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"Tale
of the Tile: Ceramic Traditions of Pakistan," at The Mohatta
Palace Museum is a fascinating exploration of clay-working traditions
in the Pakistani region, from pre-historic earthenware to present-day
ceramics by contemporary artists. Organised chronologically, the
exhibition's didactic aims are evident in the succinct wall text
that guides visitors, in English and Urdu, through centuries of
Persian, Arab and Central Asian influences in the area. The objects
are gleaned from several regional museums and set off by architectural
facades emulating their original sites of installation. The exhibition
speaks to the viewers through object, text, and ambience.
Spaced
over seven galleries and two period rooms, the exhibition can be
divided into three parts. The first attempts to recreate history,
the second provides the stylistic parameters for unraveling that
history, and the third features the art which discourses with history
on its own terms. The first four galleries display bowls from Mehergarh,
lattices from Hala, Thatta and Sehwan Sharif, lustre and faience
tiles from the Shah Jahan Mosque in Lahore, and tiled facades from
Sufi shrines in Uch, Multan and Lahore. A period room evoking a
medieval Sufi retreat is housed appropriately in the fourth gallery,
providing the contextual backdrop for the phenomenal blue tiles
that cover the walls.
Having completed this circuit, one is led to the other period
room, which houses a reproduction of the traditional mud kiln used
by potters to fire their wares. This is followed by galleries devoted
to the "grammar of the ornament," composed of enlarged
reproductions from an art historical text by Susan Stronge and an
archaeological, documentary compilation by Henry Cousens. Having
the ornamental program magnified facilitates the visitors' transition
to the contemporary work which employs these tropes in a different
way. Mian Salahuddin's work, for instance, in the next gallery,
though modernist in its form, incorporates calligraphy as seen in
the epigraphic decoration seen earlier on architecture and utensils.
Although he opts for Urdu for his inscriptions, the Persianate Nastaliq
of his lettering recalls a rich artistic and cultural interchange
of the past. Finally the last gallery showcases the diverse array
of experimentation seen in contemporary ceramics in Pakistan. A
lot of these works fall into the category of ceramics only by virtue
of their medium but bear no affinity to the functional, utilitarian
object.
The significant absence of tiles in the contemporary section
raises questions about the contemporary artist's inspirational relationship
to the past. In most cases the tile itself, as a form, and the symbolism
of its decoration, does not find its way into the art work. Talat
Ahmed's relief is perhaps the only piece that references Mughal
architecture and the lattices seen in the previous galleries. Because
it is a representational work, it provides a concrete formal anchor
to the work seen before. On the other hand, Munawwar Ali Syed's
Point of Vision, 2005, relies almost exclusively on Foucauldian
ideas and is entirely divorced from tile and tradition. It's inclusion
in the exhibit serves to acknowledge the western strains of influence
that have recently entered the Pakistani imagination.
One of the most interesting works is Riffat Alvi's Conference
of the Birds, 2003. It takes its cue from a literary work by the
medieval Persian Sufi poet, Shaikh Fariduddin Attar, and its conceptual
form from western art. The three-dimensional piece is a broken coop
with flocks of birds perched on all four sides looking towards a
heap of skulls in the centre of the pen. The work can be interpreted
as a literal representation of Attar's poem which deals with the
quest for God and refers to death as the ultimate culmination of
the Sufi's desire for unison with the Almighty. In the current context
however, it also begins to comment on the death of tradition and
poses existential questions for the Pakistani artist in particular.
Who is the artist to look to? What validates her/his work as art?
What makes the work Pakistani?
This exhibition is not a valourization of the craftsman's
trade as the title, Tale of the Tile, appears to suggest, nor does
it trace the historical progression of tile-making techniques. Although
the traditional mud kiln is incorporated into the show, it does
not bring to light the work of the potters who rely on it for their
daily livelihood. Yet its inclusion is imperative because the contemporary
ceramist too, must work with the same technology as the artisan.
In that sense, once again the show becomes more about the contemporary
art form, rather than historical traditions. The Tale of the Tile
is pertinent only as far as it lends itself to the explanation of
the new work. It is difficult to explain why then, the contemporary
section is assigned the smallest gallery and the works are installed
in such close proximity to each other that appreciating them individually
is inhibited. The contemporary gallery has virtually no wall text
to facilitate the stylistic and conceptual connections for the untrained
eye, which could have also have been achieved through thematic juxtapositions
rather than chronological ones.
From the point of view of exhibition planning however, it
must be acknowledged that speaking to the Pakistani audience is
a challenging task because of the sheer range of levels of visual
literacy, even among the educated. At this point, the thrust of
museum education has to be towards luring the audience to the museum
before linear narrative can be forsaken. Although the past and present
are not tailored very cohesively in this exhibition, it achieves
both its aims of making the visitor aware of an artistic lineage
and introducing the novice to contemporary ceramists and their work.
The Tale of the Tile is another significant milestone in raising
the bar of art literacy and appreciation in Pakistan.
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