Zarina Hashmi
Dividing Line, 2001
Woodcut printed in black on Indian handmade paper, mounted on Arches Cover white paper, 40.6 x 33 cm, image; 65.4 x 50.2 cm, sheet, edition 16/20
UCLA Grunwald Center for the Graphic Arts, Hammer Museum, Los AngelesPurchased with funds provided by the Friends of the Graphic Arts
Photo: Robert Wedemeyer
If you like only brash art that slams you in the face to make its point, the exhibition, “Zarina: Paper Like Skin,” is not for you. If you prefer subdued artistry that encourages quiet contemplation, visit The Guggenheim Museum in New York soon.
First, imagine that you are an Indian-born American artist—a woman, now 76—who left home at a young age, roamed the world, often by car on extended road trips, and ultimately made your way to the United States alone, initially to Los Angeles and then to New York, where you’ve lived for the past 35 years in a studio apartment that serves as workspace and residence. Five decades of art—what remains after a lifetime of worldwide exploration—is stored in this small space in boxes.
Trained as a printmaker in Paris, you create primarily in paper, a transportable medium, but also in other organic materials. The art is rooted in abstraction and minimalism, but profoundly individual, reflecting your travel as well as a strong concern with the sociopolitical environment. Whether personal, geographic, national, spiritual, or familial, the ineffable concept of home resonates throughout your work.
A major U.S. museum approaches you about a retrospective. Although you are uncertain why they are interested in an exhibition now, when you have been laboring quietly for many years, you agree. One by one, the boxes are emptied. Representative pieces are selected, and over time, framed. Maybe you visualize them on the museum wall. Likely you are unaccustomed to such intense interest and hope that the art will speak for itself.
