Bedford Painting in Pakistan: The Aesthetics and Organization of an Artisan Trade*
George W. Rich and Shahid Khan
First published in Journal of American Folklore, 93: 257-295, 1980; © American Anthropological Association, reprinted with permission. This article was the first scholarly article published in the USA, far as I know, about Pakistani truck arts décor and artists. Anthropologist George Rich, together with his Pakistani colleague Shahid Khan, produced an insightful analysis of this truck art culture.
AMONG THE MOST STRIKING SIGHTS of daily life in Pakistan are the ever present, ornately decorated Bedford trucks which adorn every congested city, traversing the Grand Trunk and every passable road from the southern tip of Sind to the far reaches of the northern frontiers and across the Afghanistan border. For native Pakistanis they are a commonplace sign of the thriving overland transport industry, and for foreign visitors they are garish curiosities: top-heavy wooden structures on wheels, covered with clashing motifs of screaming tigers, floral arrangements, mosques, roaring trains, barnyard roosters, jet aircraft, peacocks, Buraq figures, and panoramic views of Kashmir. For the social anthropologist, they are an ideal case study in the evolution of a modern artisan trade, combining traditional artisan skills, lively innovation, religious poetic piety, and modern secular motifs.
Since the works are neither "traditional" nor pristine, they have warranted no more than a single scholarly article (1) and a few passing references.(2) Yet, a look at the skills of the artists--the motifs, themes, and styles of presentation is enough to show beyond a doubt the artistic vitality and creativity of this aspect of modern Pakistani culture. Beyond this, the social organizational aspects of the trade deserve attention as well, for they provide insight into both the persistence of certain traditional modes of organization in this new trade and the extent to which the demands of new industry have affected important changes.
The present study deals exclusively with truck painting in Rawalpindi, the much older sister city of the capital, Islamabad, located at the northern tip of the Punjab. Though the trade exists in other cities, such as Peshawar, Lahore, Chinaiot, Sheikapura, Multan, and Karachi, much evidence suggests that it started quite early in Rawalpindi where it has developed more or less independently and where a complete history going back to its origins following the partition of India can be documented. As such, the artisans of Rawalpindi have had a substantial influence on truck painting traditions elsewhere throughout the northern subcontinent, predating, for instance, the trade in Afghanistan, where as late as 1966 only a few paint shops existed in Kabul, their artists having been tutored under the painters of Peshawar.(3)
"Pindi," as the city is commonly known, occupies an advantageous position as one of Pakistan's major inland transport centers, located squarely between the Indus and Jhelum rivers as the last direct link between the more plush and productive Punjab and the Northwest Frontier, and on the major route between the port of Karachi and landlocked Afghanistan. Especially since the British Raj established a cantonment in Pindi during the nineteenth century, the city has served as an important economic and cultural transit point. A good availability of parts and supplies to assemble and maintain trucks in Pindi makes the city a natural site for a companion painting industry.
In the inner Ganjmandi and Ratta sections of Pindi, amidst a labyrinth of dirt lanes lined with countless machine and accessory stalls, tea stalls, and hooka shops, and adjacent to the various wholesale markets where much loading and transport take place, are located some fifteen to twenty paint shops and innumerable body, chrome, and upholstery shops. Some are located in old astabals (horse stables); all are in high-walled corrals, which bound off self-contained communities of specialists who between them can perform every task required to build and maintain a truck. Here a driver can leave his truck to have its engine overhauled, its transmission rebuilt, a new wooden carriage constructed or a dilapidated one reinforced, new chrome work applied, an elaborate interior designed, or a new, original paint job--all within a few days. While waiting during the day he can visit with old friends, and over great quantities of tea and edibles from the chai-khana (tea shop) within or adjacent to the corral, he can spin tales of adventure about his long hauls across the desert or up the Khyber Pass.
A somewhat romantic figure, the driver carries with him a repute as a footloose rowdy, with indelicate mores and a particular liking for bawdy songs. He is admired for his tenacity to forage sun-baked deserts; for having traveled far and wide, linking towns, cities, and villages throughout Pakistan; for living the rough but rewarding life many a sedentary youngster might emulate. Much of this image is conspicuously displayed in the character of his motorized edifice.
Trucking transport began to grow and compete with train transportation on an ad hoc basis in the mid-1930's. The importation of Bedford chassis on a large scale to Pindi began in 1938-1939, but until the early 1950's truck painting was primarily for the preservation of the truck's surface, and the painter's role was largely to service the legal requirements that each truck carry the net weight of the vehicle, its legal payload, and vehicle registration number. The painter usually provided the name and address of the company which owned the truck, and frequently a salutation, such as "Allah be your protector," above the cabin, or a humorous phrase or two, such as "Move you rattletrap," on the tailgate. All this was painted in silver over green, the national color of Pakistan and the sacred color of Islam. The basic skill required of the painter was his ability to do lettering. Hence, we see that the earliest artists in the trade were all accomplished calligraphers.
During this early phase trucking was primarily a provincial matter. By 1953, the industry had become national, or interprovincial, and larger J-7 Bedfords were being imported. To symbolize interprovincial transport and its more worldly character, the artists introduced such motifs as the ribbon and globe to bear the name and telephone number of the owner. It is during this phase, as well, that with rapid expansion of the industry and increasing access to far corners of the country, trucking became a real opportunity for uneducated but industrious individuals to make a socially respectable and often highly remunerative living. Elaborately decorated trucks could serve as a conspicuous display of success and wealth, just as fancy horse harnesses and elaborately painted tongas had in the past.
At an early date, much of the driving occupation gravitated into the hands of Pathans--fiercely independent and competitive tribal people with a passion for high risk and profitable enterprises. More recently, displaced Kashmiris have begun to corner a part of the market. With drivers quite receptive to the creative urges of the artists, the artists, once conservative calligraphers, exploded in a flurry of experimentation and innovation to create a truly unique artistic medium which could service the status increment motives of the drivers and truck owners.
It is difficult to document, with great certainty, the original artistic impetus for truck painting, other than the need to fill a demand. Certainly much of it, at least the general idea, came from a traditional widespread practice of painting wagons and tongas. Hence, at one point we hypothesized that a concrete link with one of these trades would be found. Perhaps we would find truck painters who are descendants of tonga painters, or truck painters who had themselves painted tongas or wagons. It was rumored that one such painter existed in the Shoiba Bazaar, Peshawar: a former tonga painter who had Switched to trucks. And we found one tonga painter whose similarly trained brother temporarily took to truck painting, but gave it up. However, these were exceptions. As practitioners of a strongly conservative trade, tonga painters have devoted their talents solely to tongas, rarely venturing into new areas of expression. Similarly, the trade boundaries have been zealously guarded through exclusive lines of succession involving fathers and sons, uncles, nephews, and cousins. Hence, at least in Pindi, tonga painting has remained a family trade dominated by a single group of Awans. (4)
A similar heritage is absent in the case of truck painting. (5) While Awans and Moghuls tend to outnumber other groups in the trade, this traditional basis of organization has dissipated over the years in favor of a system of recruitment on a meritocratic basis. Of the thirteen full-fledged artists studied, covering four trade generations, there are nine Awans, three Moghuls, and one Mir; and during the early years Moghuls apprenticed Moghuls and Awans apprenticed Awans. But in following through the apprentices of apprentices who now have their own students, it becomes apparent that the social criteria of biraderi (6), caste, and tribe have almost completely given way, such that when queried, some of the youngest independent artists could provide no information whatsoever regarding the traditional identities of their apprentices. Similarly, none of the artists of Pindi have followed in their fathers' footsteps. Their fathers are farmers, tailors, carpenters, mechanics, shopkeepers, and food and soap vendors. Surprisingly, in only a few cases do the artists hold similar aspirations for their sons. In a society where occupations and skills have traditionally been passed from father to son, one might expect truck painters to matter-of-factly wish their sons also to paint trucks. However, many of the Bedford painters of Pindi see the lucrative rewards of their profession as an opportunity to provide education for their sons so that they [author's emphasis] may aspire to higher status occupations.
The absence of a rigid organizational and historical continuity can be attributed partially to the velocity with which the trade has evolved: as a new trade it has provided wholly new opportunities for talented lads and has created such a burgeoning demand for new students with talent that artists in need of apprentices can hardly be as selective along the traditional caste, biraderi, and tribal lines they would have invoked in the past. The exclusion of painters from other trades from the truck painting business is also due to the peculiar evolution of the trade, and to the demand during the early phase for calligraphers rather than pictorial artists. By the time the demand for pictorial representation emerged, the truck painting business had already become monopolized by calligraphers, who subsequently turned to representational art to the exclusion of artists from other trades.
There is also little or no relationship between the motifs and styles employed in truck painting and those employed in the more traditional trades. Other, traditional vehicles (such as tongas and wagons), are embellished with complex geometric designs, replicated over and over again, with only an occasional, inconspicuous pictorial representation, but on trucks, the use of geometric design is minimal, reserved almost exclusively for trimming borders or filling small spaces where nothing else will fit. Instead they are gloriously adorned with animated creatures, miniature landscapes, and wholly representational art. The sides, tailgates, and overhead carriages are displays to be looked upon by the public, passing, coming, and going. Nothing is mundane! Each separate image represents something of nature, but a nature which is alien and exotic to most who will view it: a peacock, an orangutan, a famous mosque--better yet, a famous mosque with a jet aircraft swooping overhead--a view of Shangrila, a tonga with a woman driver, a rodeo scene, Ali's horse, or the winged anthropomorph Al Buraq. If the driver is so moved, he may commission a few fancy calligraphed verses of romantic poetry or perhaps a humorous jibe; almost always the Kalema ancl a few Koranic verses appear above his cabin on the front, and always the name of the company he hauls for, in English on one side and in Urdu on the other. The driver has his private world inside his ornate and plushly upholstered cabin, and his public world displayed outside in a sometimes mind-boggling composite verging on the surreal.
Trade Organization
Once delivered to Pindi, the partially assembled chassis, with drive chain and bare cabin, is set upon by the carriage maker. Using traditional specifications and those of the driver, who is usually given sole responsibility for the decoration and maintenance of the truck by its owner, the carriage maker acts as a general contractor. Working with as many as a dozen assistants and apprentices, he constructs the towering walled bed out of native shesham (rosewood), cheitre (pine), and sheet metal, trimmed with scalloped molding and finished with a set of carved rosewood doors. The subsequent decoration of the doors with etched and painted mirrors; the elaborate decoration of the cabin interior with leather, colored vinyl appliqués, translucent plastic panels, and colored lights; the application of fancy exterior chrome or brass; and the addition of wrought-iron designs along the base of the bed are all subcontracted to specialists before the truck leaves the carriage maker for delivery to the paint shop.
The principal responsibility of the paint-shop owner, in turn, is to prepare the truck with an undercoat and solid color finish, and then to contract further a local roving artist for the application of hand-painted scenes, miniatures, and verses. In some cases, more renowned and established artists have their own paint shops, in effect skipping the middleman to become principal contractors themselves. Since trucks require occasional touch-ups and usually require complete repainting every year to eighteen months, a sizable portion of the painter's business is carried out independently of the carriage maker. In such a case, the paint-shop owner may himself contract a showwala (denter) for body repairs, a ladianwala (upholsterer) for new seats, and perhaps a sheshahwala (glass decorator) for new door decorations.
In all, the job of outfitting a Bedford may [emically] be parceled out among nine craft specialists (7):
"Bodi-maker” Carriage body Maker
Rangsaaz Spray Painter
Lakahiwala Artist/Calligrapher
Lohar Ironsmith
Ladianwala Upholsterer
Lapay-maker Chrome/Brass Worker
Showwala Denter
Bijaleewala Electrician (for interior)
Sheshahwala Glass Decorator
Each of these specialists, in turn, will usually have in his service one or more apprentices among whom his tasks are further divided. The rangsaaz, for instance, will often assign the more mundane cleaning and sanding tasks to young boys. The lakahiwala usually does the same. Typically, he will lightly sketch the scenes and figures on the truck and then instruct his more advanced apprentices each step of the way in the application of colors. His youngest apprentice invariably will be assigned the simple tasks of painting the wheels, the iron trim, and other parts which will not bear representational art.
The Artists and Their Work
Within the trade, a clear distinction is made between the "painter" (rangsaaz) and the "artist" (lakahiwala). The painter works primarily with a spray gun and sometimes with a trowel and thick paint to smooth pitted or rough surfaces. His job is primarily that of applying a smooth, shiny base color of domestically manufactured enamel, usually in subdued blues, yellows, or beige, in preparation for the artist. The artist, on the other hand, specializes in pictorial art and calligraphy. In many cases, he has received extensive training and experience, having been apprenticed for as many as ten years before working independently. For instance, Mohammad Azam, age forty-two, began a three-year apprenticeship in calligraphy at the age of fourteen; Naem, age twenty-two, embarked on a ten-year apprenticeship at the age of six; Mohammad Kafiq, age fifty-nine, began at the age of sixteen, but served only a one-year apprenticeship in calligraphy; and Nut Hussain, age thirty-seven, began a seven-year apprenticeship in calligraphy at the age of seven, then worked for a while painting billboards and movie posters before going to work for Azam as an artist, and later becoming independent. In all cases, the artists are superb technicians, well versed in classic calligraphic styles (though they prefer the Lahore school and use primarily naskhi and kufic styles); and they are able to replicate virtually any picture placed before them.
When approached by a driver with truck, the artist is confronted with two major limitations on his creativity, one of which is easily surmountable, depending on the artist's fame and renown. The artist must first of all cater to the wishes of the driver, who may demand a particular scene or two, perhaps a zebra or a streamlined train he has seen on someone else's truck. He may ask to peruse the stock of children's books every artist keeps on hand, or which are shared between artists working within a particular corral, to select some pictures. Only in the exceptional case, as with Azam, Kafiq, and Hussain, will the driver leave the selection of motifs completely up to the artist. Except when drivers affiliate with various shrines and require sayings from their Pirs (saints), or request a particular verse from Iqbal or another hero-poet, artists are prepared as well to supply a number of their favorite verses.
The second limitation the artist is faced with is the size and shape of the planes on which he must paint. Truck carriages are quite large, usually from fourteen to fifteen feet long and six feet eight inches high. However, because of the construction, planes are broken up into narrow panels eighteen to twenty-four inches wide by vertical and horizontal supports required to withstand excessively heavy payloads. Hence, the artist must negotiate these limits, elongating a picture where necessary, or providing an unusually large frame to render the picture proportionate to the area. Interestingly, the frames created by the supports themselves play no role, other than that of obstacle to be ignored or overcome. When a picture fits within a single narrow rectangle created by supports, the artist is nevertheless compelled to paint a frame. On other occasions, when the representation requires a broader horizontal area than that provided, the artist will utilize two or three adjacent vertical areas, completely ignoring the supports that descend through his work, or even painting the supports with multicolored stripes, as though the painting they descend through did not exist.
The only part of the carriage without these structural obstacles is the upper portion of the tailgate. It is composed of five one-foot by seven-foot boards horizontally arranged, with runners on each end to facilitate removal.(8) Each board is numbered so that when adorned with the usual large landscape the boards can be replaced in their proper order by the driver's assistant.
It is with respect to the structural limitations that one particular facet of style ought to be discussed. In many respects, truck painting has become a vehicle for reviving the miniature painting format for which Muslims of the subcontinent have been renowned since the Moghul era. It is difficult to determine whether the miniature style has been adopted as a convenient accommodation of the structural limitations which provide only small areas, or whether it derives strictly from aesthetic intent. Surely it is a combination of both, but whichever force predominates, the miniature hallmarks are indisputable. The side of the truck, though of suitable mural size, is never a mural. Instead, it is a compendium of separate, often incongruous paintings, each with its isomorphic space. Moreover, each picture is provided a painted frame, sometimes an elaborate roccoco, sometimes a sculptured geometric of zigzags and triangles.
That is, each separate painting is not a direct representation from nature, but a painting of a painting, frame and all. This is literally the case as well, since, in fact, the artist's sources are postcards, bazaar posters, photographs, and most commonly, illustrations from English-language children's story and alphabet books.
Despite such copying, this art is not uninspired. Inspiration comes in the artist's choice of subjects and in the arrangement of the miniatures over the surface of the truck. It comes in the particular selection of vivid colors, in an ever present "character" the artist creates. Some artist's trucks can be recognized at a glance, exclusive of the fact that the artist also signs his work. This is especially so for those who command enough respect to demand full say in what they paint. Nur Hussain, for instance, is known to have introduced the speeding freight-train motif--many of his works can be recognized by its affecting presence along the top side panels; and for the moment, Azam is presenting rodeo scenes to the public.
Since nearly all pictures are taken directly from printed sources, with some modification, style of depiction does not become an artist's distinguishing trademark. One artist will depict a barnyard rooster or a speeding patrol boat in more or less the same way as another. Instead, the choice of motifs and their arrangement on the surface of the truck take precedence. And, of course, there is the matter of personal skill, which tends to vary in proportion to experience and training. The work of the most respected artists, like Azam, Rafiq, and Hussain, is immaculate, with fine lines and realistic proportions. Additionally, an artist's innovative vigor is an important distinguishing trait.
The most renowned artists are also the most innovative, due in no small way to the license granted them by Bedford drivers. Artists of lesser renown must capitulate more often to the drivers' demands. Moreover, the more experienced and established artists also tend to have in their service a greater number of assistants and apprentices, so they can grant themselves the leisure time to devote to pondering innovations. Indeed, a good deal of time and effort is invested by these artists in sketching out new calligraphic schemes or more impressive ways of arranging miniatures, as well as in searching for new children's books and bazaar posters. If permitted to rummage through the small, sparsely furnished living quarters at the rear of an artist's stable, one can invariably produce pile upon pile of pen and pencil sketches, the products of many hours of experimentation.
Themes and Meanings: The Sacred and the Profane
When examining any aspect of public life in a Muslim society, some consideration of Islamic customs and injunctions is always warranted. But in this case it is imperative, for the trucks bear both sacred and secular themes, an admixture not totally in keeping with the injunctions of orthodox Islam. (9) As formally promulgated through Koranic and Hadithic teachings, Islam technically forbids the public display of drawings and paintings of animate beings. (10) But as evidenced in Bedford painting, as in other popular arts throughout the Muslim world, orthodoxy wields little real influence over popular arts. For that matter, the most exquisite examples of Moghul art—the miniature paintings of the Jahangir period of the early seventeenth century, replete with naturalistic representations of wildlife and people--indicate that even the classic arts have historically evaded this injunction.(11) The sense of the injunction is to inhibit sacrilegious mimicry of the sacred creation of life by Allah. It is plausible that such depictions in classic miniatures were made palatable, or at least tolerable, by the fact that they were created for the private consumption of elite patrons.
In the case of painted Bedfords, however, there is not simply a failure to adhere to orthodox demands, but a brazen public display which clearly, though benignly, appears to violate orthodox taboos.(12) Truly confounding images are created especially in the juxtaposition of exotic animate figures in glaring, glorious color against Koranic verses, written in Arabic, and pious sayings, written in Urdu:
Ya Allah; Ya Mohammad; In the name of Allah, the beneficial, the merciful; Depend on Allah; Show me, O Allah, Medina.
What kind of town is that, where day and night your divine blessings pour; Forgive me, considering me a sinner, For I committed sins considering you merciful.
Who can extinguish the lantern of Allah, the right light? Who can extinguish that which is supported by Allah?
Nothing but Allah's name; Holy Allah; Allah be praised.
In heaven's garden, Mohammad (Peace be upon him) will walk smiling, flowers of mercy will be falling, and we will be picking them up.
The juxtaposition is visually encapsulated as well in the occasional appearance of Al Buraq (which, according to sacred lore, carried the Prophet to the seventh step of heaven), or of Ali's horse amidst secular motifs.
The message is made even more concrete in such syncretic motifs as the Shahi Mosque with a modern jet aircraft overhead
The redundancy of such symbols and juxtapositions seems to bear a meta-message that is neither sacrilegious nor iconoclastic. In conspicuously lacking the subtlety one would expect if the motives were iconoclastic, the sacred-secular admixture communicates just the opposite: the sacred-profane dichotomy is nullified. This, indeed, is much in keeping with the Islamic ethos which emphasizes the pervasiveness of Allah's grace, affecting all life and all things. From only one truck driver did we elicit the opinion that the presence of Koranic wisdom on a truck was anything less than tasteful. But here, it was not because of its juxtaposition with secular animate motifs, but because sacred verses on a truck's exterior might become soiled, or workers might place their feet upon them while climbing on the truck.
Among the inscriptions are also allusions to the driver's lonely life on the road:
How strange is this separation that I couldn't even say good-bye.
What to talk of staying with you .... We couldn't even stay in your city.
Oh Allah, save our honor. The days are delicate. In their hearts they have ingratitude, on their faces friendship.
Neither wealth nor world nor family, but the heart's satisfaction is achieved by remembering Allah.
He went past me without asking how I was. How can I believe that he wept when I went away?
Still the Gestalt is incomplete without the romantic, prophetic, and humorous verses:
The gardener plucked the flower, teasing the nightingale. The nightingale left the garden shedding tears.
The gardens are sad, and the flowers have no color. What is the charm of life without sorrow? I bring you into my imagination and remain completely attentive to you. I burn like a lantern, but keep silent.
Everyone's own destiny, everyone's own fate.
Someone's single tear moves a thousand hearts. Someone's lifelong crying goes astray.
King of the Road.
Queen of the Hills.
Move you rattletrap. You have Allah's hope.
Son of thief! Toolbox is empty.
Don't tease Papu (Papu: idiom for "cute kid").
…or the wishes and talismans:
The beginning is in the name of Allah, and the end only Allah knows. Before going on this journey, pray for forgiveness for your sins. This might be your last trip; Depend on Allah. Oh you, crowned with Allah's house, have mercy. Good bye; Allah have mercy. Allah is the owner. Allah is your protector.
For many drivers who affiliate with shrines, Pir homage is included, sometimes in simply advertising the name of one's Pir:
Pir Mehr Ali Shah of Golra Sharif. Haque Bahoe, Multan.
…or sometimes in a verse:
Gang Baksh: Your bounty, general magnificence is but the manifestation of Allah's splendor. For the imperfect you are a saint; and for the perfect you are the leader.
Like the Koranic inscriptions and talismans above, Pir homage protects the driver, as much as do symbols to countermagically ward off the evil eye. The final product is not simply a pretty truck, but a motorized edifice; in effect, a huge amulet.
Conclusion
With a growing interest among indigenous scholars in the documentation and preservation of regional and folk arts, (13) it is ironic that so little attention has been paid to such popular arts as truck painting. This is despite the certainty that a Pakistani does not exist who has not gazed upon a brightly painted Bedford. The oversight seems due, in no small way, to the nationalistic fervor which underscores the current interest in folk art in Pakistan, and which involves a denigration of anything which smacks of foreign contamination, especially from the West.
An excellent, though somewhat convoluted, example of this doctrine is Mazhar u1 Haq Khan's recent and sensational indictment of "Islamic Culture." (14) Khan places "artistic decadence" in general under the umbrella of a perceived "intellectual inanity" which he attributes almost solely to purdah degeneration--a general decay of Islamic culture due to the institution of purdah (the seclusion of women). To him, the most serious "defect" or indicator of this degeneration is the extensive borrowing ("borrowed plumery") from the West: None of our intellectual achievements is an original and independent contribution of our own effort and thought.(15)
For him, an intractable decline of "Islamic Culture" began during the eleventh century with a series of Sisyphean cycles leading to the present and the total submersion of Islamic cultures in the shadow of the West. As in all other domains of life, a people presumably so debased could resort to nothing better than borrowing traits to produce a decadent, corrupted, patchwork culture.
Though this self-abasing view is not widely articulated in terms as pungent as those used by Khan, its effect has been widespread enough to leave little doubt as to why such an art as truck painting, with its heavy borrowing of ostensibly foreign images, has stimulated so little curiosity among indigenous scholars.
Elsewhere, as in Afghan truck painting, Centlivres-Demont (16) attributes the very existence of the art form--which also relies on motifs from illustrated magazines, the cinema, and other mass media--in large part to the fact that these media are not yet widespread in Afghanistan. Truck painting seems to her to be a temporary substitute for these other media, and will likely not survive once these "modern means of communication are brought in." Even Hasan-Uddin Khan (17) refers to the art as a "true ars vulgaris," but in this case because the artists generally are illiterate and have no formal knowledge of "rules" of painting, perspective, and the like.
Again, a peculiar and parochial view of borrowing is taken: it is either a substitute for things better, or a sign of creative sterility and decadence, as argued by Mazhar Khan. This is a wholly capricious and prejudicial view to which popular arts in particular tend to be subjected. In terms of the "classic" arts, the attitude toward the very same phenomenon is often just the opposite. The responsiveness of the contemporary arts to foreign crosscurrents and the willingness to assimilate alien influences is, if patronized by the proper class, considered the apex of creativity? The most renowned of Pakistan's modern artists, Chughtai, suffered none from the fact that he "had a general inclination to copy Western art."(19)
The same prejudice shortchanges such popular arts as truck painting for the function they serve as repositories of traditional skills and styles as well. We see in the trade not only the revival and perpetuation of the miniature format and the use of minor traditional motifs, such as Swat Pulkhari designs on etched door panels, or the use of Moghul arches for foot holes, but also the survival of one major discipline thought by some to be dead or at least dying:
Today the art of calligraphy survives in Pakistan only because of Urdu publications which, whether newspapers, periodicals or books, are printed after the text is calligraphed by experts. (20) Presumably the only reason calligraphy has survived thus far is because no suitable Urdu typesetting machine has been invented.
Undoubtedly the art of calligraphy is not what it was before the collapse of the Moghul Empire and the loss of its royal patronage. It survives as a minor art in the dabblings of a few contemporary artists, like Sadequain, who specialize in other forms but produce an occasional calligraphic novelty; or in mass-produced prints, suitable for framing, that can be had in any bazaar. But little recognition has been given the calligraphic arts as applied in truck painting. Here we find small legions of well- (though not classically) tutored calligraphers not only using established calligraphic styles, but publically experimenting where little such activity has occurred for centuries.
Finally, of substantial importance is the extant evidence of social-organizational innovations within the trade as well, perhaps exemplary of broader changes that, though not well documented, have occurred or are now taking place throughout urban Pakistan. It is widely noted that the persistence of traditional modes of organization around tribal, caste, and kinship affiliations exists as a major obstacle to modernization and development in Pakistan, in that it contributes to widespread bureaucratic inefficiency and perpetuates nepotism, directly contradicting any system based on merit and achievement. (21)
Some have only surmised that with the related demands of rising industrialization, rural-urban emigration, and geographical/social mobility, these traditional influences must be weakening. However, little effort has been expended to document the general extent of this change or even specific instances.
Daily experiences in Pakistan leave little room to doubt that rigid social stratification based on caste--or at least with castelike overtones--is still the most characteristic feature of social structure. No one but a sweeper will perform a sweeper's tasks; an office clerk will not empty his own ashtray; and an administrator would not risk being seen fetching his own tea. But the present study nevertheless demonstrates that there have been some changes. The changes have not been wholesale, but rather selective, in an evolutionary response to new industry demands. A high degree of craft specialization persists as a tradition; and one of the best features of traditional craft organization--the apprenticeship system--has been retained. However, within the short period of four trade generations, the tendency to enlist workers and students on the exclusive basis of traditional tribal, caste, and biradari association has given way, and what has emerged is a truly meritocratic system of recruitment and organization which inherently fosters competition and creative innovation.
California State University
Sacramento
Quaid-i-Azam University
Islamabad, Pakistan
* The research upon which this article is based was conducted for five months in early 1979. The authors feel particularly fortunate to have experienced the gracious hospitality, not to mention untiring patience, of three central figures in the truck painting trade, Mohammad Azam, Nur Hussain, and Mohammed Rafiq, and the well-known tonga painter, Abdul Rashid. Their combined experience of over 125 years in the trade and their personal enthusiasm for our research were indispensable. [Note: author Prof. George Rich retired some years ago from Cal-State University.]
All photographs accompanying this article by George W. Rich
Typical truck with up to twenty-one miniatures per side
Countermagic eyes
Scenic with farm boys, 'Lassie,' and a colt,
taken directly from an English-language
children's book (see next illustration)
Childrens books, found in the bazaars, casually tossed on work table
by truck artist. Such books used to be sources of material in the seventies
for both Pakistani trucks and Bangladeshi rickshas.
Pakistani truck artist at work-- art panel sketches.
Al Buraq on back of a truck
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Notes
1. Hasan-Uddin Khan, "Mobile Shelter in Pakistan," in Shelter, Sign and Symbol, Paul Oliver, ed. (London: Barrie & Jenkins, 1975), pp. 183-196. Though we consider some of Khan's observations inaccurate and lacking in important detail, he provides some valuable speculations regarding the extra-aesthetic functions and motivations underlying the art.
2. Several studies of truck painting in Afghanistan are in print: M. Centlivres-Demont, Popular Art in Afghanistan: Paintings on Trucks, Mosques and Tea Houses (Graz: Druck, 1976); M. Centlivres-Demont, "Les Peintures sur camions en Afghanistan," Afghanistan Journal, 2 (1975), 60-64; S. Hallet, "Afghanistan's Hot Rods," Architecture Plus, July, 1973, 32-37; Jean-Charles Blanc, Afghan Trucks (New York: Stonehill, 1976); and a film by J. Haillet, S. Hallet, and S.C. Schroeder, The Painted Truck (Film Images, Radim Films, Inc.).
3. Centlivres-Demont, Popular Art in Afghanistan, pp. 17-18.
4 The Awans are a large, nebulously defined tribe which traditionally forms a service or helper "caste."
5. Khan (p. 186) maintains that the entire truck-painting trade is in the hands of families and that apprenticing is "usually kept within the family in each town and handed down in this way from one generation to the next." While we suspect that Khan's observation is only an assumption based on the fact that trades have traditionally been organized on this basis. the discrepancy between his conclusion and our indings may reflect important regional variations worthy of further investigation.
6. Equivalent to a localized, endogamous clan which is traditionally affiliated with an exclusive village trade.
7. Khan (pp. 187-188) differentiates only four specialists: the carriage maker, glass decorator, calligrapher, and painter. Notably, in his account, the calligrapher and the artist are clearly distinguished: "His [the calligrapher's] approach is distinct from that of the painters, and although they interact . . . they work independently."
8. Khan (p. 187) designates the large tailgate painting as the "main" design on the truck, presumably because it is the largest. However, it would seem to us that the side panels take precedence both in the patience and time devoted to their creation. Moreover, drivers more frequently haul loads without the tailgate intact. Instead, it is either stored in the bed of the truck or above the cabin; and despite the measure taken by the artist to ensure that the tailgate boards will be replaced in proper order, it is not uncommon to see trucks on which the rear mural has been effectively demolished because an assistant ignored the numbering system.
9. See B. A. Kureshi, "Calligraphy," in Pakistan: Past and Present, ed. Hamid Jalal, Aimee, Merriam, et al. (London: Stacey International, 1977), p. 233; also Centlivres-Demont, Popular Art in Afghanistan, p. 21.
10. Khan (p. 195) is somewhat ambiguous and contradictory regarding this matter. He maintains that no such prohibitions exist in Islam or in the Koran, but goes on to say, "Certain sayings attributed to the Prophet in the hadith . . . do include a warning to the maker of images that he will be punished on Judgement Day if he tries to imitate God who alone can create living beings." The fact remains that the Hadith (the sayings of the Prophet) is a major instrument for interpreting the Koran, and many Muslims believe that Islam formally enjoins them against drawing pictures of animate creatures. Furthermore, the very development of geometric arabesques and calligraphy as art forms may be attributed largely to the force of this injunction and the need for alternative forms of expression; see Kureshi, in Pakistan: Past and Present, p. 233.
11. See B. A. Rajput, Social Customs and Practices in Pakistan (Islamabad: R.C.D., 1977), pp. 210-211.
12. Contrary to Khan's statement that "The only animal that is not included [on trucks] is man, for this would be 'un-Islamic'" (p. 195), we have documented numerous human motifs including a woman tonga driver, cowboys, and fishermen.
13. An impressive, well-funded effort in this area is currently being supervised by Mr. Uxi Mufti at the new Institute of Folk Heritage in lslamabad, Pakistan.
14. Mazhar u1 Haq Khan, Purdah and Polygamy: A Study in the Social Pathology of the Muslim Society (Peshawar: Imperial Press, 1972).
15. M. Khan, p. 189.
16. Popular Art in Afghanistan, pp 24-25.
17. H. Khan, "Mobile Shelter in Pakistan," p. 187.
18. See, for example, Rajput, pp. 210-215.
19. Agha Abdul Hamid and Akbar Nagvi, "Painting and Sculpture," in Pakistan: Past and Present, p.252.
20. Rajput, p. 217.
21. See Richard F. Nyrop, Area Handbook for Pakistan (Washington, D.C.: Superintendent of Documents, 1975), p. 148; Henry J. Korson, "Modernization, Social Change and the Family in Pakistan," in Pakistan in Transition, ed. W. H. Wriggins, (Islamabad: University of Islamabad Press, 1975), p. 21.
References: See Bibliography
