NCA Thesis Preview
Amna Kazmi.
Not
much is astir at 11 a.m inside thesis studios at the National College
of Arts. Don’t be fooled though because nesting sites as clearly marked
by the sleeping bags immediately reassure me that this batch, like most
others, is composed of nocturnal workers.
In
the sculpture studio, a massive trapezoid structure occupies most of
the space and barely having made out its outline in the darkness, I am
about to retreat only to be stopped short by a buzz within. Sidra Ashraf
sits cramped at the innermost corner with only a few inches to spare
over her head. I attempt to climb up to her but claustrophobia and spray
paint fumes kick in and I flop down, a few feet from her. It’s not
meant to be climbed into, Ashraf explains slightly amused. She is
installing lights on the ceiling of this structure, the movement of
which will be reflected upon the ramp like floor. Ashraf is isolating
visions that would otherwise go unnoticed in the ruckus of the mundane
and by magnifying them in a gallery space she hopes to offer a
hypnotizing experience for the viewer who spares attention. This one
under construction is meant to look like a receding road with trailing
streaks of light.
One
of the entrances of the other sculpture studio is blocked, ironically,
by a door slightly ajar. I’m told that this immovable brick door,
offering a mirage of access, is Safder Ali’s work. He also casts brick
walls in shaky soft latex, this time drawing a contrast between the
appearance of strength and protection, and the tactile feeling of easy
malleability and in consequence, fallibility.
Despite
the clutter in the painting studios, individual spaces are neatly
demarcated. In one corner, Kirin works with charcoal on hanging roles of
paper. While association with Christian imagery is obvious at first
glance, Kirin Chaudhari’s palimpsest drawings of plump babies becomes so
populated as images that the process of drawing becomes fore mostly
significant where a mark and an erasure hold similar importance. This
also slightly shifts her work away from one noteworthy character of the
child Jesus and its implications to a horde of healthy infants, the
individual identity of whom is unimportant.
Kirin Chaudhari.
Sabah
Zahid is painting scenes cast in dramatic light but soft and fuzzy
edges. She takes references from found film stills and alters them with
additions and subtractions during the process of paint. The work I was
able to see had a saturated yellow palette for skin which while exuding
heat was situated in an overall scene of rather somber silent quality.
The distracted and somewhat startled gaze of her character also made the
viewer subconsciously aware of another unseen person in the narrative
that isn’t painted on the canvas.
Sabah Zahid.
In
the printmaking studio, Amna Kazmi is drawing in layers using mixed
media on varying surfaces. While the bases of these works are high
contrast charcoal and ink drawings of what seems to be vacillating
subject matter, Kazmi is now layering these with bits of recognizable
but not fully legible text as well as fragments of other images. Kazmi
explains that she is trying to examine the relationship between words
and images: the link is inextricable but the gap is insurmountable. One
hopes that the resultant works do not fall into the trap of a
perfunctory statement on so a profound a philosophical debate.
Ramish
Rana leads me behind a dark curtain where lies a sculptural piece made
of shattered glass. Rana’s incipient ideas of installation in a dark
room with a source of focused light and the consequent creation of
larger shadows upon a wall immediately remind me of a cinema hall and
film slides. Her static image however only flickers ever so lightly with
the glimmer of glass and the unsteady light. Moreover, while Rana
explains that she wants this form to look like something that is
maintaining balance and falling apart simultaneously, the time at which I
saw it, the structure had a visible blocky appearance reminiscent of a
skyscraper skyline.
In
the miniature studio mezzanine, Momima Muhammad sits serenely alone and
paints a cow skull. She is so seriously involved that I cannot help
stifling a good natured giggle. Muhammad explains that she is
manipulating the appearance of things using distance as a variable. So,
from afar you might see a skull but upon closer examination you would
notice the intricate vibrant foliage painted upon it. She also informs
me that she is planning an installation where a patch of floor would be
covered with painted horns in such a way that it will resemble a carpet
of grass.
Momima Muhammad
Faryal
Ahsan is recreating compositions of traditional miniatures and
appropriating these in what she calls a ‘contemporary narrative’. This
seems like an exciting possibility since traditionally, dastaan has held
immense value in its retelling. We know what is to happen and we are
hooked to satisfy this very expectation.
Not
many other students from miniature were around and given the scale of
their works, they were not always on display. Hence, one must surely
visit the exhibition to fully satisfy curiosity.
Degree
shows are always exciting not only because rarely does one ever see so
many artists showing under the same roof but also because somewhat
unhindered yet by commercial concerns, these young artists have had an
intensive incubatory period of at least a year to churn out a sincere
and well articulated comment. Just a couple of weeks before the show,
the energy in the studios is contagious but fear also lurks close
behind. More than a few of the students refer almost compulsively to an
unnamed ‘them’. ‘They’ might not be as aware of it but ‘they said’ is a
very popular phrase in use by every other batch during thesis. Burden of
proof and not just exploration weighs down heavily upon students and
one wonders just how fully can a person truly discover their core
concerns and locate themselves around so many ideas within the span of
an academic year. I’m duly impressed that many students manage to do so
year after year.♦
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| Farhan | Faryal Ahsan |
