An art museum can serve as a powerful monument, a place where histories can be revisited, reclaimed, and given a new voice. The oldest museums in our country are archaeological in nature, framed by perspectives constructed by outsiders. The narratives we inherit from these institutions often provide a non-inclusive and incomplete view that frequently diverges from our epistemic truth. The newer museums established after 1947 have become entangled in unresolved and incomplete narratives. Those dedicated to individual artists, such as the Shakir Ali Museum and the Jamil Naqsh Museum, have yet to fully realize their potential for various reasons. Is this due to our uncertainty about what we want from a museum, or our inability to connect it with a community that values both visitors and scholars? It is likely a combination of both factors.

To me, a museum dedicated to an artist should focus on advancing discourse about the artist, encouraging critical debates that unveil the many layers of their work and making it relevant to different generations. Several decades ago, the home of Shakir Ali in Lahore was transformed into a museum by the Pakistan Council of the Arts. During my last visit, I found all of his belongings intact and on display. However, there was a noticeable lack of imaginative exhibits or wall texts to help visitors understand their significance within his practice. The museum appears to have no ambitious plans to promote Modernism or to critically explore his influential aesthetic legacy. The events that have occurred there have been random and sporadic, failing to impart any new insights into his art. To this day, Shakir Ali’s paintings hang silently on the walls. I feel they have so much to say, but unfortunately, the moment of discovery has yet to arrive.

The Jamil Naqsh Museum, located in Karachi, is privately managed by the artist’s family. Its quiet aloofness gives it the feel of a shrine. Jamil Naqsh’s unique life, spent across three countries, represents a rich lode waiting to be explored by scholars and historians. However, the family must demonstrate their commitment to pursuing this direction. The innovative energies that empower great masters to reinvent, reinterpret, and recreate the familiar or to push into new territories often lie deeper than the popular narratives of reverence that surround them. Challenging these limiting narratives is not an act of disrespect; rather, it reflects a profound respect that comes from recognizing the importance of rejuvenating their oeuvre by delving into their practice and personality. This task undoubtedly places tremendous responsibility on those who undertake it, but it is crucial to remember that all the masters were iconoclasts who pushed boundaries to carve out new spaces for ideas. I recall reading a notable book about Bernard Leach, the pioneer of modern ceramics, in which the author deconstructed the myths surrounding him. By questioning Leach’s choices, the author did not diminish the legacy of this grand figure in ceramics; instead, they rendered him more human and engaging.

The newly opened Gulgee Museum in Karachi presents countless possibilities. Spanning two spacious floors, the museum allows visitors to experience works previously seen only in books, creating an unforgettable encounter. As you walk through room after room filled with swirling thick paint on canvases—some even taller than you—you can’t help but feel immersed in Gulgee’s creative force field. The sparkling mosaics of lapis lazuli convey another layer of the artist’s story, highlighting his eye for precision and detail, his skill, and his extraordinary talent for portraiture. As you take in the exquisite mastery of the mosaics, questions begin to arise: What is Gulgee’s special affinity for lapis? Is it the only semi-precious stone that offers the rich and varied tones needed to bring a human face to life? While working, did the artist think of the European traders on the Silk Route who sourced lapis as a precious commodity?

Did Gulgee’s time at King Zahir Shah’s court in Kabul give him his first exposure to lapis? Afghanistan, known for its vast deposits of lapis, certainly plays a significant role in this narrative. Surrounded by the mosaics, I envision Gulgee—the creator of twentieth-century royal lapis portraits—connected to all artisans and painters who have worked with this medium throughout history. From prehistoric artefacts to the Renaissance and Baroque painters who ground lapis into the famous Ultramarine pigment, reserved for the robes of the most holy and royal figures, this connection enriches our understanding of his work.

The vibrant colors in Gulgee’s art, now observable up close, open new avenues for research. This is the essence of a museum: it invites the inquiring mind to wander and encourages connections between memory, history, and community, linking the past with the present and future.

Title Image: Foyer featuring personal memorabilia of the artist, Shakir Ali Museum, Lahore, c. 2016. Image courtesy of Niilofur Farrukh.