A map is where every line stands for something else, for roads, rivers, forests, contours of ruins, human or atmospheric pressure. Are there maps that cannot be used for politics, for warfare, for religion? We need maps of the discovery of delight, of kindness, of places where we could not stop dancing. Pakistani art, more than that of others talks to me of maps, of half-remembered faces, places, stories. Viewing it is like the ache of a phantom limb. History ruined us all, but we got up again, learned our lessons at least for now and became valiant. The ache remains, there is no reason any more that there should be one. The faux pas of the partition resulting in the permanently lost uncle, the orphaned child, the armless refugee, we have gone through too many tragedies to remember just one. And so we turn to see a separate expression of history, a separate art.
Purpose of life 2008
Painting fragile miniature botanical forms on New York 's subway maps, Pakistan 's Talha Rathore mentions the feeling of being observed. Rathore says her " work explores the issues of displacement and migration as part of the Diaspora and her origins as a Pakistani Muslim alongside current tensions in the West. "
Rathore's work is specifically Asian and yet universal. She remarked that artists from Asia are now so visible and her college is famous for producing top quality art. Something in her generation is different because of its exposure to the larger world after the inception of the internet.
What's this with the subway maps?
"Why does it continue? The subway maps are metaphors for the idea of feeling displaced. The subway was a new thing. I was not good at reading maps, I am a person who would get lost anywhere. The trains were confusing. So many lines, so many colours! You have to track the map if you wanted to go anywhere. Confusing, disposable, yet they had an invaluable feeling of security as they would finally get you to your destination. I have lived in New York for ten years and the maps still epitomize that conflicting feeling. I love NY and feel acclimatized to this city, yet at the core hold onto my identity as a Pakistani. Where I was born, where I was raised is an integral part of me but I want to absorb the good things from my surroundings." And so she has painted in the Asian miniature style, her own maps, of tiny bits of life, the result of her experiences in New York . "The maps are not subdued or subtle. I feel they are a part of my work. I thought of moving ahead and leaving them. But not now, I am comfortable working with them." The gentle, elaborate miniature paintings sit on the strident blue and yellow maps printed by New York 's Metropolitan Transportation Authority She added, " Lahore is the only college teaching miniature painting." ( Herat has had a miniature painting department, which shuts, opens, shuts again depending on attacks.)
"Miniature work is very painstaking. You have to be good, learn to make brushes, prepare wasli papers, use wheat paste to stick them together, burnish the paper with a shell until it glows like glass. Potassium cyanide is added to the paste to preserve the paper."
"This makes it possible to work with a fine brush. It is so meditative for me. It would take two days to sharpen a pencil." She was told to sharpen a hard '6 H' pencil and draw circles on a square inch of paper for two hours, without putting any weight on the paper, without marking it. "I felt it was a waste of energy but when I did it, I started meditating. A painstaking technique, it was so soothing, so relaxing. I used very tiny handmade brushes, and thousands of brush strokes to color one tiny area. This brings a different consciousness, quite unlike daily awareness. Today, I take five days, perhaps 10 to 12 hours each day, to complete a painting."
This generation of young immigrants comes from societies it knew well and cultures it loved. They were not escaping anything, just looking for emotional adventures and professional wellbeing. Curator Leeza Ahmady laughed that when she arrived here, people assumed she knew everything about Afghanistan its culture, history. She asked, "Being a Pakistani woman, how does this translate into your work? Does this show in your work?"
"I did not force myself to put this in, but it happened. I came here, I did not continue painting. Life came in the way. And then I had my little boy. So cute," Talha sighed, "So wonderful under my belly. The process of achieving my dream. You start with nothing, you have to learn everything: how to live, how to make a living, very hard. On top of everything, September 11. It was very hard to start painting. After looking after my child for eight or nine months, I was so depressed with all the difficulty of being in a new country. I enjoyed being a parent but whatever was happening around me, the politics, it all affected my work, and resulted in a breaking down of feelings, form, color."
In the last few years, Pakistani miniature artists have experienced international art and moved their ancient techniques and motifs abroad. Educated in this phenomenal craft with its monumental training, they succeed even while depicting modern concepts and novel experiences.
Biographical Details
Talha Rathore was born in 1970 in Gujranwala , Pakistan . She studied miniature painting at the College of Fine Arts , Lahore and graduated in 1995 with a B.F.A. In 1997 she received a UNESCO Bursary for young artists and went to the Sanskriti Kala Kendra, New Delhi . She has exhibited with Bose Pacia, Gallery Espace, Aicon and worldwide. Her work is in many international collections. She lives in New York and creates fine miniature images and reflects her diasporic identity. And in the sharp, Darwinian world of American art, like the computer screens flash: Talha has already won!
(Leeza Ahmady talked with Talha Rathore at the Aicon Gallery in New York .) Unclaimed Territories
Talha Rathore
April 17 - May 9, 2008
Aicon Gallery , New York
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