Rizwan Beyg

The exhibit, dedicated to ‘Design and Innovation in Pakistan’s Dress Traditions’ spans the far reaches of the country; swooping deep into the valleys of Indus Kohistan, ascending to the lofty peaks of Baltistan, weaving its way through Sindh’s deltas, braving the heat of Multan, blending into the colours of Balochistan and ultimately, spiraling into high-end urban fashion.

Expertly curated by Mohatta Palace Museum’s Director, Nasreen Askari, the exhibit of over a hundred pieces depicts more than textile and fashion. It is, veritably, an ode to Pakistan and the talent and colours that lie within it, often ignored and unappreciated.

“It’s taken me 42 years to put together this exhibit — it reveals how old I am,” jokes Nasreen.

There’s ‘A Flower From Every Meadow’ blooming at Karachi’s Mohatta Palace traversing a wealth of colours, weaves and ornate, delicate stitches

But leaving aside jokes, viewing the exhibition with Nasreen is a unique experience. Drifting past the displays, many of them belonging to Nasreen’s own collection and others, borrowed from private collectors, each item of clothing is ‘special’ and has a story of its own. A wedding shawl originating from Tharparkar has peacocks and flowers flitting about its canvas. Peacocks are considered to be symbols of fertility by the people in the area, says Nasreen. They believe that peacocks mate through dance.

A display dedicated to turbans and sashes depicts myriad versions of the ‘lungi’, the long scarf revered by Sindhi and Balochi nobility, made of silk and worn as a turban that often extends across the chest. Thinner cotton versions originate from the Punjab where the garment is tied around the waist. In the KPK, meanwhile, the garment is referred to as a ‘Pug’ or head-turban. Sindhi blouses on display are traditionally made by mothers from the day they give birth to a girl, gifting it to her on her wedding day.

Maheen Khan

In another room, aptly titled Magical Rhythms, Sindh’s craftsmen sit hard at work. Here, bona fide ajrak is created through block and resist printing and khes is woven on the loom in the traditional chashm-i-bulbul pattern.

“A Flower From Every Meadow is a timely reminder for all those who are forgetting the beauty and delicacy of the art and craft of hand embroidery,” observes Bunto Kazmi, whose iconic shawls have been encased in glass frames at the exhibit.

Stitches that bind

Binding it all together are the nine displays by designers, translating tradition to modern, wearable fashion. Featuring the distinctive creations of Bunto Kazmi, Faiza Samee, Nilofar Shahid, Maheen Khan, Rizwan Beyg, Sonya Battla, Shamaeel Ansari, Sana Safinaz and Khaadi, the exhibit culminates by underlining the need for designers to work with local craft, fine-tuning it and molding it onto creations that are modern yet intrinsically Pakistani.

“A Flower From Every Meadow is a timely reminder for all those who are forgetting the beauty and delicacy of the art and craft of hand embroidery,” observes Bunto Kazmi, whose iconic shawls have been encased in glass frames at the exhibit.

It’s interesting to see how designer aesthetics vary. Shamaeel Ansari quintessentially blends print, texture and embroidery, her angarkha and shirts spread-eagled across the museum’s antique woodwork. Faiza Samee and Rizwan Beyg dexterously play with colour and decadent, intricate embroideries. Nilofar Shahid pays ode to Empress Nur Jehan in flowing digital print and Sonya Battla tweaks tie-n-dye, ralli handwork and phulkari and fashions it into drapes and innovative cuts. Completely tangential is the Sana Safinaz installation featuring a monochromatic peplum blouse and ball-gown embellished with machine embroideries that depict the designers’ cost-effective, time-effective reaction to indigenous craft. “It also depicts the other side to Pakistan,” points out Nasreen, “the people who enjoy Western sensibilities and can afford to wear them.”

Faiza Samee

Khaadi, a brand that can be credited for reviving hand-loomed cotton, delves into dyed, pleated, embroidered modern lines but perhaps the most thought-provoking installation is by Maheen Khan. Swathes of hand-woven silk in shades of gold, cream and deep blue represent Koya, the designer’s ongoing collaboration with Hilal Silk Palace.

In an era when more and more people are gravitating towards affordable, easily available machine-made fabrics, Maheen highlights the exclusive availability and beauty of the fabric that designers — or anybody else — can obtain through Koya. “This project is not just for me but for every designer who requires high-quality bespoke fabric. They can have their fabric custom-made. Bit by bit, I hope that Koya builds awareness and appreciation of hand-loomed silk.”

Curiously, a similar movement has recently been launched by the Indian government to bring Banaras weavers to the fore. “I did not know about the movement taking place across the border but I do agree that our indigenous crafts are far too special to be restricted to mere museum displays,” says Maheen. “We may appreciate their beauty at a museum but then, we need to take them out of there, inject new life into them, make them current and create a market for them.

Left in a museum, craft dies and stagnates just like a garment on display eventually gets mothballed and deteriorates. This is the purpose behind Koya. It hopes to breathe new life into the dying silk handloom industry by providing a sustainable solution.”

The craftsmen’s plight

Traditional crafts

While collaborations between craft and design are necessary to keep the former alive and the latter unique, craftsmen the world over continue to suffer through poverty. Usually underpaid for their handiwork, they live difficult lives while the bigwigs that gain from them earn major revenue and accolades.

As Nasreen herself laments, “There is a huge dissonance between the beautiful work that they do and the shocking poverty-stricken conditions in which they live. With material prices going high, I am surprised that they are still able to do the work they do. Sadly, even when designers do work with our craftsmen, many of them pay paltry sums for work which they then sell at a 500% profit. It’s this way the world over but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t improve.”

Shouldn’t endeavors like Koya also make sure that the craftsmen they are highlighting receive a reasonable remuneration? “I certainly think so,” says Maheen. “By creating a market for a certain indigenous craft, we actually bring up demand for it. Khaadi, for instance, managed to popularise hand-loomed cotton, making it fashionable and ultimately, creating more jobs for the men who make it. I do believe in paying craftsmen well even if it brings up the selling price. The end-users can afford to pay a bit extra for something created so painstakingly.”

An exhibit like A Flower From Every Meadow instills a sense of wonder for the talent that lies within the recesses of Pakistan. It also inspires a sense of responsibility for taking our indigenous craft further, spreading its wings through retail, propagating it for the world to see. The last time a similar exhibit made waves was long ago in 1997 when the ‘Colours of the Indus’ was shown at London’s Victoria and Albert Museum. Shedding aside the constant barrage of negative publicity, the beauty of our meadows needs to shine — not just at an exhibit in Karachi, but in every part of the country and then, beyond.

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, June 21st, 2015

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