Some years ago, The New York Times published a cartoon of a fortune teller gazing at her crystal ball, and telling the man opposite her: “I can see the future, but I can’t read Chinese.” Many in Pakistan are reading Chinese now, kids going to privileged schools are studying Mandarin, so that they can not only decipher the future, but are able to write it too.

Forget about the future or the past, China is present in the world – noticeably in Pakistan.

We buy everything produced in the People’s Democratic Republic, from expensive accessories of Apple computers to cheap plastic buckets. Traditionally, China was associated with two items in our domestic domain: white sugar and porcelain pottery. Now we are surrounded by innumerable Chinese products. Religious artefacts like prayer mats and rosary beads; artistic works including oil paintings; prints and sculptures; garments such as shirts, trousers, scarves, jackets, long coats and electronic gadgets, decoration pieces, fashion items, makeup material and toiletries; even needles are imported from China.

The way this influx of goods is shaping beliefs, daily routine and the social structure concerns Fatima Munir. In her new work, the effect of Chinese trade is visible. Her mixed media pieces (from the solo exhibition at AAN Art Space and Museum, Karachi, March24–April 23) can be read through multiple lenses.

One, the most apparent one is how one nation, a superpower, overshadows the cultural constructs and political rhetoric of another country. It also challenges the religious restrictions and social relationships. Fatima Munir addresses this situation, but instead of taking an orthodox (read patriotic) position, she reflects on the inevitable. Diplomatic dominance, pandemic (Covid-19), and market economy are a few factors which have shaken our society, languorous in its glorious imagined heritage. Munir deals with the current political landscape of the world, local and international, in which “a kid’s chocolate is a banned illegal ‘dangerous’ substance in the USA whilst its waging war across the globe is perfectly acceptable” (manifested in her work titled The Business of War 2). In her art, politics, history, economy, violence merge to depict a global scenario in which conflicts are not about occupying territories but conquering markets and minds.

Today, it is the product that inhabits an alien soil more than a citizen. These articles, in comparison and contrast to living beings, have fixed features, prescribed functions, predominant aesthetics and an unchanging age. This applies to industrial goods as well as the Chinese clay soldiers. Munir reflects on this order of things through her assemblages. Men who served the army of the first emperor, Qin Shi Huang, have survived centuries in the body of terracotta. These clay characters - each distinct for his facial features - are now serving another purpose, by turning into a historic metaphor, a cultural icon; and later into a commercial emblem (and tourists’ collection). Transformations of these sorts are represented and commented upon in a number of mixed media works by Fatima Munir.

The archaic terracotta army, originating in China is now being fabricated as a saleable item, and is found in the bric-a-brac shops around the world. The pandemic allegedly started from the city of Wuhan, or rather was first reported there, and captured the entire planet, altering lives, psyches, human interactions, work habits and public existence. In Munir’s New Beginning, empty Covid-19 vaccine vials become white transparent flowers joined with metallic stems, inserted in delicate vases, which look as if made of earthenware or stoneware, but manufactured in fibreglass. Every detail of this mixed media sculpture suggests the recycling of objects as well as ideas, and how an item connected to global calamity is converted into a decorative piece.

This indicates the way misfortunes, disasters, catastrophes end up as commodities – whether physical or virtual, these are still marketable entities for public consumption. Munir’s work also highlights the converging paths of culture and commerce, which may have a drastic effect on conventional set of beliefs. In any case, culture and trade have been inseparable twins, throughout human history. Objects forged in ancient civilisations, for functional use or merchandising are now regarded signs of creative expression and beauty. Likewise, works created as art pieces have a monetary value, and are sold, kept and stored as a form/part of investment.

The phenomenon of art and market, and business and social norms is aptly illustrated in The Trojan Beer, a glass box containing the small terracotta replica of a lone Chinese warrior amid Chinese beverages brewed in Pakistan. Fatima Munir encapsulates the ancient soldier in glass container while depicting his nation’s invasion of the cultural, commercial and recreational realms.

This is the cartography of a new form of colonisation, especially when compared with her Fauji Con, consisting of corn cereal packaging framed in elaborate mouldings (with black and white photographs of the British military officers). With such works, Munir addresses two types of colonialism: overt and hidden. Linking the British Raj to recent influxof Chinse merchandise. (The English rule in India had its genesis in the conquests of a trading organisation, the East India Company).

Along with its content of political – and expansionist – overtones, the art of Fatima Munir deals with another debate, initiated by Walter Benjamin about originality and mechanical reproduction. Interestingly, a person visiting markets in Pakistan faces the question, “Do you want an original or a China?” – given that in the arena of commercial transactions China is seen as a synonym for replication.

Munir observes the popularity and celebration of mass-produced images, like the figurines of Chinese terracotta soldiers which occupy many mantelpieces around the globe in their reduced and innumerably reproduced reincarnations. The issue of originality, authenticity, and identity has been stirring art discourse since the dawn of modernism. Fatima Munir in her art draws the distinction between real and fake, between actual and imposed, between indigenous and imported. One work, Bye Bye Qaum, based on an ancient Chinese warrior clad in green tunic and white trousers alludes to the colours of Pakistani flag, besides echoing the image of Quaid-i-Azam, the Babaa-i-Quam (The Father of the Nation). It also suggests how history turns into commodity, humans into emblems/ icons, and reality into replicas.

The link between a national symbol and a marketing identity/ brand is further explored in works with terracotta soldier figurines put in transparent glass containers, like museum exhibits or scientific specimens. If one probes the genealogy of these warriors, probably each of them was modelled on a real soldier, and in life size – later minimised and exported as small figurines; and now part of Munir’s work to denote how far reality travels and transforms.

Reality, perhaps is the core issue in Fatima Munir’s aesthetics. Because we are surrounded by an abundance of fabrication, copies are sometimes seen as original and reproductions are authentic. A dichotomy as viable as having eggs in plastic containers (Everything is made of Plastic), or traditional Chinese ceramics resting on a bed of straw, while stored in a row of glass jars (The Holy Trail). Or, conventional Persian carpets (called Just Like Persian) with their trade mark Made as Iran and the inscription For Export Quality, but assembled in China.

These and other works by Munir refer to how one transgresses cultures, continents, periods, politics – and world problems. These also allude to art and artefacts, since most of Munir’s art pieces are installed and look like museum objects in their appearance, execution and meaning.

The exhibition runs at AAN Art Space and    Museum, Karachi, from 

March 24 to April 23

The author is an art critic based in Lahore