‘EYE’ For Art Has Gone Blind

Art from the olden times tells us so much about the eras. From 10,000 years ago till 19^th century. Art spoke. It told a story that was perceivable. It deciphered the code of living. It meant something. Then 20^th century struggled to retain the true essence of art while painfully transitioning into 21^st century where somehow several new genres of art were born to allow the non-creative personnels to breath as artists. ‘Visual art’ was born. Although all art is actually ‘visual’ but with this specifically coined term, absurdness was introduced. Under this genre, a lot of people became ‘visual artist’ producing anything from hanging kitchen taps upside down to pasting buttons randomly on a metal object. (I am referring to Koel Gallery’s exhibition ‘Excerpts’ in Karachi in December 2016) Topping it off, they are attached with eloquently chosen fancy words to describe the concept into sophistication. (Which really is just down right funny). Remember when Michael Heizer, an American artist, moved a 340-ton, two-story-high hunk of speckled granite, (a huge rock in other words), to NACMA – the The Los Angeles County Museum of Art? The concept was harrumphed largely. It was a new definition of insanity. What further provoked my mental turbulence was that it was sold for 10 million dollars! Now that’s pure madness.

That is international mumbo jumbo. Let’s talk about Pakistan today.

Some art galleries in Pakistan are promoting absurd art widely, conjoining their zealous efforts to make way for top art schools’ graduates to success in art world. I have moved back and forth to view exhibitions of Indus Valley School of Art & Architecture graduates and have come to conclusion that it is just the degree that matters to galleries. Art school graduates don’t have to be (necessarily) creative anymore. They have no worries as to what to produce that would get the attention of the public or galleries. The weirder one is, the better it looks to galleries. The more depressed the art, the higher the liking of curators. The more twisted concept, the better chances of fame. Does anyone have the recollection of KLF (Karachi Literature Festival 2015) where an exhibition was curated and in the hall there was a huge, bleeding, stinky buffalo heart placed on a tray as ‘ART’. (Now do you want me to be positive about it?) And what was that about the human shaped cake, which was to be cut piece by piece by the visitors and be eaten? That’s art? But I have seen worse. I have seen amputated men being hanged; I have seen naked gays; I have seen butcher’s shop with human flesh hanging; I have seen a produce of half men with horse’s buttock and hooves; I have experienced visuals of naked Renaissance women been flirted by fully dressed Moghal emperors…(Should I go on?)

Art exhibitions in Karachi have incessantly caused me nervous exhaustion. One needs a lot of patience to be polite. But let me tell you that few galleries like Chaukandi, VM, Art Chowk, Momart, Art Citi, Clifton gallery and Unicorn gallery are doing great job by promoting talent. Some art is good too. I have noticed that artists have skills but how it is applied is the concern. I remember my days at Indus Valley School Of Art where I enrolled for my failed attempt to learn film-making. I remember our teachers Zeeshan Haider and Hisham Masood constantly feeding our brains with depressing visuals to provoke the similar in our creative endeavors.

Art critics in Pakistan (fearing to spoil their relationship with galleries or artist) are reviewing art by giving art explicit meanings and casting mysterious spells rather than being honest. Art Criticism once had the power to make or break an artist, but those days are gone. It hurts to see the critics’ influence fade so fast. Art Criticism has been in a state of perpetual meltdown, by having the public with the power to decide with whatever the little astuteness they have to perceive art. Criticism is simply replaced by Instagram and Facebook likes that are solely clicked to form flattery. (That really, really hurts.)

But I don’t get it.

Why art has to be only weird or depressed? No harm if it is but where have those artists disappeared who, 20 years ago, painted beautiful sceneries, voluptuous women or abstract art and calligraphy and exhibited in top art galleries? Why is this not appreciated anymore? Will the future eras be able to find out about our living through art? What will they conclude if all the internet data, the photographs, are lost and all what will be left would be our art in physical form?

I know what. We would be written down as the most twisted of all the generations.