He works on his pieces with a great deal of love and dedication, and as he works, inevitably he breathes on his creations. Breath is the basis of life. Thus he gives them a life of their own, enhancing their appeal, just as the ustaad in certain types of spiritual exercise breathes on his followers to enhance their spirituality.
“Once,” he informs us, “I was asked, ‘What motivates you to work?’ And after pondering on this, I was convinced that it’s mainly the desire to express myself. But if this is so, then what is ‘myself’? Who am I? Where have I come from, why am I here and where must I return? To me, inquiry is life, and while it exists, questioning is the essence of it if one is to keep moving and evolving.”
Jabbar, who amongst other teaching activities spent 11 years teaching fine arts at IVS, was born in Mirpur Khas in 1969, and graduated as BFA from NCA Lahore in 1996. He explains, “I cannot say exactly when or where I first began to realise that ‘art’ would be my vocation. There was no conventional art activity (in Mirpur Khas) as seen in larger towns,” but now and then on the way to school he watched a sign painter who did portraits and calligraphy. Eventually, however, it was sculpture that helped him develop his senses and his awareness of the world around him. The human form is the most important phenomenon in the world to him, and along with spiritual belief it is a major source of inspiration in his work, especially in the portrayal of ‘ordinary souls’ as he calls them. So he endeavours to express their common sufferings, grief, and relationships on individual and collective levels. He has also examined Sufism and the diversity of different sects, while concerning politics he addresses global issues and the war of propaganda that has been misleading us.
His studio, indeed a pukkah workshop, bears witness to his industry and dedication. He explains obligingly, “My work is a combination of metal and wood. For the metal, I use moulding or casting, a lathe machine, gas and electric welding, repusse, sanding, lacquering and staining – all done manually and with power tools. Using wood involves carving, sawing, smoking, sanding, gluing and waxing. The woods I use are sheesham, dyar and portal.”
His favourite mediums are wood and stone, though he says that both behave differently, and he chooses from a number of materials the ones that best suit the pieces he is working on. He feels that wood is a sympathetic medium, and that naturally wood and stone behave differently when worked on – wood being softer and more organic than stone. “When you carve wood,” he says, “you must take care of the grains. Otherwise it may chip off unexpectedly.” Meanwhile, regarding stone he finds that marble, granite and limestone are good to work with.
In fact, his first solo exhibition was held in Johannesburg, and was a collection of sheesham pieces. His experiences in Africa made a deep impression on him, particularly the work he saw from poor artists who created stunning sculpture without facilities, and with hardly any tools. He really took this to heart, and gave emphasis to the ‘anonymous majority’ viewpoint that he had already begun to explore. Another great event in his life was his invitation to represent Pakistan in 2011 at an international sculpture symposium in Boryeong, South Korea, where artists from 10 countries were present, and carved massive forms from the black granite of the Boryeong Mountains. Jabbar produced two larger-than-life-sized human figures, and when the work was displayed the director, putting his hand on Jabbar’s shoulder, invited him back for further projects, and told him, “In 1,000 years, people will come to see your work.”
Three prominent symbols in his work are a bird-like creature, the takhti and the meditator’s face. The bird is held to be a symbol of absolute freedom and transcendence of the soul over the body, of the spiritual from the earthly. Therefore one could say that is an appropriate symbol for an artist deeply concerned with the spiritual. But to Jabbar these forms actually symbolise thoughts – hence the title of ‘Winged Thoughts.’ He has never used birds in his work, “But you never know: I might do so in the future. I am open to all options, and let things happen. If my subject requires any form or material, I go for it ,” he enthuses.
To him, the takhti represents mental discipline. A certain mind self-control ustaad’s words, concerning how the mind jumps about like a monkey, have relevance here. But although Jabbar’s thoughts have wings, and the freedom to fly in any direction, for him the influence of the takhti is always there. These things in turn bring to mind Jean-Dominique Bauby’s memoir The Diving Bell and the Butterfly written by a man almost completely paralysed by a stroke, and using a computer that interpreted the movements of his left eyelid. His body, he says, is heavy and sunken like a diving bell, while his mind is free to go anywhere. For him, this gives meaning to an otherwise wasted life.
A particularly charming example of his winged thoughts in brass shows 4 bird-like creatures amongst an arrangement of 5 closed rings of varying sizes, significantly, standing on a takhti. The gold-like brass contrasts beautifully with the base of dark wood. It is a tidy, uncluttered composition, and the shadows cast by this sculpture add to its charm. The rings represent universal formations of various systems and galaxies, and on another level, both the cycle of life and the circle of eternity. Interestingly, the wings in these compositions are portrayed not as solid formations, but in what may be called individual stylised feathers, mostly separated to give a greater feeling of freedom. Another brass piece shows 11 takhtis supported on 5 rings. But though it’s a good idea, putting forth a solid lesson in mental discipline, the piece appears a little ponderous, contrived, and does not manifest the joy, the freedom and the spontaneity of the piece formerly mentioned.
Three prominent symbols in his work are a bird-like creature, the takhti and the meditator's face
Winged thoughts appear also on moulded aluminium bases, some of these bases being a beautiful blue, with carved, black-stained wooden insets, and some including a takhti. One such piece is reminiscent of Shakespeare’s words, “Make not your thoughts your prisons,” as an upward-moving thought with wide-spread wings escapes from an opening in the wooden portion. Another composition is on a green base, with the winged thought standing on a large yellow takhti placed just off centre – an unmistakable reminder to discipline our thoughts. Three wooden flowers placed here and there show the blossoming of such thoughts, while the closed wings suggest stability, and the ‘alif’ placed at the bottom of the piece shows that a good beginning has been made.
As for the meditating face, it appears in a number of works, sometimes accompanied by the blossoming flowers of intuition and mental discipline, sometimes by the winged thought or the takhti. All pieces are rendered in a pleasing shade of blue. The most striking of these portrays the face completely immersed in meditation, while close above the head, the round sphere of the universe appears.
The satirical 18th century poet Alexander Pope once wrote of “... some unmeaning thing they call a thought / That like a wounded snake drags its slow length along ...” Quite the opposite of this is the profoundness of thought that inspires Abdul Jabbar Gull’s creations, gives impetus to his creativity and captivates his audience. Yes, in a thousand years people will come to see his work.