Contemporary Chronicles: Art and 9/11

Pritika Chowdhry
Counter-Memory Art Journal
12 min readSep 25, 2021

It’s 9/11 today. It’s been 20 years since that fateful day when we all stood rooted to our television sets watching in numb horror as two passenger airplanes flew into the World Trade towers and exploded. As I started my day today, other images kept coming to mind. Desperate Afghani men, women, and children, trying to get on any available airplane at the Kabul airport to escape the Taliban. Images of Afghani women protesting in the streets, some even holding guns. Images of wounded and terrified Afghanis at Kabul airport after the recent bomb attack.

I was looking forward to the day today because I would be visiting the South Asia Institute, a relatively newer art and culture space in the museum district in downtown Chicago on Michigan Avenue. Driving is usually a time of reflection for me. As I got ready, got into my car, and started driving, I realized that the ghosts of 9/11 — the victims at ground zero and the wounded and desperate Afghani people, were still with me. I decided to hold space with all of them instead of shaking them off.

As I walked into the South Asia Institute, I instantly felt better. Open and modern space, gracious and friendly staff, beautiful art, and I knew I was going to be ok. The space grounded me and reminded me that there is way more good and beauty than pain and ugliness in this world.

Founders of South Asia Institute

Shireen and Afzal Ahmad are the founders of the South Asia Institute. Retired physicians, they have been collecting South Asian art for 50 years. They currently have over 900 works in their private collection. As collectors and founders of this new institution, their vision was immediately apparent to me as I took in the artworks in the current exhibit, “Contemporary Chronicles.”

They are savvy collectors and well-versed in contemporary art practices and the international art scene. They are socio-politically aware and fully engaged with the complex geopolitical issues of our times. They also bring an insider/outsider perspective unique to the diasporic experience. Immigrants forever live in two worlds, the one they left behind and the one they live in now. They conduct a lifelong negotiation with the phenomenon of belonging. Not fully belonging to either world, but fully invested in both worlds.

Shireen Ahmad led the art tour of the exhibit and talked in-depth about each piece she had included in the Contemporary Chronicles exhibit. This article is an account of what I heard and saw in the works on display. Artworks often lend themselves to multiple interpretations. I sincerely felt that several of the paintings had a sub-text referring to 9/11 and the fall-out of the global war on terror initiated in the aftermath of 9/11.

Shahzia Sikander’s gopis as Afghani women protesting in the streets of Kabul

The first work was Shahzia Sikander’s “Pathology of Suspension,” created in 2008. Scaled up from one of her miniature paintings, “The Illustrated Page,” it is the left-hand side of the page of an illustrated manuscript. Over 9' tall and almost 6' wide, the work looms above the viewer. As I looked at it, the image of the other towers from 20 years ago flashed through my mind.

“Pathology of Suspension” by Shahzia Sikander (2008), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute
“Pathology of Suspension” by Shahzia Sikander (2008), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute

In addition to the size, the work features one of Sikander’s signature motifs — the Gopi’s hair, and in this work, they appear with a density and swirling energy. Sikander is known for inserting subversive political commentary in her otherwise beautiful works. Sikander has said, “The gopis (female cow-herders in Hinduism, known for their devotion to the god Krishna) represent a feminine space, a multiplicity of female presence in a single frame. The gopi-hair motif functions as a flock, reflecting the behavior of cellular forms that have reached self-organised criticality and resulting in a redistribution of both visual information and experiential memory.” (Dawood, 2016)

Knowing this visual shorthand of the artist, images of the Afghani women protesting in the streets of Kabul flashed through my mind.

Abid Aslam’s cry for nations to find the right path

The subsequent work that captured the feeling I had woken up with today was Abid Aslam’s “Highly noticeable,” created in 2016. This work is a plaintive call for help.

“Highly Noticeable” by Abid Aslam (2016), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute
“Highly Noticeable” by Abid Aslam (2016), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute

The delicate calligraphy looks like Urdu script at first glance. I was surprised to see that the words were written in English. The words say, “you there?” again and again. Below the text is a field of blood-red. As Shireen explained, “The feather floating down is a reference to a sign of hopefulness that a divine power might exist that will lead the nation towards the right path soon.”

And I wondered, which nation? America? Afghanistan? Pakistan? All of the above? Twenty years since 9/11, and we still haven’t found the right path.

Tazeen Qayuum’s beautiful cockroaches as unwelcome immigrants

The following work was Tazeen Qayuum’s powerful work, “Walking the True Path,” made in 2015. Tazeen uses the motif of the cockroach in her work with beauty, humor, and savage political astuteness. As I stood transfixed in front of Tazeen’s work, I heard Shireen say, “Tazeen started using the motif of the cockroach in her work in 2002, when the US launched the war on terror.” Tazeen’s work spoke to me very strongly and convinced me that this show is really about 9/11 and its 20-year aftermath.

“Walking the True Path” by Tazeen Qayuum (2015), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute
“Walking the True Path” by Tazeen Qayuum (2015), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute

Serendipitously, after the tour, Tazeen joined us via Zoom from her home studio in Canada. And she spoke at some length about how she came to use the humble cockroach in her work. “When I started using this motif, it was to depict the countless death and destruction caused by war and terror attacks.” She further elaborated, “…the value of human life is reduced to that of a pest insect, yet it also narrates the everyday human stories of resilience and triumphs over adversities.”

She spoke about how the cockroach metaphorically stands in for immigrants in the post-9/11 environment of growing xenophobia, particularly Islamophobia in the West. Cockroaches as immigrants is a loaded metaphor. In April 2015, Katie Hopkins, a columnist for the Sun newspaper, wrote, “Make no mistake, these migrants are like cockroaches.” (Jones, 2015) The UN high commissioner for human rights, Zeid Ra’ad Al Hussein, denounced her column, saying “cockroaches” was used by both the Nazis and those behind the genocide in Rwanda to describe the people they wanted to eliminate.

But this was the reality after 9/11 when the war on terror destabilized the Middle East, and refugees started arriving on the shores of Europe and America. And now we have another refugee situation in Afghanistan of our own making. As the adage goes, as you sow, so shall you reap. I hope you are listening, America.

T V Santosh’s negative paintings of survivors of terrorism and wars

As we turned the corner into the next section of the museum, we were confronted with TV Santosh’s large oil painting on canvas titled “A Survivor’s Testimony,” created in 2009. Santosh works on the themes of war and global terrorism and paints in lurid greens and shocking orange, recreating the effect of a color photographic negative.

The artist charges his large canvases with figures contorted in pain. Santosh says in his artist statement that he “lifts pivotal episodes from recent history and renegotiates their appearance with a shock-bulb of violent energy that eclipses the work.”

This painting, for me, brought to mind the many images of wounded soldiers in wars and pictures of injured civilians in terrorist attacks. I felt this painting was directly alluding to the 9/11 attacks and the subsequent global war on terror.

Adeel-uz-Zafar’s drawings of children’s toys wrapped in gauze

Shireen half-jokingly warns us that this next section of the exhibit has some challenging work. And I have to say. I so admire the Ahmads’ curatorial vision. They are not ones to shy away from complex, political artworks.

“Antagonist 1/ Dragon” by Adeel-uz-Zafar (2015), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute
“Antagonist 1/ Dragon” by Adeel-uz-Zafar (2015), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute

Zafar’s large hyper-realistic black and white drawings, created in 2015, are almost eerie in their presence. On jet black vinyl, Zafar engraves incredibly detailed images of children’s toys wrapped in gauze. Every thread and the frayed edge of the gauze has been rendered in exacting detail. One can almost physically feel the softness of the toy under the delicate gauze.

The toys feel like they are “wounded” and bandaged. It is a poignant juxtaposition of innocence and violence. It brought up images of innocent children in war zones for me. Terrified children, holding on to parents or tattered toys. Again, a clear allusion to the wars on terror post-9/11.

Jitish Kallat’s camo portraits of ordinary people as Collateral Damage

Jitish Kallat made a series of camo portraits of ordinary people in 2003, with the banner text “Collateral Damage” printed on them. The camo portraits could be alluding to military uniforms. Perhaps the artist uses camo as a visual shorthand to generalize the civilian victims of the war on terror and make them anonymous.

The text “Collateral Damage” tells us that these are innocent victims of terrorist attacks or military wars. I couldn’t help but notice that the series had been made in 2003, shortly after the American war on terror began in Iraq and Afghanistan.

To me, the allusion to 9/11 was clear. The Afghani and Iraqi civil casualties were already in thousands at that time. Over the next twenty years, the war on terror has resulted in almost a million deaths, with over half of them being civilians.

Wajahat Saeed’s embroidered paintings depict victims of the war on terror

As we walked further, I saw Wajahat Saeed’s red embroidered painting, “Am I Dead Yet?” Created in 2019, the work seems like a mass of red marks up close. Shireen asked us to look at Wajahat Saeed’s painting from a distance, so I stepped back a few feet. Suddenly, in the sea of red, I could see three mutilated, dismembered bodies contorting in pain on the ground.

“Am I Dead Yet?” by Wajaheed Saeed (2019), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute
“Am I Dead Yet?” by Wajaheed Saeed (2019), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute

With a storyteller’s panache, Shireen then told us that Saeed is a textile designer who has used embroidery to make artwork about the bomb blasts and drone bombings in his hometown of Parachinar, Pakistan. Located in the FATA area on the border of Pakistan and Afghanistan, it has been subjected to at least thirteen different bomb blasts in the last twenty years of the war on terror. He was forced to flee his home with hundreds of other families, and his work reflects the distress of the victims and survivors.

Given that information, I found myself looking at Saeed’s work again. I was struck by how closely his experience was related to 9/11. This is the other side of 9/11, the parts that played out in Iraq, Afghanistan, and border areas of Pakistan.

Shahid Rassam’s plea to curb worldwide terrorism

Shahid Rasam’s drawing and collage was created in 2016. It shows a mother and child wounded in a terrorist attack with their mouths sewn shut. Newspaper clippings of news items of terrorist violence are collaged onto the drawings. This blend of words and images is a plea to curb worldwide terrorism. The artist is also signaling that women and children bear the brunt of acts of terrorism.

“Untitled (Hota hai Shab-o-Roz)” by Shahid Rassam (2016), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute
“Untitled (Hota hai Shab-o-Roz)” by Shahid Rassam (2016), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute

The title of the work is a bit of a paradox. It says, “Untitled (Hota hai Shab-o-Roz).” Shireen explained to us that it is based on a verse by the famous poet, Ghalib. It translates approximately to “The world is a children’s playground before me. Night and day, this theatre is enacted before me.”

The title struck me since I understand Urdu. The title almost implies that these things are commonplace, everyday occurrences. It is a sad state of affairs that we now live in a world where terrorist attacks have become a common regular occurrence.

This work also reminded me of the terrible scenes of mourning we witnessed at ground zero after the 9/11 attacks and in images of the war on terror when the civilian population got caught in the cross-hairs of the military operations. It was a recurring feeling and theme in the “Contemporary Chronicles” exhibit.

Mina Arham’s large diptych installed as “twin towers”

As we moved towards the last set of works in the exhibit, I was struck by two black and white, narrow and long paintings installed as a diptych. Together, this diptych reminded me of the twin towers. For me, this was the second reference of the physicality of the twin towers in this exhibition.

“Geography of Somewhere” by Mina Arham (2015), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute
“Geography of Somewhere” by Mina Arham (2015), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute

The black background has thick white lines in a seemingly abstract pattern. I learned from Shireen that the white lines are made from white-out tape! The white-out tape makes thick lines that conjure up doors and windows of tall buildings.

Shireen explained that Arham created these works in 2015, titled “Geography of Somewhere.” Arham is an artist, fresco, and mural conservationist, and she is referring to older buildings that have been demolished. As I said earlier, great artworks often lend themselves to multiple interpretations!

Muhammad Zeeshan’s remaking of the American flag

The last work in the show was this somber drawing by Zeeshan, titled “In God We Trust,” made in 2015. I know that this phrase is the United States’ official motto and also figures prominently in the American national anthem.

“In God We Trust” by Muhammad Zeeshan (2015), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute
“In God We Trust” by Muhammad Zeeshan (2015), Jonathan Castillo/ South Asia Institute

With a title like that, I immediately knew the artist was alluding to America. It took me a minute to figure out that the Urdu script in graphite on a black background was visually recreating the American flag. The work delivers a potent one-two punch in that Aha moment!

Zeeshan deconstructs the American flag, replacing the stars and stripes with Urdu script. He has used heavy layers of graphite on sandpaper to create this work. Shireen explained that Zeeshan explores global violence, social unrest, and political depravity in his art.

The dark grey graphite is mounted on a black background and framed in a dark graphite-colored frame. At almost 4' x 5', this is an imposing and somber work.

And for me, of course, it was a reference to the patriotic flag hoistings we saw all over America after 9/11. The loaded nationalistic symbol and the US motto were also deployed in the wars on terror that followed 9/11.

By now, I was thinking, “Phew! And wow! What a show!” I was delighted, ignited, and ready to write. We need more art exhibits that are so thought-provoking, intellectually stimulating, authentic, and engaged with the issues of our times.

9/11 is a 20-year event and no longer tied to a date. This show is up till the end of October, and you don’t want to miss this show. I have faith that art can and will change the world. Go see the show, and be a part of this movement.

Concluding thoughts

The world as we knew it in 2001 has changed in the last 20 years. And it is no coincidence that all the artworks in this show were made after 2001.

The real pain of the deaths at the World Trade Center was followed by long, unresolved wars on terror in Iraq and Afghanistan and completely destabilized the middle east. As Cole T. Lyle, a former US Marine and Afghanistan war veteran, said, “I think the world is not in a better place than before 2001. Now the US and its allies in the Middle East are in a much more vulnerable position with Iran, being a regional hegemon — in the absence of Saddam Hussein — and the Taliban back in power in Afghanistan.” (Turak, 2021)

Immersing myself in the “Contemporary Chronicles” exhibition on the 20th anniversary of 9/11 was almost cathartic. But it also left me musing if things could have been different. What if America had responded differently? What if Bush had chosen to respond with precise military operations that targeted Osama bin Laden and al-Qaeda instead of attacking Iraq?

When 9/11 happened, the whole world was mourning along with America. What if we had leveraged that goodwill to foster cooperation with middle eastern nations to root out global terrorist organizations?

Instead of the “you are either with us or against us” jingoism and “good versus evil, West versus Islam” propaganda, if America had taken a different approach, the world could have been a more peaceful place today. The ghosts of 9/11 have a lot to teach us, and we still have much to learn.

Author Bio

Pritika Chowdhry is an artist, curator, and scholar. Pritika has an MFA in Studio Art and an MA in Visual Culture and Gender Studies from UW-Madison. Visit www.pritikachowdhry.com to see her artworks.

Bibliography

Dawood, A. (2016, March 18). Retrieved from https://ocula.com/magazine/conversations/shahzia-sikander/

Jones, S. (2015, April 24). Retrieved from https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2015/apr/24/katie-hopkins-cockroach-migrants-denounced-united-nations-human-rights-commissioner

Turak, N. (2021, September 11). Retrieved from https://www.cnbc.com/2021/09/11/20-years-from-9/11-former-cia-military-diplomatic-personnel-reflect.html

--

--

Pritika Chowdhry
Counter-Memory Art Journal

Pritika is an artist, curator, and writer. She excavates counter-memories of traumatic geopolitical events and creates poignant anti-memorials.