Written by: Nimra Khan
Posted on: May 10, 2018 | 
| 中文
Spectacles-Affan Baghpati
Countless maxims about the implications of history on our future exist, warning us to learn from our mistakes or live with the curse of repeating them. Each event in some way molds our present moment into what it is today, each insignificant detail playing its part. A recent show at Sanat Gallery brings together 5 artists who contextualize the present through a historical lens. The show marks the 4 year anniversary of the gallery, and is fittingly a “cross-generational view on history”, bringing together artists from a wide generational spectrum commenting on the ways in which we make history, and history makes us.
Sajjad Ahmed’s piece “Always, Forever, Now (I)” does this by layering the past over the present in a more literal sense, allowing us to draw conclusions about the extent to which history defines us. “The Last Judgement”, a piece of art history, is draped over a scene of shelling during a protest in Pakistan. Not only does this become a comparison of different times, but of different cultures, and between art and reality. The use of the curtain is pertinent as a device of not only concealment, but also beautification, creating a sense of escapism. Rose-tinted nostalgia of a glorious past is often used to remove ourselves from atrocities of the present, yet the past remains just as gruesome.
Affan Baghpati’s work, in a way, attempts to make history a part of the present. He looks at objects that once held more relevance, but have since gained redundancy in a more modernized world. Ignored and abandoned, these objects are by no means revitalized, but rather re-imagined. The artist talks about the reverence for aesthetics that is characteristic of the past, discarded in favor of convenience and functionality in the age of mass production. It is interesting then, that these objects lose their functionality by way of their aesthetic appeal, and are allowed to endure as relics of the past.
Risham Syed’s work combines elements from both these artists and juxtaposes different points in time through both image and object-hood. The miniature installations seem to speak of a distant time, yet the selective nature of the display reads as an impression of a memory, rather than a recreation of fact. The paintings in their midst show smog-filled scenes from Lahore, yet it is difficult to situate them within a specific timeframe. There seems to be a tug between the personal and the public, between history and memory, and it seems as though the ‘past’ is more ‘real’ than the ‘present’, leaving room for ambiguity about which is which. It then becomes a dialogue between different times and the ways in which one transitions into another.
Nabiha Khan, on the other hand, deals purely with personal ‘histories’. The frail, gossamer fabric is hand-weaved by the artist with thread and found objects to correspond with her memories, both specific and vague. The process itself becomes a metaphor for the idea it narrates, piecing together remnants of the past with materials that are witnesses to certain times, spaces and events. It is interesting that the work takes on the appearance of gauze, which brings in the idea of protection and healing, allowing a memory to endure. “Untitled 1” is a larger piece than the rest, probably because it represents a length of time rather than a specific moment. This expressive piece is a lot more organic, with a texture and essence that is oddly human. It speaks of flesh, of folds of skin, of blood; and yet it isn’t violent – there is a quiet softness to it.
The show leaves one contemplating the nature of history and memory, and if one is so different from the other. Isn’t history, after all, a form of memory that is solidified as fact, legitimized through textual realization? It is as fickle and subjective as memory, sieved and filtered through perceptual errors, opinions, emotions, preferences, and agendas. It is not that much farther away from imagination or myth then, yet it holds the power to shape our present and our future.
All pictures provided by writer unless mentioned otherwise
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