Letters from Tunis

Nja Mahdaoui's art is powerful, masterful and beautiful.

As a writer, one is led to believe in the power of the word. And so turn-around Tunisian artist Nja Mahdaoui's ongoing exhibition seemed like a veritable celebration of the word — albeit in Arabic. Until Mahdaoui corrects me.

"It's liberation of the letter," he says in French.

The calligrapher's works are exquisite — in their form, detail and finish — leaving little or no room for disappointment when he informs the viewer that they contain no meaning.

"Traditionally, calligraphy uses verses from the Quran or Sufi poetry, but I just work with the letters. To a non-Arabic speaker it appears as coherent text. In fact even Arabic speakers assume at first that it's a text with meaning. But when they start reading it they realise it is not an actual word," he says.

Mahdaoui's exhibition so easily launches a million sighs of appreciation and wonder. The minute lettering and intricate definition of the calligraphy create marvellous artworks that leave an indelible impression on the viewer.

Full-hearted compliments in half-French, merely result in a bow, as Mahdaoui explains his process.

"It is not easy to write letters in a disjointed way — that is disjointed to not mean anything — and focus only on the aesthetic.

There was a study at the California Institute of Technology in Pasadena. They connected me to a machine in order to test the levels of stress my body was under when I was writing proper words and when I was writing words without meaning.

"The study showed that my body was 2.5 times more stressed when I was working on words without meaning. So it is a very conscious attempt to create art. I tell people I'm not a calligrapher, but an artist," he says.

Needless to say, Mahdaoui's take on calligraphy did not win him favour with the traditionalists and he is saddened when the topic arises. Not because of his personal rejection, but, he says, because of a lack of openness.

"I respect the traditional schools of calligraphy very much. I believe we must have more schools dedicated to it. But I also strongly believe in research and development. We must have students interested in the art dedicated to research, if they want. We are focused on preserving, which is necessary, but we must not forget to innovate also," he says.

Having participated in numerous conferences, Mahdaoui is familiar — "I can recognise" — with various scripts including Chinese and Sanskrit. He recalls an experience at the University of Tokyo in which he and three others from China, India and the West spent hours talking to each other about calligraphy, lettering, styles, forms and mediums — without having a common language.

"Language is important of course. But it is not imperative to communicate. If we are in the same wavelength, intellectually and spiritually, I think we can communicate better than with someone from the same culture or country or language on a different wavelength," he says.

Mahdaoui admits that there are times when he has been misrepresented or misunderstood as a rebel, but reaffirms he has never positioned himself as a "destroyer of tradition".

"The academia is extremely rigid. A little creativity is also discouraged. Strict instructions on how to adhere to the schools of calligraphy are set and students who experiment are not allowed to," he says.

At 70, Mahdaoui is remarkably progressive in his thoughts and works, perhaps more than many younger calligraphers. He nods and says: "It's the academia. We must explore ways of keeping the specificity while being open to the artistic expression of the letter."

The current exhibition in Dubai is his first formal public showing and he is full of praise for the city. "I have not exhibited much in the region, because of my art. I see Dubai as a tolerant city, becoming open to new ideas. Having the broad-mindedness to explore, but still traditional at heart," he says.

Working on papyrus, parchments, canvas and even cotton, Mahdaoui's abstract patterns, finesse in calligraphy and choice of colours, look good enough to be draped in, which I duly tell him.

His response? A clap of the hands and joy.

"Just this week, I have sent copies of my work to an Indian fashion designer, who says he wants to incorporate it into his collection. So the art has gone to his craftspeople, who I think are working on it," he says.

The irony, as we almost complete the show-around, is that in his quest to "liberate the letter," they do end up framed — except for a magnificent work on freely-flowing cotton. He smiles. And shrugs. But says, "It's like life. As people we have constraints. We are limited by laws, boundaries, society."

"But in our mind? There is no limit? A state of absolute freedom?" I ask.

"Exactly. Our mind is ours to control and to be free," he says.

- Nja Mahdaoui's works are on display at the Meem Gallery in Dubai until December 7.

- Vinita Bharadwaj is an independent writer based in Dubai.