Dil, Dariya — a mystical connection

Dear Mughees Riaz,

I am unsure whether I should first admire your passion and celebrate your success in capturing the spirit of Ravi or share my grief on the river's deteriorating condition. I shall do both. In this open letter, I address all those concerned; people of Lahore, the custodians of the city of gardens.

The gardens that depend on Ravi; the sustainer of life, the custodian of history, curator of cultural expressions and the muse to poets and painters amongst whom you stand tall. Before this letter becomes an elegy, a nawha for Ravi, lamenting the neglect, misuse and lack of empathy towards its history, ecology and future, I shall direct my attention to your contribution to contemporary landscape painting in Pakistan.

Landscape painting is a form of art that depicts natural scenery such as mountains, valleys, rivers, trees and forests. It provides a wide view of nature and its elements arranged into a coherent composition. This is, at least, the Academy Art approach towards the genre that became popular during the sixteenth-century Renaissance in the Western world.

In our tradition, painting was never about describing the visible world. It has always been a means of conveying the inner landscape of the artist's heart and mind. This is what your landscapes which are almost abstract in form, colour and narrative, are all about. They reveal your quest to resolve the mysteries of nature. They exemplify your thought patterns and emotions, as well as your values and priorities. They are like a mirror to the soul, offering insights into visions, dreams, motivations and potential.

That reminds me of your meeting with Ustad Allah Bux. I am talking about the elderly stranger on the bank of Ravi who caught you painting the river, appreciated your effort and wished you success before disappearing into the dusky mist. Had you seen or met the Ustad in real life, this visitation dream or a comforting apparition, as the psychologists would call it, was justifiable.

The pressure to excel in the exam or outdoor painting could explain it. But you recognised the mysterious man in Allah Bux's portrait years later. Even if it was a vision or vivid dream, it was as if the universe conspired to guide you to follow his footsteps. If not a divine intervention, it is indeed a romantic affair with Ravi and I don't need theology or science to support my observation. Admit that you are consumed by its mystifying character.

Like a love-struck Urdu poet, the more you paint it, the more it turns into a labyrinth of complexity; of atmospheric perspectives, colour combinations, feelings and emotions. Birds, animals and pottery sherds often appear alongside the calm skies and unruffled waters giving meaning to somewhat placid conformations. The use of muted colours, such as pale blues, pinkish greys and anything in between, creates a soothing palette that invites contemplation.

Your association with the Punjab University, your alma mater, aligns your interest with what the critics and historians call "the Punjab School of Landscape Painting". We shall talk about this human urge to name and categorise things some other time.

For now, it's important to acknowledge maestros like Khalid Iqbal and Zulqurnain Haider as the leaders of your clan. Unlike others who paint blue skies, lush green lands, mud houses, mustard fields and flowers with a Romanticist approach or aim to capture the light and colour like impressionists, your main concern is the infinite space of limitless skies and boundless waters.

But you do not allow the viewers of your landscapes to be lost in this metaphysical realm rather you tend to ground them in physical reality. Buffaloes, dogs, crows, trees or broken clay pots are the symbolic forms that connect the two spheres; ethereal and corporeal.

And yes, about your more recent visual vocabulary — the burqa-clad women and bearded men. I am quite intrigued and look forward to engaging with them in the upcoming retrospective show titled Dil, Dariya. But I shall admit, my first love will remain the Ravi-scapes.

Bano

April, 25

PS: The show will open in the first week of May @ Ejaz Gallery Lahore