in West Bengal.

The outstanding skill of these carpenter communities in Bangladesh deserves to be recognized. Demand for these products has experienced a boost recently with the growing popularity of traditional crafts.

NGOs and project trusts are also providing wooden dolls and other types of indigenous crafts a marketing and sales forum to help these carpenters with livelihood. metal dolls Bell metal and brass are both copper-type amalgam metals. Bell metal is a mixture of copper and tin, and

Toy wooden horses.

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brass is a combination of copper and zinc. The bell and brass crafts in Bangladesh predate the birth of Christ; statues and different types of ornaments made using these metals are found in several archaeological sites in Bangladesh. These ancient craftsmen used metal to make different kinds of household and luxury goods for their patrons, such as utensils, statues and dolls.

Craftsmen who are involved with the bell and brass industry are called kansari and come from both Hindu and Muslim communities. At one time or another, almost every district in Bangladesh had craftspeople who worked with metal crafts. Today, Ajaipur of Chapai Nawabganj, Islampur of Jamalpur, Kagmari of Tangail and Dhamrai of Dhaka in Bangladesh remain as production hubs for bell and brass products. There are mainly five techniques in Bangladesh for making bell and brass products. These are the loose-wax, claycasting, sand-casting, hammering and engraving techniques. Among all of these different methods, the loose-wax technique is most commonly used to make dolls and statues. The loose-wax procedure was in practice in ancient Bengal; it is called dhokra in Bankura, Birbhum, Bardhaman and Purulia of West Bengal. In the past, artisans made nupur (ankle bells), pots, trays, cymbals, ornaments and statues of gods and goddesses. The motifs seen in the works of contemporary dhokra artists are animals from diverse

Dolls resembling Dhamrai metalwork.

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species, such as elephants, owls, turtles, fish, deer and others. These craftsmen are known for making figures of gods and goddesses like Shiva, Parvati, Laxmi, Durga as well as characters of religious or historical significance such as Jesus Christ or Rabindranath Tagore.

The loose-wax technique, the most popular method for making bell and brass dolls, requires a model, irrespective of the product created. Bee wax (or paraffin) is the most widely used material today.

The wax model is covered with multiple layers of clay but two narrow channels are kept open as the clay is warmed and solidified. The bell and brass metal is kept in a clay pot that is heated using a special burner until the materials reach a liquid state. This liquid metal is poured into the wax model through the narrow channels. The wax dissolves when it comes into contact with the warm liquid metal and lets the materials inside take shape. Once the metal cools to a normal temperature and reaches the desired state the clay coating is cracked. The finished product is made of metal, cast in the shape of the craftsman's wax model. The loose-wax technique is typically used by dhokra artists in Bangladesh to make metal dolls.

It must be noted that the loose-wax technique, like many ancient types of crafts, has not been well protected or nurtured in Bangladesh. It continues to exist amongst artisans in Dhamrai. According to

different sources, in the early 1970's there was a craftsman named Mosharaf Hossain who pioneered the loose-wax technique in Bangladesh. The local kumars or potters also played an important role in the early stages of its development. Anand Pal of Kagajipara, a man whose family was involved with idol making for generations, was a close associate of Mosharaf Hossain's. It is believed that Hossain added Anand Pal and his fellow potters' idol making expertise added wax to his metal casting process, thereby creating the wax models used in the loose-wax technique. Many potters in Dhamrai are currently engaged in preparing the wax models used for this metal doll making medium. spongewood dolls The Bengali word shola, meaning spongewood or hat-plant, is derived from the word sholil which means ‘water’. Shola is an aquatic plant that is found in paddy-fields and marshlands in and around the rural areas of Bangladesh.

Spongewood has been used in Bangladesh for a long time. It is used to produce ornaments which can be seen at Hindu weddings and religious festivals. The material is white in colour and aquatic in nature, two qualities which give it a sacred significance in folk tradition. There are two types of spongewood, kaat shola and phool shola. Kaat shola is hard, long and

narrow while phool shola is soft; the latter is used to produce dolls. Shola is usually five to ten feet in height, has a brown, almost soil-like colour on the outside and a white coating on the inside. Once the brown bark is peeled off, a shola is cut into small sizes, between four to eight inches in length, making it fit for various purposes. Shola is a convenient material for craftsmen because of its softness.

Those who make different types of shola products are known as malakar. According to Hindu mythology, Balarama made a crown, a necklace (mala) and a set of bangles for his younger brother Krishna using shola.

Balarama is considered to be a patron deity and pioneer of the malakars. The malakars are referred to in the Brihaddharma Purana, a Hindu religious text, where their people are descended from Vishwakarman. According to some sources, the community's lineage is traced back from a currier (charmakar) father and tilee mother. Other sources claim that there are ties between the malakars of Bengal and the royal palace of the Mathura King Kansa. These texts place the malakars' point of origin in Mathura, during the reign of the Mughal Emperor Jahangir, from where they emigrated to Bengal. There were once many malakar families in villages across Greater India but that number has since declined. In addition to the many goods these craftsmen produce using shola, they also make dolls. Spongewood dolls

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Decorative bird figures made with spongewood.

require simple tools such as cutters, scissors and knives of different sizes. Golden and silver tinsels, spangle, metal leaves or foil, and different kinds of paper are also used to beautify spongewood creations.

Aong with dolls, shola is also used as a key component for making idols, wedding decorations, necklaces, boats, and more. The trend of making spongewood dolls has seen a sharp rise over the years. Spongewood products are sold locally and abroad; many entrepreneurs are now involved in the production and export of spongewood dolls.

Apart from the four materials discussed above, craftsmen have also used other means to make dolls in Bangladesh. In the Islampur region of Birbhum in West Bengal, dolls are also made of wax. This form was popular under the British administration; different types of dolls were commissioned, made with wax of red, black, green and yellow colours. Hingol dolls were made in Bankura, Bisnupur by applying a layer of green or red wax on top of clay dolls. This type of doll is also known as bor-konna or bride and groom dolls. The name comes from an old custom of giving Hingol dolls and other gifts to the bride before she is taken to the husband's household after the wedding.

In Behrampore, Murshibad we can see dolls made from ivory. The import of ivory has now been banned in Bangladesh and the ivory-based craftsmen now make dolls and other handicrafts from sandalwood.

Some scholars believe that ivory art in Bengal was first started and developed in Sylhet. They claim that this art form spread from there to Dhaka and later to Murshibad. Whether or not these assumptions are correct, the importance of Sylhet to the development of ivory art cannot be understated. Dolls made from stone are uncommon in Bangladesh due to the rarity of proper materials. But cloth, thread and fabric are widely used to make dolls. Many girls learn to make their own dolls by putting together pieces of fabric and then folding and sewing the cloth together. In addition to wax, ivory and fabric, we can also find dolls made from bones, oysters and paper.

People first made dolls as ritual offerings and playthings but their role and function in our society has evolved over time. They have many uses and come

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A doll made of wood and cloth.

in many different forms. Toys made of plastic and synthetic materials are manufactured on a large scale, marketed by major corporations in the industry and sold to consumers at retail outlets. They have taken the place of their more primitive predecessors, the indigenous dolls made from clay, wood or wax, in the hands of children across the world. These popular toys, many of which are imported since only a small portion is produced in Bangladesh, have significantly affected children's perceptions of what good toys are. But, they do not bear the kind of cultural identity that those made by the craftsmen of Bangladesh and West Bengal do. Nevertheless, dolls continue to survive in this age of globalization. Governments, NGOs and institutions dedicated to preserving our cultural heritage are working to improve the situation for craftsmen who make dolls. Dolls are also exhibited as modern art, incorporated into the works of contemporary artists, or are displayed as part of a collection. Many exhibitions also showcase dolls of various countries and displaying them as legitimate art forms. Today, dolls occupy a prominent place in society, as playthings, as art and as symbols of our cultural identity. The intrinsic relationship between human beings and dolls is not likely to change any time soon.

A puppet show

Shawon Akand is an artist, researcher and curator living in Dhaka. He has written on fine arts for several noteworthy publications and has served as curator for the Crack International Art Camp in Kushtia, and the “Native Rhythm” and “Masks of Bangladesh” exhibitions at Gallery Jolrong.

Md Shakhaowat Hossain did his MA in British Literature and Cultural Studies from the University of Regensburg, Germany, and currently teaches at the Department of English of Central Women's University, Dhaka.

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crafts

Shafiqul Kabir Chandan, Pages of a Diary, cotton, wool, synthetic, jute threads and cords, cloth, 97 x 65 cm, 2009.

shafiqul kabir chandan's fibre art

weaving the breath of the universe

by Dr. Anna Baldi translated by Nico Smeenk

A craftsman forms a vision of his art using his life experiences and gives this vision form using the bounty of the land. Shafiqul Kabir Chandan, a renowned Bangladeshi artist living in Italy, weaves the lives he has led and the places he has loved together to create his unique crafts-based art. Anna Baldi speaks with this internationally acclaimed artist, whose art bears a close connection to crafts.

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T

he eyes of Shafiqul Kabir Chandan light up when he speaks about his work. I can imagine him as a child, sitting at the entrance of his house, looking at the nodes in the roots of the “wisdom trees” in his village and at the multi-coloured patterns of his mother's sari. Because of the landscapes of Bangladesh and his close contact with its soil, through long and slow walks along the meridians of his culture, Chandan has acquired ancestral, immanent energies.

Chandan's work often interprets the dense reflections of the sun between the vegetation of forests and rice fields, as if the artist conceived threedimensionally the magma of life above the earth's crust. Colour fields and contrasts follow precise concepts of time, memory, melancholy and tenderness. Encounters are knots, silences in prayers are knots; life itself for the artist is the knot that is tightened or untied, if only to modify the design of the knot. Textile weavers have helped Bangladesh reinforce its identity, culture and tradition, revitalized its social and spiritual communication and enhanced its reputation and business. The mantra-like rhythm connecting Chandan's thoughts with his hands on the weaving loom helps this Bangladeshi craftsman discover anew the rhythm of the universe, and the deep meaning of each knot that binds man to the infinite existential weavings of the universe.

Chandan is a direct descendant of a weaving tradition. His work is creative and constructive at the same time, he is not limited by the urge to be special and there is no division between “artistic time” and “ordinary time” in his work. Like the gestures of Homo Faber or Giotto, his movements are pure and practical. walls and diaries In the villages of Bangladesh, the walls of many houses are built with interweaving reeds and leaves: they are living, breathing enclosures. Chandan holds this principle of construction delicately in remembrance in his works of art.

In Grace of Earthen Hedge, (2009), the fibre art weaving is vibrant, full of roughness and knots and clotted with light. The knots are thoughts that run across the wall, embodying memories of moments and emotions, voices, words and laughter, wind whooshes, sun and shadow, salamanders on walls, children's hand traces left in the fields where they have played. In the duality of his weaving you can read the three-

dimensionality of his home town. Consequently and parallel to these walls, the Pages of a Diary, (2009) represent a fundamental stage of Chandan's work. In addition to the knots and the textile volume, Chandan has created drawings of knots on white tissue. They recall, in their lightness and physical precision, the sketches of Leonardo da Vinci. Working on the brilliant contrast between the complex existential symbology of the knot and the subtle sign with which it has been traced, Chandan reveals his mastery of the fundamental laws of life and creation. Simplicity is an aim - difficult to reach - and lightness or subtlety is one of the ways that lead to it. major and minor arts Holding a fibre thread in his hands, knotting and unknotting it continuously, Chandan informs me that institutions have divided the arts into major and minor, starting from the Renaissance period, and eventually downgraded the artisan to a mere technician while upgrading the artist to a superior being.

Leonardo da Vinci had the same problem with the academics of his time and he called himself – with typical Tuscan wit – homo sanza lettere (man without learning); thus, taunting those who laughed at him while declaring his “incapacity” in writing, to come up with profound and meaningful studies.“Society has evolved for ages by building on the artisans' mastery,” says Chandan, “and it is exactly from the birth of industrialization in England, that the counterrevolution of the arts and crafts movement started, where the entire significance of the artisan culture was re-evaluated with strength and determination.” That marked a crucial turning point, for it planted the seeds for future compromises between craftsmanship and industry (the birth of design) and between craftsmanship and art (action painting and fibre art).

And by now, contemporary art has completely reconquered the idea of Homo Faber ending the discussion between major and minor arts. in the beginning there was a knot I ask Chandan if his vast creativity has unravelled from the knot. “Yes” is his answer. Mankind is part of the knot and knots enhance mankind. We are tied to our mothers and from our mothers we are untied to become knotted to the world. Many of Chandan's works explore the complexity and fascination of this process of identity formation. The fibres that the

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Shafiqul Kabir Chandan, Homage to Gibellina, cotton, jute and wool, 107 x 197 cm, 2009.

Shafiqul Kabir Chandan, Remembrance of Mother's Lap, cotton and jute rope, 32 x 14 x 15 cm, 2006.

Shafiqul Kabir Chandan, Untitled, paper, 22 x 22 cm, 2011.

artist interweaves to create a rope already express the anthropological value of the itinerary. Every one of us not only creates his own destination knot, but is also the maker of the ground material – the initial craft of the “Homo Faber”.

In Remembrance of Mother's Lap (2006) a figurative dynamism is developed, in which the skilful twodimensional sign is tangled up, twisted and emptied around the concept of the mater primogenia and its endless fertility. In Chandan, the memory of his own mother is materialised in a textile sculpture of erudite ascesis. The melancholy of the distance is represented by the empty womb of the mother – perceived by her son's mimesis of the heart. To paraphrase Dante Alighieri: fatti non foste per viver come bruti ma per seguir virtute e canoscenza – virtue and knowledge are divine gifts that man should never forget to be worthy of.

Chandan instances Leonardo da Vinci as an ideal, for which reason he has chosen not only Italy as the land to live in, but also Milan as his residence. Empathy never arises by chance; the extraordinary genius of da Vinci is not just an exemplary for Chandan but a part of himself. Free to continuously put himself to the test, experiment with textiles, and play with different creative identities, free to shed his creative skin without leaving anything behind, and yet he imbibes and absorbs through a ‘carpe diem’ approach, being serious and ironic at the same time. from the ganges to the mare nostrum “There are more than 200 rivers in Bangladesh,” says Chandan, whose words guide me onto one of the thousands of small boats in the country where I can meld with millions of human destinies. A work of weaving without measure! The air bubbles following the trails of the boats, the complex interweaving of

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Shafiqul Kabir Chandan, The Mythical Pitcher, cotton, 20 x 20 x 20 cm, 2011.

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Shafiqul Kabir Chandan, Knot, bottle taps and wire, 20 x 20 x 20 cm, 2011.

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the currents that fill the river with whirls, the rhythm of the paddles heading for a destination are images that are evoked in the work Search of an Antiquarian Image (2008). With great mastery Chandan creates a double symbology poised between the real source and the mnemonic source. The experience of a journey is liquefied in childhood memories.

Chandan's journey has brought him a long way; indeed, just like a character from one of the ancient Bangladeshi myths, all the way to Sicily, another land of myths. The prestigious Museum of Mediterranean Weavings of Gibellina and the Orestiadi Foundation have invited Chandan to be “artist resident” in their atelier in Gibellina. Under a burning sun and amidst flowering jasmines, Chandan is seduced by the colours and by the legends of Sicily. The Mare Nostrum (Mediterranean Sea) is in front of him, with drifting meanders of Odyssean sea foam. The 'Ego' of the artist expands under the influence of external forces; the knots and the volume of the fibres detach from the two-dimensionality of the loom; in the process, indepth sculptures with sinusoidal waves are brought to life.

Some of these sculptures recall the mane of stallions, held dear by Apollo; others reminded one of the tactile bodies of Sirens; the fibres twisting with glowing colours of lava from the Etna. This Sicilian experience embraces even more valuable and complex meanings for Chandan.

On January 14, 1968, a terrible earthquake devastated the Belice valley in Sicily; the town of Gibellina, together with six other densely populated areas, was completely destroyed. Thousands of years of history were erased in a few minutes, while human lives were lost and the intensity of the pain that fill up spaces were left empty. On the ruins of the old town, the artist Alberto Burri created the famous Grande Cretto or great crack, the biggest outdoor work of art in the world. Chandan has walked silently in this contemporary labyrinth to pick up the threads remaining there and tie them to ancient memories.

This experience gives birth to Homage to Gibellina (2009), where the town plan becomes a textile sign, impressed in his imaginative, epic world of sunlit walls, unrolling, un-fetchable and bold, metaphorical and real; a metaphor of the people that inhabited this town for over a thousand years. The crunching sound of the sand all around, its arid presence instils an even more accentuated harshness to the art work, almost as if it

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was a cave painting impressed in the rocks, visible till the end of time. made in italy “Italy has contributed a lot to my maturity”: with these synthetic words Chandan reveals how his almost decennial stay in the Latin peninsula has been a dense and fertile experience. Before all, Chandan explains, breaking away from his own culture gave him the opportunity to deepen the traits that he had inherited from the extraordinary richness of Bangladeshi traditions.

“On the other hand, living in Italy, especially Milan, has added deep layers of knowledge to my philosophy of life,” he says. It's no surprise indeed that he has written in Milan no less than three books about contemporary art and the figure of Leonardo. In close contact with metropolitan Western culture, in which the symbolic value of words is essential, Chandan began to weave his own morphological words, knotting them to the warp of threads into a collage in which also the paper-printed text imbibed values that are fecund.

Cut out words, writing, revolutionary icons of artistic movements dating back to the beginning of the 20th century (Cubism, Dadaism, Futurism) have become part of the creative universe of Chandan and, together with real, tactile knots of fibre, have led to his morphological weaving with its solid threedimensionality. Also evident are the traditional materials springing from the Bangladeshi earth: cotton, jute, fibres and wool become blended in his work with materials “made in Italy”: paper, felt and plastics. the age of light In the summers of 2009, 2010 and 2011 Chandan was invited by the Czech Republic for a long sojourn and symposium in the Castle of Dolni Lukavice. This fascinating location enchanted Chandan, especially with its transparent and airy light, expanding in a natural climate of deep harmony. The exchange with international artists from all over the world offered Chandan new contacts, inspirations, ideas and discussions.

“Days of pure joy,” Chandan confesses with a smile, “and intense work.” Surrounded by the silence of the castle park, the Bangladeshi artist rediscovered the silences of his own land and the mantra of the Eastern world became knotted to that of Eastern

Europe. Chandan discovered new and surprising materials: wooden beams, ancient window frames, doors coming off their hinges as he worked in the polyphonic space of a deconsecrated church. In See the Past Through the Window of Lukavice Castle (2009) the work of art is brought to life in a wooden rectangle, like a Byzantine icon. Precious reds and browns, wrinkled by subtle flashes of light-blue and orange tell a fairy-tale, while the golden volumes of the orthodox domes resonate in the swaying of small textile spheres even as the baroque femininity of the castle is revealed by waves of lace. Chandan captures Europe, from the East to the West. ethical fiber Western culture was the first to exploit the natural resources of our planet in an irresponsible and disharmonic way and now it finds itself at the forefront of huge and serious problems. Re-use of materials, attention towards energy saving and biological approaches are not just alternatives anymore but the only way towards a new worldwide ethic. Chandan has made these themes his own, with his ethical force and the immense artistic talent that he embodies; he has been deepening their meaning and reworking them artistically. In Chandan’s latest works, the used matter has been 'upgraded', from humble to precious, from ordinary to sacred, from unnoticed to eye-catching.

Like an ancient metaphorical recipient, the work The Mythical Pitcher (2011) synthesises many of the meanings that are present in Chandan's entire production. The knot that ties the umbilical cord is untied, opening as if it was Dionysus' novel ear, a direct sensorial contact through which the world can be heard and from which worldly sonorities enter the cavity of the soul. The knot is also the only substantial element used: macrame. In a first empathetic contact with this pitcher it seems to allude to its own fertile internal substances; at a second, more attentive circumspection it reveals rhythmic breathings, the lung of the cosmic breath that we all are part of. weaving the breath of the universe In recent years Chandan's work has multiplied and been showcased in a number of exhibitions, opening up nodes along the boundaries of the entire peninsula – Pordenone, val d'Aosta, Novara, Venezia, Milano, Gressoney, Como and Firenze. His contact with the Czech Republic has become a constant and his works

have been displayed permanently in The European House Gallery in Pilsen and the Castle of Lukavice, as part of an existing private collection. His works have been exhibited in Italy, England, Germany, Spain, Japan, Canada, India, Bangladesh and can be found in private collections in France, Belgium, Switzerland, Austria, Holland. Chandan's creativity took off in the land of Bangladesh but has unravelled itself spatially just like the immense weaving in Mogul textiles. In an existential “crescendo”, the works of this Bangladeshi artist have become ever more tied up with his diasporic experiences: chromatic, formal and conceptual. Listening to his own artistic breathing, with persistence, talent and professional craftsmanship, Chandan is weaving a dimension that is part of us and that we should observe ever more consciously: the breath of the universe.

Shafiqul Kabir Chandan, See the Past through the Window of Lukavice Castle, cotton, wool, synthetic, jute threads and cords, cloth, 45 x 157 cm, 2009.

Dr. Anna Baldi is an art historian living in Milan, Italy. She has worked as Artistic Director at the “Centre Culturel Italien” in Paris and is the founder and director of the “Amandolarte” International Festival of Contemporary Young Art. She has also served as a curator for a number of exhibitions and cultural events.

Nico Smeenk is an industrial designer and lecturer at the Istituto Europeo di Design in Milan. He lives and works on the Lago Maggiore in Italy.

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interview

shafiqul kabir chandan The following excerpts are taken from an interview with artist Shafiqul Kabir Chandan by the author of this article, Anna Baldi

Anna Baldi Why did you choose fiber art?

Shafiqul Kabir Chanda My interest in fiber art comes from my native country, where women make things that are both beautiful and functional, such as knitted clothing, quilts, mats or rugs. Conceptually, I find it interesting that textile is often the first material we are wrapped in when we are born and the last material we are wrapped in when we die. So, to me, there is a relationship between textiles and the body.

Textile offers a memory of the body.

Would you describe your work as 'art' or craft'?

Textile work is often categorized as 'craft' rather than 'art.' I consider myself to be an artist – I don't make bags or hats! The debate between whether or not a work can be called 'craft' or 'art' reveals that an unfair hierarchy exists within the arts and in our culture. This hierarchy results in discrimination that has effects on the fees paid to teachers, grants and university budgets for craft areas and so on. 'Art versus craft' is a complex issue that has tormented artists and critics for a long time. Contemporary fine arts have recognized any kind of material and medium for creating art objects, from cow dung to the Internet! I am using the medium amount of fibres to create my works. I would like to reclaim the word 'craft' though, since I believe it denotes the idea of a special body of knowledge and skills passed on from generation to generation. My art is what I make and my craft is the skill I learnt to make it well.

How were you able to enter the Italian art scene?

It was actually not very easy. I came from Bangladesh with my higher degrees to conquer a portion, however small, in the world of contemporary Italian art. But I found this to be quite a dilemma. Art galleries respond to the laws of the global economy and are not always looking for unknown artists. But I am happy to say that in the field of contemporary Italian art there is a place for fiber art and I think it is slowly increasing.

How did your emigration influence your work?

In my early days here in Milan, I didn't have a studio to work in, nor materials such as thread or a loom.

There was a language barrier since I didn't speak

(left page) Shafiqul Kabir Chandan, Grace of Earthern Hedge, cotton, wool, synthetic threads and cords, cloth, paper – 142 x 102 cm, 2009.

Shafiqul Kabir Chandan.

fluent Italian. But I persevered and started working in spite of my limitations, using poor materials like macramé, paper, and recycled materials. Of course, many things have changed since then but this period of struggle has influenced the development of my work dramatically.

Why have you chosen to stay away from your motherland for such a long time?

I originally left my motherland to go out and see the world, to learn about fiber art and artists. It was not an easy decision for me. To live and work so far away from my motherland, I am prone to feeling nostalgic.

But this same feeling of nostalgia has helped me to imagine and create new works. I have always tried to remember and highlight the unique flavours and colours of my motherland in my art. This foreign land, Italy, has given me lots of opportunities and now I no longer see myself as a foreigner. It has become home, especially for my son who was born here. I thank Italy for giving me all of this. But no matter which country I live in, fiber art is the basis on which we shape our lives. In this world we learn from each other – about fibers, art, different people and different cultures. To learn with my own hands, to produce fiber art, using this extended textile vocabulary – this has become my life's work. Now, I am waiting for the right moment to come back to my motherland.

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crafts

a discussion on handmade & machine-made crafts

crafts in the age of mechanical (re)production

by Syed Manzoorul Islam

A handmade craft object is closely associated with its maker and its culture. But in an age of mass-produced consumer goods, handicrafts have lost their authenticity and individuality. Syed Manzoorul Islam discusses the implications of the movement that is taking crafts away from humble artisans to factories and retail outlets.

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riting in 1936, when the technical reproduction of art – not just etching or lithography, but a whole of range of visual and auditory art as well – had become widespread, Walter Benjamin famously said that what “withers in the age of mechanical reproduction is the aura of the work of art.” He also suggested that reproduction eliminates an essential element of art: “its presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where it happens to be.” And without its unique existence, an artwork loses its defining sense of history, its authenticity, its mysterious power, or to use a term Bordieu and Darbel have used in another context, its charisma. Benjamin however, believed that mechanical reproduction also freed art from its “parasitical dependence on ritual,” which then began to base itself on 'politics,' a term he used to suggest an act of intervention in the historical process. There can be no doubt that mechanical – or, to use a term more common in our time, technological – intervention in art has significantly affected not only its mode of production, but also the mode of participation in its form and meaning. The stress, indeed, has gradually shifted from an aesthetic of the sublime to an aesthetic of the spectacle. Art has assumed an exhibition value, and consequently a more pronounced consumer value. Some postmodernists argue that reproduction – or simulacrum, as they would put it – has taken away the aura of the original; others claim that kitsch has taken over much of what was once the domain of the sublime. These points may be endlessly debated, but they underscore Benjamin's view that reproduction does away with “a number of outmoded concepts, such as creativity and genius, eternal value and mystery” (Benjamin 217-25).

Taking my cue from Benjamin (in addition to a part of the title of his seminal work) I may raise a pertinent question – not about the state of art but that of its lowly cousin (or its 'other'), the crafts – and wonder what shape crafts will take in an age of increasing mechanical production and technological intervention. It is important that we ask the question not from a fear of the apparently all-consuming advance of mass production which threatens the very uniqueness of a craftwork, but also from the need to profile the users – the consumers – of the craftwork, if only to focus on their changing relationship with the crafts, which is now increasingly determined by the market. A craftwork, more than anything else,

exists at the ambiguous juncture of art and its 'other,' of aesthetics and utility, sophistication and everydayness, cultivated value and received value, and, we might also add, the sophisticated connoisseur and the workaday user.

The craft-world has always straddled this uncertain ground between artistic practices that aim at superior standards of taste and artisanal traditions that subsume aesthetics to their utility value. In the west, where artistic and philosophical considerations have consigned arts and crafts to the realm of high and low art, respectively, craftworks have often been invested with a sociological function which arises from their opposition to the proliferation of machine production. Machine production and industrial design have not only changed the nature of the handmade – a

Krishna Terracotta Doll.

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(top) Beaded earrings. (right page) Handcrafted dolls made of jute fabric.

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term William Morris used to denote the distinctive nature of crafts which had historical, cultural, social and environmental imperatives behind their production – but have also made it problematic.

If the handmade is an applied form of art, a social and cultural product reflecting the low-toned, inclusive nature of the folk imagination, which, in a pre-capital, pre-technology world would fall back on standards set by tradition for evaluating artistic merits rather than exploring linkages with high value culture, what, then, happens to it at the time of increased hybridization?

Hybridization is the danger that the handmade has been facing ever since it began to take on the characteristics of art and reshape its functionality towards a more aesthetic, preservable, and, we may add, auctionable value. A second question: how does the handmade cope with the pressure of replication, and the “anonymity of mass production”? (Metcalf 129) And a last one: how would the handmade negotiate both the challenges and advantages offered by computer technology? The postmodern promotion of kitsch apart, crafts stand to lose much of their authenticity when the market takes on the operation of micro-management as well as global distribution.

These questions are being asked again and again not just in the west, but in countries like ours where crafts are being 'mainstreamed' for an increasingly appreciative consumer class. Large distribution and sales outlets target middle and affluent classes as well as expatriates. They not only collect the craft objects from producers for sale but also provide them with necessary ingredients such as textiles, yarn, dyes or leather. A nakshi kantha sold at one of these outlets has the design and functionality of a traditional handmade one, but by substituting used or discarded textiles for new, machine-produced ones, the kantha sacrifices one very essential element of its production – its authenticity – and compromises on its uniqueness, thus turning it anonymous. A craftwork, which usually doesn't bear the signature of its maker, retains a personalized aura. When we look at a fifty year old nakshi kantha we wonder at motifs and designs that point to the artistic ingenuity and the presence of the maker in it. The fact that we don't know her name or any other details about her doesn't take anything away from our appreciation of the artist.

Indeed, the inactive nature of the kantha, its incorporation of the sense of the body, its reconstruction of the tactile feeling that both animates

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the work and makes it so inviting, lifts it from the sphere of materiality to that of aesthetic pleasure. A machine produced kantha, on the other hand, remains largely grounded in its materiality and its reconstructed consumer value.

A craftwork is distinguished by the feeling of the human body behind its creation. In its pure form it embodies both the irreducible individuality of its maker and its cultural everydayness, as well as the utility and ritual functions associated with it. Besides, a craftwork is replete with cultural and social references that any mechanical reproduction would eliminate. A nakshi kantha my father collected from a village in Mymensingh in the early 1960s, to cite an example, contained, along with the usual motifs of domestic life – paan leaves, betel nut cutters, kitchen utensils, children's foot and handprints embroidered in coloured threads – also a puzzling inscription “mukti chai” (I want my freedom) placed at the bottom right corner, almost as an afterthought. That the maker of the kantha was literate enough to enunciate her message in correct Bangla made the inscription so poignant. Surely she was denied freedom in an unfriendly household where she had probably been dispatched at an early age. We can imagine how the woman's life had been without any prospect of freedom, and probably no opportunity to pursue her education. The inscription is woman's writing at its most tender, and thrusts upon us the task of reconstructing her personal history even at this distance of time. In such a reconstruction, the maker's name, address or lineage becomes far less important than the coded message she embroidered as a form of personal protest. The handmade thus becomes a site of identity conflict and convergence of the personal and the plural. If the almost obscure inscription was to be taken out, the kantha would appear to be just another traditional artifact, reflecting tradition (the motifs, the style of embroidery, the materials), and indeed innovation (the kantha's organization of the symbols and motifs appear a bit uneven; their sizes also vary, and the stitchwork appears finer than is usual in the region). But the inscription gives it a unique genealogy, and access to sociological scrutiny. I can't imagine a machine produced kantha, even one replicating the ‘mukti chai’ plea, ever being able to move us the way that the handmade object did me. If the handmade is mass produced, it surrenders its logic of cultural production to the politics of mercantile

Decorative Woven Hand Fans.

production, and mutates into a mere artisanal object with different values and expectations attached to it.

Besides, by disengaging the body from the work, machine production perhaps takes away the most intangible manifestation of its self-fulfillment – its premium on the personal satisfaction of the maker, although the work might satisfy an urban consumer totally.

A craftwork is made potent by the interaction of individual creativity and community aesthetics, utility functions and human values. It is distinguished by its maker's desire to locate himself or herself in the wider and ever-changing cultural aspirations of the community, and subsequently of the market. But even when the market is a determinant factor, community aesthetics remains the factor determining the form and content of the craftwork. The exquisite terracotta dolls from Dinajpur dating back to early 1940s that form a part of the Bangladesh National Museum's collection were mostly bought from village fairs by some patron.

They were no doubt meant to be consumer items, but have retained their uncompromising and distinctive style because within the frame of their consumer matrix, the dolls inscribe their community aesthetics in such an indelible manner that the market has not been able to impose its own preferences on them. Or, perhaps, it was the dolls' irreducible uniqueness that is responsible for their marketability.

The handmade thus is a dynamic object – always evolving, and always abreast of changing tastes and preferences as competing artistic/functional visions shape and reshape it. It also represents a way of life, and, according to social anthropologists, an intuitive social movement. Therefore changes in lifestyle and material conditions are expected to have their impact on the handmade and its production. But certain forms, shapes, styles and aesthetic preferences change little over time, suggesting that a craftwork can function as a stable signifier of community values and desires over time. Mechanical production takes away

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Clay jewelry.

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this feeling of assurance and stability and the sense of continuity that the handmade evokes. As a result, a reproduced craftwork often stands on its own as an object-in-itself, with its own set of references and meaning and its own ambience. It is true that the reproduced craftwork comes with a feel of hybridity, but hybridity doesn't stand in its way of being accepted and appreciated by the user who, while (s)he might lament the loss of the real, would appreciate the craftwork for what it has to offer – an increased utility value, for example. In a lecture in 1901, Frank Lloyd Wright had said that “The machine, by its wonderful cutting, shaping, smoothing, and repetitive capacity, has made it possible to so use it without waste that the poor as well as the rich may enjoy today beautiful surface treatments of clean, strong forms� (273-74).

The machine has no doubt enhanced the user value of crafts while adding a dimension of spectacle to them which, in the age of ever increasing visuality, has added a new sense of appreciation to one's approach to them. And, to be frank, for a generation of urbanites growing up without any contact with the handmade, the machine produced craftwork is the real thing. For them, its hybridity is not a constricting, but an expanding and open-ended condition of its being.

In the context of the debate about the real and the reproduced in the craftworld, two sets of questions then arise: on the one hand, traditionalists will ask: What then can be done to preserve (i) the authenticity and naturalness; (ii) the sense of the body, (iii) associations with simple domesticity, (iv) links to the environment and (v) the artistry of the crafts in the age of machine production, and how can the tradition of craftworks be revived when the market reaches the very doorsteps of rural households? On the other hand, promoters of machine production and crafts people who use machines to fine tune their products will argue that the machine has helped restore the appeal of crafts due to their cheaper production costs.

They will point out that in advanced economies, the handmade has, in many instances, priced itself out of the reach of low income users. They may even say, isn't the increased visuality of machine-produced crafts now a sign of their widespread acceptance? If it is so, why lament the loss of the aura of the handmade, and why not celebrate the new craftworks as objects that are, if not authentic, destined to claim such authenticity in the future, helped by more sophisticated reproduction technology and more

dynamic market mechanisms?

There are no easy answers to the questions, for while we may mull over the prospect of going back to tradition and restoring the ubiquity of the handmade, we know very well that the machine, backed by the market, has already made inroads into age-old artisanal practices. But such an admission doesn't mean that we should give up on our heritage and allow the handmade to be condemned to extinction. The handmade can and should be revived, even where the machine has marred such a prospect; and where the handmade rules, it can be safeguarded and made to consolidate its position further. This can be done by providing grants, loans, assistance and other support to the producer, and helping him/her find a comfortable customer base. In western economies, the creation of narrowcast markets in cities has led to increased demand for the handmade. We have a long way to go to come close to such advanced urbanization and economic growth, but narrowcast markets can still be created by appealing to the urban rich and middle classes' sense of nostalgia and their demand for the authentic. But more importantly, the handmade can be branded and successfully marketed throughout the country and beyond as there are always buyers and users of handmade products who desire to relate to the ecology of a culture.

Sara Painting.

Syed Manzoorul Islam is a member of the Jamini editorial board.

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crafts

the nakshi kantha

embroidered dreams

by Niaz Zaman

The nakshi kantha is a type of embroidered quilt made from thread and old cloth that is known for its ornate and colourful designs. It is also one of the oldest folk art traditions in Bangladesh. To celebrate “Crafts,” we have chosen to reprint an article from the very first issue of Jamini that looks back on this ancient craft tradition. Niaz Zaman introduces us to the nakshi kantha, a uniquely expressive craft that is both practically useful and aesthetically pleasing.

What do you do, O mother of the bride, Sitting on your bed?

Your daughter's groom approaches fast, A flowered turban on his head.

O let him come, as fast as he will, What have I to fear?

For his sake, at the threshold, I have spread the marriage kantha, dear.

– A Bengali marriage song

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hile quilting is common to many cultures, the nakshi kantha or embroidered quilt of Bangladesh is a unique form of folk art in which worn-out or discarded material is used to create a useful and often exquisitely embroidered article.

Traditionally, discarded saris, dhotis and lungis are used to layer the kantha, while thread drawn from the coloured borders of saris was used to hold the layers together. Quilted with simple lines of running stitches, the humble kantha is transformed into a nakshi kantha in the deft hands of a skilled housewife. The kantha maker could coax out a variety of textures with the aid of needle and thread, thus transmuting worn-out rags

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into pieces of art, where a wealth of motifs and sari border patterns juxtaposed scenes from legends and domestic or agricultural life. Often made for utilitarian purposes – to ward off the cool of monsoon or winter nights or to wrap up toilet articles – some of the finest nakshi kanthas were made for special reasons: to be given to daughters or, as the above example from the Bengali marriage song suggests, to welcome bride-grooms. These superb examples of Bengal women's art testify to the aesthetic ability and acute perception of the kantha makers as they do to the patience with which they embroidered the dreams they had for themselves and for those they loved.

Bashon dhakuni.

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Early references to the kantha are not complimentary. More often than not, the kantha – derived from the Sanskrit kontha, or rags – was associated with poverty. The legendary Raja Gopichandra, for example, is described as accepting a kantha on becoming an ascetic. But precisely when the simple, utilitarian kantha was transformed into the nakshi kantha has not been documented. This is largely because kanthas tend to disintegrate quickly under normal circumstances. The earliest surviving examples of quilts from Bengal are therefore not indigenous quilts but the sixteenth-century 'Bengalla' or 'Sutgonge' quilts, which were made for the Portugese. Made in the Satgaon-Hooghly districts and exported to Europe, these quilts, worked in yellow tasar or muga silk on a ground of cotton or jute, show a distinct Portugese influence in subject matter. These Indo-Portugese quilts testify to the skill of the embroiderer of Bengal in the sixteenth century. It is possible that the heavy embroidery on these quilts influenced the closely embroidered nakshi kantha.

Nevertheless, it may be safely assumed that the embroidery of Bengal was well established before the Portugese commissioned these quilts.

In addition to the Portugese influence was the earlier influence of Islamic motifs derived from clothes or artifacts of Muslim travelers, especially in the Rajshahi area, on the lohori and lik kanthas and the sujni. The name of the lohori kantha derives from the Urdu word lehr, after the wave pattern popular in these kanthas, but other patterns such as the kautar khupi (literally, pigeon coop) or triangle are also common.

The name of the red sujni appears to be a mutation of the Persian word sozni, sewn by a needle. The geometric and undulating floral and vine forms are also reminiscent of Persian art. However, the sujni was also influenced by the British, who commissioned white on white counterpanes, and it is not surprising that village women at Raja Rampur in the Chapai Nawabganj area refer to the sujni as belayeti sujni, English sujni. The back stitch or bakhya, which is used to embroider these quilts, is not an indigenous stitch and its foremost use is to sew garments. What is called the lik kantha also suggests a Muslim influence. The lik stitch, known in the West as the Holbein stitch – because of its appearance in Tudor portraits done by the artist Holbein – entered Europe from the Islamic world during the Crusades and was referred to as an 'Islamic stitch' at an exhibition organized by the Textile Museum, Washington D.C. in 1994. With the British

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came the cross stitch – which would be later replicated in the heavy cross stitch kanthas of Rajshahi.

While drawing upon these outside influences, the kantha makers of Bengal continued to make quilts for their own use with the simple running stitch. However, with their keen eyes and deft fingers, they also recorded the British presence in the region. Thus, even as the Bengali needle-woman recreated the traditional forms and patterns of the kantha she had seen her mother and grandmother make, or drew upon the rich indigenous culture of Bengal, she immortalized the sahib puffing on his hookah or the army of red-coated soldiers on the march. Not conscious of her 'rural' art, she embroidered the strange incongruities that resulted from the British conquest. With her adept needle she embroidered the carriage of the god or the palanquin that carried her daughter or granddaughter to her new home. She also embroidered images of dhoti-clad Bengali babus sporting European jackets and boots. A fine kantha from this period – the motifs embroidered in such tiny stitches that the colours are muted and almost impossible to capture on film – displays a train chugging through the countryside. In a kantha displayed at the Gurusaday Dutt Museum, Thakurpukur, Manda Sundari – one of the few kantha makers to inscribe her name on the kantha – has embroidered two rows of dapper English soldiers on a march.

However, if the kantha is a witness to history, it is also the mute confidante of the kantha artist who embroiders into the kantha her hopes and fears, her joys and sorrows. The women who worked on kanthas usually did not write about their experiences, but the poet Jasimuddin has imaginatively portrayed how a village woman might embroider a kantha out of the strands of her own life. In Nakshi Kanthar Math – The Field of the Embroidered Quilt in E.M. Milford's translation – Jasimuddin describes how Shaju, waiting for her husband, Rupa, who has had to flee the village after a quarrel, embroiders pictures in the kantha.

Spreading the embroidered quilt She works the livelong night, As if the quilt her poet were Of her bereaved plight.

Many a joy and many a sorrow Is written on its breast; The story of Rupa's life is there, Line by line expressed.

Bostani with tree-of-life and fertility motifs.

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Traditionally, kanthas were stitched during leisure hours, and elaborate kanthas could take years to complete. Jasimuddin indicates the time taken to complete a kantha by showing how Shaju begins to embroider her quilt while she is still unmarried and continues to work on it through the years.

She is a daughter beloved at home When the embroidery begins; Later a husband sits at her side, Her red lips hum as she sings.

But if the quilt could tell of happy days, it could also record sad ones. After Rupa flees, Shaju's mood changes. Her sorrow is recorded in the quilt as she embroiders the sorrowful scenes etched in her memory.

Stitch by stitch, she carefully draws The last scene of pain, The farewell of Rupa, slowly going, Then turning a little again.

Turning again to the cottage home, At the door his peasant wife Standing disheveled, gazing at him Who is going to leave her for life.

Shaju foresees her own death and asks her mother to spread her kantha over her grave. When Rupa returns many days later he recognizes Shaju's grave by the kantha on it. Wrapping himself in the kantha his wife had made, Rupa pines away and dies. His wife's kantha becomes for Rupa the symbol of Shaju, the needlewoman becoming identified with the kantha she has made.

The kantha maker does not consider her work to be 'art.' Instead, stitching the kantha as a gift for a loved one, she embroiders into the kantha her blessings and good wishes. Thus, in one kantha, the kantha maker blesses her son-in-law with the phrase 'Sukhi thako' (be happy). Many of the motifs suggest plenty of prosperity, while others embody prayers for safety. The kantha is, as has often been noted, closely allied in motif and spirit to the alpana. The Sejuti Brata Alpana, for example, depicts a central lotus drawn within a mandala or circle. Additional motifs include the sun, the moon, ornaments, a boat and a palanquin.

Other alpanas depict animals, trees, footprints, as well as objects desired by the devotee for herself or for the person for whom she was performing the brata, or

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vow, and its attendant rituals. Alpanas accompanying bratas for the well-being of male members of the family include motifs of water pots and boats. Similar motifs in kanthas replicate these prayers for safety.

The kantha maker is usually content to recreate the familiar designs that she has seen embroidered in the kanthas made by the women in her own family or her adopted one. Despite its variety, therefore, each kantha tends to follow a similar basic pattern. In the centre of most kanthas is a lotus: an astadal padma or eightpetalled lotus, or a satadal padma or hundred-petalled lotus – around which are undulating vines or sari border patterns. Occasionally, the outermost border round the lotus is not circular but square. In the corners of this square are embroidered floral or kalka, paisley, motifs. The kantha is also edged with sari border patterns, ranging from simple ones to elaborate ones. From the four corners of the kantha, kalka or tree-of-life motifs point to the central motif or mandala. The empty spaces between the central motif and the corner motifs are filled with traditional motifs drawn from nature or the homestead as well as scenes from real life or legends. The areas left bare of motifs or scenes are worked with the kantha stitch in white thread to create undulating ripples.

What makes the kantha different from other forms of embroidered pictures is the ingenious use of stitchcraft. Using her needle to hold the layers of cloth together or to draw motifs and scenes, the kantha artist uses a variety of stitches to create rippling expanses in the white field of the kantha or coloured pointillist designs, 'woven' textures or 'transparent' effects.

Thus, the running stitch is not just a stitch used simply to hold the several layers of the kantha together but lends itself to a number of variations.

These different forms of the running stitch are accordingly denoted by names such as kantha phor or the kantha stitch, chatai or the mat stitch, kaitya or the bent stitch, the weave running stitch, the Jessore stitch, the lik stitch, etc. With these simple variations, the kantha maker, at her most creative moments, blends texture with motif in a manner unique to kantha art.

Apart from these variations of the running stitch, other embroidery stitches too are used in kanthas. In addition to the back stitch and cross stitch, these are the Kashmiri stitch, stem, arrowhead, herringbone, satin stitch, and button-hole stitch.

Traditionally, kanthas have a variety of uses, domestic, ritual and ceremonial. Kanthas thus range

Par tola (bordered) bostani with tree-of-life motifs and central lotus.

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Jessore kantha depicting goddess Lakshmi.

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19th century kantha from Faridpur.

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from large lep and sujni kanthas, used as spreads and coverlets, to small bashon dhakar rumal, used to cover dishes, and arshilata, used to wrap toilet articles. Other kantha articles include jainamaz, Muslim prayer mats; gilaf, a small square kantha folded and stitched envelope fashion, to cover the Quran; ashon kanthas, used as spreads for pujas or for seating special guests or a bridegroom; palkir topor and khat kantha, used to spread on top or inside the palanquin; bayton, bostani, or gatri, a square kantha used as a wrapper for clothes and other valuables; balisher oarh, balish kantha, balisher chapa, or balisher oshar, a small square or rectangular kantha used as a pillow cover; dastarkhan, a long, narrow kantha used as a dining mat; chadua kantha, used over the grave of a saint; khicha, a small square kantha gathered in the centre to form compartments and used as a container for betel batua or as a purse.

The kantha revival followed the liberation of Bangladesh and was fostered by the interest in ethnic arts and crafts as well as the desire to create and express a unique Bangladeshi identity. In the search for traditional forms, older kanthas were cannibalized for new configurations and new 'rural' kanthas were designed. Apart from large kanthas made to fill large public spaces, the kantha revival also saw kanthas being made to meet contemporary needs: as bedcovers and quilt covers, wall-hangings, cushion covers, place mats, napkins, etc. Kantha embroidery also began to be used on saris, dresses and kurtas.

In Birhat Banga (1935), Dinesh Chandra Sen noted that a composite kantha, even when designed by taking motifs and designs from fine old pieces, lacked the beauty of the old ones. This is a point that continues to be made today, especially with the production of kanthas as in a factory line, for commercial purposes.

As handicraft shops mass-produce kanthas for sale, both aesthetic variety and emotional content are lost.

The commercial kantha is often designed by men, usually trained artists, and lacks the spontaneity and variety of the older forms. Inspired by the idea that the kantha is a 'rural' craft, some artists embroider scenes from the countryside, where time seems to have stood still, while others design kanthas inspired by Jasimuddin's poems, thereby returning the compliment the poet paid to the kantha.

Of course, there have been significant changes in the form as well. The popularity of the wall-hanging, for example, has influenced the traditional configuration of the kantha, with the centre and four corners being replaced by a top and a bottom. Many

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kanthas also rely heavily on the bhorat or Kashmiri stitch, rather than the traditional running stitch, and resemble Chinese tapestry work rather than the traditional kantha. Because of their vivid colours and scenes, many of the finer examples of this new hybrid form tend to command astronomical prices compared to the more modest prices for the muted traditional kanthas. Nevertheless, as an art that the folklorist Tofail Ahmed had mourned as dead in Amader Prachin Shilpa (1964) has been revived. Furthermore the interest in the traditional kantha is inspiring not only artists and designers but also scholars and researchers to study old kanthas in museums at home and abroad as well as in private collections. While the early forms of this art are being explored for their wealth of motifs and ingenuity of stitchcraft, in the process more is being learned about the lives and mindset of the women who made these kanthas.

Nevertheless, contemporary kanthas cannot replicate the old ones. This is not only because the times have changed and our needs are different, but also because the contemporary kantha is a conscious attempt to replicate a traditional art. Traditional folk art allows for both repetition and change. It is this combination of repetition and change that marks the older kanthas, giving them a spontaneity that the newer ones lack. All the same, there is a value in these newer forms. Not only have they helped provide material for craft shops and boutiques, they have also called attention to the value of the unpaid work women did during their leisure hours. Though far removed from the older kanthas, these newer kantha items, with a price tag on what used to be unpaid, uncounted labour, honour the thrift and patience of the Bengali housewife who stitched her dreams into discarded, worn-out material, transforming it in the process into a priceless work of art.

Dr. NIAZ ZAMAN is a Supernumerary Professor, Department of English, at the University of Dhaka, and is the writer of “The Art of Kantha Embroidery�. *This article was first published in the August 2003 issue of Jamini. It was re-published in this issue to celebrate the nakshi kantha’s importance to our culture, and as a tribute to the original series of our magazine.

crafts

Madder, a dye plant.

an interview with ruby ghuznavi

the crafts conversation

by Syeda Samara Mortada

Ruby Ghuznavi is one of South Asia’s foremost experts on natural dyes.

In her interview with Syeda Samara Mortada she talks about attempts to patent the Jamdani fabric, the role of the National Crafts Council and the state of crafts in Bangladesh. Her views on these matters help illuminate not only the problems facing those who work with Jamdani and natural dye, but the issues facing the crafts industry as a whole.

Areca Nut (top left), Raintree (top right), Onion Skin (bottom left) and Pomegranate Rind (bottom right).

Syeda Samara Mortada How did you get your start?

Ruby Ghuznavi In 1979, I went to a conference in India on natural dyes. There I met Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay who encouraged me to revive them in Bangladesh. So, we did a survey and found that a number of dye-producing plants were available in Bangladesh. After a year of research we set up a Research and Development Project under BSCIC. Our goal was to revive the use of natural dyes and standardise them. In the first two years of the project we were able to standardise 15 colours. During those two years we had Indian experts come to Bangladesh and teach us for two to three months at a time. They taught us six basic colours but we experimented with different plant sources and came up with a variety of colours. At the time, we tried extracting colours from any plants we saw and we would try out leaves, flowers, fruits etc. Almost all of these gave us some colours. But, they weren't colourfast. I'm sure you remember the dyes like holud and sheuli used for saris at weddings when you were a child. The trouble with those is that they're not lasting colours. So we had to standardise these into fast colours. In the first 2 years

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of the Project we standardised 15 colourfast dyes and added another 15 in the next two years; today Bangladesh is amongst the foremost countries in this field in the use of natural dyes.

And then you set up Aranya?

Well, there was a debate, not just in Bangladesh, but in the whole region that natural dyes were not cost effective. So we started Aranya and after working for several years we have now proven that natural dyes are commercially viable. Most importantly, they are ecofriendly and non-pollutant. The project has the added advantage of generating greater employment opportunities. If you work with chemical dyes, you'll find that you need only five workers, whereas if you do the same amount of work with natural dyes, you'll need ten. But, though the process is labour intensive, the cost of the end product evens out. Some of our raw materials are from waste materials like leaves, used flowers like ganda phool from weddings, etc. which balance out the cost of some of the more expensive dyes like indigo and manjit. If you compare Aranya’s costs with similar stores you'll find that our prices are

Natural Dye Silk Scarves.

more or less the same as theirs. Now, I have handed over Aranya to the Bengal Foundation because they are committed to promoting natural dyes. A lot of people were interested in Aranya but they wanted to combine our work with chemical dyes which I didn't want. Bengal Foundation is committed to the promotion of organic dyes and so they were a much better option. The production has already doubled and now we've even opened a new outlet in Dhanmondi.

When you initially began work, did you know that you were going to end up with Aranya?

No. I was purely concerned with crafts development.

Zainul Abedin, Quamrul Hassan and others had mobilised a few of us to work with local craftspeople.

After the Liberation War in 1971 there were a lot of women-headed households as their husbands had been killed. The women who survived somehow had to take care of the children. How were they going to do so? They couldn't leave their children and go out to find jobs. So, we had to find their strengths with which they could take care of their families. Crafts were the obvious option; the products they made for

themselves like shika and kantha could now be marketed for them.

I see. So they could make handicrafts at home?

Yes, they would stay at home with the children and keep working. We started Karika, the first craft marketing organisation in Bangladesh, with the support of Zainul Abedin and Quamrul Hassan. My work with natural dyes was an automatic next step from a crafts development standpoint.

Do you think customers in Bangladesh understand the intricacies of producing natural dyes?

The customers in the world don't understand it! Even amongst our people, there is only a small segment of the public who do understand and who buy our products for the right reasons. But unless the designs and the finished products are good, nobody is going to buy them. So you have to compete with others who are in the business. There are a lot of misconceptions about natural dyes. People think the colours are not durable or as bright as chemical dyes. This is not right.

If you wash a chemical dyed garment and dry it in the

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sun for several hours, it will fade. The same thing is true with natural dyes. Also, we do have bright colours like purple, red, blue and green in natural dyes. What we don't have are a few select colours like royal blue or emerald green but you have to learn to live without them or buy chemical dyed products. However, nobody is saying that chemical dyes should be abandoned; there's no chance of that ever happening.

But if even 5% of Bangladesh's handloom is made in natural dyes, we're talking about saving millions of Takas and supporting a traditional skill of this country.

In that respect I feel that bigger craft NGOs should do much more. They do very little with natural dyes and can afford to do far better.

What do you think about the domestic market for these products?

Actually, the younger generation is now wearing a lot more hand-woven products than they did ten or twenty years ago, so in that respect the domestic market is much healthier now. Price is a problem but there's a lot of scope to expand here; demand for natural dye textiles far outstrips production. In fact, we have the problem of people using chemical dyes and passing them off as natural dyes!

Where do you think the problem is from the production standpoint?

Where we're really weak is in design. We don't have good designers. Abroad, you would either have a designer on your staff or could commission a collection from one. It's not like that here. What this means is that everybody is a designer. And you can't be a designer and claim to know patterning, cutting, and all of that without formal training. When someone calls me a designer, I'm the first one to clarify that I'm not. But, because of circumstances we have to design our own product range. I have to work with artists. But you can't call yourself a designer just because you've graduated from fine arts. You can ask any designer in Dhaka and they'll tell you at best that they graduated in fine arts. There are others without even that qualification.

What do you think should be done to fix this?

Our government should have what India, Thailand, Sri Lanka and others have and that's fashion and design institutes. If we could replicate some of these institutes, we'd be very well off. There are young people in Bangladesh who want to study design seriously. But if you do a survey of our institutes,

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you'll find that even some of the teachers aren't really qualified. They're all arts graduates. How can they teach without an in-depth understanding of fabrics, colours, weaving, patterning, cutting etc.? I wish more of our young people could go abroad for training. By abroad I mean just next door. The cultural affinity remains and there's a lot to learn from our neighbours.

What's your take on the recent uproar caused by India applying for the Jamdani patent?

Oh God, where do we start? When the National Crafts Council of Bangladesh (NCCB) learnt about India applying for the registration of Jamdani as its own product under GI, it began working on it through a committee set up in collaboration with CPD – who are knowledgeable about WTO issues – and a group of concerned social activists. The first step towards ensuring that Jamdani and other Bangladeshi products are not hijacked by other countries is the enactment of the national GI Act in Bangladesh, which is a prerequisite of registering all products under GI. The draft of this law has been ready since 2009 but it has not been finalized nor approved by concerned ministries to enable its enactment by our Parliament.

We have lobbied with relevant ministries to expedite the process and I must say that their response was very positive. We met Ministers and officials of the Ministries of Industries, Commerce, Culture and Foreign Affairs and were assured that the draft law would be ready for approval at the present Winter Session of the Parliament. Meanwhile, the WTO cell at the Ministry of Commerce has registered its objection officially with WTO in Geneva, stating that Jamdani is the exclusive textile tradition of Bangladesh. We hope the necessary GI Act will be enacted in the near future. In the meantime, with support from BRAC, we are undertaking a research project to document archival records to establish the history, geographical location, weaving techniques and traditional designs of Jamdanis as this information will be required in order to register it as a Bangladeshi product. We must raise awareness about these issues among the craftspeople as well as the general public.

NCCB has held meetings with Jamdani weavers to discuss the problems with them while CPD is planning on organizing a seminar to inform the general public about these issues. Newspapers such as the Daily Star and Prothom Alo have been very supportive in disseminating information on the subject. NCCB has also raised the concerns of smaller countries at the World Crafts Council so that there is cooperation

Four colours from Onion Skin, using different Mordants.

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between its member countries, rather than competition. Ultimately the success of our efforts to protect the traditional products of Bangladesh will be determined by the commitment and support of the Government. We hope that will be forthcoming.

Is our national identity as Bangladeshis related to Jamdani in any way?

Yes, in fact, I think that's truer now than it was thirty years ago; no one in India claimed to be making Jamdani then. Things are different now. However, we need more support for high quality Jamdanis which are expensive. The trouble is that people who can afford them end up going to Thailand, France, etc. for shopping. I think everyone has an obligation to buy domestic products first and then buy anything they like. They shouldn't exclude locally made products from their wardrobe. Another problem we have is that the younger generation can't really afford Jamdanis. So we're trying to get the weavers to simplify the designs so that they become more affordable. Of course, in earlier times Jamdani was worn by queens and princesses, meaning that it was always meant for the affluent in our society. What that means today is that your wardrobe will have maybe one Jamdani and not as many as before. None of us can afford to have innumerable Jamdanis. These are adjustments that the market and the consumers will have to get used to.

What do you think the next step should be, for the mass media, the general public and our lawmakers, with regards to Jamdani?

Everybody has to root for it. Wherever we talk, whether it's in the universities or in newspaper interviews we must present the correct picture; there is a lot of misinformation about Jamdani and GI. I read some articles stating that India has already taken the patent for it. No, they haven't! There's a big difference between applying for it and actually getting it. We have the time to register our protest. If we don't do that soon we may lose out. We're hoping that our experts and our lawyers can help. We will organize a series of talks and seminars to acquaint people with the issues.

We're trying to have the first one as soon as possible and involve the mass media so that we can reach a lot of people. We want to include people from all segments of the population for this discussion, including the weavers who are really the main people concerned with this effort. If India manages to acquire this patent it will mean that every time Jamdani weavers sell Jamdani in India or abroad, they will have to pay a duty to India. It's ridiculous! We all believe

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that Jamdani is ours. There is no way we are giving up an inch of this.

Can you elaborate on the role of the National Crafts Council of Bangladesh?

The focus of the NCCB, is the development and promotion of crafts and improving the livelihood of our artisans. We have a variety of programmes in place to do this. One is the Shilu Abed Lifetime Award for outstanding craftspeople sponsored by BRAC. The other is the Master Craftsperson's Awards, organized jointly with the Bengal Foundation. Their objective is to acknowledge and honour the rare skills of artisans.

This encourages them to continue doing good work and value their profession. Craft is really such an illpaid, tedious work that many artisans don't want to remain in this field. Instead, they decide to start their own business or become day labourers. We've lost many excellent craftspeople in this way because it's just not worth their while to stay in crafts. If the market knows that someone is a Master Craftsperson everyone will value and appreciate his or her work. We also do the Karumela, a craft bazaar. It is very important because here the artisans learn to sell directly to you, the consumer. It gives them a chance to learn about the changing tastes of the consumers and make contact with retailers.

Do you think that crafts should be introduced as a subject in our school curriculum?

Definitely. The World Crafts Council is doing a Craft Education Program. All schools should have such a component. Actually, when we were in school I remember there being a crafts component. They had us making baskets and other knick-knacks. Now, it has to be a bit more formalized. Thailand is the best model for this. Every school has a crafts programme where they bring in a master craftsperson who stays for three months or so and teaches the children various crafts. The children have to learn, not to become craftspeople, but so that they can always appreciate the work and skill that goes into the making of crafts. It will stay with them.

How do you ensure the craftsmen's livelihood?

Through marketing and workshops. The most important support that you can give to craftspeople is to build their marketing capacity by providing access to the market. Where we have failed is in our effort to get high quality silk and cotton yarn at controlled prices for our weavers. We have been to ministers and

Madder dye demonstration at World Crafts Council, APR - Aranya International Training Workshop.

ministries, everywhere, but weren't able to get what we wanted for our weavers. We're facing a problem right now with Jamdani in not being able to find good quality yarn. Weavers are making Jamdanis with 80 count cotton when Jamdanis should be made with 150-250 count yarn. What is happening is that those who have the skill of fine craftsmanship of weaving Jamdani are losing it by using coarse yarn. The skill of fine weaving is getting lost.

Can the government do anything?

The problem is that the policymakers all think at the macro-level. They don't look at the micro-issues. Many of them think that craft itself is an irrelevant matter.

But it is not. It is second only to agriculture as far as employment opportunities go in this country. India, Pakistan, and Thailand have craft policies. We don't.

That shows what our perception of crafts is. The reality is that there are hundreds of millions of people who depend on it for their livelihood. How can NGOs and craft projects alone do something about the problem? I'm not saying that we should give them charity. They don't want that. They've never asked for

charity. All they've asked for is what should be their right. We hope someday the Government will provide necessary support services to our craftspeople and enhance the rich craft sector of Bangladesh.

In December 2013, the traditional art of Jamdani weaving was inscribed on UNESCO's “Representative List of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity”.

The decision was made at the eighth meeting of the Intergovernmental Committee for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage in Baku, the capital city of Azerbaijan.

Syeda Samara Mortada did her BA in English from East West University, Dhaka and MA in Women's Studies from the University of York, UK.

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letter from the guest editor

Sketch by Dhali Al Mamoon

the earth as seen from the moon Giorgio Guglielmino

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talian writer and director Pier Paolo Pasolini chose to title one of his short stories, “The Earth as Seen from the Moon.” The story centres around a widower and his son who are searching for the perfect woman. Apart from the beautiful story, what most impressed me was, and still is, the title. I have always considered “The Earth as Seen from the Moon” an invitation to look at fascinating things from a distance and with objectivity, since the distance puts the world in a wider perspective.

This will be my way of looking at the art scene, especially contemporary art, in Bangladesh. My gaze will combine the fascination of finding a new planet waiting to be discovered with a parallel comparison. Does this exercise have any sense or meaning? Yes, it does, since here in Bangladesh, it is a distinctive approach.

I do not believe that my choices will be shared or approved. The aim of this section is different; my goal is to stimulate curiosity, thought and criticism. I will be attracted by choices that might appear superficial, incongruous, or unexpected. But what drives me to take

a telescope from the moon and look at the Earth, pointing it at Dhaka, is the conviction that I will not be disillusioned.

In this issue, the magazine was divided into two parts.

The first section was devoted to a special topic – “Crafts” – and the second one is a new section called “Open Space.” This part will be filled with various columns, contributions, text and images and will be divided into subsections.

The first part of this issue of our magazine aims to stay true to tradition, while the second part tries to do something new. It is centred on the visual aspect because, while writing is important, looking is even more fundamental. The language of the magazine will try to be, as far as possible, plain and clear. No useless intellectual formulae. Once a critic said, “when critics do not have ideas, they add words.” My wish is to have some ideas and very few words.

This new issue of Jamini is an homage to its past but at the same time, a statement on its future. It is a future that is open to new spaces and new content.

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open space

a conversation with prize-winning artists from bangladesh

artists of the 15th asian art biennale

by Mushfiq Zaman

The Asian Art Biennale provides art lovers with a rare opportunity to view international art at Shilpakala Academy. The event plays an important role in the development of our artists. Mushfiq Zaman speaks to three local artists, Kazi Salahuddin Ahmed, Yasmin Jahan Nupur and Zihan Karim, who were honoured at the event, to hear their thoughts on the Biennale and its impact on contemporary art in Bangladesh.

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Exhibition space at the 15th Asian Art Biennale at Shilpakala Academy, Dhaka, held from December 1 - 31, 2012.

Photo courtesy of Mohammad Hasanur Rahman

here are very few events in Bangladesh's social calendar that command the attention of artists, critics and the general populace quite like the Asian Art Biennale. This landmark exhibition brings art from beyond our borders to our country for audiences to see and experience. Works of our own artists are showcased alongside those by foreign artists, allowing for an exchange of aesthetic perspectives across cultures. Now in its 30th year, the Asian Art Biennale remains a major event for art lovers and artists alike. The 15th edition was held from December 1-31, 2012 and saw three Bangladeshi artists, Kazi Salahuddin Ahmed, Yasmin Jahan Nupur and Zihan Karim, receiving awards for their outstanding work. Jamini took advantage of the occasion to speak with these artists and learn more about their art and hear their views on the Biennale and its place in Bangladesh's art scene.

Kazi Salahuddin Ahmed, the Grand Prize recipient from Bangladesh, is a self-made artist. He started drawing and painting in his childhood but entered the art world without receiving any formal academic training. He graduated from the University of Dhaka

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with an MSS in International Relations but chose to become an artist due to his passion for art. He studied the work of local and foreign artists such as Mohammad Kibria, Monirul Islam, Jackson Pollock and Joan Miro and eventually developed his own impressionist style. As a professional freelance artist, he has taken part in several solo and group shows and won many local and international awards, including the Honourable Mention at the 13th Asian Art Biennale.

Ahmed's Sheer Chaos-25 (2012), which won the Grand Prize, was a mixed media work. The artist used newspaper clippings to create a spider-web like depiction of the chaos induced by the unplanned urban expansion of Dhaka city. “Newspapers can be called a reflection of our society,” said Ahmed, “I wanted to use them to represent the socio-political issues that affect our daily lives.” Ahmed's artwork comprised myriad voices – including advertisements and articles – that make up our city. “I saw a lot of viewers even reading the things I had cut and pasted onto the canvas,” said Ahmed, “I enjoyed the way the audience interacted with the work.”

Two artists from Chittagong won Honourable Mentions for their video installations at the 15th Asian Art Biennale. The first was Yasmin Jahan Nupur, a young artist who has quickly become one of the most sought-after talents in Bangladesh's exhibition circuit.

“I've always enjoyed art and knew that I wanted to become an artist from when I was very young,” declared Nupur, who studied painting and drawing while growing up. She stopped doing water colours in 2006 and began working from then on with contemporary art forms. In recent years, she has participated in a number of group and solo exhibitions in Bangladesh and abroad and has won many accolades including an Honourable Mention at the 13th Asian Art Biennale in 2008.

Crossing Paths (2012) was a thought-provoking video installation that looked back at the Indian Subcontinent's past and mused on its future. “I was in Karachi for a residency program where I studied the independence movements in the Indian Subcontinent from 1947-71,” said Nupur. “I was there during Eidul-Azha and was walking down a street covered with the blood of butchered cows. I wondered if the Pakistani soldiers who invaded our country ever walked down our streets, bathed with the blood of our people.” This idea formed the central focus of her video installation.

The segment on the right showed a pair of feet slowly walking over a blood drenched path; the one on

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the left showed another pair of feet running on a treadmill. “That image asks where we are going,” said Nupur “the person running on the treadmill is stuck in an endless loop. I think it's interesting to compare the two scenes and see what meanings one can derive from it.” She believes that the relationship between art and politics is an intrinsic one. “When society is in unrest, you can't help but feel it,” she said, “you are a part of it. And of course, it is an artist’s duty to express what he or she feels about the world around us. Politicians shout on their microphones, writers shout in their articles and our art is where we shout out loud.”

Ahmed echoed the sentiments voiced by Nupur on the artist's role in society. Born and raised in Old Dhaka, Ahmed has a deep affection for this part of the city. His work captures the concrete vistas and cityscapes of his Dhaka, as a way to preserve it. As Dhaka continues to develop, the ancient buildings and historical sites in Old Dhaka that are hundreds of years old are being torn down to make way for modern structures. His passion for Old Dhaka and his feelings regarding the continued progress of urban development in Bangladesh are reflected in his works.

“It's become almost unbearable to live in Dhaka nowadays. My art aims to show people a new way of seeing their city.”

Zihan Karim, the second young Bangladeshi artist to win an Honourable Mention at the 15th Asian Art Biennale, began his journey in the contemporary art scene as a painter before enrolling in the Faculty of Fine Arts at the University of Dhaka. “Painting was where I got my start,” Karim said, “but I've always had an interest in origami and art made with electronic devices.” As a student he was inspired by the works of foreign masters such as Dali and Picasso and local artists such as Dhali Al Mamoon. “I remember the first time I saw one of Dhali's installations, Water is Innocent. I was mesmerized and wanted to do that kind of work myself.”

This event marked the first time Karim has participated in a Biennale. His A Simple Death (2012) portrays death as an ordinary occurrence amidst the urban chaos of a city. “The video was inspired by a day-labourer who I would always see sleeping on a footpath near a railway station in Chittagong,” Karim remembers, “But, then one day he wasn't there. I stopped seeing him there and was later shocked to hear that he had passed away. But, what struck me was that no one besides me knew or even cared that this man had died.”

Kazi Salahuddin Ahmed, Sheer Chaos-25, acrylic, newspaper on canvas, 2012.

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Karim created a public interaction project, where he made a video of a man lying on a footpath and projected it on a roadside. It got different reactions from those who passed by. Some people moved away from it in fear, while others showed it respect and walked around it. However, some people didn't even notice the installation and walked over it. Karim engaged the viewer through his realistic portrayal of death in a city using video as a medium. This medium is slowly gaining popularity among artists in Bangladesh. “I think artists are experimenting with other mediums and coming out of their twodimensional and classical approaches to translate their emotions in an honest way,” said Karim, “video performances are created from the need to capture time and come up with new modes of expression.”

Video installations and mixed media work are part of a new wave of conceptual art being exhibited across galleries in Bangladesh. What artists, critics and enthusiasts perceive as 'art' today has slowly changed over time by incorporating global tastes and standards.

Exposure to these new and exciting art forms is central to the continued development of Bangladesh's art and culture. “When I was a student, I had friends who came back from studying in art colleges abroad,” said Nupur “they would mention this or that artist, whose work I had never seen and whose names I had sometimes never even heard of.”

Nupur, like many other artists today, took the initiative to learn more about the international art scene through foreign art magazines and the Internet.

“Lots of young artists want to work in the contemporary art styles,” said Nupur, “but there seems to be some disconnect between foreign art and ours.” She believes that the curriculum in many of our art institutions are focused on older artistic styles and traditions and teachers seem less keen about embracing the latest trends. Reform to the system is needed and more artists must be sent abroad through residencies or fellowships for training. “Knowledge and exposure are crucial,” said Ahmed “that's how our artists will be able to match international standards.”

It is impossible to overstate the importance of an event like the Asian Art Biennale for the continued development of Bangladesh's art and culture. For many artists and art lovers in our country it offers a rare opportunity to experience art from other cultures.

The exhibition space functions as an exchange of ideas across countries and traditions. “I got lots of opportunities to interact with foreign artists and share ideas or explore different ways of using certain

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mediums, etc,” said Karim “they also expressed their interest in the work we've done. I think that's very important because we don't otherwise get the chance to have this sort of exchange.”

The art from participating countries at the 15th Asian Biennale shared several common features in spite of their geographic or socio-economic differences. These include an affinity for nature, an unease about growing urban development, histories of war and conflict and craft traditions. Art from other countries shared space with paintings, sculptures, installations, photographs and other types of work made by our local artists. “If we talk about comparisons between our art and theirs,” Karim said, “I don't think we have any obligation to do exactly the same kind of work as theirs. I think that over time we will need to realize our own identity and keep working towards developing that niche for ourselves in the international art space.”

The Biennale offered ample opportunity for our artists to learn and experience foreign art, but it also showcased our culture to international critics, intellectuals and the members of the press in attendance.

“People who come here and like our work can go back to their own countries and act as our advocates,” said Ahmed. “If there is ever a question over whether or not an international exhibition should feature Bangladeshi art, they can speak on our behalf. If they like it. I think there's a lot to like in the work done by our artists at this year's Biennale.”

Despite these positive comments and its value to our culture, the Biennale has also received some negative criticism from viewers and commentators.

The major concerns expressed by these critics involve the artwork and the ways in which they are displayed at the event. The selection of foreign art is largely left to the participating countries; this practice does not always result in the best works or the art of the most recognized artists being exhibited in Bangladesh.

“There are lots of great artists abroad and even next door in India and in Pakistan who we would like to see at the Biennale,” said Nupur, “Rashid Rana is one of the major artists in the Indian Subcontinent but his work is never shown here. I think getting those artists to participate would mark a huge step forward for the Biennale.” Artists are also given specific instructions about what they should do with the exhibition space they get. “If we take video installations as an example, they require spaces at the site that are appropriate for their needs,” said Karim, “if the organizers would set aside a part of the exhibition for video installations,

Yasmin Jahan Nupur, Crossing Paths, video installation, 2012.

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Zihan Karim, A Simple Death, video installation, 2012 (detail)

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Zihan Karim, A Simple Death, video installation, 2012.

perhaps in a dimly lit environment so that our audience can experience them better, that would be helpful for us. A lot of artists also produce sitespecific work and could use more space.”

Ahmed believes that these problems can be attributed to the fact that the Asian Art Biennale has no curator to guide its artists or create a unified vision for the exhibition. Several foreign Biennales employ curators who are assigned these tasks. “We don't have many curators in our country,” said Ahmed, “but there are many experienced and capable people like Wakilur Rahman or Dhali Al Mamoon who can take up such responsibilities. Given a few years' time they can help train a new generation of curators to lead artistic ventures in Bangladesh.” Also, unlike other Biennales, the Asian Art Biennale receives art from only a few parts of the world. “We seldom get to see art from Europe or the Americas here in Dhaka,” said Ahmed; “why not expand the Biennale to include those regions and call our event the Dhaka Art Biennale instead of the Asian Art Biennale?”

Kazi Salahuddin Ahmed, Yasmin Jahan Nupur and Zihan Karim represent the established as well as the emerging generations of artists in Bangladesh, who are striving to carve a place for themselves in the competitive global art arena. The Asian Art Biennale plays an important role for artists like them by not only providing a stage to compete on but also by giving them exposure to new styles and traditions. It is to be hoped that the Biennale's continued support of Bangladesh's art market will help these artists develop even more so that they can someday stand tall in the art world.

Mushfiq Zaman is a staff writer for Jamini

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open space

Rafiqun Nabi, A Hill Tract Valley, 41 x 30 cm (left), Sea Beach-1, 58 x 43 cm (middle), Sitakunda, 101 x 74 cm, 2013 (right).

ranabi in retrospect

rafiqun nabi in 2013

by Iftekhar Chowdhury

In 2013, three exhibitions showing Rafiqun Nabi’s artworks once again proved how deeply committed the artist is to the land and the people.

His paintings and prints evoke the fleeting as well as the eternal in our lives and landscape, as they reveal magical moments that transform our daily struggles into celebrations of life and its wonders. His cartoon comic character “Tokai”, which was also featured at one of these exhibitions, has achieved iconic status as a commentator on the incongruities and inequalities that have dominated the nation’s life.

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Rafiqun Nabi, At Noon in the Field, 170 x 243 cm, 2012.

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afiqun Nabi was born in Chapai Nawabganj in 1943. His father was a police officer and his mother a housewife. Nabi's parents were supportive of their son's artistic talents and encouraged him to pursue art. He enrolled in the Bangladesh College of Arts and Crafts, (now known as the Faculty of Fine Arts at the University of Dhaka) and earned his bachelor’s degree in 1964. Here Nabi met and studied under many great masters of Bangladeshi art, including Zainul Abedin, Safiuddin Ahmed and Mohammad Kibria. During these formative years Nabi developed his signature visual style and came into his own as an artist and printmaker. He then went to Greece where he studied printmaking at the Athens School of Fine Arts. When he returned in 1976, he began the Tokai comic strip. The cheerful, bald and pot-bellied street urchin became one of the most beloved characters in Bangladeshi media and made Rafiqun Nabi, or 'Ranabi' as he is also known, a household name. He received numerous awards during his illustrious career, including the Bangladesh

Shilpakala Academy Award in 1989, the Tri-Taranga Gold Medal in 2000 and the prestigious Ekushey Padak Award, one of the highest honours given to any Bangladeshi artist, in 1993.

His works were shown in three memorable exhibitions in 2013. The first of these was “In Touch with the Real”, a ten-day long solo exhibition which began on April 12 at the Dhaka Art Center. The works on display represented themes and motifs from Nabi's career, including scenes with buffalos grazing in open fields and fishermen playing cards on boats moored by the shore. “In Touch with the Real” stands out from among Nabi's oeuvre with regards to the size of each painting in the exhibit. The artist worked on large canvases for the 27 paintings on display at the exhibition, paying close attention to detail so as to render every person, animal and backdrop with unique touches. The large canvases also allowed his viewers to examine the works more closely, thereby establishing an intimate connection between the artwork and its audience. From a thematic standpoint, his decision to

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Rafiqun Nabi, Fisherman at Rest, 173 x 307 cm, 2012.

use these immense spaces for his paintings imbues these ordinary scenes with a sense of grandeur, as if to bring those quiet moments in our daily lives, which we might have otherwise missed or not thought twice of, to the fore.

Ranabi's Tokai comic strips and paintings were displayed at the Bengal Art Lounge as part of the “Very Graphic” group exhibition on November 26.

The show featured several artists who work with comic books, animation and graphic novels. Alongside Rafiqun Nabi were Shishir Batthacharjee, Ahsan Habib, Sabyasachi Mistry and British graphic novelists Karrie Fransman and Steven Harris. It was Ranabi who many years ago laid the foundation of graphic art in Bangladesh through his Tokai comic strip. The exploits of a lunghi-clad child who sifts through garbage to survive, the titular Tokai served as a vehicle for the artist's often scathing criticism of modern Bangladesh.

In December, the Bengal Gallery of Fine Arts hosted a thirteen-day long career retrospective exhibition of Rafiqun Nabi's art to celebrate his 70th birthday. The event, titled “Quest for Reality”, featured 120 selected works spanning five decades of the prolific artist's career. Begum Jahanara Abedin, widow of Zainul Abedin inaugurated the exhibition while art collector Syed Durjoy Rahman Joy, eminent artist Qayyum Chowdhury and editor of Prothom Alo Matiur Rahman attended as special guests. This collection featured Nabi's work across multiple mediums including paintings, woodcut prints and drawings which chart his creative journey from his early paintings to his most ambitious works. A number of themes and motifs which have become synonymous with the artist during his career could be seen at this exhibition. His most frequently revisited subjects include fishermen, buffalos, birds and landscapes.

Nabi rendered rural life with a style that blended elements of romanticism, impressionism and experimental realism and uses lines and vivid colours to paint scenes of unmatched beauty. In addition to his work with pastoral motifs, his nude sketches, Tokai paintings and cityscapes were exhibited as well. The intrinsic relationship between man and the natural world is one of the central themes of Nabi's artwork.

We see it mature as the decades pass and the artist develops his own visual language.

The artist's playful style and mastery over the elements of art allows him to come up with an honest and beautiful portrayal of the everyday realities of life in Bangladesh. In Fishermen (2012), the colour blue

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Rafiqun Nabi’s Tokai comic (left) and painting (right).

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Rafiqun Nabi, Jetty, oil on canvas, 1967.

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dominates the artist's palette in this work, a scene set on water sometime in the evening. There is no horizon separating the land from the sea, suggesting that darkness has blanketed the landscape. The day's catch is placed at the centre of the busy frame and acts as the principle source of light in the image. Nabi expertly uses light and shadow to emphasize this aspect as the glow from the net strikes the fishermen's dark shapes, allowing us to make out their expressions of jubilation. By acknowledging their joy at the catch in such a manner, Nabi highlights man's dependence on nature, as a source of food, income and personal happiness. Nabi has also included scenes of urban life in these paintings. He infuses dull grey buildings with brightness and sets a cheerful tone. In Family (2013), a family of five is seen sitting in their living room. The father sits with his arms wrapped around the small child sitting on his lap while the rest of his family crowds around him. The patriarch is in the centre of the frame, protecting his youngest child while his family vies for his attention. This painting shows the closeness among members of a family and reminds us that even amidst the chaos of city life there are still tender moments to cherish.

At Noon in the Field (2012), shows several cows standing in a field with their herders. The men appear to be tending to the cows, petting and washing them with pieces of cloth. Each individual face and figure in the image is expertly detailed. The men wear unique lungis, headbands and straw hats. The cows stand in distinctive poses; one wears a bell while another has a rope draped over its neck. In Fishermen at Rest (2012), we find a small group on a boat, huddled together as it winds its way down a river. A man rests his elbow on his sleeping companion and smoke hookah, the men in a small group of four play cards in the corner while one of them plays the flute. Nabi makes good use of the additional space he has with these large canvases by painting with exquisite details. In this image, we can make out some of the cards in the players' hands and see each individual's face as they either sleep or look around. The artist seems to be concerned with showing relationships between man, the land and nature and with each other. He shows the thematic intimacy between these elements by placing these figures in close physical proximity with one another.

The backdrops of some of these images, crowded with human and animal forms, are full of colour but lack the level of detail present in these narrative's central characters. Nabi compensates for this absence of scenery with his landscape paintings which show

the artist's skill in rendering the natural world on canvas. In one of these works, Sitakunda (2013) we can see a train weave its way through lush green scenery.

Nabi makes use of line to add scale and depth to the brown hills in the background, and suggests a sense of movement in both the speeding locomotive and nearby trees. Sea Beach-1 (2013) presents a tranquil beach scene. Three fishermen wade through the water with nets, leaving their boats on the sandy shore. They seem to disappear into the deep blue hue of the sea. A flock of birds have gathered on a boat, watching the fishermen as they work. Nabi has featured fishermen in many of his paintings, immortalizing their everyday struggles and moments of joy. A third landscape painting, A Hill Tract Valley (2013) shows a village nestled in the mountains. Crowds of people gather in front of the busy shacks below as tall hills loom in the background. The sky is painted in a pleasing shade of yellow suggesting that the scene is set sometime during the late afternoon. Nabi's skill with landscape infuses even the most mundane settings with a sense of life.

The artist's optimism and humour in these exhibitions is not only a refreshing break for art lovers but also provides an intimate experience where the viewer is able to connect with the characters and narratives he has drawn. Nabi paints his expressive characters and gorgeous landscapes to remind us that the things we love about our country still affect us.

Through his expressive characters and gorgeous landscapes Nabi paints a window of the placid side of Bangladesh.

An excerpt from Rafiqun Nabi’s Tokai.

Iftekhar Chowdhury is a feature writer for Jamini.

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open space | in between

“In Between” is a space not only devoted, but freely given to a single artist to express him or herself in any possible way – through images, writing, photographs or sketches. Total freedom is reflected in the graphical presentation, which is created directly by the artist. Jamini will offer the “In Between” space to a different artist in every issue. The first space has been given to Monirul Islam.

monirul islam, “in between”

the maestro at work

by Mehrab Hossain

Jamini is proud to introduce “In Between” with the works of internationally renowned artist Monirul Islam. As a companion piece to our new feature, this article examines the veteran artist’s career, his techniques and creative influences. Also included is a previously unpublished interview with Monir, taken shortly after his inaugural exhibition at the Bengal Art Lounge.

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Monirul Islam at his studio

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onirul Islam is our “In Between” artist. A celebrated artist in both foreign and domestic art spheres, his unique style and extraordinary skill has garnered worldwide critical acclaim. We are pleased to feature his original works, Journey Without End (2012), to inaugurate this new feature in Jamini.

Born in 1943 in Chandpur, Monir spent his childhood years surrounded by nature. His love for rural life can be seen in many of his works, both during his formative years as an artist in Bangladesh and later in his career as an expatriate remembering his homeland.

After studying at the Faculty of Fine Arts, at the University of Dhaka, Monir left Bangladesh in 1969 for Spain under an exchange programme with a scholarship provided by the Spanish Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He spent nine months as a student there, working on murals and frescos and studying the works of masters Goya, Velazquez and Michelangelo.

Monir won an international award in 1972 at the 5th International Exhibition of Prints in Ibizo, Spain. It was the first of many honours the artist would receive in his career.

Today, he travels back and forth between his homes and studios in Dhaka and Madrid.

His work has evolved from his early days as a landscape painter and now bears his own signature style. Monir’s erratic use of colours, that both conflict and subtly blend together to create a visually arresting and emotionally charged discourse on canvas, is a key characteristic of his work. He loses himself in his art, letting the demands of his work dictate his method and giving each image an individual appearance.

Monir enjoys working in different mediums but considers print his favourite. “An able artist can work in several mediums,” he says in an interview with the Dhaka Courier, published on August 18, 2012, “There shouldn't be a set medium for an artist, and the method to articulate an

artistic vision should depend on his or her mood and temperament.”

To supplement our “In Between” feature, we have included an unpublished interview, taken following his show, “Of Rupture and Continuity”, at the Bengal Art Lounge's first exhibition in 2011. Here the artist illuminates the reader on his creative process, reflects on his success and muses on the spirit of his artwork.

Jamini Your show at the Bengal Art Lounge was met with acclaim from critics and art lovers in Dhaka. What are your plans for the future?

Monirul Islam I am in an in between state at the moment.

You can say that I am a little lost. I had gone into a creative hibernation as it were, but now the surge of energy for a new awakening is coursing through me. I'm shaking the cobwebs out of my head and going off in a new direction. I am very grateful to the Bengal Art Lounge for providing the space to showcase this kind of experimental work. I pushed back the date quite a few times, and they patiently waited till I was finished and satisfied with what I was doing.

The Bengal Art Lounge opened to the public with your exhibition.

How does it feel to be the first artist featured there?

Yes, they inaugurated their new gallery with my exhibition, which is special because people always remember the first show at a gallery. Bengal Gallery's journey was initiated with Mohammad Kibria's exhibition and people still talk about that. As for the success of the show that you hinted at, I try not to think about it too much. It may sound glib, but if one is doing something really innovative, it simply cannot be too popular. I can reflect on my work a little better once it's in the gallery – and then I can clearly detect my problems with line and space, my limited parameter of concerns and subject matter.

Personally, I prefer less colour. I'd like to use just black and

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white, which is perhaps more suitable for a European cosmology and climate. I always say, we are spice-loving people; we are too ornamental. Here, the daily life, at its most basic level, is so hard that we have to colour things up with yellow, green, etc. We need to beautify. It's part of our cultural identity! Given a choice, we will always go for sugar and not salt, more and not less, polychrome and not dia– or monochrome.

Do you still enjoy painting?

Today, I feel that my biggest success is that despite [considering myself to be] a mediocre artist, I have been making a living from my artwork for the last 40 years! I am just thankful that I could return to painting.

Is it difficult to change mediums?

I have been a printmaker for the last thirty to thirty-five years and it seemed to feel like a trap at some point. There is so much to do in print and so much is happening in that area with rapid technological changes. It's very hard to take a break or deviate. But changing mediums can bring fecundity and richness to your medium of choice as well.

Besides, all great artists work with many different mediums

for greater freedom and for a larger range of expressions.

Think about Picasso, Miro or Klee – what mediums haven't they worked in! Getting into a new medium takes just a little longer sometimes. If you want to write something, you have to tame the language first and the language has to come to you slowly, willingly. The paintings I was working on would not flourish or flow freely sometimes. I leaned them against the wall and looked at them intently, and I tried to puzzle it out; and when the answer came, the solution was very simple. The picture started to grow from that point. My personality grew, in a new way, through this batch of works. Of course, not all of those problematic pictures worked out. I had to destroy a lot of those works as well. Destruction is such a normal part of the creative process. But I learned to destroy my own work a little late in life. And now I ritualistically destroy whenever I feel the need to clear the mental clutter or make a little space for serendipity. Sometimes, I make room for an accidental composition by stacking wet pictures on top of each other or dripping colour on them. In short, I employ the whole creative ecology in order to make art.

Before your show at the Bengal Art Lounge opened, word had already gotten out that you had reinvented yourself at this exhibition. Do you feel that's true about this show?

I am a little weary about empty repetitions. Don't forget that I am also a printmaker. In order to make prints, I have to consciously replicate the same work again and again.

However, I do not want to repeat myself in my paintings. I don't want to make logo-like paintings with the same elements, the same styles or the same patterns. I have learnt to infuse my personality into my work. You take on influences from the masters: Goya, Velazquez, Picasso, Miro, Klee, etc. But, you work it through the filter of your own personality. Antonio Saura used to take paintings of Goya, and he reworked and recreated them. Soura's works became masterpieces as well. If there isn't a layer of ideas on a painting, it's not going to be art. Each painting is a different world.

Does this view influence and shape your art?

What we do is paint time. Each moment brings new vibrations, a glimpse of the primal reality. Every vision is unique to that moment. You need tremendous powers of concentration to hold onto one of these vibrations, which might manifest itself in an image or a feeling. I always say that art is more powerful than the artist. If the moment doesn't open up new visions to you anymore, if the art has left you, you can still work but you cannot make art.

Mehrab Hossain is a staff writer for Jamini.

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open space | looking back

raghu rai exhibition commemorates victory day in 2012

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he Bengal Gallery of Fine Arts hosted an exhibition of celebrated Indian photographer Raghu Rai's famous photographs of the 1971 liberation war in Bangladesh, titled “The Price of Freedom”. The collection depicts scenes from pivotal moments from the war including those of the mass exodus of refugees to the eastern borders of India, the Indian army's intervention, Pakistan's defeat following the nine-month conflict and the birth of Bangladesh as an independent nation. Rai, who was a young photographer for The Statesman at the time, documented these events and was awarded the prestigious Padmashree Award for his work. The

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negatives of these images were presumed to have been lost but were recently found and brought to Dhaka for this exhibition, which was organised in collaboration with the Indira Gandhi Cultural Centre and the Indian High Commission, to observe Bangladesh's Victory Day celebrations in 2012.

The exhibition was divided into two parts, called “Refugees and “After the Victory”. Each had its own distinct themes but taken together they constitute a larger narrative that the photographer weaved through the sequence of these images. “Refugees” presents an emotionally jarring depiction of the destitution faced by those who fled their homes in the aftermath of violence. The series begins with scenes from Jessore Road, showing refugees with their meagre belongings bundled up in sacks carried on their heads or on the backs of bullock carts as they sought asylum in India.

Rai then takes us to small camps outside towns near the Indian border where they huddled together inside sewage pipes, left discarded in nearby fields. Though Rai does not show the inhuman acts that forced these people out of their homes, they hover in the background of each image, like ghosts from beyond the photographs reminding us of atrocities committed during the bloody birth of Bangladesh.

The narrative sequence in the exhibition takes the viewer from refugees living in camps along the border to scenes of India's intervention in the liberation movement in “After the Victory.” Rai prepares us for

this transition through the placement of his photographs in the exhibition. First, we see Indira Gandhi, her hands clasped together in greeting, standing in an automobile as it makes its way through a refugee camp. Then we see images of the resistance movement's spirit reflected in the faces of ordinary Bengalis. A rickshaw puller rides down a street with a Bangladeshi flag fixed to the handle bars; soldiers board ferries to cross into occupied territory; a group of men board a bus and the man sitting by the window closest to the camera has a rifle between his legs. Next, we see tanks cross Bangladesh's borders as helicopters land in air fields and troops prepare their weapons for combat. Rai places his viewer in the middle of this conflict, watching from a bush or the relative safety of a tank. The narrative ends with Pakistan's defeat and the return of refugees to their homeland. “The Price of Freedom� is a title that could be taken as an admonition to Bangladeshis born since the fall of East Pakistan who have perhaps forgotten or never known what was exchanged for the freedom and civil liberties we now enjoy. In this sense, Raghu Rai's photographs tread a fine line between what we call photojournalism and what we exalt as art. These photographs are informative, acting as historical touchstones and taking us to a time of strife and bloodshed. They would have been perfect for the glossy pages of an international news magazine. But

due to his careful compositions, his delicate balance of light and shadow and aesthetic excellence, Rai's photographs transcend the photo spreads of news bulletins and are appropriately placed along the walls of exhibitions.

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Francisco Goya, Escapan entre las llamas (They Escape through the Flames), 1810-1814.

hodgkin, mezzaqui and goya exhibited at bengal gallery and art lounge

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number of noteworthy exhibitions featuring the works of prominent international artists were held in 2012 and 2013 at the Bengal Gallery of Fine Arts and the Bengal Art Lounge. These included British artist Howard Hodgkin's print and painting exhibition, Italian artist Sabrina Mezzaqui's “The Dormancy of the Seed” and an exhibition of Spanish painter and master artist Francisco Goya's engravings.

Howard Hodgkin is a painter and printmaker whose mastery of abstraction and colour has earned him worldwide recognition. His many honours and accomplishments include representing his country at the Venice Biennale in 1984, winning the prestigious Turner Prize in 1965, and being knighted in 1992. The

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subjects of Hodgkin's works are often simple, depicting everyday moments in beautiful and vivid colours. They are representations of the artist's emotional responses to memories and mundane details both glimpsed and experienced in his daily life. 12 of the Hodgkin’s artworks were brought to Dhaka and displayed at the Bengal Art Lounge in an exhibition jointly organised by the Art Lounge and the British Council.

Sabrina Mezzaqui's installations at the Bengal Art Lounge brought nature and modernity together in a thought-provoking exhibition. The Italian artist received her artistic training from the Istituto Statale d'Arte and the Academy of Fine Arts, both in Bologna. She has also been exhibited at several wellknown galleries around the world. “The Dormancy of the Seed” at the Bengal Art Lounge depicted the natural world through a variety of imaginative mediums. One installation, titled To Plant comprised of a dictionary opened onto a page with the word 'Plant' and dozens of black paper plant cut-outs emerging from within it. Another work was displayed

Sabrina Mezzaqui, Mettere a dimora (To Plant), Italian vocabulary and 100 cut-out paper plants, 2012.

on video showing an Italian countryside as the seasons changed.

Francisco Goya is widely regarded as one of the last great European masters of the Romantic period.

However, his unique style and imaginative works also set him apart from his contemporaries, marking him as one of the first artists who worked with ideas Howard Hodgkin, Two to Go, lithograph, 91 x 122 cm, 2013.

characteristic of the later modern art movement.

Goya's art was influential for a number of great artists from later generations, including Monet, Picasso and Francis Bacon. The artist spent his early career working as a court painter for the Spanish crown but later began tackling more complex themes including war and the struggles of the common man. His paintings and prints evoke dark themes through humour and absurdist imagery. The exhibition of Francisco Goya's selected engravings was organised through the joint efforts of the Bengal Foundation, the Inditex Chair of Spanish Language and Culture at the University of Dhaka, and the Spanish Embassy in Bangladesh.

Hodgkin, Mezzaqui and Goya's art introduced Bangladeshi audiences to modern artistic sensibilities that could hitherto only be seen in foreign art magazines and websites. It is to be hoped that the Bengal Gallery of Fine Arts, Bengal Art Lounge and other galleries across the country will feature more international artists in our exhibition spaces in the coming years.

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Visitors at Chobi Mela VII, Photo courtesy of Drik.

chobi mela vii brings international photography to dhaka

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hobi Mela is an international photography festival held in Bangladesh once every two years. It was first organized in Dhaka from December 1999 to January 2000 by Drik. Since then, it has continued to enthral and excite audiences. “If impossibility is a criterion for success, then Chobi Mela has all the credentials,” says Shahidul Alam, commenting on the

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event's success to chobimela.org. A renowned Bangladeshi photographer who is credited with pioneering modern photography in his country, Alam also serves as the festival's director.

Chobi Mela VII, began on January 25, 2013 and ended on February 7, and featured “Fragility” as its primary theme. The topic was chosen on the basis of an online poll inviting the people to participate and contribute to the creative process. In an interview with The Daily Star, Alam reveals that one of the festival's main objectives since its inception has been to inspire participating photographers to focus on socio-political issues. “The world is seemingly turning more fragile – both politically and environmentally. 'Fragility,' in that sense, is a very relevant theme,” said Alam.

The festival is also involved in highlighting issues

such as social inequality and the struggle against oppression. Prior themes included “Differences Unframed,” “Exclusion,” “Resistance,” “Boundaries” and “Freedom.” 2011's Chobi Mela was centered on “Dreams” and exhibited works that explored this theme in new and innovative ways. The three-week long event is also noteworthy since it was broadcast live on Drik TV. As a consequence, the works of several local and international photographers were in view for a worldwide audience.

Chobi Mela VII was inaugurated at a ceremony held at the National Art Gallery of Bangladesh in Shilpakala Academy. Other galleries that were part of the event included the Dhaka Art Center, Drik Gallery and Bengal Gallery of Fine Arts. At the ceremony Alam presented Bangladeshi photographer Bijon Sarkar (who unfortunately passed away last year) as well as Mexican photographer Graciela Iturbide with “Lifetime Achievement” Awards. Alam called Sarkar one of the unsung heroes of the Bangladeshi photographic movement while Iturbide was credited with helping take documentary photography to new heights. Bijon Sarkar's widow and Iturbide were present at the event to accept these honours.

34 photographers participated in this year's Chobi Mela VII. Among them were seven Bangladeshi photographers, who amply demonstrated their creativity and zeal for their craft. 24 countries participated in the event, including Mexico, Belgium, Bosnia, Brazil, China, Egypt, France, UK, Iran, Japan, Malaysia, Vietnam and India. There were several works that depicted the theme of “Fragility” from myriad perspectives, reflecting the kaleidoscopic nature of the event itself.

Hossein Fatemi, a photographer from Afghanistan, revealed a society on the verge of collapse in Dark Future. Marika Elan's The Pink Choice offered an intimate look at the domestic lives of two homosexuals. Elan mused on the fragility of love.

Saori Ninomiya exhibited images of victims of sexual abuse in From That Place: The Voice of Being. However, she did not highlight their misery, grief or terror, preferring to focus on their future. Her work, indeed, shows that these women were not so fragile.

Chobi Mela VII also featured talks, workshops and seminars where the audience were able to hear from several luminaries of the photography world such as Chris Riley, Pablo Bartholomew, Jodi Bieber, Morten Krogvold and Graciela Iturbide. The festivities ended with a ceremony at Shilpakala Academy. Chobi Mela hopes to return to Dhaka with more creative and innovative photographs.

Representatives of Bengal Foundation at Artissima art fair.

bengal foundation at artissima in italy T

he Bengal Foundation was invited to participate at the 19th Artissima, an art fair held in Turin, Italy from November 8-11, 2012. Artissima is one of the five largest contemporary art showcases in the world, alongside the Armory Show in New York, the Frieze Fair in London, Flac in Paris and the Basel Art Fair in Basel. The Foundation's presence in the event marks an important step forward for Bangladeshi art and culture.

An exhibition of some of the most renowned and cutting-edge artists and galleries in the global art scene, Artissima attracts a large audience of art lovers and collectors from around the world. The Bengal Foundation had its own stall in the publications section of the fair grounds and was thus given a unique opportunity to reach an international audience.

Among the books exhibited were the “Great Masters of Bangladesh” series, published jointly with Skira, an Italian publishing house based in Milan with whom the Foundation established a partnership in 2011. These books will introduce art critics and enthusiasts to the careers and works of talented Bangladeshi artists, such as Safiuddin Ahmed and Zainul Abedin.

This year, the Bengal Foundation is set to make its debut on the exhibition space at Artissima, presenting the works of a number of major artists affiliated with the organization and its galleries to Europe and the rest of the art world.

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The Beijing Freeport of Culture will be built near the Beijing Capital International Airport (pictured above).

new tax-free art storage facility in beijing announced

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he Beijing Freeport of Culture is the Chinese government's bid to turn the nation's capital into a regional art hub. A joint venture between the stateowned business organization Beijing Gehua Cultural Development Group and the Swiss logistics company, Euroasia Investment SA, this 83,000 square metre facility is scheduled to open in 2014.

According to The Art Newspaper, the Freeport will offer tax exemption for collectors and corporations who wish to use the storage space for their art. China's high import costs – in the form of a 6-12% charge on customs duty, 17% on value added tax and an additional 5% on consumer tax – have been a cause

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for concern among the country's art enthusiasts.

Collectors who buy Chinese art at auction houses in New York or London have also been storing their purchases overseas. The tax-free facility, located next to the Beijing Capital International Airport, will help bring these works to Beijing and its burgeoning art scene.

Li Danyang, Gehua's general manager, is optimistic about the project and predicts that the Beijing Freeport will become the world's largest trading centre for artwork and cultural products. “Gehua's plan is to promote Chinese art both nationally and internationally,” said Tony Reynard, chairman of Euroasia's Singapore Freeport Pte facility, to The Art Newspaper, “[it] wants to create and organize a market that is loosely regulated.”

Euroasia and Gehua's plans for the facility are ambitious. China Daily reports that in addition to a massive storage space, the facility will also have designated zones for exhibitions and auctions and will offer additional services such as artwork authentication. The Beijing trading centre will also be used to promote other cultural industries such as film and television.

China's new Beijing Freeport of Culture is poised to make a significant mark in the international art trading market. The opening of this new facility will help solidify the country's status as a super-power in the art world.

tate appoints samdani to acquisitions committee R

ajeeb Samdani, founder and trustee of the Samdani Art Foundation, has been named a founding member of Tate Museum's South Asian Acquisitions Committee (SAAC). The Committee, chaired by Lekha Poddar, president of the Devi Art Foundation in India, is dedicated to the purchase of modern and contemporary artworks from India and its neighbouring countries.

The Samdani Art Foundation was founded by Rajeeb and Nadia Samdani to promote Bangladesh's contemporary artists in an international arena. They organised the Dhaka Art Summit in April 2012, which will be returning again this year, to provide a platform for talented young artists to exhibit their work. The Foundation plans to involve international galleries and

Rajeeb Samdani.

artists to exhibit their work alongside Bangladesh's own in the future. In addition, the Samdani Art Foundation also presents the Samdani Art Award, one of the largest and most prestigious art prizes in Bangladesh, to support emerging local artists.

Founded in 1987, Tate is a network of four museums that house the United Kingdom's national collection of British art and international modern and contemporary art. Representatives from Tate Modern visited Bangladesh in December 2011 and were invited by the Samdani Art Foundation to attend the Dhaka Art Summit in April 2012. Rajeeb Samdani's appointment to their Acquisitions committee will surely bring art from Bangladesh and the Indian Subcontinent into the global art scene.

record sales end 2012 art season

Andy Warhol, Green Disaster (Green Disaster Twice), 1963.

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otheby's and Christie's, two of the world's largest auctioneers of fine and decorative art, set new records in contemporary art sales in November. While

dismal sales at prior modern art auctions were discouraging to collectors and investors, these new records will end the season for them on a high note.

On Tuesday, November 13, 2012, Sotheby's witnessed its highest-ever auction gross. The evening's grand total came to a whopping $375.1 million, breaking Sotheby's previous record. Leading the charge was Mark Rothko's No. 1 (Royal Red & Blue), which sold for an estimated $75.1 million. Among the other top-selling artworks were Andy Warhol's Green Disaster (Green Disaster Twice) (1963) and Jackson Pollock's Number 4, 1951 (1951). Not to be outdone, Christie's topped its rival's sales the following evening with a staggering total of $412.2 million. Andy Warhol's Statue of Liberty (1962) marked the high-point for the auction, selling for an estimated $43.7 million, with fees.

The remarkable sales figures at both Christie's and Sotheby's contemporary art auctions give those in the business reasons to be optimistic about the coming year, even during the economic recession.

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The Bengal Classical Music Festival Begins

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angladesh has a rich history of classical music tradition. A good number of musicians perfected different forms and styles in our region with patronage from wealthy landowners and nobles. Many wellknown and influential classical music maestros such as Ustad Alauddin Khan, Pandit Ravi Shankar and Ustad Ayet Ali Khan also have their roots in Bangladesh.

However, in spite of this legacy, classical music has failed to resonate with the majority of modern audiences, particularly the younger generation.

In an effort to revive the tradition and restore its lost prominence, the Bengal Foundation collaborated with the ITC-Sangeet Research Academy (SRA) to organise the Bengal ITC-SRA Classical Music Festival in 2012. The four-day long event was held at the Army Stadium in Dhaka from November 29-December 2 and brought nearly a hundred celebrated artistes from India and Bangladesh to perform on the same stage.

Its aim was to promote classical music and foster an appreciation for the genre among those in attendance.

Musicians who participated at the festival included renowned maestros such as Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia, Vidushi Girija Devi, Pandit Shivkumar Sharma, Ustad Rashid Khan, Ustad Shahid Parvez and many others. This made the Bengal ITC-SRA Classical Music Festival the world's largest classical music event since so many legendary performers had never been gathered on one stage before. The festival was dedicated to the memory of Ustad Alauddin Khan

Pt. Hariprasad Chaurasia (top left), the Army Stadium during the Bengal Classical Music Festival (top right), Pt. Shiv Kumar Sharma (bottom left), Ustad Bahauddin Dagar (bottom middle), Ustad Rais Khan and Farhan Khan (bottom left).

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Manipuri Dance by Tamanna Rahman (top left), Kathak Pt. Vishal Krishna (bottom left), the opening dance performance, choreographed by Kazi Anisul Haque (right).

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View of the stage and screens during Pt. Tejen Majumdar’s performance, clockwise (from the left): Pt. Ajoy Chakraborty, Vidushi Girija Devi, Vidushi Padma Talwalkar, Begum Parween Sultana, Rajrupa Chowdhury, The Audience, Ustad Rashid Khan, Pt. Swapan Chaudhuri

while each of the four days also featured tributes to Waheedul Haque, Ustad Vilayet Khan, Pandit Uday Shankar and Ustad Ali Akbar Khan.

The Army Stadium grounds were transformed for the festival with an elaborate stage for performances, a sprawling seating area and stalls to sell magazines, books, food and coffee. Several big screens were set up at different places in the venue for the audience to view the performances. Those looking to attend the event were asked to register for free, either online or at the venue. The crowd consisted of both dedicated classical music aficionados and first-time listeners, many of whom stayed for the full night on all four days.

The Bengal ITC-SRA Classical Music Festival was universally praised and returned for a second time in

2013. In order to surpass the original in terms of size and scope several functional changes were made to the event, such as reducing the number of artistes in order to increase the amount of time allotted to each performance. New to the stage in 2013 were tabla maestro Pandit Swapan Chaudhuri, Carnatic vocalist Vidushi Bombay Jayashri, rudra veena player Ustad Bahauddin Dagar, Kathak dance performer Vishal Krishna, eminent vocalist Begum Parween Sultana and sitar maestro Ustad Rais Khan.

People registered in droves to attend the festival as hundreds signed up within the first few weeks after registration opened. The 2013 event saw a marked increase in attendance, with people from different walks of life and varying levels of familiarity with classical music coming together to enjoy performances from some of the world's most celebrated musicians.

The crowd increased with every passing hour despite political trouble in the capital, with many staying on for the full night's performances. One glance at the crowded seats and packed bleachers at the Army Stadium and it would be safe to assume that Bengal Foundation has indeed succeeded in their mission to revitalize interest in classical music. It is to be hoped that the festival returns again and becomes a winter staple of Dhaka's social calendar.

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open space | review

Biren Shome, Women with Flower, relief print, 2011.

solo print exhibition dhaka art center july 24-28, 2013

man, nature and shakuntala

by Tanveer Rashid

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he concept of the tapovan is prevalent in early Sanskrit literature, particularly in the work of renowned poet and playwright Kalidasa. Abhijñānaśākuntalam or "Of Shakuntala Recognised by a Token" is considered to be his seminal work, a dramatized reimagining of the tale of Shakuntala from the Mahabharata, and features the tapovan in its first act: “…here Are rice grains dropped from bills of parrot chicks Beneath the trees; and pounding-stones where sticks A little almond-oil; and trustful deer That do not run away as we draw near; And river-paths that are besprinkled yet From trickling hermit-garments, clean and wet.

Besides The roots of trees are washed by many a stream That breezes ruffle; And the flowers' red gleam Is dimmed by pious smoke; and fearless fawns Move softly on the close-cropped forest lawns.”

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Translations of Shakuntala and Other Works (1914) by Arthur W. Ryder

Biren Shome, Shantir Onneshay, etching aquatint, 20 x 25 cm

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Biren Shome, Horses, relief print, 2013 (left), Flower Vase, relief print, 2013 (top right), Women with Bird, relief print, 2013 (bottom right).

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The tapovan is portrayed as a forest where man and nature live in harmonious co-existence. It was a major motif in classical Sanskrit literature but lost its prominence as time passed. In recent times, artists such as Biren Shome have tried to revive the motif in its idyllic aspects. Through his themes and symbols, Shome has tried to recreate the tapovan’s ambience in his work, exhibited during a five day solo print exhibition at the Dhaka Art Center in July.

A woman lies beneath a starry night sky, gazing up at the full moon with a bird sitting on her arm. She smiles, remembering some past event or reflecting on the time gone by. Flowers in a vase wilt, its petals fall around the base. Those at the centre of the arrangement rise, their dying leaves and crooked stems reaching for the heavens above. Three horses ride together in the sky, happily dancing up towards the moon.

Biren Shome's prints are striking for their detail. A keen-eyed viewer can easily make out the flowers that adorn the young woman's dress, the muzzles around the horse's mouths or the petals near the bottom of the glass vase. The artist's works were made using a variety of different print-making techniques including etching, collagraph and relief work. The collection of small size prints at the exhibition were mostly black and white and featured familiar subjects from Biren Shome's past work, including flowers, animals and women.

What is the artist trying to say by juxtaposing man and nature? Perhaps, it is his wish that man show respect to nature instead of trampling it and taking from it as he would. Or perhaps, he simply wants to show its beauty by mixing symbols from nature with the female form. The tapovan and its restorative effects on the human spirit seem to be the central element in Shome's prints, which connects his oeuvre to those of other great artists from our region.

Kalidasa’s play reaches its climax when Shakuntala's husband King Dushyanta finds his wife in the forest after forgetting her several years ago. He had failed to recognise her because she had lost a ring on her finger which had the power to remove a curse placed upon him. The token – that is, the ring – however finds its way back to Shakuntala and lifts the spell, reuniting husband and wife after both had suffered. It is nature that brings the two lovers back together.

The meditative quality in Biren Shome's work serves to bring us back to our own identities as creatures, not masters, of the world around us.

Biren Shome, Women, Relief Print, 2013.

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solo art exhibition, gallerie kaya september 27-october 11, 2013

a glimpse into the mind

by Adeeb Akbarally

G

Goutam Chakraborty, Tagore-18, oil on canvas, 71 x 71 cm, 2013.

Goutam Chakraborty, Elephant-124, oil on canvas, 153 x 153 cm, 2013.

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outam Chakraborty's work occupies a precarious position between traditional folk art and modern surrealism. This unique blend of influences gives his work its own distinct identity and sets it apart from other interpretations of the themes and symbols he employs. Chakraborty’s solo art exhibition “I am” at Gallerie Kaya featured paintings with oil, charcoal and watercolours as well as drawings and serigraph prints.

It was not only an important show in this artist's career – his first in more than a decade – it was also one of the best Bangladeshi contemporary art exhibitions of the year.

Though known as a master of miniatures and watercolours for much of his career, Goutam Chakraborty ventures into the wide open world of large canvases in “I am”. He does this with gusto, painting in bright colours that pop and grab the viewer's attention. Familiar characters from the artist's past works return here – the elephant and its rolling trunk, the cat splayed out on the canvas, the poet looking out into the world and into his soul and the compassionate nun moving from frame to frame in a ghostly white sari. Elements of his art may be rooted in folk themes but when reinterpreted through Goutam Chakrabarty's lens they take on a character of their own.

The elephant seems to represent strength and power while the sleeping cats suggest tranquillity or perhaps even complacence. His Tagore and Teresa paintings could be said to symbolize creativity and humanity. Tagore appears pensive, his eyes and mouth shrouded by hair that hangs like tendrils. Mother Teresa's iconic sari is wrapped around a faceless figure.

By isolating the garment from its wearer could the artist have been asking the viewer to place himself in the frame as the subject, to carry on in her stead? His

Goutam Chakraborty, Angry Cat-13, oil on canvas, 77 x 106 cm, 2011.

Moon Woman and Bride paintings render female bodies in alien colours. Their skin is smooth, almost porcelain-like, giving off a subtle sheen where the light touches them.

Perhaps the most interesting of these works are the angry cat series, depicted using a variety of mediums though the charcoal seems to be the most striking.

The cat bares its fangs and claws at the viewer, appearing monstrous. When done using charcoal it looks like a creature born of darkness and poised to strike. In serigraph, the effect is somewhat muted, the

bright colours belying the terrible threat it poses. The cat in both its docile and aggressive states seems to represent the self and its varying moods, quiet and peaceful at one moment and furious the next.

The title of Goutam Chakraborty's exhibition seems to be an admission of sorts of the personal nature of the works. It imbues the art displayed at this exhibition with an almost confessional quality, as though the artist is baring his soul to the viewer, or more accurately, giving his audience a rare and frank glimpse into his mind.

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