The first thing I notice in an artist’s work, across media, be it Jade Thirlwall’s debut single, Angel Of My Dreams or even Austin Butler’s portrayal of the problematic Elvis Presley, is their ability to be vulnerable.
As I looked through Aamir Rabbani’s (he/him) blurb for his art exhibition ‘Over and Over Again’ at 1Shanthiroad Studio Gallery in Bengaluru, I immediately resonated with his work. It felt like I was looking through an X-ray lens into the feeling of modern-day, urban isolation. It was similar to what I felt when I watched All Of Us Strangers for the first time. Like someone broke the fourth wall to show us what modern romance has become. What Aamir has created and put out in the world is made to be felt, understood, and is unabashedly queer.
One rarely gets to see emotionally vulnerable men in art, and it’s even more rare to see men as the emotional subject of art. What I loved was that Aamir was not trying to protect his emotions, which were existing in plain sight, demanding to be seen. His art is transparent and I would liken it to watching an Indie coming-of-age film, when it’s reached its cathartic climax. Like looking at a frame and knowing the artist understands exactly what you have lived through.
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The Artist’s Intent Of Transparent Medium
Aamir’s work made me think about the name of the exhibit ‘Over and Over Again’, which as he explains is about the reflective and repetitive evolutionary nature of emotions, desires, and queer experiences. It’s about relationships and the love that’s never fulfilled, making us feel stuck over and over again (quite like my situationships if you ask me!).
Modern romance brings a certain uncertainty, with the way we are busy consuming and relating transactionally. I wondered what helped Aamir move away from that and deal with the grief that comes with it. He articulates this when asked about the name of the exhibit: “My work is like maintaining a diary, capturing my feelings of happiness or disappointment, particularly from past relationships. This sense of being in a cycle, unable to move forward, inspired the name, capturing the essence of my artistic exploration. To paint out an image of what I never had the courage to say with words. Most of my paintings reflect my journey of being a Muslim, gay, sensitive, and introverted guy living in a big city.”
On noticing why the art felt transparent besides the intention of the artist, it was the medium of water colors that clarified what it meant to portray. Aamir explained that he loves working with watercolors for that very reason and that it was also his Abba’s use of watercolors in his artwork that inspired him to take it up as well. I noticed how his use of color pencils defined the work and found myself agreeing when he said that medium can only elevate the story that the artist wishes to portray.
Why Queer Art Matters
What do you think makes any art, queer art? Is it the subject? The motive? Or the artist?
After speaking to Aamir I realized that we spend most of our lives, especially as creative folx in a capitalist society, focused on selling our skills. Survival as a way of being has gotten difficult, let alone sustaining yourself as an artist. Being vulnerable while creating your art is truly incredible, but the process of reflection and creation surely takes a toll on you. To balance that with sustenance can get very difficult.
He told me about the residency program that 1Shanthiroad in Bengaluru runs. The founder Suresh Jayaram has turned his parental house into an exhibition cum residency space for artists. Aamir mentioned that he took a break to explore his art and to explore that side of him. He had been a resident for about a month when he was finally able to figure out how he wanted to express his idea artistically and say what he had struggled to put into words. He said that the break finally enabled him to blend his reality and dream worlds on paper.
Anything queer is immediately non-normative, and to create, support and understand queer art is a radical act in itself. For Aamir, it was also his way of helping himself and others find internal acceptance, to find courage and acknowledge the grief, pain that stems from experiencing injustice. Each of his pieces is a part of a larger narrative, interconnected to form a comprehensive story of their journey and experiences.
Who Is The Art For?
Art, paradoxically, is an exclusive space that very few have access to. The business of making and selling art doesn’t value art for the sake of itself, but for the demand of specific kinds of work. While I doubt if there’s a high demand for queer art, or whether there are many patrons who wish to sustain queer art for its queerness, I do feel like we’re in the initial stages of creating that said demand. It’s difficult for queer artists as well, to access spaces that will showcase their work. Mainly due to the lack of inclusive spaces. But when queer artists do finally get to display their work, it can be quite validating and affirming.
“Despite challenges, finding supportive environments helps in normalizing and celebrating queer art. The feeling of having my work on display is empowering, as it not only represents my journey but also contributes to the visibility and acceptance of queer art. This exhibition is a significant step forward in breaking down barriers and creating a more inclusive art world.”
The intimate and vulnerable nature of Aamir’s works invites viewers into his world, offering a glimpse into the world of our shared experiences and emotions. The positive reactions that Aamir witnessed for his work in Bangalore, a city where he didn’t know anyone, made him feel like his effort and vulnerability was worthwhile!
