Saba Taj
The first art that I ever made that I was proud of—what comes to mind is this portrait of Palestinian resistance. It was just an image of this man who had the Palestinian flag wrapped around his face and all you could see were his eyes and I did it in pastels when I was in high school. And that was probably the first artwork that I felt really proud of. I donated it to raise money for Palestine and it was like, I don’t know, it just was a beautiful experience on all fronts.
CC
My chosen audience is…
ST
Oh, my chosen audience is my friends.
CC
Gotta love the friends.
A word that encapsulates me as an artist is…
ST
Curious.
CC
An absolute “no” for me and my practice is…
ST
What comes to mind is taking advantage of others.
CC
If I were in a reality show, my opening tagline that describes me would be…
ST
[LAUGHS] Oh my goodness. My opening tagline would be: I am Saba Taj and I like to fuck shit up in a nice way.
CC
YES, we love to fuck shit up in a nice way.
And lastly, I am an artist because…
ST
So I am an artist because I must be.
CC
Thank you for indulging me, that was a cool way to get to know you a little bit better, have a little glimpse into who you are and what you do. And so hopefully we are able to explore that even further in this conversation. Let’s actually start with the show itself, which is Reckoning and Resilience: North Carolina Art Now and it opened in January and it’s a group show that features many artists and about a hundred works and two of them are your own. How would you describe the show to someone who hasn’t seen it yet and what are the unique elements you think your work brings to the overall exhibition?
ST
I would describe the show as a group of some real powerhouse artists from the area who are making work that’s rooted in personal experience but is really also grappling with our current political and social reality. My work, I think, is part of this in that it’s talking about identity and really thinking about how to engage in representation in a way that goes beyond some of the more kind of one note ways we see that happen in media and sometimes in art as well.
CC
I got a chance to look at the show the other day and something that I noticed was some of those themes that you talked about really jumping out from different works. And putting different pieces into conversation with one another, I think, is one of the more exciting elements of the show. And so I wonder for you, are there particular pieces or even artists within the show that make for a really dynamic dialogue with your work?
ST
I think the themes of liminality and hybridity and in between-ness, you can see throughout the show. Ambrose Murray and their work, the space between, it’s hung quite close to mine. There are some material elements that are in conversation, in terms of glitter, use of the figure, but also this conversation about in between-ness and how, I think, for minoritized folks, there is this impulse to try to place ourselves within a conversation that “others” us. So in order to become concrete, we have to create some sort of concrete container, some straightforward narrative. But I think that in itself is something limiting. And so I think that’s one of the pieces that my work is in conversation with, as well as Stephen Cozart’s paper bag artworks—the series is called Pass, Fail—and he’s also talking about this kind of in-between identity that doesn’t seem to fit into one container or another and for us to really push into those middle spaces to expand the conversation about identity, I think is incredibly important. And additionally, I think Lien Truong’s work, just speaking from this position of being a child of immigrants—actually, I think that she’s an immigrant herself—but that bicultural experience shows up in her work There’s some more concrete political statements that she’s making, but also materially, I think that there’s a lot in common.
CC
You talk a lot about this in-between space. So I want to go into that a little bit more because it makes me really reflect on, as you were saying, some of these really rigid binaries that we find ourselves in, how our world is really set up. I think how we usually talk about things in binary forms, particularly identity, we usually are opposing a mainstream category with a marginal category. And when we talk about race, it’s usually someone is either white or Black. We talk about sexuality, you’re either straight or gay. Religion, you’re a Christian or you’re atheist. Gender, you’re a man or a woman. And as you’ve talked about yourself and your identities, I know that a lot of those identities you hold don’t fit really well within that and the marginal identities that you hold yourself aren’t even visible enough to be recognized or even named in our popular conceptions. And so I always wonder: what has that experience been like for you and how has that shown up in your art and maybe even in these pieces?
ST
I think [the experience] started [for me] as a pretty young person. My parents are immigrants from Pakistan and I was raised Muslim and there was this feeling of not fitting, where family members would say I’m too Americanized, but then in “American environments,” I didn’t fit in those either. And so there was a feeling of otherness that was just constant. And also this pressure to conform on multiple fronts that felt in direct contradiction to one another. And so I think that’s foundationally where it began and then I saw this pattern across all of these different ways that folks identify themselves. And I think that while there are these really clear-cut ways that that showed up for me in my life, that this is something that most folks feel: we don’t fit into one easy narrative. Maybe there are folks who feel really comfortable within existing frameworks, but I think that there’s so much breadth; we’re just such a combination of things. Who we are is about our ancestors and also our experiences and also maybe your astrological chart. There’s so many different things that are playing into who we are.
There’s this one statement that happened when me and my wife got married, an image of us was shared on Afropunk, and there were all these comments underneath it that went a lot of different directions. So like it really showed the depths of bigotry that there is. You have all these Muslims who are talking about how you can’t be gay and Muslim at the same time and then you have other folks who are playing in it, who are saying stuff that’s really Islamophobic. So on all these different sides, really a lot of terrible things that people have to say.
But there was this one comment that wasn’t really that unusual but really kind of summarizes this idea—someone said: “queer and Muslim, or gay and Muslim, that’s impossible.”
That word “impossible,” I think, has stuck with me, because I think there’s something beautiful inside of it. To be impossible in the system that we have right now is magic. And I think that there’s a real beauty in being able to create our own belonging as opposed to having it be dictated to us what that means, what it looks like, and also for that belonging to be constructed from the foundation of white supremacy and things being created in contrast to that or within that. I think there’s this way that it still feels like we’re either inside of or responding to this messed up framework.
I think that there’s times that that has felt like a lonely sort of thing to have to create that space, to carve it out, to not have it already be made for us, but in grappling with this on different fronts since I was young, I’ve come to really appreciate and value it and think that it has a lot to teach all of us. There is a reality to these binaries that we have to grapple with. It’s not just all fun and games. The black and white racial binary…it shows up in real ways and so it can’t be ignored entirely. But I do look for this kind of lushness that comes from being in between.
CC
Yes, yes, and I really see within your work, the work of creating that belonging, as you say, and making sense of that impossibility of existing. And I see it a lot in the pieces that were in the show. You have two of them and I think one of them is called Miraj, the other is Border/Portals (are so gay), and they’re from the series there are gardens at the margins, which speaks to what you’ve been talking about, and it brings me back to that moment where I first encountered your work. And I was telling you this, it was some kind of small talk at UNC, and you were presenting a piece from one of your earlier series—I think it was muslimahs—and in that series, you really talk about creating these large-scale portraits of Muslim subjects as a counter narrative to stereotypical images of Muslim women in media and popular culture. And in this series, in these pieces in the show, it’s also large-scale portraiture of Muslim subjects, but they’re so different from one another and so I’m really interested in tracing your evolution artistically and personally or philosophically from that series to this series and what has remained consistent for you and for you what else has changed to lead you to this place.
ST
I think there are a lot of things that have definitely been maintained even from those early stages and there was always a conversation about hybridity, about being multiple things that we don’t see together at the same time and at that point, it was just being like Muslim and American—those things were considered incompatible. Also being a Muslim woman who has any sort of depths of character or emotional range—so like joy or power—that we didn’t see those things and images together, especially at that time. So that’s something I’m interested in…what is the existing visual vocabulary and then how can I expand upon that in a way that feels authentic to actual people that I know and love and am in relationships with? Because I share identities with these folks, there’s a way that it’s also a personal healing process of creating space for me as well. I think, from the beginning, there was always an urge to make work for the folks that I’m depicting and my community, which is something that has expanded over time and transformed a bit and also maybe become more specific in other ways. I think that urge was always there, of wanting to have more opportunity for us to see ourselves and also to create work that wasn’t centered on suffering and trauma, and really thinking about how we can use art to gift ourselves something.
I want that, I need that, to know myself outside of a trauma-based narrative. I think those through lines are definitely there throughout. Some of the things that have evolved, I think I’m really interested in a much more complex narrative or something that’s a little less concrete. And to me, that means not closing the loop, leaving some openness.
CC
Not having to represent the whole entirety of the experience.
ST
Yeah, letting it kind of stay in a liminal place that reflects these identities, but also not being like, “oh this is who we are.” And I think that’s something that has definitely been more of an impulse over time. So let things kind of be more dreamy and just open.
CC
There’s definitely a freedom in not having to be definitive in how you do the expression, because that gets back to the point of representation that you talk about. That we’re seen as being representative of a whole experience, of a whole people, and normally we can only bring what we ourselves represent and we usually fall short of being able to stand in for the totality of others. And so I love that aspect of only bringing the pieces that feel true to you because you’re living it and not what you’re expected to bring. And I think that’s all about your perceptions and gaze and what others think that we stand in for and instead be able to proclaim that for ourselves. So I think that is a really powerful thing.
There’s something that you said about the usage of art and how we use art and that’s always been really interesting to me and I want to bring it to this show, this experience which is in the Nasher Museum of Art. And as someone who used to work there, I used to think about the museum and exhibition space a lot and I loved the experience of putting a show together, but I would often think about what happens after or what should be happening for the viewer. For me, art spaces—museums and galleries—have always felt like these environments that are made just for the act of viewing art and they’re really fashioned that way. And then for the Nasher, it’s an institution within an institution that itself is separated from the outside world. So you have the art viewing space and then you have the everyday life and the realities that are surrounding it. And I wonder for you, who is in this show, who’s in this exhibition space, and someone who’s also been a director of a gallery space, how do you think that museums or galleries should bring viewers into contact with art? How should there be a blurring between the lines of art and everyday life? Are spaces just meant to be that point of contact between people and art. Should it be doing anything? What are your thoughts on that?
ST
Such a huge question. I think, as an artist and as an artist within a community of artists, these are questions that we’re often grappling with together. I didn’t grow up going to museums or galleries—they didn’t feel like accessible spaces. I think there was this kind of assumption that it was for somebody else. There is this entire story that I think has to be more actively countered in order to bring folks in. I think that relationships with Durham that start from a young age make a big difference. So relationships with Durham public schools—which I think there is some programming that specifically brings folks from the Nasher to the classroom and vice versa—so it’s kind of coming in at a critical age where kids will feel like this is for me and I get to come in and make my own assessments. That sort of power in those spaces is key. Then sometimes even about things like transportation and parking. How do you actually get there physically? But it’s not a thing that I think can be like passively resolved. It’s something that’s baked into what a museum is. And so in order to actually reach all kinds of folks, that always means relationships, really—creating relationships with key folks in the community that you don’t typically see and actually asking what they need to feel comfortable.
So I can’t necessarily answer that question for all groups, but I think for me, it really came down to the fact that I am coming from an immigrant family and we study, that’s what we do, we go to school. And it was in that school environment that brought me to art and were some of my first experiences of coming into those spaces—I think that is a juncture— but even reaching out to different groups of folks who gather in churches, mosques, things like that, actually really trying to build those relationships and ask questions would be the only way to counter it.
CC
I think relationship building is a big part of just organizing work in general and I know that you are very familiar with that. And I think there are elements of organizing that come up in your work all the time. You talk a lot about apocalypse, and for me, organizing is really about recreating or building a new system that we haven’t seen before and that usually requires some type of big rupture or destruction of an old way of living. And I know that you are involved in a lot of other things outside of just your art making, and art making is part of the practice of your organizing. So talk to me a little bit about your ideas of apocalypse and movement building and art and how all that comes together in your approach to change and transformation.
ST
I think this just comes through most concretely in my collage works. That process is one where I’m going through magazines’—existing representation— and destroying them, basically cutting them apart and trying to create something new out of those pieces. And what I end up making are these hybridized figures that have all of these remnants of a world we know and recognize, but then become these monsters that I am envisioning as the ones who inherit the Earth after that major rupture, who build something new. And it is actually in that hybridity where their power resides—being these combinations of parts, of technology, of nature and all different types of human.
I think the process itself is really wonderful too, it means that I relate differently to these existing representations, that I can take what’s there and totally transform it. And I think that energy is one that I’ve learned and resonates throughout movement. How do we take what’s here and transform it and imagine wildly new possibilities? And then how do we build that? So I think that really shows up in the collage works. It’s really creative work, but I’ve found that over the years, I think for me, I really do create a distinction between my personal art practice and its political [nature]…a lot of the things that I believe and my principles are going to show up in the way that I make work. I do feel a kind of distinction between that which is always tied to my name and me as a singular person versus work that I do in the community, which is more collaborative, which is more in service of goals that are not mine alone to identify. I think it’s been important for me to really identify that difference, because there is this way that art making does exist in these realms that have serious limitations. And also, I am trying to make it work in a way that’s really rooted in surviving capitalism. But the work I might be doing with Durham Beyond Policing, Art Ain’t Innocent or other such organizations or groups of folks…That’s so much more about what is needed and how do I show up in a way that my skills are being used in service at something much bigger than my ideas, essentially.
CC
Yeah and I think that that difference between the personal and communal, I think there’s also that space in between where you happen to find yourself within that and that tends to shape how we view the world and what needs to happen and also our understandings of power. I’m always interested in how people define power because I think it can be deeply personal and it can be deeply informed by the work around us and the people around us. And I know power is a big theme for you and you talk about it a lot, you muse upon it a lot, and I want to hear about those representations of power in both your movement work and also your artwork. What sense do you make of power right now, in this very moment?
ST
I guess what I’m speaking to with movement is “power with,” like, how do we build communal power? And then in the representations I’m creating, which I think I’ve named as empowered representations, that’s something that shows up visually in really intentional ways.
There’s a power in being seen, in being existent, and there’s also a power in being unknowable.
And so those are some of the things that I’m playing with in the paintings that are in Reckoning and Resilience in particular and throughout the work is maintaining that power of being undefinable, of being impossible.
And then there’s also power in being not just the object of the gaze, not just being seen but being the one who is seeing. So that presence is something that matters a lot to me. And it’s a subtle thing but I asked all of the folks who I painted to look at me when I was photographing them as though they were taking my photo, make me the object. And I really wanted to capture that act of looking and I just think that there’s something really different in that versus being a passive recipient of the gaze. So there’s that eye contact that’s happening throughout the artworks. And I think the scale is another thing that plays into that. In some of my older works I was actually specifically looking for art works from throughout art history, the Western canon, that had representations of power. So there’s plays on Rosie the Riveter and this one portrait of Napoleon that were really aimed at showing those things, showing power. And I was like, “how can I put different folks into that image?” So those are some of the ways that I thought about it.
CC
Actually, for folks who haven’t seen the show and haven’t seen these particular pieces, can you talk a little bit about the visuals of those two pieces? Because I think that piece of the power in being unknowable and the ways that you counter those historical portraits wherefolks are shown in their full uniforms, in full body, and it’s very much about centering that subject and all eyes on that subject. But you play a little bit with that in your work. I would love for you to talk about that, to explain that to folks.
ST
Some of the ways it shows up is I actually paint the person in an entirety and then I cover them with some fairly flat paint. So that will come over their face over much of their body. It dissipates into the background in different ways, so their edges become a bit blurred, and sometimes it creates a bit of an aura around them. Other times it brings them into a relationship with the background where they’re kind of emerging from it.
The painting Miraj, the colors are really reminiscent of sunset or sunrise, which there’s a beautiful term for that in Arabic called “Shafaq,” and there’s two of the five daily prayers actually happened during this kind of middle period that you have to watch the sky in order to know when that time frame is for that prayer. So I was thinking a bit about like this is a liminal moment, so there’s pinks and purples that go into these more yellow colors. And the figure is. Is reclining. It’s a portrait of my very best friends. In the background there are hamsa; a symbol that actually protects folks from the evil eye. So in thinking about the gaze and who’s going to be looking at it and how to protect these individuals from that gaze, that symbol being present is one way of actually protecting that individual whom I love. And there’s a spray of glitter coming off the side. And one of the most tender things I did in this painting was I sewed gold thread across the surface, and it actually covers some of the subjects face as well, as another way of layering in some protection. I think that this really tedious action of sewing into the canvas—which especially on that size of canvas is ridiculous. I don’t know why I always end up…actually, I do know why I always get into these tedious things—is because it feels like love to do something that particular.
So that’s Miraj. And then Borders (Portals are so Gay) is a portrait of another dear friend who I’ve known since they were pretty young. He’s got a really playful sort of energy, which I wanted to capture. The imagery is him stepping into a portal that is lined with a thin rainbow and inside is basically stars, a galaxy, and behind that is an additional portal that’s made from gold glitter. There are gold bees emerging from the gold portal, and I sprayed the entire thing with glitter, so it’s sparkly throughout, which I love. And this figure is covered in a more salmon pink kind of paint that really bursts off the figure in a way that starts to look a little bit like fire. It feels like it’s speaking to transformation, and I’m thinking about how this middle space is a portal. To be in-between is an entry point into some kind of new radically different reality. And the portals are reminiscent of Islamic architecture as well. So there’s this way that I think in these two pieces and throughout, I am talking about these ideas of liminality, but there are moments that it becomes more grounded and rooted in concepts and imagery from Islam as well, and really looking for all of those connections so that it really becomes a queer and Muslim visual conversation.
CC
I wanted to leave with this idea. Your imaginary dreamscapes, this glitter, star-filled space, new world after the apocalypse with these two pieces of work—say those were the ones that were left for those who will inherit Earth, those are the things that are left behind. What does that impress upon the people who are left behind? What do they take away from that about your work, your life, your art? What is the lasting impression that you give to the world, that others are yet to inherit?
ST
That we are deserving of beauty and also ever-evolving.
