27.2.09

The Swati Embroidery Revival

by Mariano Akerman



Ancestral patterns and motifs

Traditional embroideries from Swat, Pakistan, 19th century. The textiles from Swat Valley present elaborate geometric patterns, with abstract motifs in vivid pink-red hues and black backgrounds. The ancestral embroideries are made of silk threads on cotton. | Bordados tradicionales de Swat, Pakistán, siglo XIX. Los textiles del Valle de Swat Valley presentan elaborados diseños geométricos, con motivos abstractos en rosas y rojos sobre fondos negros. Son en general confeccionados con hilos de seda sobre paños algodón.


Swati rubies and flowers motifs


Assorted precious stones design - note the assymetrical composition


The amazing Swati cookies style


A rich-in-symbolism design known as the Pattern of Hope


Issam Ahmed reports from Saidu Sharif, Pakistan

Mussarat Ahmedzeb, whose father-in-law once ruled Swat Valley, returned home at the height of Pakistan Taliban rule to open an embroidery program. Today, more than 500 women go there to earn money and escape the dangers of daily life.

[...] In the spring of 2007, Mrs. Ahmedzeb left Islamabad to return home and set up three embroidery and handicrafts centers where destitute women could gather and work in peace.


Saidu Sharif, Pakistan. Women working at The Swat War Widows Institute, created by Mussarat Ahmedzeb

"I had to create something ... a place where we can talk, we can chat so we can forget our worries. So we started with embroideries [...]," explains the softly spoken woman with gray-green eyes and a tired expression. [...] Using her personal savings, she bought electric sewing machines, looms and material, and put out word to the women of Swat’s towns and villages to come and visit her.

Now in its third year, with more than 500 women in employment, her three centers train women, free of charge, and export the colorful and distinctively Swati embroidery in the form of dresses, cushion covers, napkins, and more to buyers in Pakistan’s metropolitan cities of Lahore and Islamabad, the capital. An art exhibit [accompanied by a lecture] in Islamabad by Argentinean Mariano Akerman this week showcased some of the best designs.

The centers [...] are filled with chatter and laughter. Swati women, unlike men, have few opportunities to congregate. [...] "We have so many needs to take care of so it’s better for us to work for ourselves and earn for ourselves," says Sheema Bibi, a young single woman who began coming to the center, attached to Mrs. Ahmedzeb’s ancestral home, last year. "Our brothers and fathers sometimes object, but everyone needs the money to get by." [...] The women typically earn $50 to $150 a month, depending how much they produce. Some, like teenager Sidra Bakthiad, is using her pay to save up for her college education.

[...] Ahmedzeb, who owns homes both in Saidu Sharif and Islamabad, says she decided to return to Swat in 2007 partly because her children had finished their schooling, and partly to fulfill her obligations to her people.

[... Her] father-in-law, Mian Gul Abdul Haq Jahanzeb, was the well-respected Wali (princely ruler) of Swat, until the territory was ceded to Pakistan in 1969. He was known for having built hundreds of schools and many hospitals.

Ahmedzeb never had any formal training, having left school at age 15 to be married. But she became a keen gardener, cook, and embroidery enthusiast, and realized that last skill would be the most economically viable if passed on to poor women.

Residents here speak highly of [Mussarat's] acts of generosity, such as opening her ancestral home to fleeing refugees during a 2009 [...] and financially supporting some 18 children of refugees.

"The women of the family are upholding their family name and are good social activists," says Ziauddin Yusufzai, head of the Private Schools Association of Swat, adding Ahmedzeb has a reputation of being a "very fine woman." [...] Those who worked with her during the Swat refugee crisis commend her dedication, too. Retired Justice Nasira Iqbal, one of Pakistan’s first female High Court judges, participated in a citizens' action group that helped channel funds to Swat from Lahore. "She was credible, she was reliable, she ensured the funds got to where they were intended. She went into dangerous areas [...] where we could not go," Ms. Iqbal says. "She was very brave. Everyone from the elite class had already left the area, but she stayed behind" (Christian Science Monitor, 2 April 2010).

19.2.09

The Grotesque in Francis Bacon's Paintings, 1999-2009

by Mariano Akerman, art-historian and researcher

Francis Bacon, Portrait of George Dyer in a Mirror, 1968. Oil on canvas, 198 x 147.5 cm. Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid. "Perhaps one day I will manage to capture an instant of life in all its violence and all its beauty," Bacon, quoted by Paloma Alarcó, as she discussed this picture in 2001.

Bacon's paintings are mysterious and suggestive. They are ambiguous and constitute symbols of multi-leveled significance, which is conveyed through the artist's manipulation of the grotesque. As configurations of the ambiguous, Bacon's instinctive paintings engender both curiosity and perplexity, or even attraction and repulsion at the same time. Indeed, a well-balanced yet disquieting interplay between fear and desire, vulnerability and cruelty, suffering and apathy is characteristic of Bacon's instinctive paintings.
Tension and intensity, the combination of incompatible elements, and suggestions of the monstrous and the inhuman abound in the artist's imagery. Bacon uses the grotesque as a means of self-expression, which enables him to ambiguously communicate not only his fascination with power and violence, but also his haunted condition. The grotesque becomes therefore a truly convenient instrument of purgation and transcendence.
Aside from their extravagance, Bacon's instinctive paintings are far from being ornaments (i.e., mere accessories such as fanciful grotteschi or capricious arrangements in auricular style). Above all, they are inalienable personal reports that encapsulate a private truth—the artist's contradictory feelings and sensations, which are neither decorative nor entirely evasive.
Essentially paradoxical, Bacon's grotesque art is at once profound and superficial. And if the grotesque often involves the ridiculous, then the instinctive paintings are inclusive up to the point of mixing up the nonsensical with the serious. For Bacon's is an art of simultaneous witticism and unreasonableness.
Through his instinctive imagery, Bacon willingly walks along the border of an emotional precipice, suggesting his obsession with sex and death, his apathy in matters of vulnerability and suffering, and his irresistible fascination with power and aggressiveness.
With its immediacy and vagueness, Bacon's grotesque artwork at once reveals and conceals the painter's ultimate intentions, and in such a blurred way that the very notion of identity becomes problematic in the paintings.
By depicting the ambiguously combined and the equivocally suggestive Bacon disorients the viewer, who cannot establish precise meaning in his ever-changing images. Various readings are thus possible and they seem all equally valid. Considering that instinct implies the abolishment of morals, at the time of contemplating Bacon's imagery we are to arrive at our own moral conclusions (certainly irrelevant to the artist and his calculated lack of concern). At this point everything melts under our feet, because in Bacon's grotesque realm the only safe given is insecurity.
Today we know that the artist's instinctive paintings are not the sole product of accident or chance, as the painter might have liked us to believe. Significantly, the instinctive pictures constitute carefully planned compositions relating to Bacon's private life. Anti-illustrational or not, such instinctive images function as visual traps. As a whole, the painter's imagery persistently suggests a monstrous, double-edged reality.
In this context, we realize Bacon's manipulation of the grotesque and his decisive intervention in turning it into a useful vehicle for self-expression. Bacon's instinctive art proves to be profound, but is also problematic—a New Grand Manner of Painting merging the defiantly powerful, the disquietingly extraordinary, the suggestively monstrous, the sarcastically allusive, the theatrically manipulative, and the extremely personal.
As a species of confusion par excellence, the grotesque suspends belief and invites a search for meaning. Pushing us to consider alternative possibilities, the grotesque paralyses language and challenges categories. Grotesque art is basically thought-enlarging art.*
All this is particularly true in the case of Bacon, whose grotesque art conjures up multiple ideas and associations, to grant us an active role as both spectators and interpreters. This is possibly the ultimate meaning of the artist's pictorial freedom, at which he has arrived through a remarkable manipulation of the grotesque.
The entirely personal element that inhabits Bacon's instinctive paintings has an immense capacity to open the valves of feeling. It is this expressive, ever-changing element of Bacon's suggestive art which I find extraordinarily rich: pictorial instinct is a provocative, grotesque element which coherently unites Bacon's truth and our freedom.

Mariano Akerman, The Grotesque in Francis Bacon's Instinctive Paintings, July 1999; revised version February 2009, to mark the centenary of the artist's birth.

Francis Bacon, Self-Portrait, 1972. Oil on canvas, 35.5 x 30.5 cm. Gilbert de Bottom Collection, Switzerland.
____
* The ideas of this paragraph have their source in Geoffery Galt Harpham, On the Grotesque: Strategies of Contradiction in Art and Literature, Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1982

© 2009 Mariano Akerman. All rights reserved. Material not to be reproduced or republished without the previous written authorization of its author.

Motif from the central panel of Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion (Francis Bacon, 1944) and its visual source of inspiration from Maladies de la bouche (Ludwig Grünwald, 1903). Original research. Comparison by Mariano Akerman. 2008. All rights reserved.

Double-edged


De doble filo. On the grotesque in the visual arts, by Mariano Akerman

Motif from the central panel of Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion (Francis Bacon, 1944) and its visual source of inspiration from Maladies de la bouche (Ludwig Grünwald, 1903). Original research. Comparison by Mariano Akerman. 2008. All rights reserved.

DOUBLE-EDGED 1. Having two edges that can be used; having two cutting edges. 2 Having a dual purpose; having two meanings; effective or capable of being interpreted in two ways. Double-edged sword - literally, a sword which cuts on either side; metaphorically, an argument which makes both for and against the person employing it, or which has a double meaning. Featuring: French Medieval hybrid; Giuseppe Arcimboldo; Italian Renaissance grotteschi or sogni dei pittori; Francis Bacon; Quentin Metsys; Keller; Quino; Roman Domus Aurea; Paul-Andreas Weber.

DE DOBLE FILO 1. Arma blanca que tiene filo por ambos bordes de la hoja. 2. Cosa o acción que puede obrar en contra de lo que pretende. Incluidos: Híbrido medieval francés; Archimboldo; Grutesco renacentista italiano; Francis Bacon; Quentin Metsys; Keller; Quino; Domus Aurea; Paul-Adreas Weber.



De doble filo was also a (now lost) digital film on the grotesque in the visual arts, by Mariano Akerman, April 2008. It included works by Giuseppe Arcimboldo, Francis Bacon, Hans Bellmer, Cornelis Bos, Hyeronimus Bosch, Nicoletto da Modena, Jacques Callot, Honoré Daumier, John Deakin, Fermín Eguía, Max Ernst, Cornelis Floris, James Gillray, Francisco de Goya, Joris Hoefnagel, Christoph Jamnitzer, Keller, Santos Machen, René Magritte, Quentin Metsys, Joan Miró, Nine, Méret Oppenheim, José Guadalupe Posada, Raphael Sanzio, Quino, Scopas, Giovanni da Udine, Adam van Vianen, Vasari, Antoine Watteau, Paul Andreas Weber, and other artists.


Jean-Michel Folon, Regarding Day and Night (A propósito del día y la noche), watercolor on paper, 1988-89.

18.12.08

Selective Cruelty - Crueldad Selectiva



Crudelitas (Lat. cruelty)

European cuckoo. The cuckoo is a type of grey European bird that lays eggs in others birds’ nests. When a female cuckoo is ready to lay her eggs, she finds a nest of a suitable host species and waits for the host bird to leave the nest unattended. She needs only a few seconds to fly to the nest, pick up one of the host’s eggs in her beak, and lay one of her own eggs in its place. Immediately afterwards she flies off, abandoning her offspring to the foster parents and eating the stolen egg. When the host bird returns, she usually accepts the cuckoo’s egg and incubates it with her own eggs. The cuckoo’s timing is precise, and its egg usually hatches before the host eggs. The hatchling cuckoo, with its eyes not yet open, ejects the unhatched host eggs from the nest. This process of ejection is innate. After ejecting the host’s eggs, the young cuckoo getsthe undivided attention of its foster parents, which will feed and nurture it.



Ejection of host eggs from nest by cuckoo hatchling



When a hatchling senses that an adult bird is near, it begs for food by raising its head, opening its mouth, and cheeping. In turn, the foster parent stuffs food in the gaping mouth. These innate behaviors are replayed over and over, even after the young cuckoo is much larger than the adults.


The foster mother keeps feeding the cuckoo chick

Cuckoo's research references and picture credits: Neil A. Campbell, Lawrence G. Mitchell, and Jane B. Reece, Biology: Concepts and Connections, Redwood City, California: Benjamin Cummings, 1994, pp. 720-21; Cecile Starr and Ralph Taggart, Biology: The Unity and Diversity of Life, Belmont, California: Wadsworth, 1995, p. 914.


Selective Ones

It is not what they built. It is what they knocked down.
It is not the houses. It is the spaces between the houses.
It is not the streets that exist. It is the streets that no longer exist.
It is not your memories which hunt you.
It is not what you have written down.
It is what you haveforgotten, what you must forget.
What you must go on forgetting all your life.

The workmen are dismantling the houses of the dead.


And silence is made. / Y el silencio se hace

Selectivos

No es lo que construyen. Es lo que derribaron.
No son las casas. Es el espacio entre las casas.
No son las calles que existen. Son las calles que ya no existen.
No son tus recuerdos que te persiguen.
No es lo que has escrito.
Es lo que has olvidado, lo que debes olvidar.
Lo que debes seguir olvidando toda tu vida.

Los trabajadoresdesmantelan las casas de los muertos.

Él olvida continuar el asunto.
No es lo que quiere saber.
Es lo que quiere no saber.
No es lo que dicen.
Es lo que no dicen.


He forgets to pursue the point.
It is not what he wants to know.
It is what he wants not to know.
It is not what they say.
QIt is what they do not say.

A painted bird? / ¿Pájaro pinto o pintado?

REFERENCES. Visual sources: And silence is made (“Et le silence s’est fait,” European beer advertisement); Puppet (Teatro Municipal General San Martín, Buenos Aires, c.1983-85); A Lesson (digital image inspired by Samuel Bak’s homonymous oil painting of 1968; Bak: Paintings of the Last Decade, New York: Aberbach Fine Art, 1978, p. 131); Painted Bird (photographer unknown). Literary source: James Fenton, “A German Requiem” (1981), from The Memory of War and Children in Exile: 1968-83; strophe 1, lines 1-7; strophe 4, line 8; strophe 9, lines 6-9 (The Great Modern Poets, ed. Michel Schmidt, London: Quercus, 2006, pp. 220-21). Translation of Fenton’s words into the Spanish language, idea and design: Mariano Akerman.

REFERENCIAS. Fuentes visuales: Y el silencio se ha hecho (“Et le silence s’est fait,” anuncio publicitario promocionando cierta cerveza europea); Títere (Teatro Municipal General San Martín, Buenos Aires, c.1983-85); Una lección (imagen digital inspirada por óleo homónimo de Samuel Bak, 1968; Bak: Paintings of the Last Decade, Nueva York: Aberbach Fine Art, 1978, p. 131); Pájaro Pinto (fotógrafo desconocido). Fuente literaria: James Fenton, “Un réquiem alemán” (1981), tomado de su serie The Memory of War and Children in Exile: 1968-83; estrofa 1, líneas 1-7; estrofa 4, línea 8; estrofa 9, líneas 6-9 (The Great Modern Poets, ed. Michel Schmidt, Londres: Quercus, 2006, pp. 220-21). Traducción de las palabras de Fenton al castellano rioplatense, idea y diseño: Mariano Akerman.

20.11.08

Mi Linda Maestra

por Mariano Akerman

Moroca era el sobrenombre con el que era conocida mi tía, Elisa Akerman, pintora figurativa argentina, activa en Buenos Aires durante la segunda mitad del siglo XX.


Realizó óleos, pero la témpera fue indudablemente su técnica predilecta. La aprendió a través de su maestro, el pintor surrealista Juan Batlle Planas. Fue también alumna de Juan Carlos Castagnino y Raquel Forner. Castagnino le dejó un imperecedero afecto por el dibujo. Forner sacudió las bases de su identidad, y la empujó a confrontarla, sin concesiones.


En sus témperas, Moroca representó figuras, especialmente de músicos y arlequines que recuerdan la imaginería de Pablo Picasso y Emilio Pettoruti.


La calma de sus figuras en las terrazas porteñas tiene bastante que ver con sus predecesoras en la obra de Lino Enea Spilimbergo. Pero lo que en Spilimbergo es masa, se vuelve línea y plano en el caso de Moroca.


La pintura de Moroca presenta una frescura que es infrecuente en el arte argentino. Su manejo del color es admirable. Gran conocedora de la lógica y la armonía, tanto en la perspectiva como en las proporciones del cuerpo humano, Moroca también introdujo en su obra componentes irracionales y sutilmente perturbadores. Tal característica proviene de su contacto estrecho con el psicoanálisis, al cual solía referirse como "la ciencia del siglo."

Durante los años sesenta enseñaba la técnica del automatismo surrealista en Piruetas, su taller de la calle Sánchez de Bustamante y al que yo visitaba asiduamente.

El humor nunca le fue ajeno a Moroca. Particularmente cuando se trataba de motivarme para que pinte y con generosidad compartía conmigo sus hueveras llenas de témperas de lo más variadas, a las que ella denominaba "la caca de colores."

Moroca me introdujo al campo del arte y enseñó no sólo asuntos técnicos respecto al arte de la pintura sino también los fundamentos del diseño y la psicología de la forma.

A través de la práctica del automatismo, Moroca generó en mí un gran interés por el surrealismo, si bien éste no tuvo casi lugar en su obra. Mi primer premio fuera de Argentina, lo recibí en un concurso de pintura en el Uruguay gracias a un dibujo titulado Una visita a la casa de mi tía Moroca (1979). A principios de los años ochenta, Elisa estimuló el que cursase la carrera de Arquitectura. También fue ella quien tomó la iniciativa de exhibir mis óleos en la Casa de la Pintura Argentina en 1984. Ya a mediados de 1985 me presentaba a Mercedes Rodrigo, en cuya galería, RG en el Arte, tendría lugar mi primera exposición individual en mayo de 1986.

Motivos que nada tienen que ver conmigo y a los que de hecho no me referiré entristecieron considerablemente su vida, pero ella sin embargo jamás dejó la pintura de lado. Frente a la injusticia que la rodeaba, organicé, en parte con el propósito de alegrarla, una exposición conjunta de nuestra obra en la Facultad de Estudios de Posgrado de la Universidad de Belgrano en 1988.


No mucho tiempo después, Moroca fallecía (1990). Pero nadie muere si alguien le recuerda. Y este es precisamente el caso. Hoy, pasados ya cuarenta años de haber asistido a su taller y otros veinte de nuestra exposición conjunta, la continúo recordando, tal como era: trabajadora y didáctica en el taller, original y cultivada en su pensar, afectuosa y preparada como poca gente uno encuentra en el mundo de hoy.


Las obras reproducidas son témperas de Elisa Akerman y probablemente fueron realizadas entre 1965 y 1978. Otras de sus pinturas y un artículo acerca suyo en francés podían encontrarse en la Enyclopédie Larousse online (hasta abril de 2013); hoy se encuentran disponibles en La Joie de Vivre.

14.6.08

Karachi: Between Fantasy and Reality


Antoine Wiertz, The Premature Burial | Buried Alive, oil, 1854

Karachi: Between Fantasy and Reality
by Peerzada Salman

KARACHI, June 14: Make no mistake: no matter which stratum of society they come from, Pakistanis despise punctuality. The word punctual is as foreign to them as nali nihari to a Red Indian.

On June 13, art historian Mariano Akerman was the first person to reach the conference hall of the Alliance Francaise Karachi, where he was supposed to deliver a lecture on Belgian art: reality and fantasy. The programme was scheduled to start at 7pm, and half an hour into the scholarly talk, there were only four people, apart from the eminent art historian himself, in the hall. And when he finally rounded off his lecture, the approximately 20 men and women that had luckily assembled there (half of whom were not even Pakistanis) had plenty to catch up on. I’m told we, Pakistanis, love art; it’s just difficult for us to step out of our comfort zones to know about it.

The underlying theme of Mariano Akerman’s discussion was the progression of Belgian art from the 15th century to the first half of the 20th century, with special reference to the World Wars. The intention was to celebrate cultural diversity, and so he did with remarkable facility.

Mr Akerman quite convincingly described how Belgian artists mastered the technique of oil painting, and with the passage of time, as socio-political changes took place, moved (perhaps transcended) from the realism that catered to a certain (autocratic) taste to the symbolism that depicted not only the inner grief of painters but signified the upheavals or ordeals that society was undergoing. In his rather French-laden English, he tried to connect the dots vis-à-vis the class disparities that existed in the 15th and 16th centuries and the advent of the industrial revolution to the horrors of the World Wars.

With the help of images of somewhat iconic paintings, Mr Akerman presented his case, giving examples of masters (and their stupendous works) like Jean Michel Folon to Rogier de le Pasture to Jan van Eyck. It was fascinating to witness the art of painters of colossal stature.

Now a little about Mariano Akerman: born in Buenos Aires, Argentina in 1963, he is a celebrated educator who specialises in visual communication. A painter himself, and quite good at that, a little over a decade ago he researched one of this scribe’s favourite artists Francis Bacon’s paintings and Louis Khan’s architectural projects.

Recipient of no less than 12 international awards Mariano Akerman’s penchant for art, particularly its history, is infectious. That’s precisely why at the end of the lecture he was immediately approached by the very few attendees of the programme who nagged him with some very elementary questions about Belgian art.

Online Dawn News

12.6.08

Daily Times: Discovering Belgian Art


Pakistan - Friday, June 13, 2008. The Alliance Française de Karachi is holding a conference on "The Discovery of Belgian Art" by Mariano Akerman, Art Historian, on Friday 13 June at 7:00 pm at the AFK.
Art Historian Mariano Akerman reveals the singularity and originality of a select group of Belgian masterpieces. He examines their style and meaning, historical context, aesthetic qualities and raison d’être, appreciating them from unexpected, innovative perspectives. Mariano Akerman was born in Buenos Aires, Argentina, in 1963. He was educated at the School of Architecture of Universidad de Belgrano. Abroad, he researched the work of the painter Francis Bacon and that of architect Louis Kahn. A painter himself, Mariano Akerman has exhibited his artwork solo or in group in Argentina, Spain, Japan, Philippines and Sweden. He has been awarded with twenty major international distinctions and prizes. Alliance Française de Karachi, Plot St. 1 Block 8 Kehkashan Clifton, 5873402, 5862864

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