Airside: in conversation with Bash Khan

Bash Khan (BK)  is a photographer and filmmaker from Glasgow. He’s also a good friend- we met in 2008 whilst working together at Glasgow arts organisation Project Ability. Bash is the person who, following on from his own Hajj journey in 2016, inspired and encouraged me (ND) to re-examine my father’s Hajj Terminal photographs and archive.

Bash has created a number of artworks in response to his Hajj - ‘Take These Words’,  a single continuous shot depicting pilgrims circling the Kaaba in Mecca’s holy Mosque, first shown in the Laurieston Church in 2016; and ‘There Shall Be No Interest’, a sound and video installation in The Hidden Gardens, in 2018. Bash and I have continued our conversations about Hajj and the Hajj Terminal ever since. We picked it up again recently, when Bash was observing Ramadan.

Yasmin Sabina Khan (YSK) is a structural engineer and author based in Chicago, Illinois. She is the daughter of Dr. Fazlur Rahman Khan [1929-1982]: structural engineer, frequently described as ‘the father of the modern skyscraper’. Fazlur Khan’s contribution to the evolution of the award-winning Hajj Terminal was integral to its success. In 2004 Yasmin published ‘Engineering Architecture: the vision of Fazlur R. Khan’, a detailed account of her father’s work, written with both technical and personal insights. Yasmin has kindly and generously permitted me to reproduce extracts from her book.

(ND) One thing that’s really revealing itself through this project has been some lovely threads of parental influence. Chip Richie made the film ‘Gateway to Mecca’ with his father; Yasmin Khan became a structural engineer like her father, Dr. Fazlur Rahman Khan.  And it was conversations about your Hajj, that you made with your mother, that inspired me to start looking more closely at my father’s archive, and the photographs of our time in Saudi. So I have you to thank for starting me on this incredible journey. Can you tell me about how you came to do your Hajj with your Mum?

(BK) My Mum and Dad did the Hajj in 1994 and both of them had an amazing experience. My mum kept saying that she’d love to go again, and my Dad, who passed away in 1995, would always encourage her to take me. So when the plan was made to go, I initially wondered whether I was ready, that maybe it wasn’t the right time, spiritually and financially. You ask yourself ‘Am I ready for this?'.  And then, of course, when you start doing a bit of research it tells you that it is very rare that you make a decision to go. It tends to be the other way round, that somehow the decision has been made for you, that it’s your turn.

(ND) Can you describe coming into Jeddah?

(BK) Before you enter Saudi Arabia you are meant to be in the state of Ihram, which is when you are wearing your all-white cloth. The flight leaves from here and stops in Turkey. And once you come within a certain distance, you should be in that state of Ihram, that state of intention. A lot of things in Islam are about intention, it’s a big part of it. That moment marks the transition; it’s really beautiful, everyone starting to be one. You begin to strip away all the colours and fashions. That oneness is not just about people, but of God.

A lot of things in Islam are about intention, it’s a big part of it.

(ND) It’s interesting that you talk of the state of Ihram. When you watch videos of pilgrims coming in now, mostly everyone is wearing white. Whereas in my Dad’s photos, nearly everyone is wearing the bright colours and prints of the countries from where they’re from.
 

We landed in Jeddah early in the morning. I’d heard a lot about the rush, the amount of people and realised that I was going to be challenged during this process. I had to ask myself ‘how do I stay patient?’.

(BK) I was expecting a massive amount of rush and bustle. But actually the space was big, and of course it’s quite cool, so it was comfortable to be in, which is something that changes as soon as you get outside into the heat. I don’t remember it seeming that impressive; but then I was also very conscious of the question ‘where is my focus meant to be?’, I was thinking about the journey to come. It’s an interesting point that at that first moment in the Hajj Terminal, I was maybe not so aware of the environment as I normally possibly am. And unlike other airports, with this one, your head is in a different zone.

(ND) Structural engineer Fazlur Khan was acutely aware that a lot of people would have spent their entire life savings on going and it might be the only time they may travel by air. So he wanted to make the Terminal as ‘un-Terminal’-like as possible.

(YSK) ‘From observation during the 1975 hajj, the designers estimated that 70-80 percent of the passengers were from non-industrialized countries. For this majority, many of the qualities of a Western airport would be unfamiliar; being funnelled into mobile lounges upon their arrival, or into a futuristic maze of people-movers would make the experience more stressful and disorienting. After considerable study of programmatic objectives, the designers recommended forming a shaded terminal space that provided basic comforts and a temperate environment, as opposed to an enclosed and artificial climate.’

(BK) So there is that moment of coolness and calmness before you get on the bus, head to the hotel, and then you’re out, heading to the Mosque. As soon as you get there people’s first priority is to do their first prayer. And of course, you don’t want it to be anywhere else. It’s the first time you’re going to see the Kaaba. The Qua’ran talks about the first time that you see the Kaaba: whatever prayer you make is listened to and accepted so it’s a very important moment and I think that's where many people's focus is. And I thought about my own focus, and how I am very much in between looking at the spiritual and wondering about the lives of people who are around me.

(ND) I’m somewhat familiar with you being in the Mosque at Mecca because of the works that you made ‘Take These Words’ / ‘There Shall Be No Interest’). The first time I saw that work was in the Laurieston Church , on a really, really rainy night [both laugh].

(BK) It goes back to what I said at the start- that you don’t make a plan. Through this process, I made a promise to myself that I wasn’t going to rush and shove to get to these places. The consensus of the black stone is that if you manage to touch it or kiss it, that it absorbs your sins. They say the stone used to be white, and through time it’s gone black. But I’d said to myself, if I have to trip over someone, or if I have to push someone to get there, that I would be uncomfortable with that. At one moment I managed to get my finger onto the tip of the top, and I realised, to go any further, I would have to use my physicality to get through.

(YSK) ‘The force of this exercise regularly startles pilgrims; it was an ‘experience in vigour,’ noted Fazlur Khan.’

(BK) Same as with the piece [‘Take These Words’], on that day, I didn’t decide where I was going to go in the Mosque, the crowd was shifting me this way and that, and I just went with the crowd, and it took me to a certain point. Eventually I saw these escalators going up. And when I got to the top, that’s where I ended up filming. And again I had to wait, I don’t know for how long, and then someone moved away and I managed to step forward and then I had that view that you saw. I was very conscious that I didn’t want to be filming there the whole time, so I found a space within the architecture to place my mobile phone. I left it there and let it record whilst I did my own prayers and reflections. I didn’t decide to go to that place. You are led to these places.

(ND) What a perfectly framed view.

(BK) The film duration is 49 minutes 49 seconds. The number ‘7’ comes up so often in Islam  - the 7 circulations around the Kaaba, the 7 times running between the mountains of Safa and Marwa where you recognise the role of Ishmael’s mother, to try to appreciate what she went through.  I always find that interesting when people talk about Islam not recognising the woman’s role. But one of the most pivotal moments of Hajj is when you recognise the challenges that a mother faces, and you recognise her and pray for everyone that’s involved. The Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, of course he is there and is a big part of it, but a big part of it is also going back to Abraham and his time.

(YSK) ‘Although the physical strain of the hajj ritual made it a strenuous journey, Fazlur Khan was strongly affected by its spiritual and historical significance. He gained, in addition, an intimate understanding of the pilgrimage that would shape his work in planning and design. The experience made him distinctly aware of the social inheritance and physical circumstances that are inseparable from Islamic, and Saudi Arabian, consciousness and strengthened his determination to make use of contextual understanding to positively affect the built environment.’

(ND) Do you want to talk about the significance of placing the work [‘Take These Words’] in the Laurieston Church?

(BK) It was a lot to do with the misinformation that we all have. Within Islam we recognise Moses and Jesus, not just that, but say, ‘peace be upon them’, just as you would say about the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him. That they are as relevant as prophets of Islam. And both Jesus and Moses were Muslims, because Muslim is just an Arabic word for ‘one who submits to God’. So it was about looking at that inherent connection between those religions. And we all make judgement on certain things without doing any form of research or reading.

(YSK) ‘He had a way of falling into conversation with people,’ colleague and fellow traveller Lynn Beedle recalled. Fazlur Khan inquired into daily routines - of an engineer, a tour guide, or a cab driver - and wondered how people viewed the world.’

Fazlur Khan inquired into daily routines - of an engineer, a tour guide, or a cab driver - and wondered how people viewed the world.

(ND)...Or have conversations. I think the thing you’d said which was so powerful, I’ll quote from your website: ‘In November 2016 the Israeli authorities attempted to ban the Adhan (the call to prayer) in Jerusalem, and in an act of solidarity, the Christian church in the city of Nazareth sent out the Adhan from its own walls, protesting the Israeli restrictions on religious freedom.’  Which takes us back to that church in the Gorbals.

(BK) I always feel that within the Islamic world we struggle to get stories heard.

[In 2018 Bash screened his work ‘There Shall Be No Interest’ at The Hidden Gardens, an urban green space in Pollokshields, one of Glasgow’s most multi-cultural areas. It was conceived as a place of peace, community and contemplation.]

(ND) Can you talk about the Hidden Gardens showing?

(BK) The Hidden Gardens was a place designed for people to have a voice, for people from different cultures, backgrounds, religions, to share those experiences in a comfortable safe way.  It was a fantastic opportunity to show my work there. I was also conscious of how many people would come – you never know how people will receive things. But to have that sound in that place played out to quite a large audience. The calmness of the evening was really nice to feel as people observed the work. And there was also something with the weather - it had been due to happen in February but had been cancelled due to snow.

(ND) And the rescheduling of it made it possible for me to come from London.

(BK) So again, it was meant to be. You find that there is always a solution. To see that work in a new place, and find more ways of taking that out to different audiences, to find new ways of introducing a more nuanced way of presenting Islam to audiences, mean that The Hidden Gardens was a pivotal moment. We are always too rushed with everything, but the duration of this piece - a long take - helps tell the story in a softer way.

(YSK) ‘The extent to which direct reference to vernacular architecture shaped the Hajj Terminal’s roof units is unclear. Talking about the design in 1989 for his ‘Oral History’, Gordon Bunshaft denied any influence. Khan, he asserted, had liked to imbue the fabric roof shape with this foundation; but the design team had not looked to tent shelters for guidance during the structure’s development. Yet Khan’s notes indicate that the designers were aware of the relation between the fabric roof form and that of traditional tents during schematic design and [Hajj Terminal lead structural engineer] John Zils recalled that this relation animated their work. Besides appreciating the visual resemblance of the two types of shelter once the roof unit structure began to emerge, Khan’s understanding of context could not help but further inform the design process. He had spent much of 1976 immersed in the study of Islamic architectural heritage and cultural traditions; he had performed hajj in December 1975; and he had taken shelter in the tent camps erected for the pilgrims.’

(BK) The piece is about exploring, being able to move around is key. For the Muslims in Pollokshields to see their faith represented in a way that they think is closer to what they feel, than to how other people represent it, has an impact. We had the sharing of food. And the text on the panel from the Prophet’s last sermon which was delivered after the Hajj, which does not get enough exposure or analysis, it talks very clearly about women’s rights and it talks about a kind of anti-capitalist approach of no interest.

(ND) ‘There Shall Be No Interest’, which is what you named it.

(BK) When I see the demonisation of Islam and question why it’s being attacked, it was a system, like Communism, that did not fit with what other people wanted to have, and what they could do to sell. So you have to look at the ideas being promoted, and by whom.

(ND) One of the biggest questions that I’ve faced with the project is whether or not to feature my Dad’s photos of pilgrims in the Hajj Terminal. I learned that he was granted official permission to take them, but there’s still something of a question there.  We already occupied a very privileged position within Saudi as white Westerners from a country that was a strategic ally.  We lived within a camp that I now come to understand was massively, grotesquely different to the one where the actual construction workers were living, they were Bangladeshis, they were Pakistanis. The conditions that we were afforded were not afforded to those workers.

So there are the photos where people were looking directly at him. In a lot of the photos, there's loads of very energetic, friendly exchange. You can see that they're looking straight at the lens. There's a dialogue going on there. And then there's other images, they're much more peaceful, but I think he was maybe using a longer lens so the pilgrim or pilgrims weren’t necessarily aware that he was taking them.

(BK) I challenge and question myself many times taking pictures. I took a picture once of a guy sleeping on a wall in Bilbao. And the wall was grey. And he was wearing grey. And the only thing of colour was his slippers which were green. I took the picture and I questioned myself for a long time if I should have taken that picture. I didn’t ask him if I could take it, even though we can’t see who he is, but I didn’t ask him. If I had asked him the picture would not have remained as it was.

And looking at this thing of past privilege, as long as you are looking at it now - one thing that I read that flipped my approach - historically the camera and photography was for rich people, people that were deemed to be important enough to be photographed. With social photography what you’re seeing is that people who traditionally were not deemed to be important enough, now they are represented, now they are photographed. And I think if you come from that approach and that mindset then you’re flipping that. And by zooming in to those photographs, you’re saying these people are important as well, you’re giving them prominence. So for me, it flips that conversation. And as long as that’s articulated somehow. The question of privilege that we have all had, in different ways, how do we use that in a contemporary way? It’s not to ignore it, it is to bring it up and to recognise it, and to reframe it.

(ND) Where would it sit though, in relation to the photographer [my father, a non-Muslim] not being engaged in that holy act?  You mentioned earlier, you’re already in a mindset of intention.

(BK) I’ll go back to what I said at the start. I didn’t make the decision to go to Hajj, we don’t have control over that one. And what we think we know now might change. So the idea of your father being there, and those people being there, that’s part of a plan. Your father taking those photographs was meant to happen. You looking at those photographs now, 40 years later, was meant to happen. These photographs taking on another layer or journey, was meant to happen because it brings that conversation forward. It doesn’t ignore it, it brings it forward. Someone may look at those pictures and be inspired to know more about the Hajj, and know something about Islam. You don’t know where it is going to lead. So that’s the other side, if they’re not seen. They’re powerful for various reasons. Even as the act of documentation of a time and place, they’re valuable. And where they may go, and what conversations they may lead to, we don’t know yet, but that’s what we have to be open to, and that’s what work does. Work brings those conversations up. And we have to explore them.

     I didn’t make the decision to go to Hajj, we don’t have control over that one. And what we think we know now might change.