StretchingtheCanvas-November2006

articles > society

November 2006

The lane is rundown enough to make you think you’ve made a wrong turn. “It’s a slum,” remarked a first-time visitor. A modern gallery space, as well as the studio of an internationally successful fashion designer who has dressed the likes of Madonna and Angelina Jolie, couldn’t be here. But they are. Halfway down this neglected alley, lined with broken-down buildings, is a brown gate that reads “Commune Artist Colony.” With just a double-staccato honk, the gate quickly opens to reveal a compound of old warehouses. Labourers push wagons of cargo. Rolls of paper can be seen through the open doors of a building. And then, putting all doubts to rest, a mural rises up from the gravel driveway, confirming the venue with punchy figures: a woman curled into a ‘V,’ the face of a rotted-toothed man and a camel. This is the place. This is the gathering spot for artists – Pakistan’s first artists’ commune. The Commune Artist Colony takes an interdisciplinary approach to the arts. The idea is to have artists unite in one place and get them to collaborate. “A painter with a photographer. Or a sculptor with a painter,” says Yousuf Bashir, one of the two partners behind the commune. It’s all part of an effort to strengthen the local arts scene – both the visual and performing arts. The converted warehouse has studio space, an expansive gallery, an area for meetings and workshops, and even a café. Just over one year old, the commune has already made an impact. They’ve organised a couple of art exhibitions, a theatre production by K’la (a troupe dedicated to the revival of radio plays), and an Ali Azmat concert. They have even ventured beyond the arts, hosting a press conference for the World Social Forum and a live screening of this year’s France-Italy World Cup Final. But their reach stretches further still. “Working with the community was always on the agenda,” says Raania Durrani, an equal partner with Bashir in the art project. She’s referring not just to the artists’ community, but the local community. “We are increasing awareness, we are increasing acceptance…There’s a lot of militancy some times,” says the ceramicist of the relationship between the “average, regular people: the labourers, the kids on the street,” and the upper classes with their opulent lifestyles. “We feel they don’t understand our work, or perhaps, we don’t understand what they are talking about.” Some of their efforts to reach out have been very conscious, like distributing chappals throughout the neighbourhood and inviting local children to work on a mural. A spontaneous and unstrategic decision, though, has probably been equally important: giving the lane a nickname. Sunk into a low sofa in their office, Bashir and Durrani try to recall the street’s old colonial-sounding name. McKinley? MacHem…? No, McHinch. It didn’t fit. “The gali has a shrine and the gali has a pir,” says Bashir, “The people who are the followers of Pir Miskeen are called Miskeen.” So, naturally, they dubbed it Miskeen Gali. This little nod of respect to the locals caught on. Now, everyone calls it Miskeen Gali. There is another sign that the name has stuck: “We are getting mail at this address,” says Durrani. It’s important to have an artists’ colony in the middle of the city, says Durrani, where artists can work in the midst of different groups and be a part of the real city. Sarah Bakhtiyar has felt the effects. She is the artist responsible for the mural that stands like the commune’s giant, wordless signboard. “You get different opinions from different people, not just from artists and art critics. Even the mazdoors outside used to come and comment on my mural when I was working on it.” All this interaction outside her normal circle is nourishing her work. “Initially I was flighty and thinking of everything from an art point-of-view,” says Bakhtiyar. “But now I am thinking practically, in the sense that I am exploring real issues…issues beyond me.” Inside the commune, it is not just the artists who are evolving. “Even the technical staff and the cleaners, they came in as regular people who worked at regular jobs. There was no madness at those jobs,” says Durrani, smiling. “Within three or four weeks here, they have all changed. Their personalities have changed.” Now they discuss colours and technique. “They have almost become art critics.” Mohammad Waseem is the electrician at the colony. Bashir met him in Battagram after last year’s earthquake. Waseem became known for stringing up electrical lines in freezing weather at three in the morning. While Waseem loves the family atmosphere at the commune, he is not so sure it has changed his personality. “My knowledge about art has increased.” Though, Waseem does admit to being more social. When out on other jobs, he’ll make a trip back to the commune to eat lunch with the rest of the staff. The artists enjoy having them around too. Shazieh Gorji is a ceramicist who rents studio space at the commune. She says the interaction with the support staff alone makes the commune different. “There is a vision here, and even they know this,” says Gorji, who has been a regular since July. She also says the gali’s looks are deceiving. It’s a self-sustained community of friendly people. “There are no beggars. People don’t hound you.” It may feel inaccessible, but it’s not, she says, sporting a bold Superman tee. “Once I ventured out, I was hooked.” Two years ago, in an interview with Newsline, Bashir, after making it big designing for Hollywood and returning to Karachi, said, “I am looking for a location in the city. I definitely want to do something here. Something the city has not seen, something the city deserves.” It seems the location was under his nose the whole time. The warehouses, known as Sadiq Godowns, have been in his family for 50 years. “Storing rice doesn’t do them justice,” says Bashir. The renovations in the first building have produced a modern, rustic look: exposed stone columns and lofty ceilings supported by naked, wooden beams. All in all, there is 10,000 square feet of warehouse available. While many still store rice, paper or computers, Bashir hopes to reclaim the space, “One warehouse at a time.” Part of the Commune Artist Colony vision is to have artist residences. “Baby steps,” says Bashir. For now, Bashir and Durrani are still building a reputation and a clientele, but are happy with the recognition the colony has garnered, especially from outside the art community. The commune has become a great place to come hang out in the evenings, says Bashir. People from the gali, friends of the technical staff and bankers from Chundrigar Road come and sit by the bonfire with a cup of chai and listen to music. “Drivers sit with Vinny.” With the sea breeze and city lights, it’s a relaxed urban feel that appeals to everyone. “As long as you don’t have an attitude, you are welcome here,” says Bashir.=

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A couple of Karachi artists stretch the possibilities of the local art scene in the most unlikely of places.

Stretching the Canvas