Written by: Khadijah Rehman
Posted on: April 04, 2019 | 
| 中文
Tank with baby Donkey and mother
“No fight, be a donkey!” are the words repeatedly and incessantly found at Muhammad Zeeshan’s show by the same name at the O Art Space, Lahore this week. The artist’s statement in the catalogue comprises in its entirety of only this phrase, over and over again. A multitude of works all hold out a solemn looking donkey as their star, whether painted in plain silhouettes or scored by a laser onto paper, standing amidst scenes of war or savagery.
Zeeshan, whose work revels in delightful eccentricity, explores themes of social and political wickedness, and the long, bloody trail of violence throughout history. Trained as a miniature artist at the National College of Arts (NCA), he has over the years combined mediums such as drawing, painting, video, installation and collages, and yet the influence of traditional miniature is apparent in his work: in the delicate precision of his line or in the flatness of animals painted as mere shapes and silhouettes. Through his work, Zeeshan becomes both artist and art historian, as he traces the depiction of violence that runs as an uninterrupted thread throughout the history of art, mythology and religion.
His current body of work is no different, confronting the audience with iconic images of violence or depravity, and using the character of a harmless donkey as an anti-hero. In Fighting Bulls And a Donkey, two bulls in silhouette lock heads aggressively (a familiar image in the history of visual art explored by the likes of Francisco Goya and Édouard Manet) while a forlorn donkey stands nearby, looking away. The bulls are flecked by a formation of dots that congeal and spread out to create the effect of an orb enclosing them, while the donkey is flecked with red roses in a symmetrical pattern. The sharp yellow background is cheery yet charged with unrest. In the local culture, addressing a person as a donkey has the insulting implication of laziness or slow-mindedness, but here the donkey's sombre aloofness seems to be a gift, setting it apart from the ferocity and ruthlessness of the bull. The roses further emphasise this, highlighting it like a holy, enshrined figure.
In Fighting Elephants and Donkey, similar imagery plays out, this time borrowing from traditional Mughal miniature art subject matter, with elephants locking tusks, led by ancient warriors brandishing spears and swords. The two elephants and the warriors riding them, arms flailing, are again rendered in graphite as dark silhouettes against a green background. The donkey is ghostly white this time, and while it is facing the war scene, its one visible eye appears to be closed. The colour palette of this work is reminiscent of the Pakistani flag, and the softness of the white donkey contrasts brilliantly with the sharp black silhouettes of the aggressive elephants and warriors - each bell on the elephant apparent, and each warrior's posture one of tense fury. Here too, the donkey is uninvolved, a silent spectator refusing to behold the sight of barbarity.
Other works do their part in painting the donkey as the unlikely protagonist, not because of a so-called heroic desire to damage and mutilate, but due to its lack of participation. Be it the young Queen of England on horseback behind horse silhouettes clashing together, or the image of a Nazi tank, emblazoned with a swastika and standing among debris. Yet, half concealed behind a pattern of bright orange heart symbols, the donkey stands apart from it all, detached from the bloodthirsty nature of war. Zeeshan’s enthralling skill lies not only in his sensitive image making techniques but in the unapologetic, unabashedly witty narrative he builds around the degeneracy of political conflict.
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