A man of many talents, all of them laudable

Interview – Mian Ijaz ul Hassan

As an artist with a social conscience, he represents the ‘other’ Pakistan, the Pakistan of decency and goodwill towards all

Mian Ijaz-ul-Hassan is no doubt a national treasure of the country, a renowned artist with a massive body of work on diverse subjects spread over five decades, an educationist, a vanguard political activist with a deep social conscience and a committed and compassionate humanist.

Both in his works and in his private life, he mirrored the revolutionary ideologies and philosophies that were in vogue in art and in the political sphere since the mid 1960s, although some of his own artistic inspiration dates from much before that time. Sometimes his intense style of lighting up the harsh reality did not go down well with the establishment of the day, and he was at one time incarcerated as a guest of the government, as indeed were some of our most original artistic minds, including Faiz.

However, along with his socially aware paintings, he also created lovely landscapes, as in the symbolic rendering of his ‘Amaltas’ tree. His paintings on nature, on war and other catastrophes, on human rights and social subjects, have contributed immensely in creating an interest in the medium of fine arts among the country’s youth, as well as being a source of inspiration for senior contemporaries.

Ijaz also represents the ‘other’ Pakistan, the Pakistan of decency and goodwill towards all that has sadly been buried somewhere amid the mayhem and myriad horrors that have enveloped us in their iron vice. He is one of the few remaining symbols of the country’s soft image and its once thriving cultural scene.

Ijaz ul Hassan is also the chairman of AAP (the Artists’ Association of Punjab) and the moving spirit behind many exhibitions and seminars on Pakistani art and related issues. His role as a selfless mentor for emerging talent is unparalleled.

Excerpts from an interview:

Q: Do you agree with the notion that Pakistani art is a mixture of so many trends, and could not develop its own identity or recognition in terms of style or ideology?

A: Pakistani painting demonstrates considerable diversity of style and individual attitudes. It is true that Pakistani painting cannot as yet be referred to as a ‘School of Painting’. It has however visibly acquired specific character that is distinctly its own.

Schools of painting are not established in a day. We are certainly progressing towards it. For a ‘School’ to evolve it is imperative that artists collectively – at least a group of them to lead the way – grasp the particular moment in which they live, comprehend and express important ideas and events of their time, fathom themselves and the concerns of their community, tribe or nation and enhance aesthetic and human awareness thereby their own.

Pakistan today is located in centre of a region that is the theatre of violent conflict, which is likely to redefine our future as well as the world. I wonder how Pakistani artists, writers and poets will perceive, absorb and translate this experience into their respective works. If a fair faced woman could launch a thousand ships that shook the towers of Troy, I wonder how many of us would be shaken by daily events of our time; ranging from murder and terror to deceits and deception to cowardice and acts of heroism and to mothers losing sons and women their honour. There are greater ranges of trials and metaphysical and human issues than those that were confronted and addressed by the great Greek playwrights.

This may be our moment to forge our distinct artistic identity. But unfortunately some of our most talented artists are diverted or digressed by contemporary art jargon, spun in the west to divert artists’ attention from real happenings and encouraging them to exercise their talent in idle cerebral pursuits. If and whenever riled by social issues, art is encouraged expression of a ‘formalized discontent’ that like a punctured tire, takes you nowhere. Essentially art is treated as a commodity for making profit rather than serving a human need.

Q: How do you see art in Pakistan today?

A: This part of the sub-continent, the North Indian part, particularly Lahore, has a very vibrant, very happening history. There is great diversity and modern and figurative art has flourished. The state of Pakistan has contributed little to this burst of creativity. They bypass the people anyway; what the nation feels, what it aspires, what it is imaginatively expressing… our state has no concern with it. In a way it’s good. In any case you can never tell a poet to pen a poem in a certain way or to an artist on what to paint. In terms of promoting art, the state’s patronage should be limited to introducing art at the primary level in schools, create more art galleries. All district headquarters, even tehsil headquarters should have an art gallery. A nation state not sympathetic to encouraging common endeavour of painting, art music and culture cannot be a happy place. There was this study that the nations that read poetry are happy and at peace.

Our people are very creative, very expressive. You can see, they have this overwhelming urge to scribble. Art is an integral part of a human society. I’m sure if we engage more in creative pursuits, this country would be a happier place.

Q: But the governments do have to patronise art and artists?

A: Well, would Michelangelo have painted the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling if he was not commissioned to? Here national organisations like the PNCA and Lok Virsa have been indifferent to artists have bought neither painting nor commissioned any artist to create paintings or murals. Paining and culture should be a part of our foreign policy endeavour.

Q: Then how come the art scene is flourishing?

A: The Pakistani collectors… and the art galleries that have spawned in recent years. Pakistani collectors have been good to our artists. Most of my work is in Pakistan, and I like it that way. In commercialization of art, the private galleries have played a great part. But now I suppose there is need to discern between good and inferior quality art.

Q: You have been a protagonist/activist in the eventful 1970s, how do you see that phase of your life?

A: Well, those were the days… Asia and Africa, from Algeria to the East, in that post-colonial period were highly charged, highly politicised. All our poets and fiction writers, Faiz and Manto, exemplify that the best. Then I went to Cambridge. There too the atmosphere was radical, and movements like ‘Ban the Bomb’ and the Anti-Vietnam War raged. In that anti-Ayub movement, I also worked in the trade unions; we made study circles and the Pakistan Artists Equity that gathered fine arts, actors, writers and singers under one banner successfully campaigned for revised fee structures at television and radio. The standard bearers of left in Pakistan [West Pakistan then] could not read the mood of the nation, Bhutto did. The rest is history.

Q: Art in Pakistan is thought to be under religious and social restraints, and calligraphy has flourished at the expense of figurative art and sculpture: your comment?

A: Well, inhibitions are there in every society. In a social context, I’m not a liberal in the sense that I’m only concerned with my individual rights. Obtaining maximum freedom, but not at the expense of the collective. In pressing for private liberties, the left and the liberals in this country have ceded space to the conservatives.

Frankly I have never felt inhibited. I did whatever I wanted, without ever asking anybody about it. My endeavour was to never lose contact with my audience. When I couldn’t be direct I have used images and metaphors to get my message across.

That said, it is that in a democratic dispensation there is greater freedom to express one’s self while dictatorships suppress artistic dissent.

As for calligraphy, what is wrong with it? Aesthetically speaking, this is a great art form. Shakir Ali did calligraphy. My only complaint is that even calligraphy has not been done that well (Chaj naal nahi hoi).

Q: For the last 28 years, under your chairmanship, the Artists Association of Punjab (AAP) has mounted 28 successful shows, how did you conceive the idea of this association?

A: Actually we’re part of a generation that is used to dedicate itself collective good [ijtamai zimadaari, his words]. Personally it is occasionally embarrassing for me to ask favours from bureaucracy but I don’t mind. We have run AAP with our own resources for 28 years. I didn’t realize until Intizar Hussain mentioned it the other day that the Writers Guild despite massive government patronage didn’t survive beyond eight or 10 years. Surviving for a union for this long is indeed miraculous. And during this period we have held one exhibition every year besides 13 national exhibitions. Before the proliferation of art galleries, this was an avenue for the younger generation of artists to exhibit their work, and get noticed.

Q. What is the symbolic importance of the Laburnum tree in your paintings, and also monsteria and kikar? Has anybody else painted nature at this scale and with such frequency?

A: Now that you have asked it, I have never seen nature painted at this scale. There is one Monet, but it is in a different vein. One high noon in May, right when the heat was getting to me, I came across this Laburnum on the canal… in full bloom as if it was celebrating the heat. I said to myself, you claim to be son of the soil, while it is this Laburnum that is united with the soil. The ‘girding vine’ is a symbol of optimism Pevasta reh shajar se umeed bahar rakh. Kikar, the gnarled unloved little tree is a metaphor for pain (karb) and desolation. The ‘Glass Cage’ looks like symbol of incarceration but it is essence message to the middle class to shun its fears and step out into the sun.

Q: Any new themes that you intend to try?

A: Well, out of the metaphors like I’ve not drawn sea and its temper. As for Himalayas, I have sketches from Astur and Skardu. But I intend to paint the majesty of the Karakoram with its high mountains and those giant boulders scattered all over. Maybe this coming summer.

Q. Being an academician and an artist yourself, do you think that art can be taught as objectively as other subjects could be?

A: Art cannot be taught objectively as the sciences and humanities. In teaching of art ‘objectivity’ has to be differently defined. Art is not a lesson to be remembered. It is a product of individual experience of the artist. In teaching, each student has to be individually accounted for by the art teacher, keeping in mind that each student’s objectivity is based on his individual perception and experience. There can be multiple ways of perceiving and rendering a single apple by different artists. There is no single objective way of depicting an apple.

Q. In the West, every art movement, ideology, style, techniques, or in other words every possible aspect of the visual arts has been properly documented in great detail. Pakistani art lack this documentation. Why?

A: It is true that there is total lack of documentation of the arts. An enhanced awareness is required to appreciate the need for documentation. In recent years an organized formal endeavour was undertaken when documentation and archiving was included in the course designed for PhD and M. Phil Studies by Prof. Dr. Musarrat Hasan (author of book on me under review with you) at the Punjab University as well as the Lahore College for Women University.

The Pakistan National Council of the Arts (PNCA), Islamabad, the Provincial Arts Councils and other cultural bodies also need to redress this failing.

Q. You have authored books on Pakistani art, and a few are on your spouse’s [Mrs Mussarat Hassan] credit. But other than that there is precious little indigenous work, though foreigners like Anna Molka Ahmad, Marcella Nesom Sirhindi and Barbara Schmitz too have contributed some. Why is it – lack of interest and commitment or no support from the publishers?

A: Publication of art is relatively an expensive affair. Text needs to be supported with well-printed colour images of works of art that obviously enhance the cost of production. The cultural bodies established by the state and government need to undertake this responsibility. They have contributed almost nothing towards publication.

If there was a publisher I have at this instant material in my possession for several publications.