Islamic Arts 23 By Lucien de Guise Islamic Arts Diary


READING BETWEEN THE LINES Tere is no field of Islamic art with such immediate recognition as calligraphy. Obstacles of understanding are nothing in the face of letters that have a life of their own. Despite the appeal, there are remarkably few exhibitions bold enough to give visitors nothing but the written word. Like Chinese calligraphy, which has always been considered the supreme art of the Middle Kingdom by its countless connoisseurs, Islamic penmanship does not get as many outings as it deserves. Since the pioneering Word into Art exhibition at the British Museum in 2006, the medium has not attracted the attention it looked like it was going to get. Instead, it has become a source of anxiety to non-Arabic-literate passengers on aeroplanes. Or, even worse, it is associated with little more than the black flag of ISIS. No location could be more


reassuring for restoring confidence in Islamic calligraphy than the Sam Fogg gallery in Mayfair. Te exhibition started in October, amid the equally aesthetic surroundings of Frieze Masters in Regent’s Park. Now that it has moved a mile or two south, it will probably receive fewer visitors but at least a statement has been made and a stunning catalogue created for posterity. Te urbane setting of the gallery itself takes us back to a time when collecting Islamic manuscripts was a pursuit engaged in by the same type of collectors who pursue medieval European art – another speciality of Sam Fogg Ltd. Te works are not showy and could never compete with


Mamluk Qur’an section. Calligraphy attributed to Ibn al-Wahid with illumination by Sandal Egypt, circa 1306–11. Sura 36 (Ya-Sin/Yaseen), v. 31 – sura 39 (al-Zumar/the troops), middle of v. 25


the monumental canvases of contemporary art, intended to fill as much Manhattan loft space as possible. Islamic calligraphy is an intimate diversion, and when executed with a reed pen the possibilities of prodigious size are rather more limited than, for example, Chinese characters written with huge brushes. Andrew Butler-Wheelhouse of


Sam Fogg seems determined to revive the fortunes of works on paper and parchment. Te catalogue that he has written for the exhibition gives a marvellously broad overview with no shortage of detail in the descriptions. Te foundation of the art form lies in copying the words of the Qur’an. Tere is, of course, no possibility of changing the content, but the presentation can be varied considerably. Even greater than the


‘Start’ Finished For This Year


Te recent START art fair is, as the name suggests, a platform for emerging artists from what are described as ‘new art scenes’. Te ‘contemporary Islamic-world scene’ is among the more elusive threads in the rich tapestry. Te streets near the Saatchi Gallery are perhaps a more natural match, being premium retail territory. Among the most prominent Muslim artists were those from Southeast Asia, shipped over by a Singapore gallery. One East Asia is single-handedly bringing the cream of its Malaysian neighbour’s creativity to London. Some of this talent has already been seen by regulars to START. Ahmad Zakii Anwar was there last year, not just on canvas but in person as well. Tis year there is the exquisite detail and social commentary of Chang Fee Ming, who despite the name is a Muslim artist with a penchant for social commentary. Zakii’s work, sadly, cannot be shown in Singapore – his subject is not just seen smoking a cigarette but is almost obscured by an exhalation of carcinogens. Chang’s observations of life and politics in Indonesia are so subtle that his works on paper continue to fetch more per square inch


Chang Fee Ming’s ‘Cukup Barat?’ II, watercolour on paper, 2017


mastery of the illuminator is the skill of the calligrapher. A superb and engagingly simple example is a section of the holy book that uses little visual elaboration and plentiful penmanship. It was probably created by Ibn al-Wahid and Sandal, the most renowned scribe-illuminator teams of the Mamluk era (13th/15th century Egypt and Syria). Tis golden age is a high point of the manuscript tradition. Butler-Wheelhouse enjoys the


scholarly detective work involved in attributing a work such as the Mamluk Qur’an section: ‘Te main body of the text is in a highly unusual script for Qur’anic manuscripts, known as tumar, which literally means ‘scroll’ and was used primarily in the Mamluk chancellery. Te gold sura headings, however, are in a script between thuluth and muhaqqaq


known as ash’ar. Tis word is the plural of sha’r, meaning ‘hair’ in Arabic, and David James has suggested that the script owes its name to the thin black lines outlining the letters (James 1988a, p 38). Te Baybars Qur’an is written entirely in an ash’ar script identical to that of the sura headings in this Qur’an, which has led to the suggestion that it too was copied by Ibn al-Wahid’. Te Qur’an described above is one of the legendary achievements of the Islamic world, copied for the Mamluk Sultan Baybars al-Jashnagir in AD 1304, it is now in the British Library. At the other end of the spectrum of recognisability is a work in decoupage displayed at this exhibition. It may sound like a Victorian pursuit for rainy days, but among the Ottoman literati this was almost as revered as Qur’anic artistry. Te name of the artist is stated in the book, and it is at the very summit, admired almost as much by those outside the Ottoman empire as by the sultan himself. Fakhruddin al-Bursavi, who died in the early 17th century, is better known as Fakhri.


Te immediate impression created is as different from a Mamluk Qur’an as can be imagined. It is an almost chaotic kaleidoscope of colour and shapes, ingeniously ordered by the master of the art. Butler- Wheelhouse dispenses with detective work on this occasion, to describe in simple terms a work that will confuse most viewers while attracting them at the same time: ‘Te shapes of the letters, which have been delicately cut out of the white paper, are beautifully balanced between the thicker curved sections and the refined delicate


A calligraphic and floral composition by the pre-eminent Ottoman découpé artist. Signed by Fakhri of Bursa. Ottoman Turkey, probably Bursa or Istanbul, 17th century


thinner elongations, which are punctuated with precisely cut diamond-shaped diacritics. Te calligraphy is offset against a wonderfully flowing background of incised scrolling vegetation that is populated with palmettes, stylised carnations, rosettes and cusped foliage, which are often highlighted with small areas of applied gold leaf ’. Add some marbled paper and you


have a manuscript that looks almost good enough to eat, like a gold- topped pastry. To make the experience even more appealing to contemporary tastes, Fakhri was likely to have been a Sufi dervish. His work certainly shows an independence of spirit that made him popular at court, without being a paid-up member of a court atelier. As with everything in this exhibition, it can be admired without the slightest understanding of what the words say. In this case it happens to be poetry. • Te Rhythm of the Pen and the Art of the Book: Islamic Calligraphy from the 13th to the 19th Century ends on 10 November, at Sam Fogg, Clifford Street, London


than any other Malaysian artist at the moment. Tey also continue to get more strident in terms of their brushwork as well as their content. Tere is a lot of semi-hidden messaging amidst the blaze of colour and texture. Fabrics continue to dazzle the beholder as if we are seeing some of Southeast Asia’s most everyday textiles for the first time. His batiks are alight, reducing all the painted foodstuffs to husks. Tere’s still space for subversion though. It really does look like the world wants to know more about Asia; at least in London’s SW3 postcode. Two of the three special ‘projects’ on display are from the Far East. Along with the Korea and Vietnam projects, there is a third one, called Totem. One of the great discoveries in an area dominated by a large brass cross, was the presence


of a Muslim artist tirelessly producing exceptional installations with a Qur’anic inspiration. Oxford, a city renowned for its cramped accommodation, is the unlikely base for Saad Qureshi and his 313 Abaabil birds. Te sculpture Congregation is a feat of putting together a veritable army of objects; it is also a reminder that the Qur’an is a work of poetry and not filled with the sort of material that Islamophobes are more familiar with. Te birds do not break any supposed strictures against figural representation as they are more suggestive than descriptive. It makes for a fascinating display. Any collectors who want to look beyond acquiring the somewhat predictable field of Islamic calligraphy would do well to look at Saad’s work. Tey will need a very large space in which to do so.


Congregation (2014) by Saad Qureshi, plaster, straw, clay, pinewood, concrete, Photo: Mehta Bell Projects


NOVEMBER 2017 ASIAN ART


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