In his book Kitab al Nabat [Book of Plants], Ibn Sina reflects on plant anatomy within a broader framework of order and purpose in nature.

He believes that the beauty and symmetry of flowers reflects the underlying harmony of nature, referring to them as “vegetative soul”, reflecting a higher cosmic intelligence. Sabah Husain’s show at Chawkandi Art Gallery, Karachi, ‘Gardens of Memory’, was a visual treat, reflecting on the cycle of life through a study of plants in her garden.

Husain is perhaps the only artist in Pakistan who has worked extensively with papermaking. She studied printmaking at the atelier of Japan’s celebrated woodblock printmaker Tokoriki Tomikichiro in Kyoto from 1985-1988. Apart from her specialisation in printmaking at the Kyoto City University of Fine Arts, at an institute of papermaking in Kochi, Shikoku, and post graduate and research studies as Japan Foundation Scholar at the Tokyo University of Arts and Music, her extensive portfolio includes postgraduate studies in the preservation and conservation of works on paper at the Camberwell College of Arts, in London (1990).

‘Gardens of Memory’ showcases a passionate allegiance to nature, visible in her erudite observational skill and study of flora and fauna, created at her garden in Lahore during the Covid lockdown. Sabah’s expertise in drawing, painting, diverse processes of printmaking, printing and photography, organic dyeing and papermaking of more than three decades has consolidated into a compelling series of mixed media works on paper created by her by hand.

Drawing upon botanical imagery, Sabah Husain’s works create a lyrical archive of nature, loss and cultural remembrance

Drawing upon botanical imagery, Sabah Husain’s works create a lyrical archive of nature, loss and cultural remembrance

The matured paper, with rubbing of oil-based paints, organic dyes from the sap of plants, drawing, painting and photography, holds histories embedded in the memory of trees. She speaks of Yakshi, the ancient female nature spirits in Indic traditions, who are seen as guardians of nature and custodians of treasures.

The imagery of bamboo, weeds, the common sadabahar flower, jhumka bel [Rangoon creeper] and champa leaves from the garden arrives via layers of recall and as if grown on the paper. It alludes to a larger narrative on the loss of biodiversity and ecological change.

Husain’s narrative has evolved through her affinity to the poetic traditions of Urdu and Farsi, and the classical musical traditions of the Indian Subcontinent. It is immersed in Khayal, an imaginative and creative musical form, based on a fixed melodic composition called a bandish, but in which the performer has immense freedom to improvise, ornament and expand upon the raga. The lyrics are often poetic, focusing on devotion, or the changing seasons. Husain recalls listening to musical recitations in the monsoon and spring [basant] in the garden.

Husain takes stock of her mother’s illness and passing away as her work holds grief in the beauty of the cascading yellow amaltas blossoms that her mother had planted. Husain reveals, “During a year of lockdown during Covid, the garden became, even more so, a place to explore, observe, nurture and connect with many pasts in the present, a palimpsest of time. The amaltas, the laburnum tree, is the tree of life, and my mother had a predilection for the tree. She had planted it, along with most of the flowering and fruit trees. Amaltas, with its riot of yellow, was a source of delight to her during her illness.”

At an accompanying gathering, Husain’s conversation with the poetess Zehra Nigah provided an appropriate way to read her art. Nigah read from her early poem in Urdu, Gul Chandni Ka Pairr [Pinwheel Jasmine/Carnation of India Tree], “Last evening, I remembered, as if it was in a dream, in a corner of my courtyard was a tree of the gul chandni, I would play under its shade all afternoon.”

Beyond its ornamental appeal, the gul chandni is steeped in history, cultural significance and medicinal properties, besides it’s pleasing fragrance, just like Husain’s description of bargat, neem and peepal that “are standing sentinel like mythical beings, part of cultural, collective memory.” In Nigah’s recall, her own self (jism-o-jaan) is akin to the courtyard with the gul chandni. “The flowers are all with her, the leaves her confidante, the shadow of the tree is still dear.”

The key to understanding Husain’s art is to draw into the metaphor embedded in her art. What is more potent than the reference to Shehr-i-Mafdoon [a city of buried dreams that need awakening] from her mixed media series from 2012, based on Noon Meem Rashid’s poem Hasan Koozagar?

As Husain remarks, “Connections between communities rupture, as do traditional knowledge systems and intertwined ecologies.” Her position is clear: the imagery is situated within a non-linear, holistic viewpoint, from where she critiques the disharmonies and the many notions of loss, time and space.

‘Gardens of Memory’ was on display at Chawkandi Art Gallery in Karachi from October 15-24, 2025

The writer is an independent art critic, researcher and curator based in Karachi

Published in Dawn, EOS, April 5th, 2026

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