The way it was: Seeking strength from innocence
Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan
Today since most parents show off their kids as if they were poodles they have
become terribly self-conscience. To my bewilderment even four year olds expect
their playful dabbling to be framed by the mother
When I was seven years old, like most other boys of my class, I liked to paint,
among other things, landscapes with mountains with a stream descending to a
green plain. In the foreground we would draw a hut with a sloping red roof and
smoke coming out of the chimney. The stream slowly broadened as it reached the
hut. Most of us liked to add a few flowers to its banks and around the hut
entrance. Rendering a bridge across the stream was structurally far too
complicated to be attempted.
At seven we were becoming aware of perspective and the third dimension. We had
no such problems when we were younger. Painting from imagination was much more
fun. At seven we had become conscious about the natural appearance of objects.
But coming back to the landscape we did. A semi-circle with radiating lines
representing the sun was tucked in between two peaks to depict a sunset or
sunrise according to the mood. For sunsets I filled the descending sun with
vermilion, then blushed the sky with orange and yellow, which faded into blue.
To depict the birth of a new day the sun was left unpainted on the white sheet
or painted lemon with radiating rays of the same colour, against a blue morning
sky.
Birds were rendered with two strokes of the brush, resembling the alphabet V,
with its two bars tapering out at various angles. Painting trees is never easy.
We did them by individually adding leaves on to the brown branches, occasionally
inserting fruit and a nest. The easiest flowers to paint were the single petal
ones like daisies and sunflowers. No one ever tried painting a nasturtium, a
chrysanthemum or even a blue bell. The easiest way of rendering flowers was of
course in the form of exclamation marks, by adding dots and blobs to short
verticals green stems.
As we proceeded to higher classes we learnt some other tricks. Expressing a
gurgling stream coming down a mountainside was still a hazardous task, but the
next best thing that an artist could do was to let it come down into the plains
where it slows down. Compared to arresting a gushing stream on a sheet of paper,
adding reflections to a placid surface of water is child’s play. A glistening
illusion of water and movement can be created if the reflected images are
rendered in evenly-spaced horizontal brush strokes.
Incidentally while working with watercolours, as we learnt later, it makes life
easier if light colours are filled in first and the dark ones later. It is a
matter of common sense. While a dark pigment can block out a light coloured
pigment the same cannot be done in reverse. Just try putting yellow on blue or
pink on brown. It is wiser and less wearisome to proceed from light colours to
dark ones. With opaque water paints or with an oil medium it doesn’t really
matter what you do but even so it is less messy to proceed from light to dark
colours and from thin to thick paint.
For some odd reason, one of the first birds I learnt to paint was a crane —
besides of course birds hanging in the distant sky flapping their wings.
Painting the bird’s long neck with the head and the pointed beak, even the
oblong body, which tapered at the rear to form a tail, was not difficult. I
always found drawing the lanky long legs and the claws an incredibly challenging
undertaking. I could never balance the body on the fragile legs. The crane was
either toppling forward or falling backwards.
Painting animals was no less easy. Bulls, sheep, rats and rabbits were the
favourites. And of course the butterfly, but that is not an animal. There was a
boy from Kenya who impressed everyone by painting elephants, zebras and other
jungle life. The children today, because of television, are exposed to a great
variety of flora and fauna. Their artwork reflects a range of flowers, insects
and animals. This is of course only true of the English medium schools. The
government and private Urdu medium schools don’t seem to feel the need to
encourage students creatively. Even writing the Takhti with a reed qalam, which
provided an excellent aesthetic discipline, has been replaced by a ballpoint
pen.
The younger, four to five year olds are less inhibited than six year olds. They
not only express their intentions with greater freedom but also experience the
world more vividly and imaginatively. What appears to us as naive is rendered
with unusual definition and vibrantly expresses their feelings, thoughts and
sometime reactions to the adult world. Their images and visualised forms exist
in simultaneous dimension of space and time that baffles the deductive mind.
It is unfortunate how these artless, innocent and spontaneous visions of a child
are slowly dissipated as they grow up. Actually to treat their work as art would
be equally absurd and illogical. Child art is like an instant revelation whereas
Art even at its most impulsive and involuntary moments is a conditioned
enactment of adult mind.
An artist expresses himself for a number of reasons, his sense of alienation;
his irrepressible need to vent his feelings, the need to understand life, the
compelling desire to change it. Each artist has his own reasons and intentions.
Each work has a meaning; in some cases the meaning may lie in not having one. An
artist cannot disengage himself from the times in which he lives even when he
feigns to distance himself from what he does. He is condemned to exercise a
choice even while asserting that the choice does not exist.
A child paints for neither of these or any other reason. He paints because it is
his or her second nature. The innocent and simple truthful means they undertake
for self-expression is soon severed. The adult world takes over and teaches them
how to look, think and feel, what is good and what should be shunned. They are
taught to be obedient and remain silent. They are firmly discouraged to laugh
because happiness besides being a nuisance leads to levity, which could lead to
sin. Above all they are conditioned in what to believe and what to hate.
Hating of course is more important than loving. The emphasis is less on what
they should hold in esteem and more on what they must abhor. They must always
envy their neighbour, keep away from the poor who are dirty, lazy and ridden
with infectious disease. They are encouraged to cuddle up to the rich and
privileged, and avoid friendship unless it is gainful.
I remember in the past most children would instinctively discard artwork after
it was done. Today since most parents show off their kids as if they were
poodles they have become terribly self-conscience. To my bewilderment even four
year olds expect their playful dabbling to be framed by the mother. To make a
child self-conscious is the surest way of killing his special talent. He may
mature into a clever fellow but by invading his privacy the parent unwittingly
inhibits him from expressing his natural virtues, which are above the scale of
good or bad and beyond the criteria of our excellence.
Children besides being naturally gifted with numerous sensibilities have a
strong sense of personal dignity, which is easily bruised. Most adults
unfortunately are unable to perceive their sense of self-respect with the same
intensity. As a consequence they constantly shame or embarrass them before
others. If their elders possessed a better sense of self-respect, they would
perhaps not do it. This is again something that could be learnt from children.
Hamlet, that tragic prince of Denmark sadly confided to Shakespeare that
everything had gone rotten in the state of Denmark. Shakespeare who was too busy
recording the events in blank verse unfortunately couldn’t spare the time to
help him out. The state of the world is even more rotten today. The monkey King
Louis (Remember the Jungle Book) now knows how to make fire. He is bent upon
presiding over the world even if he has to burn it down. Let us not let him do
that.
Let’s spend some time with the children and seek strength from their
innocence. Let us, if not five times a day; at least once in five days seek them
out from slimy restaurants, grimy auto workshops and garbage dumps. Should we
not make an effort to better their world, even if we have failed to better our
own?
Prof Ijaz-ul-Hassan is a painter, author and a political activist