Sha Sarwari's discreet rebellions

Sha Sarwari is a multidisciplinary Afghanistan-born visual artist who has lived in Australia since 2000. His work combines material investigation and form, in which he embeds multiple layers of meaning with the intent to create visually poetic encounters. His work speaks of his lived experience of existing between two worlds, longing and belonging, and references current political discourse around migration, identity, place, memory and nationhood.

 In his recent works, Sarwari draws from the visual aesthetic of Farsi script in particular Nastaliq, one of the main calligraphic hands used in writing the Farsi alphabets. He holds a diploma of Graphic Design from TAFE (2005), a Bachelor of Fine Art from the Queensland College of Arts, Griffith University (2015), and an Honours degree in Visual Arts from Victoria College of Arts (VCA), Melbourne University (2018).

 Sarwari is the recipient of the 2020 Incinerator Art Award: Arts for Social Change. In 2015 he was awarded High Commendation at The Churchie National Emerging Art Prize; and he was also the recipient of the inaugural 2016 Home Art Prize, The Walker Street Gallery & Arts Centre. In 2017 he was awarded Most Critically Engaged Work at CCP Salon, Australian Centre for Photography. Most recently, he was awarded the 2018 Fiona Myer Award for excellence at VCA, Melbourne University; and was a finalist in the Blacktown Art Prize.

This conversation took place in February 2021 on the occasion of Sha’s Firstdraft exhibition Archaeology of Memory.

Sha Sarwari.

Firstdraft: How has your art practice shaped your transition to life in Australia?

Sha Sarwari: Over the past 20 years, I have witnessed the exploitation of migrant/refugee discourse for political gain – which has tremendous negative effects on migrant communities in Australia. I have used my art practice to the best of my ability to counter this negativity – a powerful tool for me to connect and flourish as a member of Australian society.

Sha Sarwari, Achaeology of Memory, 2021, installation view, Firstdraft, Sydney. Photo: Zan Wimberley. Courtesy the artist.

“when we look at Western art history, it is built on the surface of the canvas”

Sha Sarwari, Achaeology of Memory, 2021, installation view, Firstdraft, Sydney. Photo: Zan Wimberley. Courtesy the artist.

FD: There is a beautiful gesture of incision in your work, where you cut into the surface to reveal voids and layers beneath. Can you describe how you arrived at this technique?

SS: Initially I wanted to express my anger, the psychological trauma of war, and my journey as a refugee. I wanted to change the identity of the canvas, because when we look at Western art history, it is built on the surface of the canvas. For me, it is a symbolic surface that represents the West; the East has been colonised and exoticised by canvas. Changing its identity, altering it to a state where it is no longer recognisable, is a discreet act of rebellion.

Sha Sarwari, Achaeology of Memory, 2021, installation view, Firstdraft, Sydney. Photo: Zan Wimberley. Courtesy the artist.

“Changing its identity, altering it to a state where it is no longer recognisable, is a discreet act of rebellion.”

FD: There is an abundance of burned materials – charred wood, ash – in many of the new works in this exhibition. What do they signify for you conceptually or personally?

SS: For me, burning is a signifying factor in the process of arriving at the final material; charcoal, fire has a cleansing and soothing effect on me. Every now and then, I light a fire in my backyard and sit by it; that is where I started to play with charcoal and these works came into being. I am also drawn to the colour of charcoal. At the time of making these works I was reading about Kazimir Malevich’s ‘Black Square’ as well as the French philosopher Alain Badiou’s BLACK, the Brilliance of a non-color. I was thinking about the scientific, philosophical and social dimensions of black.

Sha Sarwari, Achaeology of Memory, 2021, installation view, Firstdraft, Sydney. Photo: Zan Wimberley. Courtesy the artist.

FD: What can you tell us about the specific Nastaliq characters that you’ve used in these works? 

SS: Nastaliq is one of the most beautiful scripts in Persian calligraphy. As a child I used to practice almost every day: writing the Farsi alphabet in black, using Nastaliq script on a wooden board called Takhti. The characters that I have used in these works have no meaning if the person looking at them cannot read Farsi – they will appear just as form. But for a Farsi reader they are singular sound bite, which can mean something or nothing at all. I am drawn to the aesthetic of the Nastaliq; most of the characters have a bodily presence, for example one of the works that contains the character ع seems to me like a screaming head. I did a little research on the design origin of the Nastaliq script – it is believed that it was inspired from nature, in particular from the curve of animals and birds; or maybe the similarities were found later.

Sha Sarwari, Achaeology of Memory, 2021, installation view, Firstdraft, Sydney. Photo: Zan Wimberley. Courtesy the artist.

“I was thinking about the scientific, philosophical and social dimensions of black.”

“Nastaliq is one of the most beautiful scripts in Persian calligraphy”

Sha Sarwari, Against The Time, 2020, (video still), live durational performance.

FD: Do you have a favourite or particularly memorable exhibition that you saw at Firstdraft, and why?

SS: I particularly liked Elyas Alavi’s exhibition “Daydreamer Wolf’ which I was lucky enough to see when it toured to ACE Open in Adelaide. It spoke about the realities of Hazara people in Afghanistan and around the world, the painting on glass panels made me very emotional and I cried.

FD: Why did you become an artist?

SS: After finishing my diploma in graphic design and working in the industry for a while, I found that I didn’t have control over my creative output. At the time I lived with a self-taught painter, through whom I became interested in painting too. One thing led to another and I ended up at university studying fine art.

FD: In this exhibition, there is a rich interplay between older and newer works – how do you conceptualise the relationship between these works?

SS: The older work came into being due to my perpetual preoccupation with the issues of refugee and asylum seekers. My intention in creating these works was to have a creative output and counter the negative political narrative that has been adopted against refugees and asylum seekers in Australia. In the new work, I have tried to avoid engaging so directly – to think differently and see where it takes me, and to see how far I can go in exploring charcoal and canvas. The new works are the result of playing with composition, aesthetic and materiality.

“I performed an anti-clockwise daily walk in my backyard on a line that formed the shape of heart – I did this for two hours a day non-stop for almost a month. ”

FD: Who or what are you listening to, watching, reading? How do you stay connected – or how do you disconnect – in these times?

SS: I listen to random tracks on SoundCloud, mostly instrumental. I like the sound of Rubab, it is an Afghanistani musical instrument – a contemporary Rubab player who I like a lot is Qais Essar. I am a fan of SBS on demand. I don’t read much; instead I play lots of games that my son invents – a very healthy distraction from the intensity of the times.

FD: How has the last 12 months been for you? How has your lifestyle and artmaking been affected by 2020?

SS: I started 2020 on a positive note, which didn’t last long. My wife Afifa and my son Neyal got stuck in Pakistan from March to June, it was distressing time for me so I took refuge in art making. During this time I was able to produce my first conceptual endurance performance piece, Against the Time – which was a response to the lockdown. In it, I performed an anti-clockwise daily walk in my backyard on a line that formed the shape of heart – I did this for two hours a day non-stop for almost a month. Through my performance I was able to raise funds for refugees for the Asylum Seeker Resource Centre. The whole experience helped me cope with the lockdown and strengthen my commitment to my art practice.

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