An activist in the art scene

artist interview

They say art is to express: be it one’s emotions, grief, passion or even suppression. In order to exude an expression, an artist can sometimes denounce past life experiences or even show rebellion towards those experiences in his work. Many local artists also think that art is to declutter thoughts and emotions and make sense out of them to generate an aesthetically pleasing narrative. To support these notions, many artists are born to not follow rules. Many of them exist just because they are the true admirers and believers of art and they use it to channel themselves.

Such is the example of Islamabad-based artist, Minhaj ul Arifeen, who is a young and dynamic activist cum artist and on a mission of breaking the shackles of capitalist patriarchy. Minhaj was born in Lahore in a Pashtun family who was trying to escape the dictatorial regimes of Ayub Khan, Zia-ul-Haq and Pervez Musharraf as their seven generations had been fighting against colonialists and oppressive governments in Pakistan. “My father was a food inspector in a rice mill. He was also organising the workers’ union until Nawaz Sharif (then PM) decided to privatise the mill and sack all the workers. When the union lost their fight against privatisation mafia, he moved to Islamabad where my uncle, head of the Communist Party, was working at the National Institute of Health. He started a small business as a vendor for public/pvt companies,” shares Minhaj.

Apart from that, this fresh prodigy is a true supporter of local and street art and that art doesn’t belong to the elite. He is enthusiastic about the future of art in Pakistan and is vocal about the monopoly of art galleries and art censorship in the country.

This week You! talks to the creative Minhaj ul Arifeen who masters the art of translating his thoughts and life experiences into his paintings, murals and graffiti…

You! Tell us about your background and how did you venture into the art space?

Minhaj ul Arifeen: I studied at a government school till 5th grade then I was sent to a cadet college to discipline my rebel soul. I went through severe torture and bullying by my fellows at all levels. It was so intense that throughout my life in the boarding house, I got myself busy with praying, going to the library, poetry, pencils and sketch books. Principles I was taught were to not cry, as crying was a weakness and somehow betrayal to masculinity. So, I rebelled by crying in the darkest hours while reading and writing poetry, piercing a drawing with sharp edged geometrical tools on wooden desks and closets. The trauma of cadet college affected me so badly that I decided to halt my studies after graduating. That is when I entered the first phase of my art journey as I started painting graffiti and murals in this purely western graffiti art style…

You! What defines your art?

MUA: Well, the traumas of my past. I have seen so much pain, humiliation and discrimination on class and ethnic level that I can’t paint happy faces. My art is mostly political as it strips the corporate veil off the face of our society. My art is about pain, distress and traumas that a young boy goes through in the midst of capitalist patriarchy.

You! Did you ever study art in a formal setting?

MUA: No, I was never allowed to formally study art. When I asked my father after finishing college that I would like to study art, he snubbed this idea by calling it too feminine. My mother asked how are you going to earn your livelihood if you join an art school? No matter how sad it is, but I never blame my parents for it. People in middle-class households can’t afford to send their kids to art schools expecting they might become one in a million artists to earn billions.

You! Are there any particular artists who inspire you?

MUA: There is only one artist who I’m in love with since I have come across her work, Saira Waseem – a US-based Pakistani artist.

You! Is there anyone with whom you’d like to collaborate?

MUA: Anyone who stays away from the monopolies of galleries; artists who do not belong to the circles of the elite artists.

You! Why do you think that art is for the elite? How do you feel about bringing it to the streets?

MUA: Art is a political tool to address the times. In Pakistan, we literally have it as a mere source of wealth exhibition. Art stays inside posh galleries for the elites, fancy corridors and hallways of five-star hotels, what does this all say to you? To me, it clearly tells that art is being used in the service of the elite. For me, it belongs to the people and it should be brought back to them by opening up spaces for them. Biennales have somehow opened the space for political dissent on a tiniest level as they are sponsored by the foreign missions but they have their own limitations. There is so much censorship on art that you can’t even dare to challenge the most powerful here. Artists are exploited on their early careers by them for making hundreds of portraits of military officials so they can be hanged in the cantonments. In Pakistan, there is no space for real artists to grow as radical as it requires.

You! Tell us a little about the scope of street art in Pakistan.

MUA: Street art is literally in shambles here. Pakistan is one of the most infertile countries in this regard. Since recently, beautification of cities like projects are happening where students and artists are asked to paint irrelevant portraits and scenes on a deserted wall of a school. That’s what they call street art here. Street art took birth from the womb of civil rights movement in the US. Black people resisted the most powerful regime in the world with their art. Due to decades-long restrictions on art and journalism, space for street art has been replaced with ultra-deadly-patriotism and glorification of Jihad.

You! What is your creativity process?

MUA: I feel the space, people, and the anticipated mood or temperament and images pop up in my mind on their own.

You! Your art is often very dark. Why is that?

MUA: My political activism with the left and traumas that I lived through.

You! When you do art for others (restaurants or other public spaces), how does it feel when you don’t get the due acknowledgment?

MUA: Well, it’s every artist's nightmare to be erased from the work which comes out of their tireless efforts and imagination. I am losing my faith in continuing art in this country. For instance, in the past, I did a mural for the wall of a renowned coffee café in Islamabad, but sadly, my name wasn’t even mentioned by them anywhere.

You! What’s ahead?

MUA: Some extremely powerful murals on the walls of the Capital, depicting the most anticipated socio-political economic crisis of post-capitalist society.