At Anna Boughiguian's latest solo exhibition at the Safar Khan Gallery, Gamal Nkrumah discovers that, where rivers meet, desire gives way to spirituality Fisherman, or fisherwoman? "Life is an androgynous experience. Everyone is both male and female," Anna Boughiguian nonchalantly reflects. Rivers, too, according to Boughiguian, are androgynous. "Have you noticed that all the figures in my paintings and illustrations are androgynous? All of them, look at the sailor balancing on the sail." Where Rivers Meet, a spectacular water colour, is reminiscent of Boughiguian's curious theory that at a certain point the male and the female in us all blend naturally -- that is the point, figuratively, where rivers meet and conventional sexual stereotypes depart. The Reclining Man in a Felucca, dressed in virginal white, is neither male nor female. Anna Boughiguian is a Capricorn; her Zodiac sign is represented by a mythical creature half goat, half fish. Water is always important as far as Sea Goats are concerned, except that Capricorn is not strictly speaking a water sign. Yet, Boughiguian is enthralled by the very notion of water, rivers, in particular. They are symbols of life, cleansing waters. Boughiguian is particularly enthused by purification rites in religions, ancient and modern. Ablutions were performed in ancient Egypt, in the river Nile. Ablutions are to this day a prerequisite pre-prayer ritual of Islam, and Hinduism, too, is replete with ablutions. The River Ganges, sacred to Hindus, is fascinating as far as Boughiguian is concerned. But so is the Nile. Nile and Time is a beautiful still life, serene and pensive and very Egyptian. Boughiguian says that the Cairene island suburb of Manial, where she has her studio, inspired it. The rushes and reeds, the palm fronds and the blinding green exude a tremendous power of fruitfulness and abundance. Zamalek by the Bridge is equally evocative, an urban setting of skyscrapers and city lights. Then there is University Bridge, and that is a story apart. Among Boughiguian's themes of choice is the flow of waters which to her are inextricably intertwined with festivals, musicians and dancers. The concept of the correlation between rivers and festivals is simultaneously Indian and Egyptian. Portraits of women and men dancing and singing on the banks of sacred rivers abound in Anna Boughiguian's oeuvre. The figures are portrayed as if everlastingly immersed in lugubrious waters. The rivers were her retreat, just as they were theirs. Boughiguian, however, broke with her tradition of melancholy colours at her exhibition in Safar Khan, Zamalek. Hers is a celebration of life within the confines of two exceptionally important rivers, each with a hallowed religious tradition that renders them scared. The rivers are objects of veneration themselves. She has striven to convey a sense of the adoration and reverence expressed by the people that inhabit their vicinity. The brownish green of the rivers bespeaks the pollution that has engulfed them. Drawing is an everyday habit for Boughiguian. She does not consciously play an active role in the major artistic trends of the region, or the world for that matter. However, she does in her own very personal way, act as an active witness or observer to the events of her time. She travels. "I love travelling. Travelling is a passion of mine." She has travelled extensively in India. The South Asian sub- continent has special significance for Anna Boughiguian. Her numerous encounters with people, and her near encounters with death in India, only strengthened her resolve to understand that expansive country. These poignant moments of misfortune lend her works greater significance. As she crossed the vastness of the Subcontinent, the boundless vistas seemingly gave her a taste of eternity. She traversed the vastness with the eagerness of a child who, barely having learned to walk, is attempting to run. She crawled, hobbled and pressed on. Bridges are the very antithesis of barriers -- they overcome all obstacles. "One cannot seriously study rivers without coming across bridges. Rivers inevitably lead to bridges, at least in the modern age we live in. I paint contemporary scenes. For me rivers and bridges are correlated." There is something intangible in Boughiguian's works that bridges the gap between the lax or amateur world of naïve paintings and the domain of the professional. "I do not consider myself a professional painter. I am an artist." And it is as much as anything feelings of sadness and impotence in the face of the pollution that mars the beloved rivers that gave birth to these illustrations and paintings. For Boughiguian rivers and bridges are inextricably intertwined. Bridges, according to Boughiguian, reflect how much man has interfered with nature. The exchange of people and bridges tell the story of certain rivers. "Embaba Bridge," she says, "is one of the last historical bridges of Egypt." Boughiguian does not attempt to absorb the surrounding cultural ferment of contemporary Egypt. She simply tries to capture the marks of time on a river, not just the flow and the movement of its waters. In many respects, she is a painter of movement, a witness of time passing. Faced with solitude, an inner inexplicable loneliness, she paints a fish. The shape of the fish intrigues her. Fish was a symbol of the early Christians. "Fish has a significance to many different cultures. In Bengali culture, fish are sacred. No Bengali meal is complete without its component of fish. Bengalis do not feel you have eaten unless you eat fish." The conversation unexpectedly veers towards religion. Boughiguian remarks, rather nonchalantly, that fish -- putrid, rotten fish, is eaten by Egyptians on Sham El-Nassim, an ancient spring festival of the pharaohs. Fish is a symbol of fertility, of fecundity. "I bought a bolti fish, examined it carefully, and then decided to portray it. Fish personifies the moment. It is a creature of water and of life." Without warning, Boughiguian broaches the prickly subject of food. She speaks about her need to go on a diet. She has been a vegetarian for many, many years -- four decades, may be? She does like fruit and puddings. She drinks dollops of coffee, and notes that muddied rivers remind her of coffee. "I drink milk, and I eat cheese. I am not strictly a vegan." Boughiguian is essentially a vegetarian. She paints fish, but she doesn't eat fish or any other seafood. "I eat nothing with blood, nothing that was once alive. Plants, yes, I do eat." After experiencing life in India, she observes that colour is of particular importance. The symbolism of colour is just as poignant as the significance of fish. "For me, blue isn't spiritual, it simply relates to the sky and sometimes to water." She protests that she doesn't understand why people assume that the various shades of blue are the colours of spirituality. She discloses that the Dalai Lama has always presented her with "red gifts". Now red is a colour that beguiles Boughiguian. She doesn't know what to make of it. "I use red as carnal balance." Her paintings rarely feature red. Yet, her latest exhibition at Safar Khan is replete with it. A very special type of red, though. Several of her paintings at the Safar Khan were graced with generous splashes of carnelian red. They appear as if out of nowhere, out of the blue, in the strangest of places. But in India red is the colour of festivities, of weddings and the bride. Still, carnelian red is a carnal colour, not particularly suited to rivers. "Red relates to carnality. I use it in a contained manner," she extrapolates. True, Boughiguian uses red frugally. Red is an earthy, warm colour that exudes eroticism and bespeaks sensuality. It is the blood that runs in our veins. "Water is movement. You just can't hold it. It flows." Just like the blood flows, so does the rivers. And, if in Communion, the blood of Jesus Christ is symbolically drunk in the form of red wine, so in Hindu culture the drinking of the waters of the Ganges are a spiritual rite of significance. "If you drink water from the Ganges you go to Heaven. What is Heaven? You die when you go drink the water of the Ganges. Often you find dead cows, a disintegrating and putrid human body," Boughiguian heaves as she recalls. "Both the Nile and the Ganges are very polluted rivers. The Ganges is more mysterious, though." She compares the Nile unfavourably with the Ganges. "The Nile has become very commercial, less mysterious." The Nile was once sacred, she recalls an age bygone. Ancient Egyptians deified the Nile, and Boughiguian stresses that Hindus, and not Buddhists, glorify the Ganges. She expresses her ambivalence towards religion in general and particularly Christianity and Buddhism, her faiths of choice. "I am not entirely a Buddhist. You cannot forget your past. In some ways I am a Buddhist, in others I am a Christian." Fishermen and sailors are not that far away from the world of pristine Christianity, especially in its earliest beginnings. The River Jordan, which incidentally does not feature among Boughiguian's works at the Safar Khan, holds a special niche in Christianity. Jesus Christ was baptised in the River Jordan. The human figures depicted in the current Boughiguian collection at the Safar Khan look like they have been baptised, or maybe I read that meaning into her illustrations precisely because it is Easter. Her acrylic Fish Market is exquisite. In Egypt fish, rather than eggs, are associated with Easter. A window opens on the river. "I told the Dalai Lama that I was a Christian at heart, he smiled." But then there are sailors, many sailors. Sailor on a Red Chair: yes, the colour-codes again. Sailor and Passerby, both water colours and pencil. And then is another Sailor (water colour and aclyric). Many, many sailors in different mediums, and all of them androgynous. You cannot tell whether they are men or women. One is reclining on the deck, his/her form distinctively feminine -- that is what I think at first glance. But the more I peer into the painting, the more I see the masculine. Feminine and masculine blend naturally with the waters all around. Sailor as Acrobat and Sailor with Rope -- both water colours. Then there is the haunting Sailor Climbing into the Sun -- an astonishing water colour -- yet another androgynous sailor. There is the Sleeping Sailor and Sailor Sleeping inside the Felucca, and the poignant Portrait of a Sailor -- all acrylic. Again, I cannot help but stare at the Reclining Man in a Felucca. "There is this metaphysical man. He is dressed in white, searching for reality. The musicians are painting. Isn't it bizarre? But then all India, the entire existence is bizarre," Boughiguian chips in. The water colour Luxor is lovely, but then so is Mountain and Sail, and most beautiful of all is Ganges in oil and acrylic. Musicians by the Ganges is colourful and eye- catching. Fish is dark and lovely. Brother and Sailor at the Ganges: One Drop of Water is hauntingly beautiful. All through, brother is sister in more ways than one, and sailor is someone special, androgynous and distant. One drop of water is one drop of water in the ocean, the river, a pond. It is a euphemism for eternity. Back in her beloved Egypt, "The Gabal Silsila is a very beautiful place." Upper Egypt has its own scenes of stunning beauty. "The felucca is very typically Egyptian. It existed in the days of the pharaohs. It, too, is androgynous. The sail is like a curtain, a fig-leaf, that covers the sex of the vessel." There is a timeless quality about Boughiguian's paintings and illustrations. I suddenly note a foot -- it is as if it is a footnote of sorts. "I always have feet in my work, may be I am a foot fetishist," the artist wheezes after a coughing fit. Then again, this is another story, another exhibition.
