May 2—August 25, 2019
HANNAH RYGGEN
TRIENNALE 2019:
NEW LAND
TRIENNALE 2019:
NEW LAND
Curated by Solveig Lønmo, PhD
Trondheim, Norway
Trondheim, Norway
When Hannah Ryggen wove her first political statements in the mid–1920s she overstepped a previously unchallenged boundary defining what the medium of tapestry could be. From that moment on, the slow, traditionally decorative medium became for her a means of expressing urgent political opinions. In The Adulteress (1926), she wraps her critique of Christianity’s double-standard in pattern and ornament, allowing these apparently innocent elements to become charged by framing the injustice.
In his work Azerbaijani artist Faig Ahmed similarly affirms tradition in order to break from it. Liquid (2014) is the first in a series of re-workings of the traditional oriental rug. Hung up on the wall, the rug begins as expected. Hand-knotted in the conventional technique, it is neat and tidy, anchored in a set repertoire of symbols and established values. About halfway down, this structure dissolves and the pattern pours out like spilled oil. Freed from their restraints, threads seemingly pool on the floor; abstract lines in contrast to the rigid forms above—however still woven in the same, old technique. The result conjures up a political duality. Liquid both criticises and glorifies tradition, recognising the values and the limitations of current beliefs and pratices.
The desire to overthrow the status quo is often rooted in a desire to improve the lives of ordinary people. In this kind of pragmatism, some things will be rejected, others will remain. The results of a revolution are always unknown, but often irreversible—from solid to liquid, from traditional to modern, from conservative to liberal, from one order to another.
In his work Azerbaijani artist Faig Ahmed similarly affirms tradition in order to break from it. Liquid (2014) is the first in a series of re-workings of the traditional oriental rug. Hung up on the wall, the rug begins as expected. Hand-knotted in the conventional technique, it is neat and tidy, anchored in a set repertoire of symbols and established values. About halfway down, this structure dissolves and the pattern pours out like spilled oil. Freed from their restraints, threads seemingly pool on the floor; abstract lines in contrast to the rigid forms above—however still woven in the same, old technique. The result conjures up a political duality. Liquid both criticises and glorifies tradition, recognising the values and the limitations of current beliefs and pratices.
The desire to overthrow the status quo is often rooted in a desire to improve the lives of ordinary people. In this kind of pragmatism, some things will be rejected, others will remain. The results of a revolution are always unknown, but often irreversible—from solid to liquid, from traditional to modern, from conservative to liberal, from one order to another.
Hannah Ryggen Triennial 2019: New land
Trondheim, Norway
Trondheim, Norway
Ahmed’s rug is a metaphor for such radical change. Yet even as he dismantles it, he treats tradition with respect. Rugs are an essential part of everyday life in his native Azerbaijan, and Ahmed’s experimentations refer fondly to the typical styles and expectations tied to such a ubiquitous object. He has changed its form but kept the rug’s essential connection to the past, reimagining and remaking this heritage in radical ways. In Gobustan (2017), threads appear as if violently torn out from the lower half of the rug, and the motif dissolves. Like an iconoclast, or action painter, Ahmed injects chaos into the established world. This chaos might be terrifying or threatening if we focus on what is uprooted, but Ahmed exhorts the viewer to see change as the creation of something new out of the old: a process that means inevitable loss, but also the transformation of familiar elements.
The loose threads in Gobustan are part of an apparently new pattern that exists in harmony with the old: Decorative elements manifest politics just as Ryggen let the pattern in The Adulteress frame something new and meaningful. Underneath the chaotic threads in Gobustan we would, if the threads were trimmed, find the top pattern continuing into the lower part, believe it or not. Faig Ahmed and the craftspeople he collaborates with do not make these rugs without personal risk. But even though Azerbaijan is heavily steeped in tradition, it is also a country that is flexible and open to change. Ahmed’s rugs may thus be read as part of a broader development, bridging the gap between the known and the unknown, the old and the brand new.