Minimalism brushed under the carpet

Azerbaijan’s contemporary art scene might still be rather niche, but its stars are starting to attract global attention.

“In general, modern art in Azerbaijan emerged after the collapse of the Soviet Union [in 1991],” Faig Ahmad, one of the country’s best-known contemporary artists, tells GN Focus. “After the first wave around the ’90s, there were different organisations and artists but they collapsed by around 2010. “Then emerged Yarat, a platform for the development of artists.”

 The organisation, founded by artist Aida Mahmudova, the president’s niece, is one of the driving forces behind the modern art movement, alongside others such as Yay Gallery and the Heydar Aliyev Foundation, spearheaded by First Lady Mehriban Aliyeva.

“Azeri art is still too abstract and does not have a clear brand face,” Ahmad explains. “It’s connected to time and external support. Typically, it is supported by patrons or the diaspora, and does not have a large number of representatives abroad. Therefore it is a bit complicated.

“Despite these difficulties, the world has gotten familiar with Azeri contemporary art and Azerbaijan in general over the past five to six years. The politics make art actual, as Azerbaijan’s international policy becomes influential in the region and the world.”

Flourishing movement

This is cause for celebration. “We’re living in the blossoming period of contemporary art,” says Farid Rasulov, known for his largescale paintings, installations, 3D graphics, animation and sculpture.

Mila Askarova, who opened Gazelli Art House in Baku in 2003 and an offshoot in London a decade later, concurs. “The contemporary art scene has changed dramatically and flourished over the past few years,” she says. “What’s most inspiring is to see the audience recognising and embracing this development.

“Coming into the industry with an international relations background, I found a very interesting crossover between the two fields, with art being a language of personal expression of the state of affairs, suggesting a route to improve and better things.”

Azeri artists are embracing their unique position given the relative newness of the industry, which allows them to distort the traditional into something entirely new. Ahmad, for example, explores the legacy of carpet weaving in Azerbaijan, and by extension fabric as canvas and embroidery as paint. He textures the classic and modern, morphing shapes, sizes and patterns. In merging the traditional with new-age techniques, his carpets, sculptures and installations take on a fresh dimension.

“I am inspired by structures and systems, but also chaos,” he says. “The carpet is a symbol of human thinking, and our perception is always structured as one, with a border. Whatever the method of thinking, it is always conservative. Only chaos can give a different way of perception.”

Rasulov, however, is indifferent to political art as a genre. “I think the artist loses his mission in this situation,” he says. Yet his work is defiant in its exploration of traditional and modern stereotypes. In a recent exhibition at the Galerie Rabouan Moussion in Paris, he covered an entire room with Azeri carpeting — from floor to ceiling. It questioned the minimalist white cube notion of contemporary art. “The traditional patterns were signs of a changing country; a region of the Soviet Union torn between tradition and modernity, East and West,” he says.

Rasulov’s upcoming shows include one opening on September 15 at Cuadro Fine Art Gallery in Dubai.

Azerbaijan has been a fixture at the Venice Biennale, with this year’s pavilion presented in two exhibitions — one, titled Beyond the Line, showcases the works of stalwart artists from the past century overshadowed by the repressive Soviet regime, and another called Vita Vitale, which is more contemporary.

From the outside in

“The new generation of contemporary artists tends to look outwards,” says Askarova. “Azerbaijan’s identity has been creatively reinterpreted time and time again, now more so than ever. The truest contemporary talents are able to depict this reimagined presence, without losing the national qualities.”

However, Ahmad believes the only thing that prevents the development of Azeri artists is laziness. “But this is an eastern disease,” he quips. “There are a lot of opportunities for young artists, such as receiving grants for projects and going abroad for education.”
Ahmad is currently working on one such programme for young artists.

And it would be hardly surprising if the next generation of Azeri artists shatter the moulds created by its advocates today.