SHAHZIA SIKANDER: There's something about the process, the miniature process of painting  in this scale, primarily, which keeps it in control. I'm basically staining the paper and it has to be a very even stain. It's slow. and you have to keep the edge of the tea really, sort of, always in flow so that you just drip the  whole edge down steadily. It's very meditative, and there's a sense of familiarity because a lot of years have gone in here. (scraping) One thing I've learned is respect for tradition and respect for patience, because you just cannot achieve anything, like you can't achieve a painting if you don't... Like you need time. Time is the key. So I can't, like, do a show and prepare a body of work in a year. I need three to four years. (bells ringing) Miniature painting, you know, comes out of book illustration,  manuscript, painting. It's an old art form. All the strange piled up, stacked up perspective, interior spaces and then  suggestions of windows and doors, which suggest the outside  world or the spiritual world, or some notion of perfection. That kind of jewel-like,  translucency that comes through is only because you have a discipline behind it. It takes many, many layers, at least like 10 to 20 layers of different color, to build it up. And you have to be very careful, because if your brush is  loaded with too much water, you lift off the earlier layers of pigment also, 'Cause they're not sealed. So, it's practice. Sometimes, like when I'm not in practice, all the 10 years of experience  doesn't mean a thing. But when we were studying in school in Pakistan, my teacher used to have us sit  on the floor on white sheets and you get to leave your shoes outside. And everything was very precise and very clean and very minimum. And you worked on your work  and you did eye exercises. You kept your work at least  a foot away from your eyes. And it was very methodical. it had a very sort of... It was very ritualistic also. (Bells ringing) I feel like acquiring a  miniature painting early on... For me, it was painting. I was looking and understanding the formal sensibility of painting, except I was not painting on canvas. And I was painting on paper with a particular set of material, but it was all about surface, palette, form, composition, stylization. And self-expression came later. (bells ringing) A lot of my work is deeply personal and is drawn out of memory. If you look at this particular border, it's called riding the written  and here the text becomes more like horses or there's  a suggestion of movement. And that aspect is my  experience of reading the Quran, where I would read it with  no particular understanding because I was a child and I could read Arabic, but I couldn't understand it. And the memory of it is this amazing visual memory where the beauty of the written word supersedes everything else. The meaning is there, but  it's not just the meaning. It's the ability of the written  text to take you to that other level. (bells ringing) My whole purpose of taking on miniature painting was to break the tradition, to experiment with it, to find new ways of making meaning and to question the relevance of it. (paper crinkling) The starting point in all my work, whether it's small or it's large, actually begins as simple drawings, which are done on transparent tissue paper. A lot of the images that exist  in my work were happening because I was interested in subverting Hindu with Muslim and Muslim with Hindu. Having grown up as a Muslim in Pakistan, I didn't have much information  about Hindu mythology. And when I came here, I realized that these were the things which still interested me. And I was looking at the  idea of the Hindu goddess, but it didn't matter how many hands it had. Just the notion that it was the female body with several hands was important. But the goddess has a very specific face. And here I was dripping off the face and, and putting, like, a  headdress-like veil on top of it. And yet the veil is on top of a Hindu goddess, not to underestimate what's behind the veil. The minute you bring the  word veil into the equation, it kind of connects you to a Muslim identity or a woman's identity. And these are very loaded issues to take on because anything and everything  associated with Islam is either terrorism... <v ->Um-Hm.</v> ...or oppression for women. Culturally, it's not, you know, my experience. My grandparents, my parents, everybody was very, very progressive, very supportive people. My grandfather was very encouraging towards careers for women, with everybody. All the girls in the family. They did something with their lives. <v ->But then I was not keen.</v> If she's going to the National College of Arts, then she might as well do  architecture, which has scope. You know? And like, you know,  when she said fine arts, one was a bit, you know... At the most, you just hang a  few paintings in the house, whether you have a future or not. (laughing) That was so rude. <v ->So I was skeptical about that.</v> (forklift whirring) <v ->This type of work for me</v> was, like, just the opposite of the process of doing miniature painting. (paper sliding) This particular installation  is much, much more spontaneous. And it's always a challenge because the decisions made are fast. It involves my entire body. It's like I'm working within  the space and I'm up and down, you know, the ladders and I'm like painting. And then, everything kind  of happens from start to end within like four, five days. So, there's a certain energy which comes out. There is a certain sense of a little relief. Where several drawings have  been hung on top of each other, there's no intention to hide anything. Everything is very visible.  The paper is transparent. It floats, it moves. The idea, you know, comes out  of this whole relationship to veiling and revealing. I'm always taking photographs, doing sketches or taking notes. And then, I carry them wherever I go. I brought so much stuff from Pakistan and then so much stuff from Texas. And then, every time I sit to do some work, all of it is opened up. For me, it's always like these divine circles. You know, you go and you experience something and then you come back right where you started. When I'm working large and  I paint and I do murals, the next thing is always, I  come back to miniature painting. I can hate miniature for a while because it's frustrating because for all the different reasons of doing something so labor intensive, you know, which takes years to make. So it's like always, "Why do I do this?" And I let go and I do something else, but I always come back to it. And maybe because by the sheer act of doing it is what gives me certain sort of... you know, peace. (soft piano music)