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I spent four years with my family in Pakistan. A haunting intense time with new experiences. Many things remained foreign to me, first of all the Islamic culture. As a diplomat, I was allowed a lot and a lot forbidden. The pictures that were created there are the result of my direct experience.
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Seitenzahl: 39
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
Birds,oil on canvas, 100 x 75 cm, 2015
The theme of my paintings revolves around the topic of being at home. Here in Germany I am feel at home, but what exactly is it to feel at home? Maybe feeling at home is like being comfortable with my partner or my network of friends or with my apartment or with my new netflix series or hoodie.
Pakistan 2011-15
29.03.2012
Pakistan 2011-15
25.03.2012 Skardu
15.04.2012, 4 a.m.
22.04.2012
28.04.2012
02.04.2012 Taxila
18.04.2012
27.04.2012
01.05.2012
06.05.2012
07.05.2012
02.06.2012
30.10.2012 Karachi
31.10.2012 Karachi
20.02.2013
13.04.2013
01.05.2013
15.01.2014
08.01.2014
13.10.2012
19.02.2014
22.02.2014
16.12.2014
20.01.2015
25.01.2015
28.01.2015
30.01.2015
31.01.2015
04.02.2015
06.03.2015
08.03.2015
20.06.2015
Solo Exhibitions
DIARY - PAKISTAN
PRESS REVIEW
THE NEWS by Anil Datta Karachi 2012
Inter-nation Press by Rizwan / Karachi 2012
Nageen Hyat / Nomad gallery 2013
The Express Tribune, January 23rd, 2014
JAMAL SHAHID — PUBLISHED MAR 09, 2015 05:58AM THE DAWN
Christoph Poche 2013 K-Salon
Tribune 08.03.2015
Tina Nunn, anläßlich der Ausstellung in der Deutschen Botschaft Islamabad 2015
Peter Funken, November 2017
Susanne Husemann
I spent four years with my family in Pakistan.
There are insurmountable boundaries between poverty and wealth, religious affiliation and gender. I am a foreigner. As a foreigner and non-Muslim, I remain outside of this society.
Being on the outside always means being undervalued or overvalued. And I am a woman. Even the lack of a greeting handshake shows me that as a woman I do not belong in this male society. I am driving through the streets, seeing the poverty, the colonies and refugee homes, I am seeing the greed for life, an imagined life, and the hate.
I am a stranger here. We live in a big house surrounded by a high wall. We are protected by our status of diplomats. We have a different identity card, a different car number plate. We have a day and a night guard. The night guard, Abdul Rahmann, comes every evening at 6 pm and leaves again at 7 am.
The day guard Imran keeps our house in order, washes and irons our clothes and lets visitors in. In addition, we have a gardener and a cook. I enjoy being able to hand off this work to have time to foster contacts with a small community. I give classes in painting for women at the embassy and I learn Urdu, the official language of Pakistan. I learn to play golf and tennis. And I learn karate. I get to know my body in a new way. I feel how it works, exerting pressure and counter pressure.
I am in the kitchen with our day guard Imran. I ask him about his religion. He tells me about his wife. “She can freely recite large parts of the Quran”, he says, “...more than me.“ And he points to his heart. And when his child wakes up at night, she speaks verses from the Quran. I think of his other story, which he had told me a few days before. That he moved with his family from his home village Kohat (Kohat: sounds so beautiful) to Islamabad, because the Taliban took away his house. And now he works here for us, in our house. And about the beheadings and he saw how the children started playing soccer with these heads.
Mens world,oil on canvas, 60 x 50 cm, 2015
Rawalpindi street life,oil on canvas, 60 x 90 cm, 2013
Land of cloth
Land of eagles and snakes
Land of prayers
Land of demarcation and assignment
Land of street children
Land of the oppression of women
Kashmir,oil on canvas, 70 x 100 cm, 2014
Home of Osama bin Laden in Abbottabad,oil on canvas, 80 x 60 cm, 2013
Skardu,oil on canvas, 60 x 70 cm, 2012
The mountains in the north of Pakistan are breathtakingly beautiful. The way people live here is simple and warm. Perhaps it is the little goat that unexpectedly stumbles around the corner in the village street that brings balance to the people here. A group of girls stands in the street and watch me curiously as if I come from another planet.