The medieval night had already set in when Bengali was born, and it did not end until the nineteenth century. For over a thousand years the Indian intellect slumbered, and produced no new thought or knowledge, no system of science or philosophy.
(Ghosh [1948]1976:22)
I am supposing that in every society the production of discourse is at once controlled, selected, organised and redistributed according to a certain number of procedures, whose role is to avert its powers and its dangers, to cope with chance events, to evade its ponderous, awesome materiality.
Monirul Islam, the very renowned Bangladeshi artist based in Madrid, Spain has come to Dhaka this year bringing with him all the flavour and the fervour of the blazing 60s of the 20th century, when he reigned supreme in our art milieu. During the 60s decade, among the number of outstanding painters who flourished in Bangladesh, Monirul Islam shone radiantly because of his remarkable originality in style and presentation. Intensely taken up with subtly experimentation, his quest for fresh techniques and forms has led him to explore novel approaches. It is this inclination, which has helped him to hold his position consistently in the forefront of the Bangladesh art scenario.
Monir as an artist, is easily recognised as he can translate life's diverse dimensions with his singular style, techniques and innovations into captivating works, where colours, lines, textures and forms blend in synchronisation. His works generally see a preponderance of mixed media, oil and acrylic. Monir's paintings are marked by the use of, at times, almost conflicting colours, but which nevertheless maintain a decorous juxtaposition as well as sensitivity of texture. There is also the veritable genteel touch of elegance ion his brush lines and the occasional livening collage ventures. Controlling his medium and technique with consummate mastery, he projects a special aesthetic and stylistic uniqueness. Monir works speak to us in an intimate voice about our childhood about the favourite chapters of our life built upon on the daily human bouts of joy, pain and boundless endeavours. The result is display of art centring on nature, human relationship and the meaning of life.
Derived from the natural world, the delicacy of his lines and the mind-boggling colours, is found to have evolved today into a more traditional style where gripping vivid abstractions weave stark realistic punctuation. The artist likes to work with different geometric forms, transforming them amazingly into tangible expressions of art. Right now that seems to be one of the prime characteristic in his works. An adorer of Nature, Monir tries to replicate Nature's colour synchronisation in his works according to the language of the Third Millennium. The space that is found to adorn his works is hierarchical in that the most important forms take precedence by position rather than by perspective, resulting in abstract relationships. Monir's enhanced use of the romantic background matched by sensual colours and remarkable themes turn the paintings with their abstractions of landscape, and the transparency of the mixed-media technique into sheer masterpieces of art. In his compositions, Monir uses little doodles, sharp lines, dots, tiny motifs and a lot of symbol.
From the beginning of his career after settling in Spain, he has been using paper as medium. This happened after his discovery that paper is something very mysterious for him. It enables him to place the complexities of life before the viewers with a different appeal from a different angle. Now he makes his own paper (hand made paper) for it provides the exact mysterious feel that has inspired him to work with it in the first place.
From the beginning of Monir's sojourn in Spain, he did many watercolors, which primarily focus on the unparalleled beauty of Nature. In the late sixties, Monir emerged as an accomplished watercolourist, with studies mostly of life on land and water. Before1969 - the day he left for Spain on a scholarship to study traditional mural - Monir was very much into painting, both oil and watercolour. Monir has done a few graphic works in Dhaka to get an idea of the method. Spain drew him into the enchanting world of etching and to which he later submerged his artistic faculty to gradually come out of his impressionistic tendencies and concentrate on different contemporary issues. That was a turning point in his life.
Over the last few years, whenever Monir visits Bangladesh, he uses as medium the folded paper that forms the base of the sweetmeat paper sacks. He came across this paper when on a visit to Chandpur. He started to think what the impact if he would use sweetmeat box as a medium. Then he started it and gradually, he has liked to work with this medium. He thought dirty paper provoked inspiration rather more than a piece of fresh white paper. He feels comfortable and this medium has been given him a pleasant feeling.
From his self-made niche in the art world of Madrid, Monir has gone on to win the most prestigious awards in Madrid, the Spanish National Grand Prize. A workaholic and charismatic character, Monir is always at work creating the off-beat with phenomenal improvisation and panache. By inventing new forms and exploring different themes, he has acquired a distinguished position in world art milieu.
Khokon Imam's Kali o Kalam
Written by the1zia@yahoo.com
Tuesday, 13 May 2008 05:50
Kali O Kolom
Khokon Imam
The March 2008/Chaitra 1414 issue of the country's premier mainstream literary magazine is especially strong, sadly enough, in its in-memoriums to a scholar, an artist and a poet. Gulam Murshid writes an engrossing eulogy of writer-academic-essayist Shibnarayan Rai, who died on 26th February, which pens a portrait of a superior mind and a generous individual. He recounts an amusing story about the late Professor Ahmed Sharif of Dhaka University enquiring of the author whether Shibnarayan was a CIA agent since the latter had abandoned his youthful Marxism. Shamarjit Rai Chowdhury writes about artist Debdas Chakravarty, while Shouvik Reza charmingly recalls the fifties poet Pranabendhu Das Gupta, one of whose most well-known poems Sadar Street Verandah. There is a translation of a short story by American author Jay McInerney, whose novel Bright Lights Big City was a phenomenal success. This is the first time perhaps that a contemporary American author has been translated in Kali O Kolom and McInerney is a good choice to introduce the journal’s readers to current American fiction and authors. Among other notable articles are a short story, Chaka Bhangar Golpo, by Jahanara Nausheen, an essay on the French poet/enfant terrible Arthur Rimbaud, a travel piece on a Vientiane market by Mainus Sultan, and a look, informative if sometimes repetitive, at our poets of the Seventies by Mamun Mustafa.
The April 2008/Boishakh 1415 volume is a special issue devoted to art. It has a wide-ranging coverage of our art scene and history with articles written by art critics as well as by artists themselves on art movements, individual artists and notable themes. Especially delightful is Rafiqunnabi's emotionally charged recall of one art show that triggered a mysterious, creative energy in him. Another highly readable account is of a visit (complete with Kolkata bus routes) to artist Bijon Chowdhury. This issue of Kali O Kolom will surely delight art lovers as well as general readers.
Khokon Imam is a poet and illustrator.
The Full Moon
Written by Administrator
Tuesday, 13 May 2008 05:47
Short Story
The Full Moon
Abdullah Shibli
artwork by wasim helal
Adib checks the time again on his wrist watch. It's 5:30 in the morning. Lying in his bed, he looks out the window to see if he can catch a glimpse of the morning light. There's only darkness outside. He reasons--maybe in a few minutes the blackness will start to fade away from the eastern sky, and reveal the beautiful first glow of day break-- subeh sadiq, as his mother used to call the moment.
Adib thinks about his mother often these days. He has not seen her for almost ten years. He talks to her sometimes on the phone. But not as much as he'd like to do. It's hard to get a connection to Dhaka on the calling card he buys. She also calls him every now and then when a family friend or relative drops off a calling card for her. At the beginning he would be concerned. Why are these people buying phone cards for her? Does she ask them to? Adib reasons she ought to have money to buy phone cards--he sends her five hundred dollars a month, enough to leave her with extra for entertainment and any non-essential expenses such as phone cards and the like. He doesn't want her to ask relatives for any financial help. Once Adib asked her, “Amma, how come all these people bring phone cards for you?” “Oh babu, it's nothing. They do so only because they know I don't go out any more to shop.” Later, when Adib asked the same question to Anu, his younger sister, she told him a secret. When his cousins or his uncles visit their house in Mohammedpur, they know that nothing pleases his mother more than a phone card. A phone card is her lifeline to her son living in the USA.
Khandakar Ashraf Hossain is a professor of English at Dhaka University, and a well-known Bengali poet. He has published seven volumes of poetry, as well as translated into Bengali texts such as Terry Eagleton's Literary Theory: An Introduction. He is the editor of the long-running little magazine Ekobingsho for which he was awarded the West Bengal Little Magazine Award in 1998.
Khandakar Ashraf has now published a volume of English poems, On Behula's Raft: Selected Poems (Dhaka: writers.ink, January 2008). In the introduction he writes that his “fond wish is that the reader...take these poems as 'English versions' rather than as translations of their originals in Bangla.” This is because “writers who 'translate' their own works...do not so much translate from one language to another as express the same ideas through two mediums.”
As the poet himself points out, aside from the themes of love, “considerations of womanhood” and a tormented vision of Bangladesh, these poems collectively spanning a period of thirty years are discontinuous in mood and content. The poems tend to be self-consciously 'literary' when they echo and refer to canonical Bengali and English poets (even Khandakar's assertion of “same ideas in two mediums,” for example, takes on Rabindranath's hue who wrote that his English Gitanjali was the result of his “urge to recapture through the medium of another language the feelings and sentiments...”). Khandakar's poems are freer when they employ the common rhythms of everyday life: “Do the bed, straighten the sky on the window/Spread last night's clothes on the hangers...”
The brooding sensibility present in the poems is certainly Bengali and Bangladeshi--as evidenced in the title poem where the mythological Behula's husband protests against being awakened to a present-day Bangladesh with its particular horrors:
A shameless villain of the town lured you to a deserted alley and stuffed handkerchief under your blouse; You made a diaphanous headscarf with my shroud-cloth; laying me out naked on the sunlit pavement begged for coppers and dimes from foreign traders.
The poems, however, are marred by Indian English-isms, with atonal registers and both British- and American-speak present (“guys” with “chums”, for example, and in the above quote perhaps 'pennies and pice' might have been a tad more musical), awkward phrasing (“I must be avenged for thousand deaths and denigrations”), outdated poeticisms (“O reverend trees”), and redundancies (“bolster pillows”).
Had the poet (and his troika of advisors) been more careful perhaps these infelicities could have been avoided.
The Stranger
A stranger is waiting at the door. I haven't allowed him in. I said, “Stand there, wait just a while; I am so messy at the moment; can't open The door for a guest so early; let me Do the bed, straighten the sky on the window; Spread last night's clothes on the hangers; Let me change the oil-smeared pillow covers And put the ones with the floral design—
Also I'd like to rinse this body of mine And hang the heart on the line to dry. Then you'll come, you and your dog On a long leash. If you please, you can loll Against the bolster pillows, or, if you prefer, Sit on a lone chair, dangling your feet.
It can happen on the pink mattress of the floor— Or on the wide verandah, near the kitchen sink. You might go at it straight without foreplay: After all, rape and death, if they can't be helped, Should be enjoyed, philosophers say.
Khademul Islam is literary editor, The Daily Star.