Abbas Akbari

The Iranian ink, in search of concept

I believe that alphabet, no matter how it’s created, is more mysterious, especially whenever its concept is not explicit and provided that it does not lend itself to sheer decorations; the mystery that conceals the concept in it like a gem.

The use of the alphabet, whether as an independent art in calligraphy, or as a visual conceptual function in other artistic forms such as sculpture, is of an ancient, yet various, history. The history and variety in styles developed by some artists is so great that make any new experience look like following the footsteps of previous works.
However, the visual capacities of alphabets in different languages and also the capabilities in transferring concepts have always been an effective factor for most artists to dedicate part of their activities to them. Although movements parallel with Lettrism in Europe, Saqqa-Khaneh Movement, and works created by other artists are all among the most notable approaches, studying the works of the subsequent movements and approaches, demonstrates huge differences in the works of these communities.
In the western contemporary art, superiority of the most important function of alphabets, the transfer of concepts, can be visibly seen. Barbara Kruger is an epitome this very function. In this respect, though, the well-rootedness of the conceptual art in the west, the fact that language is one of its main pillars, could be viewed as a factor affecting the approach. In Iran, however, the large number of those works that consider the alphabets as their building blocks rests on visual approaches with decorative manifestations. Nevertheless, some artists are found to be trying to demonstrate the conceptual, and to some extent, contemporary, functions of the alphabets.
However, in Iranian contemporary art, anyone employing the writing elements, in whatever style, whether decorative or conceptual, or whether in line with the previous works or with innovative aspects, will be accused of walking on the beaten path, or at least, of profiteering from the economic prosperity provided by selling such works in markets. I created the Iranian Ink Collection, although I was pretty much cognizant of cases of this nature.
Instead of going in accordance with the history of formalistic-modernist approaches or with contemporary conceptual ones in dealing with writing, the Iranian Ink Collection goes right according to my understanding of history and time in Iranian traditional arts, and in dealing with them. The title matters to me more than the works themselves; the title goes to the first work of the collection; the title was not written; it was created. Therefore, I’m of the conviction that what I created after this title is way more coordinated and narrates a different path, despite sharing some commonalities with the works prior to them.
I’m not a calligraphist; hence, I did not write the collection; rather, I designed it at my liberty. The works’ titles, like those of the collection itself, form the major part of that. The titles try to consolidate the formalistic aspects of those works, in addition to their conceptual ones, and also try to act as a reminder saying that there’s a concept latent in every word, even though the concept is concealed in the complexity and intricacy of the words that form the collection. I praise the concealment. That’s why, Siyah-Mashq works created by the traditional calligraphists strike me as more exciting. I believe that alphabet, no matter how it’s created, is more mysterious, especially whenever its concept is not explicit and provided that it does not lend itself to sheer decorations; the mystery that conceals the concept in it like a gem.
The Iranian ink and the Iranian Ink Collection are both black; the blackness that looks more colorful than other colors, I suppose. That’s why, in creating the works, whether they were made of iron or ceramic, I emphasized on this blackness. I took this into account even at the time when I was laboring on the collection’s graphics to print it in black and white.

Abbas Akbari
Kashan, October 2014