Ayaz Jokhio’s works shows there are different ways of looking at the same thing, writes Shivangi Ambani-Gandhi
The Queensland Art Gallery’s Watermall is transformed into a site of solace and quiet contemplation, by Pakistani artist Ayaz Jokhio’s structure installed there as part of the 6th Asia Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art (APT6). The soaring, white, roofless, octagonal structure takes its inspiration from the following verse by Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai, the great Sindhi Sufi poet of the late Mughal era:
“A thousand doors and windows too,
The palace has… but still,
Wherever I might go or be
Master confronts me there”
The work, titled a thousand doors and windows too… (2009) stands tall, surrounded by water and can be approached via a narrow plinth. Stepping into the bare walls, with just the soothing sounds of gently flowing water breaking the silence, this work is quite unlike any other artwork experience.
“I consider this work a piece of ‘conceptual architecture’; a physical translation of Bhittai’s expression of the omnipresence of God,” says Jokhio. Within the octagonal room, one wall contains an arched doorway, while the other seven each feature a curved alcove. While there are some Islamic references, Jokhio explains that the emphasis of the work is more conceptual.
“An octagon has always been very important in spiritual or religious architecture, not only in Islamic but also in Christian, Hindu, Buddhist and Jewish architecture. In geometry, an octagon symbolises infinity,” says Jokhio. “By eschewing the intricate patterns and carvings from this structure, I want to put more emphasis on the basic geometrical representation of these shapes and elements.”
The curved alcove—or the mihrab—is the only reference taken from Islamic architecture, he says. “But again mihrab or niche is also a common element in all religious architecture. The word mihrab originally had a non-religious meaning and simply denoted a special and private room in a house, a throne room in a palace for example.”
The mihrab in a mosque indicates the qibla—the direction facing Mecca and therefore for prayer. By placing the mihrab in seven directions, Jokhio alludes to the omnipresence of God. “God is not only in the Kaaba, but he surrounds us like air. India’s famous spiritual teacher Osho once used the term ‘The wholeness’ for God/god, and I totally agree.”
While most of us are familiar with the Islamic tenet of one Allah, there also coexists the Sufi thought which puts emphasis on personal interactions with the divine. Jokhio doesn’t see these two strands of Islamic belief as being contradictory.
“I think these concepts are complementary. God is the one/same. But every one perceives and thinks of him in a very personal and unique way. That's what I think is similar and different at the same time and in the same thing.”
This concept of similarity and difference coexisting has been a continuing area of exploration in Jokhio’s works. As part of a project for children at the APT6, Jokhio has created a version of his older work, 99 self-portraits 2008. The original work consisted of about 500 reproductions of a self portrait drawing sent to others to add hair and other details. 99 of these portraits were selected to be part of the work. For the Kids APT project too children are given Jokhio’s portrait and asked to dress him up in various combinations.
“Islam describes god/God as having 99 names (99 different attributes). And Sufis believe that the human being himself is the god/God, he only has to be able to see his inner depth,” says Jokhio.
In a series of charcoal drawings titled Diptych, he pairs up objects of similar form but completely different meaning like bracelets with a handcuff and a sumo wrestler with the ‘Fat Man’ atomic bomb that detonated over Nagasaki.
“This series of diptychs is my idea of visual poetry. It borrows heavily from poetic practice of creating alliterations and metaphors and putting two different lines, with totally different meanings, together,” says Jokhio. “And by not giving any descriptive title to these diptychs I am trying to play a secret trick on the viewer—I have provided the image, you do the other half of the job by assigning it meaning.”
In another work titled Protest, Jokhio creates a collage using images of protesters around the world, culled from hundreds of newspapers and internet stories over a year, to create an image of what appears to be a single protest. Again, the viewer is at first led to believe this is a regular protest image from afar, but only upon closer inspection would one find that each image raises different issues, in a different time.
Jokhio again uses the newspaper collage technique in Rillee (The Quilt). “The method of collage for making a cultural product is very intriguing for me because, in terms of formal structure, both Rillee and collage are about recycling of the discarded substance—pieces of old clothes, just like pieces of newspapers, are usually put in a pattern in order to re-create another image,” says Jokhio.
“Perhaps for me the blend of collage and Rillee is an occasion to comprehend my visual and conceptual components as an artist living in this age and area. In a sense the Rillees made on my canvases resolve 'apparent' contradictions of living in a modern world with a deep rooted past.”
And this past, of the Singh region, from where Jokhio hails, is an underling influence over all his works. “Art is the reflection of society. Artist cannot remain unaffected by socio-political situation around him,” he says. “I belong to a very remote area of the country, in the province of Sindh. Historically, Singh has a civilization over 5000 years old. It has also been blessed by the best minds and kindest souls of the world—Krishna, Buddha, Zarathustra, Christ and Mohammed –and we have imbibed in our minds all the best they gave to humanity.”
He talks about his own move into the urbanised, ‘modern world’ as we know it. “The medium of my basic education was Sindhi. I learnt Urdu, which is Pakistan’s so called national language, only when I was 16 – when I left my hometown to be able to earn a livelihood. And now I have been learning English,” he says. “Now I live in the second biggest city of Pakistan, Lahore, where a majority consider Sindhis ignorant and backward people.”
Jokhio also comments on the way the outside views Pakistan—especially its art. “Miniature painting is known as ethnic art from this country, and this has encouraged many artists to cash in on that.” He created a series titled Miniature Painting consisting of 7 rather tiny paintings (each measuring 9 x 12 millimeters), framed in gold hung on the gallery wall. “(The paintings) were almost invisible on the empty huge walls of the gallery. From a distance one could only see a shiny glittering piece of gold,” he says. Also harking back to the contradictions between modernity and traditions, instead of using traditional media, Jokhio uses oil or acrylic on canvas.
“Quick and easy success of miniature painting in the local and international art world prompted many practitioners to take up this genre and make their name and money by experimenting with it—using the pretext of contemporising it.”
Having worked across such diverse media, and explored various forms of art, including film, cartoons and poetry, I ask Jokhio if for him the message is more important than the medium through which he choses to convey it? “Both are equally important in the creation of an artwork. Art is never about just conveying your message to others, to say things, whatsoever is the message, with a certain degree of effectiveness,” he says. “I take it as a challenge to master a new medium and learn new techniques. The idea of being at the beginning every time is the thing that keeps you always young or fresh. I believe, if you can't surprise yourself, how do you expect to surprise anyone else?”
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