“It’s the medium and the message,” says multidisciplinary artist and writer Areez Katki of his delicate yet expressive embroidered works on raw Khadi cloth — this handwoven Indian cotton fabric became a symbol of revolt by the Indian population against their colonial rulers over 100 years ago after village economies had been destroyed by colononiser’s mass production of fabric.
Layering upon the story of the cloth, Areez creates his own lyrical, alternative, visual language of stitchwork to record stories that reflect his life experiences and lineage; the skills he employs to make these embroidered marks were handed down from his grandmother and aunt who, like Areez, hail from Mumbai.
“By using an alternative mode of communication, I don’t have to use the language of the oppressors. Embroidery is a way to relate to past modes of storytelling,” explains Areez as he walks me through his current show, Yes, I’m a Garden, which features 30 exquisitely embroidered, abstracted birds, at his dealer gallery Tim Melville in Newton.
Areez, 33, was born in Mumbai. He and his family have Persian Zoroastrian ancestry. Zoroastrianism is an ancient pre-Islamic religion of Iran that survives most predominantly in India where the descendants of Zoroastrian Iranian (Persian) immigrants are known as Parsis or Parsees. He divides his time between Auckland and Mumbai, where he has a studio in his maternal grandmother’s house; he works on a cushion on the floor, reaching over his Khadi panels that are elevated on bricks.
“It’s a great place for me to work on a larger scale, I feel I have more freedom of expression in Mumbai, and a closer contact with history. When I’m here, there’s a filter; over there it’s all alive.”
Areez feels emotionally safe in India, whereas he experienced many moments here feeling small or “othered”.
“I grew up being bullied in a Eurocentric culture. When I was a child, I had an affinity to study my environment, I was always pulling apart flowers and shells… my teachers used to say to my parents, ‘Oh, your son’s a dreamer’. I was criticised for not being boisterous or logical.”
Areez’s talent for examining the world around him has served his art well. Scrutiny of any given topic begins with writing — his recent completion of a Master of Creative Writing from Victoria University has built on his talent for critical thinking.
“I’m constantly encountering texts that inform new modalities of thinking.”
Advertisement
Advertise with NZME.A poem from Persian literature inspired his most recent show. The Conference of the Birds was composed by the mystic-poet Farid Ud-Din Attar in the 12th century, and describes the conference of the world’s birds, when they meet to begin the search for their ideal king, the Simurgh bird. The arduous journey the birds must take to find their leader evokes fear and reticence; one bird, the hoopoe, calms their fears using parables to offer them spiritual guidance. The work is an allegory of Sufism — a form of Islamic mysticism that emphasizes introspection and spiritual closeness with God — repentance, sincerity, remembrance and love being the pillars of the spiritual journey.
The culmination of his 30 smaller panels flock together in the work The Thirtybird, that appears at next week’s Art Fair. This large-scale mustard-gold textile embroidered work features a constellation of lines suggesting the form of the mythological Simurgh bird mid-flight.
Research for the bird panels led Areez to join the Bombay Natural History Society where he joined expeditions along coastline and more in-depth ornithological research.
His work often alludes to memory — how certain colours are associated with sounds and smells and tastes, how textiles hold memories, stains, creases and odors.
Although textiles form a central part of his practice, Areez also weaves, paints, sculpts, and works in the realm of beading and print-making. There are several colourful abstract paintings on show next week that share similar gestural marks to his embroidered works, yet all his art has similar conceptual rigour — whether he’s looking at the constructs of spirituality, the politics of migration and diaspora, or sexuality — his own queerness is often examined in light of other queer artists who have gone before him.
His large new panel, on display at the Aotearoa Art Fair, titled Subsumption: it happens all the time, features two men — one larger white figure, and one smaller, darker-skinned, in an embrace on a cloud of plush Persian textiles. The work poses questions about the position of individuals who are subordinated from various perspectives and the ways in which they are exoticised, rendered powerless or are subject to exploitation by dominant colonial or social structures. Areez also traverses homoerotic desires and the dynamics at play during intimacy.
“Subsumption relates to the idea of being under or below another culture — it speaks of appropriation, and how one culture might benefit from another — in this work both men are clothed in the same cultural garments, but one figure is rendered voiceless. I was also interested in what happens behind closed doors in queer, interracial relationships.”
In Sufism, Areez says homosexual desire was an accepted part of expression — the work he referred to when making this embroidered panel was an 18th century Ottoman court artist, Abdullah Bukhari, who made court paintings that were highly erotic, “sort of like 18th century porn,” Areez explains.
Advertisement
Advertise with NZME.The artist’s background in art history has been critical in his art-making and it’s also led him to think about the political nature of craft itself, which has previously been considered outside the realm of fine art.
“We need to reframe how craft is perceived and used as a term. I look at craft as anything executed skillfully — from poetry to dressing oneself to contemporary art. As a term, I believe craft can be broadened beyond the preconceived notion that it belongs solely to practitioners who work with certain physical materials. Needlework, for example, is associated solely with domestic women’s work. And the same goes for colonial perceptions that any material developed outside of Western academic understandings becomes categorised as an ethnographic craft practice.”
How are we to change preconceptions?
“All our current systems of knowledge are based upon authorities and institutions having power over learning — I think we need to consider all systems of knowledge — whether they stem from academic or domestic spaces, and across generations and cultures.”
As for his work moving forward: “I’m still sharpening my tools, adapting and learning — my creative voice has helped me develop more curiosity around what languages may be used to challenge oppressive hierarchies.”
