As the whirlwind of excitement caused by the inauguration of the Karachi Biennale wanes, the time for reflection arrives — a task turned exceedingly daunting by the sheer size and volume of the event. KB 17 was an overwhelming surprise, making use of 12 venues in different parts of the city featuring works by more than 150 local and international artists. The biennale did not just provide a platform of legitimacy for the fine crop of Pakistani artists but served to grant the art of Pakistan an honourable place among the big leagues, opening up the global art community and the possibility for a wider art discourse internationally.

The theme of the biennale — Witness — was intelligently applied to a myriad of personal and social narratives by the artists to present works in every imaginable medium. Particularly exciting was to see the heavy focus on new media and performative works, with the pleasantly chaotic opening ceremony at the NJV School featuring some 18 performances happening simultaneously among the countless artworks. The schedule for the rest of the two weeks kept the public engaged in an immersive art experience that led the audience through the city and its largely ignored heritage sites — reintroducing them to its cultural fabric.

Art as witness to the city

The dire need for a large scale public art event in Karachi was undeniable, and the event’s inception had become inevitable bearing the recent turbulent history of the city in mind. The cacophonic essence and character of the city itself was not only captured in a large number of the works on display but in the event as a whole through the format it adopted and the conversations it had sparked. While the 12 venues were not as spread out across the city as they should have been for true representation, considering the size and complexity of the city it was perhaps too much to ask of an event in its infancy.

The Karachi Biennale was an overwhelming surprise that brought Pakistan into the world of global art discourse and managed to spark conversations about art. However, it fell short on promises of public art, engagement and inclusivity

Artists such as David Alesworth, Ayesha Qureshi and Faisal Anwer’s works seek to examine urban spaces in a more direct way, while other artists, such as Bani Abidi, Amir Habib, Ehsan Memon and Seema Nusrat focused on the intricacies of the experience of the city, presenting questions of class and politics that shape the city’s character.

Althea Thauberger’s project with the Capri Cinema comments on the changing essence of the metropolis — from religious and political moods to security concerns — reflected in the shifts in attitudes towards one of its oldest cinema houses. The video was a documentary of sorts, including stylised and symbolic re-enactments of real events by the cinema staff, and despite its whimsical portrayal, presented a gloomy view of our own devolution as a city and a nation, lamenting the death of various forms of self-expression in a Karachi ruled by fear and suppressed by caution.

It is ironic, however, that this same suppressive fear was manifested in the censorship of Safwan Sabzwari’s work — a 72-foot long mural meant to literally bear witness to certain areas of the city. The overwhelming violence, rape and murder portrayed in the piece were incidentally not as abhorrent as the natural human form, which ultimately became the cause for its disrespectful removal by the NJV School staff where it was displayed. This in itself perhaps captured the city’s inherent nature, and the fine line curators need to walk. But the very purpose of art grows mute in its apparent inability to question and challenge such notions, as the curators instead chose to succumb to those very pessures.

Art as witness to space

One of the biggest achievements of the biennale is the ways in which the curatorial team had been able to break preconceived notions about art and its presentation and create an exciting dynamic between art and space. Madiha Aijaz’s work at the Jamshed Memorial Hall’s library talks about the erasure of language and the significance of the written word. Its display on the walls and within the glass panels of the bookshelves brings the space into the artwork adding a layer of meaning and interest to the work, taking it to another level altogether.

Other works, such as the silhouetted cockroach pattern pasted onto the façade of Jamshed Memorial Hall by Tazeen Qayyum becomes part of the space and turns the building itself into art. It catched the eye as you drove by, truly bringing art into the public realm. Similarly, Wolfgang Spahn’s ‘Entropie’ at the Frere Hall makes use of the historical architecture of the building, projecting his trippy animations on to the façade to create an interesting dichotomy.

However, when it comes to using non-customary spaces for display, the artists have a certain responsibility to that space that they seek to inhabit and represent, and must keep in mind the different variables that intersect when you set out to unite a city so expansive and diverse.

The controversy surrounding Huma Mulji’s lamppost at the Pioneer Book House has raised interesting questions about class, privilege and the social divide, in the wake of the alleged structural damage caused to the heritage site during the installation of the piece. Yet these are exactly the kind of issues the biennale seeks to erase by bridging the disconnect between artist and public. ‘The Lamppost’ is a symbol of resilience, much like the pre-partition heritage sight of the bookstore itself, coiling its way uncomfortably up the staircase, its flickering light creating a feeling of trepidation and unease, making this debate all the more interesting and crucial.

The fact that this debate exists at all and that the biennale has given voice to not just the art community, but has created a dialogue between different stakeholders of art and the public at large is something that should be appreciated.

Art, Inclusivity and Public Engagement — a futile effort?

One of the biggest aims of the biennale was to engage the public at large and to bring art to the masses, and while the event certainly took steps in the right direction, there is still a long way to go before this purpose is truly realised. The public outreach programmes attempted this with educational events, art activities, readings and discussions, but as these took place behind closed doors and in the presence of armed guards, it was difficult to see the actual public take part. Scheduling and publicity issues meant even those willing to attend sometimes missed out on the opportunities.

While the biennale was an exciting opportunity for art to take on a completely new role and interact with a new audience, at the end of the day these public spaces became temporary galleries in themselves that the general public was either unaware of or was too intimidated to enter with strict security checks in place making the venues far less inviting.

Paolo Di Grandis, a guest curator from Italy, spoke in his keynote address about his curatorial public sculpture project for the Venice Biennale, “OPEN”, which brings sculpture out in the open. There was a need for similar public art projects, with performances, video projections, painting and sculpture out on the streets. Apart from a couple of projects executed earlier in the year such as “Reel on Hai” this has been missing. Perhaps at this point in its arc, the biennale and the city lack the infrastructure and are bogged down by security concerns and threats of vandalism. However, this is something of a necessity for a real change in attitudes towards the arts that must be addressed in future iterations.

One of the works that was a step in the right direction was the sculptural installation and performance piece by Jamal Shah — ‘Situation 101’ — displayed in the gardens of the Frere Hall. This public space attracts individuals and families from all strata of society, who gathered around to watch the extensive song, dance and interactive live art performance. The idea was to make art inclusive and accessible to all, and to improve the human condition by bringing us out of the dehumanising murgha posture of the 101 sculptures and free our minds through art. It was an optimistic piece that spoke to the right crowd, yet seemed to have a more cursory approach to art that treaded dangerously close to mainstream entertainment, which begs the question: does art need to be diluted in order to be accessible? Must there be a compromise on content and execution in order for wider appeal? It might be presumptuous to separate the art enjoyed in public spaces and that enjoyed in private spaces, and perhaps the intellect of the public audience shouldn’t be underestimated.

Art as witness to our times

The biennale’s flaws, while worth mentioning, are mostly overshadowed by what it has achieved and what it means for the future of Pakistani art. Biennales all over the world provide an interesting format for the art community to present themselves in the global art discourse that defines our times. The biennale not only bears witness to these times but archives them and provides them with a place of relevance in history.

The criticisms levied are conversations that needed to be instigated. Art needs to be talked about. Artists become witnesses to everything we as a city have been through, and with such platforms they have the chance to make us witnesses too. As it comes to a close, one realises its place as a new beginning for the art of Pakistan. Among increased interactivity with the global art community and promises of a place at the Venice Biennale by Paolo Di Grandis, we begin to look forward to the coming years, the ways in which the art landscape will change, and the trajectories the biennale will take from here.

Published in Dawn, EOS, November 12th, 2017