Like many novel objects that first come into existence, curtains too first emerged in the homes of the rich. These fabrics were primarily used to keep the warmth in and the dust out. During the Renaissance, curtains became increasingly elaborate and worked as pieces of decoration along with their original functions.

During the two World Wars, however, curtain design soon mellowed, becoming objects made from simple cloth, now becoming fabric that kept inhabitants of the home hidden; a cloth of protection of sorts. Regardless of the journey they have had, curtains are usually overlooked. They are objects that we expect to be a part of the household, much like everything else.

But during an exhibition at Canvas Gallery, Karachi, this seemingly simple item is brought centre-stage through the conceptually enticing works of Ayaz Jokhio. Titled ‘Curtained’, a collection of large paintings are displayed, all of which exhibit a different painted curtain.

Ayaz Jhokio breathes new life and meaning into the seemingly simple and mundane curtain

Ayaz Jokhio is an artist known for taking the outwardly simple and inundating it with meaning. In fact, it would seem that a new layer is revealed every time the viewer has another look at the work. The artist has several exhibitions and residencies credited to his name and, with each show, he manages to confuse, engage and excite his audience.

Jokhio’s work focuses largely on what the imagery expresses to the viewer and, therefore, questions what constitutes art itself, above all. In his most recent exhibition, he presents a myriad of pop and political imagery to the viewer, each painted as though they are the curtains themselves. What happens then is that the imagery distorts with each fold of the drapes. Each image is one that can be easily recognised — there’s Prime Minister Imran Khan giving a speech, a billboard movie poster, a Windows desktop screen, a brick wall, and so on.

But now that they appear as curtains, we can no longer see them as what they represent. Instead, we are made to realise that they are nothing real; they are fake. Additionally, we are more interested in what lies behind, much like we would be if we saw a real curtain.

A curtain is considered as a veil or a cover, obstructing the view of what’s inside. It makes one realise that, with each image, there is, therefore, more to the story. From the political images of the prime minister and the fighter planes, we can’t help but realise how this becomes a synonym for both national and international politics today; neither are entirely truthful and we, as the public, can only see as far as the media shows us. There is nothing more or nothing less. They can be speculations or conspiracies, but one may never receive the absolute truth of what lies behind the veil.

As a painter, Jokhio has long questioned the relationship of imagery and paint through his practice. Here too, through a realistic representation of the printed curtain, there is a juxtaposition between the sculptural quality of the curtain, the two-dimensional materiality of the paint, and the digital reproduction of the imagery used. It raises the question why the work is painted, not sculpted or printed.

Perhaps one way to understand his choice of medium is simply that it is the artist’s prerogative. However, another way to think of it could be that, by presenting the audience with these ideas through this seemingly traditional form of art — one that is known to excite and draw in the viewer — it invites a larger audience, firstly to enjoy the imagery. Eventually, however, it begins a dialogue on the conceptual nuances that lie within the layers of paint, imagery and canvas.

‘Curtained’ was exhibited at the Canvas Gallery, Karachi, from January 3-13, 20202

Published in Dawn, EOS, January 23rd, 2022