Opening image: Simon Norfolk, swimming pool near Tepe Wazir Akhbar Khan, 2010-11, from Burke + Norfolk. Published originally here.
Francesca Recchia
Kabul. An open thought from the Afghan Institute of Art and Architecture
The school was born ten years ago in response to the risk that the traditional forms of artistic craftsmanship may disappear due to war, migration and negligence and guarantee the safety of the students becoming a small corner of paradise in the old city of Kabul.
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- Francesca Recchia
- 26 December 2018
- Kabul
In time, I have understood that big statements don’t do much, but gestures and actions leave a mark. Maybe it is a small and transient mark, but the things that we do certainly don’t go unnoticed. And so, don’t the how and the why.
For the past six months I have been working as work as Acting Director of the Institute for Afghan Arts and Architecturein Turquoise Mountain.The Institute is a little corner of paradise in the heart of the old city of Kabul. The school was founded ten years ago to respond to the risk that traditional crafts would disappear because of war, migrations and carelessness.
At the onset of the Taliban regime, in fact, many traditional masters left the country for fear or lack of opportunities thus interrupting the cycle of knowledge transmission and creating a void that was difficult to fill.
Those who, by choice or need, had stayed back in Afghanistan were struggling to survive - Ustad Hadi, for example, who once was a prominent woodcarver at the king's court had ended up selling bananas in a wheelbarrow on the street to feed his family.
The initial mandate of the Institute was to gather the threads of a story that risked to be forgotten; today we have students who are learning the arts of Islamic calligraphy and miniature painting, jewellery and gem cutting, woodwork and pottery with the blue glazing coming from a local plant. They are girls and boys, between fifteen and twenty years of age, who are learning an economically viable craft, while contributing to the active preservation of Afghanistan's cultural heritage.
Working in a school like this, preserving the stories from the past while looking at the future, is a great responsibility.
It is also a unique opportunity to think about the role of traditional knowledge - slowly sedimented across generations – in relation to the fast pace of contemporary society; to think about how to keep it relevant and sustainable without anachronisms or the romanticisation of an ideal past.
In a country like Afghanistan, the responsibility towards my students include looking after their physical safety as well as making sure that they spend the day in a healthy environment, have a warm meal and learn something useful for the future. And all this while keeping very high educational and quality standards. In running a school with 100 students aged between 14 and 20, I often found myself wondering what would be the important things to say and which would be the messages to pass on. It took me a while to understand that I had set myself on a futile mission to chase an ungraspable answer.
To find some clarity, I only had to change strategy: much less talking, and more doing so as to make sure that things at the Institute could take a new shape. Small things, seemingly unimportant, that could in fact carry fundamental values and concepts that do not translate well in words and instructions. It is months that I ponder about the importance of radical pedagogy and how this is the key to give meaning to my work. The great teachers who guided us in thinking about education in transformative terms did not spend too much time in elaborating big theories, but they set for us a path made of small steps – always shared, never imposed.
I decided to follow this direction of minimal, but highly symbolic gestures. Instead of asking my students to move the tables, I moved the tables with them. I changed the seating arrangement during assemblies; asked girls to sit on the front row instead of at the very back; took away podium, stage and seat of honour when important guests came to visit.
I asked students to take ownership of their school – with all honours and responsibilities that come with such status – and mostly to strive so that their creative efforts will make them recognisable as distinct and unique individuals.
My unexpected testing ground has recently been one of our teachers at the Institute, who marked some of these moments with spontaneous comments as if he were suddenly struck by an unexpected revelation. His English is not perfect, but his way of phrasing things makes concepts even more convincing. A few days ago, he told me: “Ah now I understood, so this is how we make equality.” I didn’t exactly think of it in these terms, but it turned out to be a very effective way to put into words to my attempt to question the rigidity of hierarchies and to think together about new ways of engaging with each other. Yesterday morning, in the daily meeting with the Heads of Departments, it was him again to translate months of work into words. We were discussing about collaboration, interdisciplinary exchanges and how to push teachers to help students multiply possible future horizons. His remarks sealed the discussion: “From now on, at the Institute, we teach to think open.”