Rokni Haerizadeh - Sardonic Verses - January 2010
If, as Fernand Leger stated in 1936, “each era of art has its own realism,” then one must ask whether Rokni Haerizadeh’s work is a reaction to, or a continuation of, preceding epochs. On visiting the Iranian art luminary’s new studio in Dubai, what becomes clear is that his work is neither. Rather, Rokni’s non-linear approach, encompassing both archival and fantastical imagery, serves to create a new and authentic reality. He simultaneously references political struggles with Biblical suggestions, and social observations with literary legend.
Whereas the first generation of Iranian artists primarily linked modernism to traditional Iranian heritage, the contemporaries are as concerned with debates on transnational critical theories as any other artists working today. As such, in concurrence with Jean-Francois Lyotard’s postmodernist view, Rokni’s approach to realism “stands somewhere between academicism and kitsch,”(1982). With this is mind, it is imperative to explore what makes this up-and-coming artist’s easily assimilated works so formidable and relevant to contemporary art today.
Exactly a year ago, in January 2009, brothers Rokni and Ramin Haerizadeh were catapulted to instant global recognition when featured in Saatchi’s ‘Unveiled: New Art from the Middle-East’ exhibition. Any serious commentator on contemporary art could not have missed the notorious collector-cum-gallerist’s latest offering of regionalized (some might say marginalized) contemporary art. For their provocative paintings depicting Iranian rituals and religious figures, the brothers widely received positive feedback from the Western press. However, this media attention triggered a sequence of events which forced the duo to leave their native Tehran.
Rokni explains, “[The religious police] went to one of the collector’s houses who had the work of many Iranian artists. They broke in saying it was a ‘devil worshippers’ house and [confiscated] all the paintings and sculptures there. That’s when we decided not to go back to Iran as it’s not safe for us.” It is within this context that Asian Art News went to explore the effects of such dramatic events on the young painter’s work. Surprisingly, far from being reactionary or didactic, Rokni’s art appears to be about nuance, intricacies and the use of symbols as metaphor.
On entering Rokni’s enormous warehouse of a studio (which he shares with his brother Ramin) what is immediately evident is Rokni’s penchant for sinuous, figurative imagery. Scores of 6 x 9 ft canvases are propped up, one against the other, along the walls depicting what seems like comprehensive, still-life set-ups and social scenes. On closer inspection one notices theatrical symbols, erotic iconography and calligraphic markings in the subject matter, hinting at the artist’s expressionistic tendencies and underlying narratives.
With reference to his upcoming exhibition at B21 Gallery in Dubai, “Oh Victory! You Forgot Your Underwear,” we asked Rokni which paintings formed part of his latest series of work. Perhaps unorthodox for an artist preparing for an imminent solo, Rokni replied that his paintings were not restricted to a series or any particular subject matter. Rather, each was part of a continuous process. “For me, the approach is more important than the end product,” says Rokni. “Contemporary life has these different moods to it and that’s what I’m interested in - these different characters we play during the day. I never do a series as such. I do continuous things. Only in the future will they be complete.”
Despite a cryptic introduction, we navigate our way through various stacks of paintings. In one corner, a series of canvases demonstrate Rokni’s representations of the unmistakable John Lennon and Yoko Ono bedroom scene; their famous peace movement. This image is depicted time and again in Rokni’s characteristic free-flowing brushwork, except they seem to have additional detail splashed over them; one with graffiti-esque motifs, another with mythical creatures and one more with rabbits and carrots. “After I paint the picture, I release my different moods on them,” explains Rokni. “Like vandalism, idealism or fairytales. It is about the ‘smooth’ peace movement John and Yoko started from their bed. I call them ‘Piss Paintings.’”
Rokni’s satirical viewpoint is clear as is his enhanced references to the foundational sexuality of John and Yoko’s famous scene. Still, rather than choosing to be overtly pornographic, as he has been accused of in the past, Rokni chooses a more lyrical approach. “Ramin and I, we don’t show nudity. We’re more interested in hidden eroticism. John and Yoko are lovers in bed. The carrots come from ‘Waiting for Godot’. Somehow I relate my work to modern or ancient literature or even movies that I’m seeing at the time.”
After a while, one begins to see the varied and complex sides of Rokni the thinker and artist. He is certainly a voracious reader and a big fan of film, referencing French poetry one minute and then underground cinema and even Indian folk tales in the next. A smaller series of works on paper are inspired by The Panchatantra, an ancient book of allegories and fables from India. These texts were translated into Farsi and widely taught at Iranian schools, which explains Rokni’s experience of the characteristically South Asian stories. The Panchatantra often featured animals as protagonists and so Rokni’s renderings show various figures with goats or horses’ heads, interacting with each other. “The Panchatantra has spiral structure, where each person tells the other their story. That’s why I decided to use these characters. There are seven names and nine works in each series. For example, this one is called ‘Tough or Timid.’”
The mythical portrayals also combine their predominant imagery with contemporary religious iconography. One canvas, “‘Sacrifice (02)’,” depicts the ancient parable of Abraham and the sacrificial lamb. Rokni infuses the story with gritty realism by placing traditional characters alongside Islamic priests, plates of food and fountains of blood. “This is about food, aggression and sacrifice. These are the same actions we experience in war; killing and sacrifice to continue enjoying our life.” Another work called “Benevolent Angel” looks at the links between religion and quotidian realities. The image shows ‘angels’ performing various mischievous acts, even defecating on the world below. “In the Middle Eastern region, we all believe in religion, sometimes even subconsciously, believing in devils and angels. All the time we are surrounded by war and the lack of human rights.”
Even without stating so, it is obvious that the socio-political situation in Iran has had a profound and ongoing impact on Rokni’s psyche. However, recent upheavals after the election compounded by the artist’s self-removal from the country, brings a new, raw perspective to his work. “In Iran I never take a picture,” explains Rokni. “I go places and sketch and paint the scenes directly from what I see. But when I came to Dubai, our window to the country was through the television. So that’s why I decided to take a picture through the television or the internet.” This new methodology of Rokni’s involves using such images, originally sourced from popular media, and aimlessly drawing over them to create new representations. The result is a series of 70 small works entitled “Fictionville.”
One sees that being removed from the immediacy of the Iranian situation has brought clarity to Rokni and has enabled him to use this in his work. Although his quirky figurations are full of sardonic commentary, they are charged with less emotion than one may expect. “I don’t like to be overly political in my work, saying ‘Oh look at the disaster in our country.’ That’s why I go for a small format and do them when I’m having coffee or dining with friends.” He uses this almost meditative approach to tap into his subconscious, allowing the real and the imaginary to interweave. However, his conceptualisations are also rooted in the eccentricities and contradictions of everyday life in the Middle East.
It is in this interstitial space, between the subject of the work of art and the subject of Rokni’s representations, that there is room for the viewer to interact with the canvas as concept. “For me, I like that arbitrary thing make a concept. For example, somebody will think this (pointing to “‘Sacrifice (02)’,”) is an image of a paedophile, or another may see its religious significance or themes of food and aggression. I like it to give the audience room to interpret and conceptualise the painting for themselves.”
However, it may be argued that Rokni’s metaphors and symbols are only communicative of his complex perspectives if they are fully understood by the audience; they are esoteric. We ask Rokni if sufficient knowledge of Iranian culture is needed to accomplish this. “This is a question everyone asks me and you can give two answers. One is ‘I’m a global thinker’ and one is ‘I have roots in my culture.’ You can’t deny your region or roots but if you only talk about this you seem not to be a ‘big thinker.’” Rokni suggests that the symbols in his works function as a representation of both regional and universal truths. Whilst it certainly helps to be aware of his specific references, he also offers the general audience an opportunity to actively search for hidden meanings.
In this way, the viewer goes beyond the visuality of the work, to explore wider significances and sometimes even contradictory truths. Through devices such as elaborate analogies and veiled suggestions, Rokni diverts the viewer’s attention away from the style of the work and towards its content. He cheekily hints at the existence of a narrative, without spelling out exactly what the story is. “It’s like a diary to me, to find my perception of life, find a new meaning or a different angle from the truth. That’s why I always paint. I’m inside the paintings. I’m not choosing the painting as my language.”
When we compare Rokni’s earlier works to his more recent ones, a significant effect of liberation can be evinced across the artist’s content, subjects and his use of space, clearly signifying his move to Dubai. “With life in Tehran, you are always under pressure,” explains Rokni. “You always have a problem. You don’t have water, electricity, air-conditioning. You must escape from someone. You’re always at war. Here in Dubai, I’m able to explore all my thoughts.” As a result of being more relaxed, Rokni has been able to paint a larger range of works. Painting from morning to night, he allows free thought and whimsical moods to guide him.
In a way, what becomes clear is that Rokni’s constructions of mythical and mediatic realism are in fact demonstrative of his authenticity. In an age when many artists from the region are in search of concepts such as identity and dislocated realities, Rokni’s is indeed a refreshing approach. One cannot help but wonder what is next on the horizon for this complex, talented artist. “A project on absurd theatre,” he proclaims. “Ramin and I started on this two years ago. Now we have a little stage with all these characters. I don’t know what it is and when it will end but we are at a stage where we want to show it now.” In the artist’s quest for displaying or investigating paradoxes, Rokni explores themes which superficially appear to be traditionally inappropriate or even irreverent, but on further inspection, one realizes that the artist’s attempts to reference art histories and political realities are occurring on a more intelligent and cannily incisive level than we initially think.
Significantly, Rokni reminds us that even in a globalised era dominated by new media and even post-studio practice, painting continues to have relevance. It can be simultaneously realistic and self-reflective, and yet be aware of major artistic developments over the last century. We engage with his works in an attempt to experience his take on art and reality. “Somehow I see reality, but I don’t depict reality,” he says. Rokni is at the same time an intellectual and a quipster, a realist and a romantic, pushing the boundaries of art on the one hand and exploring within a developed aesthetic on the other. He paints with a philosophical yet progressive approach, rooted in personal experience, yet freed by his insouciant spirit and ever immersed in a world that turns at full speed, but is forever one that has to look back at where it came from.
