“This one is my favourite”, Rahima says to me pointing to the painting next to me and I become aware that I haven’t even looked at the works yet. I angle myself to face it. “There you are”, Suhail comes over. “You are here again” he says to Rahima pointing at the piece of canvas hanging on the wall. “Are you going to make me buy this one?”, he asks her and then looks at it. He cocks his head and says, “Hey I like it”, come lets find that curator. H he pulls her away. Finally looking at the painting, I can see why they like it. It is peaceful yet restless. It is nothing like her sketches that were formed around an object. This is more abstract. I have been told that abstract it difficult to master but she seemed to have done a good job. There are blue strokes from the top looking like a sky. The brush strokes are meant to be distinct and it give the sky an edgy feel. The bottom is textured and green. The pieces raise up out of the canvas. In between them are thick vertical strokes creating a link between the red and green with short and long lines in whites and black causing the background colours to lighten and darken. Looking closer now it looks like the middle is waves crashing with white foam on top and dark waters below. I am actually surprised at how much I can read into it.
Moving from piece to piece I can see that she has really been experimenting. They are all beautiful and definitely gallery worthy. I just decide on my favourite when I spot her across the room. She sees me immediately and comes over. “Oh my goodness!” I say without even a salaam. “they are great, beyond great”, I say. She hugs me tightly. “Thanks for coming. I thought you wouldn’t make it” I looked at her crazily. “Don’t be stupid!!”. I said. “Amina and Mumtaz were here earlier, and I just spoke to er, Faheems sister,, er …Bushra. You know her right?” I shake my head. “Devika and Ramesh, Jamela’s friends parents are also here” she says excitedly.
“This one is my favourite”, I say pointing to a piece that is a fusion of sketching and paints. There are loud charcoal strokes in the shape of a young child jumping to catch a bunch of balloons floating away. Then the wild paint and brush strokes bring the painting alive adding energy and texture. But the best thing about it – the reason I love it – is that all the painting and drawing, lines, outlines and fill has a pallete of blacks and whites and greys, and just the balloons that the child just manages to reach that are painted in the brightest reds and yellows and blues. “every painting here has some of me in it” she says. I nod wildly, because I see it. the raging inside under the serene colours. The burst of energy in an understated painting, soft strokes mixed with hard strokes. I see it, and I understand it. Looking at the art is like looking at her. “I know” I say. “I see it”. she smiles at me.
“Hows baba?” she asks now changing the subject. “all good” I say happily. “And what about mummy” she asks. I love hearing that, when hussain called me mummy and now Hasina. I smile a content smile and that is enough for her.
Remember , I have to show you something, she says as someone comes to talk to her.
“I’m sure I did some of this in preschool” says Hussain as he joins me. “Ya , im sure” I say jokingly back to him. “That guy Aasif, is flippen talented” he says admiringly. “He said he did something for the mercedes showroom in Sandton and they paid him more than my 6 month salary”, clearly shocked and impressed at the same time. “And what do you think of the art?” I ask him. He looks at my favourite that is in front of us, he begins to play with his long beard then says, “its nice”. I roll my eyes at him. “what? He asks, I’m more of a nuts and bolts guy, you know that”.
Transformation 