Sub09: Transforming objects to gold with Zarina
Musings from the women's "wild zone" - ideas and other creations
Junk by Zarina, 1966 - Image Courtesy Zarina's Studio
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This sub is all about Zarina Hashmi (1937-2020), print-maker, sculptor. Alchemist. You must check out her work here. Punctuated by the partition, rising communalism, torn between places, defining herself as a woman, Muslim artist. Her work seems to distill life from hate and embraces it with readiness and simplicity.
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How effortlessly the setting sun turns
whites and silvers to gold
The amazing thing about scraping through tunnels of discovery is that sometimes you encounter chambers of light. Something that forever expands your thinking on what seems possible in your limited life. Zarina’s work has that sort of effect on me. I feel a deep purifying love emanating from her art and descriptions of what she drew from.
Homes I Made A Life in Nine Lines by Zarina, 1997 - Image Courtesy Zarina's Studio
“Ideas make art. There are lots of people who can't draw but they can make big art—great art, because it comes from ideas.”
-Seven Questions for Zarina Hashmi, Courtney A. Stewart, 2017
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Rohingyas Floating on the Dark Sea by Zarina, 2015 - - Image Courtesy Zarina's Studio
I struggle with the despair of the dislocated, shunned, and turned away, not knowing how to hold this space, this pain of someone who I am not. To allow it into my life and accept the inhumanity as part of who we collectively are. For me, this picture etches that story and creates that space.
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Sarah Burney who worked closely with Zarina on various projects has penned the most beautiful memorial piece which also serves as a poignant introduction to the artist. This poem was originally published in Art Asia Pacific July/August 2020 119.
Zarina (1937–2020)
Zarina began her day by peeling and eating the seven almonds she had soaked in water overnight.
She hated eggs but ate them regularly for breakfast.
“Good protein.”
With a slice of brioche.
And tea of course. That Renu brought from India.
Only Renu’s tea.
Found writing emails tedious but never left one unanswered.
Wanted to make art, read, and look at art.
Knew exactly how her paper was made.
Carved her own blocks.
Didn’t believe in test prints.
“Don’t assume you’ll get it wrong.”
Called watercolor monotypes “squashed paintings.”
Rarely listened to music.
Met minimalism at Fatehpur Sikri.
Never forgot the texture of a ruin.
Took the ceiling furrier hooks in her Chelsea apartment down herself when she moved in in 1976.
Was tidy.
Organized.
Never wanted an off-site studio.
Overused her label maker.
Grew bamboo in water, in a square vase filled with clear glass beads.
Had Trader Joe’s orchids that blossomed annually.
Would ask if you were hungry when she was hungry.
Cooked us elaborate meals on her countertop hot plate.
Insisted on not working during lunch and tea.
Detested disposable cutlery.
Complained that we spent the whole day drinking tea.
Would buy your favorite biscuits.
Washed and reused ziplocks.
Enjoyed attending and throwing a party.
Wore black or gold nail polish exclusively.
Loved her short white hair.
Often dressed like her art.
Wore Serge Lutens Fleurs d’Oranger.
Always made time for young artists.
Would read the book you mentioned in passing.
Would indulge gossip with mock-disapproval.
Chuckled at inappropriate jokes.
Cracked many more herself.
Respected Liz’s tattoo.
Pretended to be offended when you called her an old fox.
Never stopped roasting me for saying I enjoyed Pretty Woman. Once.
Reserved Friday afternoon for prayer.
Saturdays for seeing art.
Loved talking to museum guards and gallery receptionists. Always remembered
their names.
Saved every artwork she was gifted.
Signed both pieces of the sculpture we accidentally broke and gifted them to me
and Yukari.
Was loyal to her hairdresser, manicurist, bakery, and dealers.
Overpaid her housekeeper on principle.
Taught herself French.
Loved technology.
Told me she did not know the meaning of the word “afraid.”
Was a Muslim artist.
Was a teacher.
Liked eating chocolate ice cream at night.
Often stayed up later than she wanted going down YouTube rabbit holes.
Never stopped missing her sister, Rani.
Recited Urdu couplets even after the Alzheimer’s had set in.
Was happiest with Saima and Imran.
Was ready.
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Untitled by Zarina, 2016 - Courtesy Zarina's Studio
“My work has been about memory but eventually everything has to go, nothing lasts forever . . . I am preparing myself to encounter the Blinding Light and leave the Darkness of the Soul behind.”
Zarina
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That is it from me for now. I hope you enjoyed reading this, I really had a good time putting it together. If you like this piece and the substack, please do share it with others who may be interested.
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Do send in any comments or suggestions you have to tmishmi@gmail.com. I’m here and I am listening.
MT