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Introduction: by Maxienne Tritton Young
It is the case that one takes ones own experiences into a piece of art.A Jungian understanding of art might persuade us that there is perhaps a universal sensitivity that draws a viewer to a work. A sensitivity, which offers multiple levels of accessibility, both in visual beauty, as in the case of Mary Cassatt's work, for example, or in the manifestation of physiological disturbance, as found in the works of Joy Hester.
Some might want to say that there is a physiological predisposition that draws artists to make, and viewer to engage with, certain works that have somehow drawn from the past yet encountered the now with a new vitality and vision.
In 1999 I was fortunate to view a studio exhibition of work presenting Aloma Treister's Masters Degree folio at Monash University, Caulfield. These works had both a visual beauty and a depth of psychological engagement in their patterning that entranced me, transported my emotions and peaked my imagination far beyond the shabby studio space where they hung.
These works together with newer works were exhibited in Span Gallery the following year. There appeared to be a progression of thought throughout the works, beginning with rather two dimensional patterned shapes that seemed to sit on the surface of some of the canvases, though at times disappearing in part into the deep richly coloured, or black ground.
The later works were lush
layers of translucent colours that gave the
sensation of a mystical
light glowing through the lace like pattern on the picture plan, like those
in India adorning the Mughal architecture of the fortified palaces.
I was interested to gain
an overview of Treister’s rich cultural
experiences and influences.
The following is her very interesting response, which I believe was detailed
in her Masters thesis.
"Scroll"
Aloma Treister 1999
Acrylic on Board
120x120cm
I was born in Baghdad, Iraq.
This is only a few kilometres from what has been identified as the Ancient
City of Babylon where Jews lived for
twenty-five centuries. Under
Islamic rule and up until 1948, when Israel was declared a state, the Jews
of Baghdad lived as a close-knit community who took pride in their heritage
and their identity. Then, a few years after the establishment of the state
of Israel, when life became increasingly intolerable for the Jews in Iraq,
my family moved to Teheran, Iran. Despite the hardships in relocating,
the adaptation to life in Teheran was not too difficult. The culture, habits
and values of the new host were not dissimilar to the ones we had left
behind. From 1951 until I came to Australia in 1973 Iran became my second
home. The first two decades of my life in Iraq, then in Iran, form the
basis of my identity and the foundation of the art that I developed for
my Masters degree at Monash University.
Islamic culture influenced the lives and the art of the Jews living in the Muslim world. Since both religions were averse to figurative representation, Islamic art was easily adopted, integrated and became part of Jewish art and life. A Jewish marriage certificate could easily be mistaken for a Persian miniature. Our synagogue was intricately decorated with mosaic mirror tiles in recognizable local Islamic patterns. The finest silk carpets of Mashhad, rather than prints or paintings, were displayed in prominent positions on our lounge room walls. They were our forms of investment in art. Their (Moslem) art became our (Jewish) art. The focus of my art, then, was to re-establish my Jewish relationship to Islamic culture, and allow myself to use their symbols, both culturally and aesthetically, as my own.
When one studies Western
art, one is aware of constant change and development from one century to
the next. Art differs from region to region. In fact this is the essence
of development in Western art. Islamic art on the other hand is much
more uniform. Over the centuries and throughout all regions that adopted
Islam, artists remained faithful to the prescription of their religion.
The Islamic geometric pattern gives the art of Islam, from Spain to the
Middle East and all the way to India, the feeling of uniformity and the
recognition that it is ultimately stems from the same source.
Plato's Ideas of Number
for the understanding of Nature had a great deal of influence on Muslim
art, which relies heavily on mathematics.
In order to understand the
mathematical basis of Islamic pattern one must consider primary moves of
geometry that are taken for granted. Critchlow relates the symbolic
significance of geometry to life. In the cycle of life we see birth, life
and death, thus we develop, we have duration and we go back to our maker,
or are reabsorbed. If we translate these moves into a geometric three-dimensional
form, we first have the point in space, symbolising God, the creator of
all things. We then extend this point a line is created. The line
then moves in a curve and forms the circle. The circle is an enclosure,
a complete unity. Thus we have the point, the line and the circle. This
can symbolise several things. God is the point, the source. Through the
line He creates the world. The world is His reflection. Through expression,
He gives us His reflection.
This geometry, the patterns
and their spiritual interpretations form the foundation to my artwork.
I used centrality and symmetry as an organizing principle. My love and
passion for the art of the culture in which I grew up in is reflected in
this work. The result is a layering of cultural and historical density.
The traditional patterns I adopt owe much to the past, but I treat them
within a contemporary interpretation. They now speak for themselves, in
all their beauty, and begin to communicate in ways they could not in their
original context.
Endnote
1. (Critchlow, Keith, Islamic
Patterns ñ An Analytical and Cosmological Approach, Thames &
Hudson, London, 1976. p.7)
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