Craft, Community and a Slice of Kashmir Could Disappear with the Dying Art of Papier Mache
With the sun glistening on his back, Mirza Ghulam sits next to the window of his karkhana or workshop. The light is illuminating the canvas, and on it, the brush in his hands looks for a purpose. With each brush stroke patiently applied, the purpose becomes more visible, and the vision becomes closer to reality. However, for the recipient of numerous national and state awards, the realities of this traditional craft appear much grimmer than the works he creates.
The craft of papier mache has been passed down over many generations, with Mirza himself having begun honing his skills at an early age of 10, working at his father’s workshop. The craft finds its origins in the 14th century, when the Persian artists were invited to Kashmir by the King Ghiyas-ud-Din Zain-ul-Abideen, bringing with them knowledge of papier mache, embroidery, shawl making, and carpet weaving.
The Persian technique for creating papier mache combined with related Central Asian art styles to create a distinctive branch of the papier mache art. As time went on, Kashmiri artists added their own flourishes to the genre, attracting admirers from all over the world to their compositions.
Most artists interviewed for the study over a two-month period claimed that theirs is the last generation working on the authentic craft as no official process of knowledge transfer of the craft’s indigenous production process has been made possible.
As time went on, Kashmiri artists added their own flourishes to the genre, attracting admirers from all over the world to their compositions. Photo: CNES
A complex production process
The masters' descendants have continued the work, particularly from the Shia community, forming two distinct communities involved in the craft of kar-i-qalamdani – the sakht-kaz turkhans (mould-makers) and the naqash (artists). The mesh is created by using small pieces of paper and paper cuttings, which are soaked in water for periods stretching a month. Once the material is fit for moulding, a mixture of rice flour and water is used as an adhesive to give the shape and kept in sunlight until it becomes rigid to form the sakth or structure.
This is followed by applying finishing touches on the structure using kur-kut or ignite rock, or baked rock – a process primarily handled by women. Once the structure is ready, the product is further worked upon by the nakash who makes colourful designs on the structure. First, a gold paper is used to give the structure a sparkling look, following which a variety of homemade colours are used to create the design. After applying varnish, the product is ready for exhibition.
There are some recurring themes and ideas in Kashmiri papier mâché that are meticulously portrayed in these "original masterpieces." These can be intricate calligraphic designs or flowery and naturalistic designs.
Arshid Hussain, 37, explains the nuances of the unified process as “one defined by interconnectedness, as the project begins with the turkhan, who creates basic wooden structures, upon which the sakhtkar moulds the paper mesh, and the nakash finally creates design.”
The intricate designs and labour-intensive processes has required significant amounts of expertise and patience. Both are only afforded to craftsmen who have engaged with the work for long durations. Despite the government’s efforts, in association with Kashmir University and the Kashmir handicraft department, to preserve the craft by introducing short term courses, there is a decline in the interest of people to continue the craft, owing to the rising labour costs and a constrained domestic market.
The ethnic background
Rooted in Iranian traditions, original works of papier mache can be identified in regions of Kashmir like Kamangar Pora, Hasan Abad, Rinwari – areas dominated by the Shia community. As such, the craft has endured in such regions, which has led to Kashmir being called an Iran-e-Sagheer or little Iran.
As described by Muzafer Hussain (53),
“Shias were primarily involved in the craft of papier mache, while Sunnis showed interest in other crafts like carpet weaving and wood carving. Over time, our Sunni friends began learning the art of papier mache in various workshops. However, their involvement is mostly focused on the production of raw materials. Some Sunnis also had a role in designing, but they eventually left as they found better opportunities elsewhere.”
The interdependence of the two communities doesn’t end there.
With the Sunni community heavily involved in the exporting business of such products, both groups rely on each other to facilitate the sale of these crafted goods, thus creating a form of camaraderie. Yet, the significance of the craft is deeply intertwined with the cultural identity of the Shia community in the region.
According to Muzafer, “Engaging in this craft allows us to freely fulfill our religious obligations, something that may not be as feasible in other professions. It becomes a form of Sufi art where we find solace and spiritual fulfillment within the confines of our homes, detached from the distractions of the outside world.”
“For instance, I changed my surname from Kamangahr to Joo,” explains Muzafer Hussain Joo, while elaborating about the fraternity with the two sub-ethnic groups.
He further remarks, “Over time, our Sunni friends began learning the art of papier mache in various workshops. Now, there is a village called Nowpora in Srinagar where approximately 500 artists are engaged in papier mache. However, their involvement is primarily focused on the production of raw materials. Some Sunnis also had a role in designing, but they eventually left as they found better opportunities elsewhere.”
Troubles in the recent past
Papier mache artwork used to solicit interest not only from the local markets but were also a significant attraction for international tourists. Dal Lake was particularly renowned for its artwork showrooms, some of which would also be available on the famous houseboats of the region. The artists would retain their relative autonomy in the creation of designs that would still be in alignment with the cultural identity and influence of the community as a whole.
Even the production would entail artists engaging in every aspect of the process, from manual creation of the paper mesh and creating their own colours from supplies available at home, to selling these products in the markets and showrooms.
The craft carried with it a form of prestige for artists, who would devote long periods of time and effort over minute pieces of artwork. Muqsood Ahmad Ganie explains the toll it takes on artisans, as they sit steady for elongated periods of time while carefully working on perfecting each piece product for days at end. “We have to sit for 12 hours and it takes a heavy toll on our eyes, he says, we cannot use a chair.”
Mysir Khan further explains the adverse health effects of the painstaking process of designing elegant and sophisticated papier mache artefacts. He says, “Working in workshops provides a positive experience for us as artists. However, it has become increasingly common for artists to work in isolation, which can take a toll on their mental health. The constant focus and intricate details involved can strain our eyes. As a result, we cannot work continuously for extended periods and need to take breaks every hour to rest our eyes and prevent fatigue.”
Since the 1990s, there has been a steady erosion in the local market for such goods. Owing to political unrest, marketplaces were shut down frequently, dwindling the already meager incomes of the artists. As the number of tourists started to decline, the fear of continued turbulence discouraged the artists from entering this line of work.
While illustrating the dying demand of the authentic motifs, Parvaiz Ahmad Naqash, an exporter in Papier Mache, notes, "One notable example of this shift in demand is the closure of the renowned showroom, Suffering Moses, which specialised in authentic papier machie products. Over time, customers lost interest in these traditional items."
As the evening sun goes down, Mirza Ghulam also begins to wrap his work for the day. The meticulous design begins to take shape on the canvas, but the work is nowhere near finished. As he eyes his creation, he laments, “Most of the commercial products nowadays have defamed the art of papier mache. As this work requires a lot of patience, younger generations don’t have the time or energy to devote to this endeavour. What is left in the markets are imitations of the real art, that is not durable or of quality work, but suits the demands of the market.”
Deepanshu Mohan is Professor of Economics and Director, Centre for New Economics Studies (CNES), Jindal School of Liberal Arts and Humanities, O.P. Jindal Global University. Ishfaq Ahmad Wani is a Contributing Research Analyst with CNES Visual Storyboards. Tavleen Kaur and Hima Trisha are Senior Research Analysts and CNES Visual Storyboards team leads. Yashovardhan Chaturvedi and Anousha Singh are Research Analysts with CNES.
Names of all respondents have been changed to protect their identity and maintain anonymity. The authors would like to especially thank Dr. Rekha Pachauri and Dr. Meera Shirodkar for their assistance with field work, interviews and in the audio-video documentation of the study. Without their support, this study would not have been possible.
All photographs are credited to them and Ishfaq Ahmad Wani.
This is part one of a three-part series undertaken by Visual Storyboard initiative of Centre for New Economics Studies (CNES), Jindal School of Liberal Arts, O.P. Jindal Global University. Visual Storyboards’ work can be accessed here. For this project, please find all video essays published here.
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