Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiism 9781472548788, 9781441149077, 9781441125248

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Preface

The representation of prophets and saints in Islam is erroneously considered nonexistent by many scholars of Islam, Muslims and the general public. The issue is often dealt with superficially without attention to its deep roots in piety and religiosity. Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiism offers new understanding of Islamic iconography and Muslim perspectives on the use of imageries in ritual contexts and devotional life through an analysis of the representation, reception and function of imageries in Iranian Shia environments. The study is based on ethnographic field research conducted in Iran between 1999 and 2003 with male and female informants. The examination combines iconographic and ethnographic approaches to introduce and discuss an extensive collection of data, including imageries such as tile-paintings, posters and wall hangings presenting imaginary portraits of Imam Ali, visual narratives relating to the battle at Karbala and religious texts, in addition to ritual performance and interview with local viewers. The context-situated analysis of the meaning and function of imageries is related to the wider Iranian Shia culture of representation, including visual, textual, vocal and performative forms of expressions, to explain how pictorial models are developed historically and situated culturally. Contemporary Iranian Shia iconography draws on the polysemic quality of visual signs. The iconography appears as multi-layered with signs taking on iconic, indexical and symbolic meanings. Individual viewers’ interpretive strategies are inspired by their knowledge of Shia history and hagiography, the saints’ positions in the Shia perception, personal sentiments and reverence for the saints, and personal experiences of saints’ positive intervention in situations of difficulty. The use of imageries is embedded in votive practices and serves as invocation and thanksgivings, nazri, as well as declarations of faith and expressions of praise. Imageries are also used to decorate communal ritual spaces and are instrumental in defining the liturgical orientation of the ceremony to create a mood, hal, to facilitate private and communal devotion. The main argument presented is that visualization and seeing have representative and transformative qualities. Images and decorative programmes mentally evoke the saints in the minds of devotees and inspire their recollection. Such cognitive processes can transform emotions and generate cultic behaviours that facilitate making contact with the saints. Visualization and seeing are significant to the dissemination of religious knowledge and to the understanding of spiritual and ethical values. Within the context of Shia theology of redemption, both visualization and seeing function as modes of venerating God and the saints, and reinforce personal piety.

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The present research could not have been accomplished without the generosity and collaboration of many individuals in Iran. I am particularly indebted to Mariam Kamali and her husband Mushtaba Haqnegahdar, and to Ms Haqnegahdar and the late Hajj Haqnegahdar. I am also grateful for the support offered by Zahra Kamalkhani, Parvin Pourmirza and Karim Mousavi and their families. I have received great inspiration from conversations with Richard Johan Natvig, Peter Chelkowski and Ulrich Marzolph. My sincerest thanks are due to Jürgen Wasim Frembgen, Faegheh Shirazi, Rossella Ragazzi, Lena Liepe and Stephen Wolfe who offered valuable comments at earlier drafts. I would also like to thank Julian Raby and Erika Friedl who provided important references for the research. The encouragements from Øyvind Norderval and Jill Wolfe have been helpful throughout the project. Finally, I would like to thank Bruno Laeng for his continuous support, help and advice. I am in particular grateful to Ulrich Marzolph and the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) for allowing me to reproduce images from their collection. The study was generously funded by The Norwegian Council of Research.

Note on Transliteration

The primary source material includes written sources in Arabic and Persian, and oral sources in Persian. A simplified transliteration system has been used in an attempt to incorporate the three vernaculars into one consistent style that be recognized throughout the book. For example, the expression ahl al-bayt is transcribed in a form closer to written Arabic and Persian, omitting the Persian genitive particle of ahl-e which is used in oral language. Regarding diphthongs, I opted for the form bayt, instead of beit or beyt. Hopefully, the general reader will be able to recognize the orthographic pattern also in the terms like ´alayhu. I have not used diacritical marks. All transliterated words, except proper names, are written in italics. In general, the dating in the book follows the Gregorian solar calendar, which is identified as ad (anno Domini). Some written sources such as wall hangings, as well as interview, refer to the Persian solar calendar, which is identified as ap (anno Persico). In some cases, it is also relevant to refer to the Muslim Lunar calendar, which is identified as ah (anno Hijra).

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Introduction

Mr. Azadi moved a portable neon signboard with an image representing Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas out of the courtyard of the shrine where it was kept and into the line of the mourning procession which his hay´at organized on the evening of the seventh of Muharram.11 The signboard showed Abu al-Fazl alAbbas, the half-brother of Imam Husayn and standard-bearer at the battle at Karbala in 680 ad, wearing a helmet decorated with a green headband and topped with two feathers (Figure 1). A green shawl surrounded his strong neck and shoulders. Blood dripped from a cut on the left side of his forehead. Nevertheless, his facial expression was composed and firm. His head was surrounded by a halo and at the level of his shoulders the light-beams merged with a transparent watery pattern enclosing his chest. The halo indicated holiness, whereas the water referred to his last mission: bringing water from the Euphrates River to thirsty family members and supporters in their camp at Karbala. The wound carried a message about the destiny that met Abu al-Fazl at the banks of the river: suffering and death, but also martyrdom and triumph, as emphasized by the halo. The float carrying the image was given a prominent place in the hay´at’s mourning procession since its members perceived themselves as the ‘succeeding allies’ (mutahede janesharan) of Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas. The image was a recent gift to the hay´at. It was presented as a nazri, a thanksgiving to a prayerfor-help (ex-voto) that a member had requested from Abu al-Fazl. He is commonly known as the bab al-havaij, ‘The Gate to the Wishes’, and in the community there were many stories about his immediate response to requests for help. As the image was transported through the streets, two chadordressed women parted from the watching crowd on the flanks and approached it. They stroke the face of Abu al-Fazl with their hands and then repeated the movement, now crossing their hands over their own face. Touching objects that are connected to holy people is generally believed to secure the believer’s blessing (tabaruk). The women then stepped aside to let the float pass on. The presentation of a saint’s image in a Shia Muslim mourning procession, as described above, calls attention to the existence of figurative images in Muslim visual culture, its iconographic expressions and meanings, and the function of images in ritual and devotional life, a topic that has until now received little attention. While the figurative representation of prophets and saints in Islam is

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often considered nonexistent by scholars of Islam, Muslims and the general public, a more accurate account is that Muslims hold divergent views on the production and use of figurative imageries, particularly in the context of religious practice. Indeed, aniconic attitudes prevail among Sunni theologians and Sunni popular practices, although exceptions to such positions among the Sunnis are many.2 Adherents to the Twelver branch of Shiism in Iran have taken a different position and can look back at a long history of producing figurative imagery with themes from the Shia hagiography to be used in the service of religion. Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiism addresses the presence of images in contemporary Iranian Shiism to discuss the visualization of belief and piety. The study introduces and discusses contemporary religious iconography and epigraphy, examines its content and meaning, and analyses the use of images in devotional practices. The aim is to elaborate on our information about the visual vocabulary applied in contemporary Iranian Shia popular art, the significance of images in expressing religious belief and sentiments and possible functions of images in ritual locations and devotional practices. In the Iranian Shia setting, ritual participants are presented with locally created and culturally embedded multifaceted sensory experiences in which visualisation and seeing is part of complex ritual aesthetics. I argue that to many ritual observers, visualization and seeing is central to the recollection of Divine will and saintly power, the dissemination of religious knowledge, the transformation of emotions, to cultic behaviour, the understanding of ethical values and spiritual experiences. As such, there is an intricate relationship between the visual and other aesthetic expressions and sensory experiences. Shia devotional practices, including praying, honouring, thanksgiving and commemoration, are expressed in aesthetical practices such as recitation, chanting, music, gesticulation, performance, visual culture and food, expressions which stimulate a range of sensory experiences that are acoustic, kinaesthetic, visual, gustatory and olfactory. Aesthetic sensory experiences are valued for their cognitive and emotive significances, which are held to have transformative effects on ritual observers. It is believed that through engaging with these forms of aesthetic expressions the social agent can gain insight into and reflect on religious truths, activities that are believed to encourage saintly mediation and Divine redemption. The examination of the representation, reception and function of images is therefore a most rewarding entry into the study of peoples’ religious beliefs, sentiments, values, forms of piety and contemporary lay-perspectives on the Twelver Shia faith in Iran.

Visual Culture in Contemporary Iranian Shiism The visual material presented and discussed in the book relates primarily to hagiographic sources referring to holy Shia personages and events. The material is therefore to be distinguished from the recently developed genre of

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revolutionary and post-revolutionary images in Iran conveying a more explicit politicized iconography.3 By the turn of the twenty-first century, the hagiographic related iconography can be separated into three main categories: (1) portraits, meant to offer a representation of a person which expresses something about his or her personality and temperament; (2) narratives, meant to tell a story about an event and (3) symbolic representations, typically in the form of saints’ attributes with the signifying power of standing for the saint. The most typically seen design in public and private spaces is the single portrait of Imam Ali. In addition, Imam Ali is represented in double portraiture together with son Imam Husayn, and in triple portraiture together with his sons, Imam Hassan and Imam Husayn, or Imam Husayn and Abu al-Fazl alAbbas. Another portraiture genre is the group portrait in which Imam Ali is depicted together with Hassan and Husayn and his father-in-law, the Prophet Muhammad. In some group portraits they are accompanied by Fatemeh alZahra, the Prophet’s daughter and Imam Ali’s wife. Moreover, Imam Ali is represented seated together with the subsequent ten, and sometimes eleven, Imams. A traditional, but today less common depiction, presents Imam Ali together with Salman al-Parsi and Qanbar.4 Visual narrations from the life story of Imam Ali span the time from his birth to his death. The particular circumstance around his birth has given Ali the epithet walad al-Ka´ba, ‘The baby of Ka´ba’, and one pictorial theme shows Imam Ali’s mother carrying the newborn Ali out from the Ka´ba in Mecca. Another design depicts the Imam tearing off and carrying away the gate of the fortress of Qamus. A quite different characteristic of Imam Ali is addressed in scenes in which he brings bread to a fatherless family and cares for poor children. The final assault on the Imam’s life is suggested in a scene in which he is about to enter the mosque in Kufa, followed by his two sons Hassan and Husayn, while ducks try to prevent him from entering. The assault is illustrated in a scene depicting Imam Ali about to be stabbed while praying in front of the congregation in the mosque of Kufa. The most common visual narration in contemporary Iranian Shia visual culture is, however, the battle at Karbala. Some designs draw on the established genre of visual narratives, pardeh-dari, developed in Iran in the nineteenth century, to depict a combination of scenes from the battle. Other images present single episodic designs focusing on the fate of individual main protagonists from the battle, such as Imam Husayn, his two sons Ali Akbar and Ali Asghar, his nephew Qasem and half-brother Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas. In addition, Imam Husayn, al-Abbas and Imam Hassan are represented in single portraits, of which the two first mentioned are the most popular in use. Visual representations of later imams include al-Reza and al-Mahdi. Imam Reza is typically depicted protecting a small group of deer from a hunter, while there also exists a visual rendering of the Imam dining with Caliph Mamun, by whom the Imam is assumed to have been poisoned. The hidden Imam, al-Mahdi, is depicted in the process of re-appearing in the human world. Among the prophets, Ibrahim and Muhammad are the favourite characters. In colour posters, Prophet Ibrahim is

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depicted about to sacrifice his son Ismail but being interrupted by the intervention of the archangel Gibril. Prophet Muhammad is typically represented in prints and wall paintings. In addition to the group portraits mentioned above, two popular motifs show the single portraiture of the Prophet represented as a juvenile, and as a mature man in the appearance of a prophet.5 The repertoire of female figures in contemporary Iranian Shia hagiographic iconography is scanty. Zaynab, the daughter of Imam Ali and Fatemeh, is in hagiographic literature and ritual practice honoured as an important protagonist at the battle at Karbala, in the following captivity in Damascus and to the developing tradition of commemorative practices. Also Sakineh, Imam Husayn’s daughter, is remembered as a protagonist at Karbala. The two women are included in the visual repertoire of Karbala visual narratives but the use of these images in ritual contexts is limited when compared with their male relatives. A more popular theme is the women and children in the camp at Karbala left to witness the martyrdom of those male relatives. A typical hagiographic representation of Fatemeh portrays her standing behind the entrance-door of her house, which is depicted being violently attacked. The scene refers to the event when Umar, after the death of the Prophet Muhammad in 632 ad sent a group of men to her house to ask for Ali’s oath of allegiance, bay´a, to support Abu Bakr as the Prophet’s successor. The group of men sent by Umar supposedly acted aggressively and Fatemeh, according to Shia hagiography, was wounded and later died.6 Symbolic representations appear in the form of popular decorative items used in contexts of ritual performance. The semiotic potential of its iconography, presented in flags and wall hangings, is complex. For example, an amputated arm may refer to the person al-Abbas, as well as to the battle at Karbala and notions of Shia suffering and martyrdom. Contemporary images depicting holy figures and events may be characterized as popular forms of religious art. An essential characteristic of popular art is its conventional appearance with certain themes reproduced in various formats.7 Another general characteristic of popular religious art is that it is affordable and obtainable to a large number of people. Accordingly, the production of Shia popular images includes cheap mass-produced colour posters and stickers, and medallions of cheap metal. Images are produced as small stickers, 2 × 2 cm, and as posters on glossy paper, 100 × 70 cm, and any size in between. Colour posters and prints can be purchased from shops selling prints and cards. Piles of religious imageries can be found next to piles of posters of football-players, musicians and actors from the Middle East. Young men in Western-inspired fashion, styled in the latest haircuts, may just as well buy a poster of Imam Husayn as purchase a poster of a famous football player. Available on the market are also more expensive silver and gold coins, handmade silk carpets, oil paintings on canvas, imprinted neon lights, appliqué work and embroidery. Most, if not all, posters are printed in Iran. The production of popular religious prints also prevails in Egypt, Syria, Turkey, India and Pakistan, but the prints produced in Iran address more specifically the Twelver Shia understanding of Islam. Wall hangings can be purchased from tailors in the

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bazaars of major and minor towns, whereas silk-carpets are traded by established bazaar vendors. Wall hangings are also produced in Iraq, where the production is particularly adapted to the souvenir trade developed in connection to Iranian pilgrimage to the holy cities of Najaf and Karbala. Typically, Iraqi produced wall hangings specialize on shrine motifs in addition to copying representations of of main protagonists at Karbala from the Iranian poster tradition. A third characteristic of popular art is that the artist often remains anonymous. Prints depicting religious motifs are sometimes labelled by the name of the publishing house, and less often with the name of the artist. In fact, the artist of most prints, and all wall hangings, tapestries and embroideries, remains anonymous. Thus, the economic value of these visual objects derives from the quality of the material, rather than from any artistic originality. The most important significance of these visual objects is, however, to be found in the motifs’ religious meaning and function. It is the reference to the person represented in the portrait and the event described in the narrative, which makes the image valuable for the religious beholder. Images expressing hagiographic themes can be observed decorating shop interiors, office spaces, public buildings, private libraries and homes. Many people carry medallions depicting the portrait of Imam Ali or Imam Husayn, while some keep a coin or a picture with a representation of a holy person in wallets and pockets for protection and good fortune. It is also common to attach stickers on gear sticks and car windows for the same reasons. In addition, images are displayed in ritual locations of permanent and temporary nature, such as imamzadeh, takiyyeh, husayniyyeh, fatemiyyeh, zaynabiyyeh, khanegah and zur-khaneh.8 Consequently, a large number of people purchase images with religious motifs and even more are exposed to such images in various settings of public and private spaces. Although such visual expressions have been characterized as ‘popular’, the images do not only appeal to the religious masses, but are sometimes appreciated by members of the clergy and religious elite. From the rich body of iconographic representations listed above Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiism focuses on the most widespread motifs in terms of use in ritual and devotional contexts, that is: the single-portrait depiction of Imam Ali, Karbala narratives and symbolic representations. It has been argued that the meaning in visual sources may be studied at the site of production, the image itself and in the social context of its reception.9 The present study is placed at the intersection between an analysis of the image and its iconography on the one hand, and its reception within a social and religious context on the other. The purpose is to examine iconographic conventions, local viewers’ interpretive strategies and opinions, and the function of images in commemoration rituals held during Muharram and the celebration of saints’ birthdays, mowludi. Fundamental to the analysis of iconography, the meaning of signs and the function of images in a community’s lived religious experience is the understanding of local viewers’ interpretive strategies. In the following, I recapitulate responses from local interviewees regarding their interpretation of visual

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representations of Imam Ali and the battle at Karbala. These local interpretive strategies have been embedded in the methodological and theoretical approach. The religious images I discuss here connect to religious narratives about historical events and the biography of saints. The images are not presented as illustrations in conjunction with a written text in books and pamphlets, but produced as separate items. There are, nevertheless links between the visual and verbal narrative. Shia believers are exposed to narratives about the lives of the Imams and of the battle at Karbala through written and oral channels. Rowzeh, stories about the saints, and nowheh, elegies, are reproduced in books and pamphlets sold in religious bookstores and available in public libraries. Rowzeh and nowheh are communicated to larger audiences in an oral manner during ritual performances. During rowzeh-khani, an elocutionist, rowzeh-khan, recites stories from the lives of the Imams, members of their families and their supporters, typically focusing on dramatic moments in their lives. Listeners respond with lamentations and sometimes flagellation. The nowheh deals with the call to go to Karbala, the arrival at the plains, the battle, and its aftermath. It is intended to appeal to the feelings of the listeners and engage them in the performance. Nowheh does not have the narrative form of the rowzeh but builds around an emotional and symbolic language presented in short sentences, which may be repeated several times. It is a form of responsorial song, with worshippers presenting stylized answers. Ritual leaders, maddah, draw their repertoire from an established tradition of religious narratives and songs but many make a personal collection of rowzeh and nowheh written down in a pamphlet. Visitors to rituals eventually become familiar with the repertoire, and to many it is an important key to the hagiography tradition. I have therefore included oral performances of rowzeh and nowheh as sources to the interpretations of visual narratives presented in posters and wall hangings. Recording songs and stories, writing them down and translating them has been time-consuming, but I believe, necessary in order to discuss the connection between image, text and oral performance, elements which were central to how religious beholders related to denotative and connotative aspects of the images at commemoration and mowludi. The images discussed in this study belong to a culture of devotion which has developed a rich tradition of performative practices, such as, verbal narration in textual and oral form, singing, theatre and pantomime. Elegies praising and commemorating the martyrs from the battle at Karbala are said to have been composed by the surviving members of Imam Husayn’s family.10 During Fatimid reign in Egypt (969–1171 ad) and Buyid control of the central and eastern parts of the Caliphate (821–1055 ad), commemoration ceremonies were organized in private and public spaces. The maqtal-literature, with collections of martyrdom narratives, became a resource for the development of various ritual expressions that allowed believers to express their devotion. Two genres of lamentation literature developed: rowzeh, a narrative of the sufferings of the

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Imams in general and of the battle at Karbala in particular; and nowheh, lamentation poetry, also known as marathi. During the reign of the Buyids, street processions were organized as part of the mourning ceremonies,11 and during the Safavid period in Iran (1501–1722 ad), various dramatic elements such as processions displaying gigantic standards, banners, decorated animals, coffins and trophies were employed, as well as elegy singing, storytelling, passion plays and ritual dance.12 These ritual expressions continued to develop in Iran during the reign of the Qajar Shahs (1721–1924 ad) when images of Imam Ali and the battle at Karbala were integrated into ritual life to shape new forms of devotional practices. The tradition has continued into the modern era. The iconographic vocabulary applied in contemporary images is reproduced in various media and has become part of the audiences’ broader visual literacy. One example of how religious signs and symbols are disseminated in the wider culture is the public performance of ta´ziyeh, the Shia passion play. In 1999 I attended the performance of nine plays presented to the public in the courtyard of the Masjed Nasir al-Mulk in Shiraz in the lunar month Safar. Performance groups from various parts of the country had been invited to participate in the arrangement. The national television company IRNA recorded the event, and when revisiting Iran during Muharram the following year, I could watch the locally performed production being broadcasted nationally as part of the official programme for marking the annual commemoration of the battle at Karbala. Ta´ziyeh is performed in a highly conventional manner, in which protagonists and antagonists are identified through colour codes, dress codes and the manipulation of the voice (the protagonists would sing and the antagonists would speak). Visual conventions applied in ta´ziyeh productions can also be observed in the images that form the main sources of this study and a comparison between the two genres is necessary to culturally contextualize the images. The study of contemporary visual representations is therefore framed in a broader culture of piety and ritual practice. Such interdisciplinary approach is congruent with the modern study of iconography, which is methodologically and theoretically inspired by anthropology, semiotics and reception theory.13 It is, moreover, compatible with trends in contemporary ethnography which combine textual, historical and narrative research practices.14

Interpretive Communities and the Meaning of Visual Signs This is a holy image of maula hezrat Ali who, in the Way of God, is the Master of the Just Law of God. Although it is only a representation, Ali’s kindness and honesty is evident in the face. Evident is also his fair judgement, government, and his concern for orphans. I don’t actually notice the visual appearance, only maula’s kindness. He supervises me when I cure my patients. When I enter my shop, I cast a gaze at the face of maula, and I ask God to give me Ali’s qualities.15

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The portrait in Figure 2 depicts the first Shia Imam, Abu al-Hassan Ali ibn Abi Talib. Imam Ali’s portrait is one of the most frequently presented images in Iran at turn of the twenty-first century. The portrait was on display in a shop where a female ritual leader, maddah, sold herbs for medical purposes, and provided therapeutic assistance through prayer. Her interpretation as referred to above is in several ways representative of how other interviewees interpreted visual representation of Shia saints. Her account is therefore a fruitful entry into exploring interpretive strategies and the meaning of signs in the Shia interpretive community. The portrait presents a three-quarter-profile in which Imam Ali is represented with persistent gaze oriented to his left. The face is illuminated and immediately attracts the viewer’s attention. Imam Ali’s eyes are brown and the welltrimmed beard is dark with a stain of gray. He wears a green head-cover similar to the traditional Arab ghutah, but the rope, ´agal, is omitted. The head-cover falls down on his shoulders and partly covers them. He is dressed in a white shirt under a dark (brown) cloak. A belt crosses his chest. In the background a cloudy blue sky blends with a yellow halo surrounding his head. Although identifying the portrayed as Imam Ali, the ritual leader did not believe the portrait to be a ‘true’ presentation of Imam Ali, but understood it to be a representation. She made a distinction between material and spiritual aspects of the image. Whether or not there actually was any physical likeness between the visual representation and the historical Ali ibn Abi Talib was not important for her evaluation of the image. More relevant was the portrait’s ability to represent Imam Ali’s qualities and character, traits that she held were reflected in the facial expressions. According to the ritual leader, the face expressed kindness and honesty, qualities that many Shia believe characterize Imam Ali. In the portrait, the Imam is not framed in any historical or social context, nor is he provided with attributes that could be used to identify or associate possible roles linked to him. Nevertheless, the ritual leader claimed to read out of the image information about his social and political roles, and how he conducted those tasks. She further described the image as serving the role of a mediator. She perceived that she could connect metaphysically with Imam Ali through the image, and that he supervised her when she healed her patients. It is my understanding from interviews with this ritual leader, that the power of mediation was not believed to be in the image itself. Rather, the motif served to connect the viewer with Imam Ali by directing her mind and heart to his spirit, fortitude and piety. Furthermore, the image embodied the qualities of the Imam and functioned as a point of reference to what the viewer aspired to be like; she would cast a glance at the face, and ask God to give her Imam Ali’s qualities. When comparing the interpretation offered by this ritual leader with those presented to me by other viewers in the local community when asked to comment on similar portraits, their comments corresponded on two particular issues. Typical was, on the one hand, the identification of the portrayed as Imam

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Ali. On the other hand, the images were not perceived to be authentic portraits, but believed to present the appearance of a person whom viewers associate with the Imam. Hence, the posthumous representations of the Imam were entirely the products of believers’ visual imagery. Following a definition offered by Richard Brilliant, I suggest we are dealing with a pseudo-portrait, that is, a portrait that represents all those traits of character that people are prepared to accept as being ‘Imam Ali.’16 An essential constituent of a person’s identity is a recognized or recognizable appearance. However, Brilliant has argued, a portrait that has become widely accepted as the image of a well-known historical subject may function very usefully as a portrait of a person even if the features actually belong to someone else or, I would add, are imaginary.17 What seems to be the crucial factor is that viewers can associate the portrait with a given name, and with that person’s character, appearance, reputation, fate, fame and role in society. Shia viewers’ association between the historical Ali ibn Abi Talib and his imaginary portrait, as well as between other Shia saints and their imaginary portraits, was generated by reading identity into the portraits. Visual signs designated to model the character, such as facial characteristics and expressions, gesture, dress, colour, attributes, surroundings and milieu, stimulated such projections. Reading identity into the portraits was based on knowledge of and familiarity with visual signs. When viewers had identified the portrayed, making statements such as ‘this portrait represents Imam Ali’, they proceeded to interpret the portrait, to assign meaning to it. This involved reading out of images qualities admired in the saints. On the one hand, this process was one of recognition in which the interpretive strategy was influenced by the viewers’ prior knowledge of the saint’s activities and accomplishments. An additional factor that repeatedly guided interpretation of images was the viewers’ personal affection for the saint represented in the image. When interviewees were asked to comment on possible meanings in a saint’s portrait or his or her appearance in a visual narrative, many presented stories referring to the personal experience of this particular saint’s mediation. Viewers frequently pointed out that their reverence for Imam Ali and other saints, in particular Imam Husayn and alAbbas, had been strengthened by the saint’s positive intervention in their life. The event was typically a strong motivation for purchasing images representing certain saints. Personal life experience thus served as a resource and reference when images were evaluated and interpreted. Important to local viewers’ evaluation of images was also the significance they attributed to the events depicted, for example their understanding of the purpose of the battle at Karbala. In the process of reading a saint’s qualities out of a portrait, each viewer would therefore present individual, although often matching interpretations, combining personal opinions, experiences and emotions with orthodox Twelver Shia theology on the nature of the imamate. The above observations shed light on local viewers’ interpretive strategies and spectatorship, and encourage reflection on the relationship between signs

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and their meaning. One may assume that duplicated images, representing Imam Ali or the protagonists at the battle at Karbala, reproduce sameness and engender close correlations between denotation, what is seen, and connotation, what it means. Similarly, one may expect that when a person or a theme is represented with iconographic diversity, such variation will inspire divergent interpretations. However, local viewers’ readiness to identify prototypical albeit sometimes modified imaginary portraits as representing Imam Ali indicate that the sign, an imaginary portrait of a man, is taken to stand for only one referent, the historical Ali ibn Abi Talib. From a denotational perspective the portraits seem to be ‘closed’ and monosemic. By contrast, pious viewers’ individual interpretations of such images indicate that from a connotational point of view, portraits can be ‘open’ and polysemic.18 Given the widespread agreement among viewers as to the identity of the portrayed person, it is relevant to discuss which visual mechanisms and conventions promote a closed, monosemic reception and interpretation of portraits. The ethnographic data suggest that viewers’ identification and recognition of the portrayed as a particular saint are not simply the result of a command of iconography and the understanding of pictorial content, significance and use, but also depends on knowledge and understanding of hagiography and history. Interpretation is therefore dependent on visual literacy in a semiotic understanding of the terms, referring to knowledge of signs and their use, how signs relate to larger sign-systems, and the understanding of pictorial content.19 The closed readings suggest that to some extent visual literacy is shared by a number of members in the local community. Such shared understanding is founded on religious and cultural knowledge socially transmitted and conveyed through time. Methodologically, the study of representation and reception is therefore embedded in a wider cultural and social field. The signifying aspect of signs and sign patterns is related to the representations of Imams and other holy personage in Twelver Shia theology, history and hagiography, as expressed in various forms of aesthetic expressions. These sources have been created and re-formulated in the human culture through history and I discuss how contemporary visual signs form part of a aesthetic practice that exists in the interpretive society as a potential source for visually representing holy personages and events, and for viewers to interpret those visual expressions. By combining communal interpretive frames and individual interpretations we can, I suggest, begin to understand how religious images connect to religious belief and practice, and life in general. Post-structuralist semiotics and reader-response literary theories offer valuable analytical perspectives to the analysis of an object (text/image), the receiver (viewer), and recipient community, and the relationship between them. Whereas post-structuralist perspectives recognize an essentially unstable nature of signification, semiotics and reader-oriented perspectives suggest that the embedding of image and viewer in a particular recipient community may function to stabilize interpretation although not necessarily close it. The theories suggest ways of analysing the interplay of monosemic and polysemic meanings

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in images, and I draw on these perspectives in the methodological and theoretical approach to how Shia visual representation of holy personage and events render themselves meaningful to an interpretive community. Reader-oriented theories set themselves against formalist approaches to literature, which view meaning as embedded within a work of literary art. Instead, meaning is understood to develop within the dynamic relationship between reader and text.20 Precisely how the relationship between the text and the reader works has been a subject of discussion. Does the text itself trigger reader’s act of interpretation, or do the reader’s own interpretive strategies impose solutions upon the problem thrown up by the text?21 A reader-response orientation clearly supports the subjective response of readers, but by doing so it also faces the problem of subjectivism. If there are as many experiences of a text as there are readers of it, how may we say anything of general interest about the text? What is the ground for common reading experience and for shared meaning? The above questions concern communication in general, but the issue of possible shared experience and meaning become particularly accentuated when images are studied as visual religious expressions and symbols. Islam is a community-based religion and there is a strong appeal for adherence to core beliefs, shared values and communal organized worship, although interpretation and expression has varied among and within local Muslim communities historically and geographically. For an image to be acknowledged as a plausible visual representation, it is dependent on some degree of common acceptance in the religious community and collective ‘reading’. For an image to pass as a representation of Imam Ali, it must also be accepted as standing for person’s character, appearance, reputation, fate, fame and role in society. However, as I have already indicated, Shia viewers also treat the imaginary portraits of Imam Ali and visual narratives as open, polysemic works. To deal with the issue of subjectivism from the perspective of literature Stanley Fish introduces the idea of ‘interpretive communities’.22 He suggests that a community may share cultural assumptions or interpretive strategies regarding reading and understanding a text. Fish’s position has been criticized for reducing the process of meaning-production to the already existing conventions of the interpretive community. It is argued that Fish seems to abandon the possibility of deviant interpretations or resistances to the norms that govern acts of interpretation.23 Against such critique, Fish has proposed that interpretive strategies are learned within particular social settings. When different interpretive communities read the same text but approach it from different interpretive strategies it may engender different readings. Reading and meaning therefore may change. A productive transposition of perspectives from reader-response theory into the study of Hindu religious images has been demonstrated by Richard H. Davis.24 Davis observed that when it comes to viewing sculptures and images, meaning emerged through the relationship of image with viewer, who brings his or her community’s interpretive strategies to bear within the encounter.25 For centuries many Hindus took for granted that the religious images they placed in

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Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiism

temples and home shrines for purposes of worship were alive. This was in accordance with the Hindu theological postulate about religious images being animated beings. However, in the interpretive process Davis recognized the individual viewer’s bearing on interpretation; viewers brought their own frames of assumptions, understandings, needs, expectations and hopes, to what they saw. Individuals and groups of people with diverse religious assumptions and political agendas animated the same object with various meanings and roles, some of which the images’ original makers or worshippers never foresaw. These frames were historically grounded and socially shared.26 The relationship between receivers’ agency and the role of his or her community in interpreting meanings has also been a topic for art historical debates. In studies of painting and experience in fifteenth-century Christian art in Renaissance Italy, Michael Baxandall argues that when a viewer is looking at an image one knows it has been made with the purpose of representing something.27 A key point in his argument is that in the process of understanding what is shown, the viewer refers to his or her experience of representational conventions and that this visual experience is affected by the viewer’s society and culture. Baxandall suggests ‘some of the mental equipments a man orders his visual experience with is variable, and much of this variable equipment is culturally relative, in the sense of being determined by the society which has influenced his experience.’28 This carries some important implications. It affects the way images are being composed because in order to communicate with an audience, the painter must assume to viewers’ visual literacy. The public’s visual capacity becomes the painter’s medium. It also implies that meaning is neither intrinsic in the image, nor does it rest solely with the viewer. Rather, meaning is generated at the moment the viewer and image enter into a dialogue. The presumption is that images are products of particular cultural, historical and social contexts, and as such carry familiarity. When drawing on this familiarity, the viewer can be expected to recognize and interpret meanings presented in signs and codes. Thus, according to Baxandall, ‘the period eye’ conditions the forms of representation applied by painters, and their interpretations by viewers. Whereas Baxandall recapitulates conditions that would endorse interpretation of imageries in a past society. Norman Bryson discusses in particular the transposition of signs from the past to the present.29 He points out that a painting is able to travel away from its maker and from its original context to different times and places. Meaning is therefore neither intrinsic in painting, nor confined to the context of a painting’s origin, but comes to the sign from the place it projects itself to, or ‘lands in’.30 Bryson, therefore, understands interpretation as an activity occurring always within a social formation, and makes three points that I find appropriate to the study of representation and reception of Shia imagery. He argues that recognition of visual signs unfolds through viewers’ activation of codes that are learnt by interaction with others, in the

Introduction

13

acquisition of human culture. The second point made by Bryson is that a painter’s production of signs is part of the same circulation of signs which permeates the rest of the social structure. Thirdly, Bryson suggests that codes permit the elaboration of new combinations of the sign, resulting in a further evolution in the discursive formation.31 This is one of the most typical traces of popular art in general, and of Shia popular religious art in particular. The foundation for such dynamic perceptions of the production and interpretation of signs can be traced back to the post-structuralist semiotics of Charles Sanders Peirce whose concept of ‘semiosis’ covers the process of signification, the production, and the interpretation of signs. Peirce’s understanding of signs as polysemic, yet grounded or coded provides a stimulating conceptual framework for the aims of the study of contemporary Shia visual culture. Peirce’s definition reads as follows: A sign, or representamen, is something which stands to somebody for something in some respect or capacity. It addresses somebody, that is, creates in the mind of that person an equivalent sign, or perhaps a more developed sign. That sign which it creates I call the interpretant of the first sign. The sign stands for something, its object. It stands for that object, not in all respects, but in reference to a sort of idea, which I have sometimes called the ground of the representamen.32 Peirce perceives the receiver or viewer to be an empirical, social actor, and not an ideal, abstract figure.33 It is, moreover, implied that meaning is produced by the users of signs, not solely by the sender. A third important premise in Peirce’s definition is that meaning is open to interpretation rather than being embedded in the work of art, meaning is interpreted in context and meaning can vary and even change. As soon as a mental image takes shape in the mind of a viewer, it becomes a new sign, an interpretant of the first sign and the process continues. The process of signification is therefore an ongoing process, and may be described as a semiosis, in which the interpretant is constantly shifting. Peirce distinguishes between the immediate interpretant, the dynamical interpretation, and the final interpretant. The immediate interpretant is the interpretant given in and by the sign itself.34 It is the meaning potential of the sign before its actual interpretation. The dynamical interpretation is the result of an actual interpretation. This is to a large extent dependent by the meaningpotential of the sign itself, but additional meanings are easily produced, for example from the experience of the interpreter (viewer). The final interpretant is the interpretant that will remain unchanged during any further investigation and interpretation. The outcome would be a valid and stable interpretational habit. In a discussion of the concept ‘habit’ as used by Peirce, Jørgen Dines Johansen and Svend Erik Larsen suggest it is appropriate to distinguish between habits that occur as regular, unbreakable rules, which we

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Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiism

may call ‘codes,’ and patterns that are usual but not inevitable or compulsory, that is, ‘tendencies’ or ‘conventions’.35 The concept of ‘habit’ therefore indicates that whereas a certain interpretation can be formed and acquired, it can also be broken or ended. As already indicated, signs and pictorial programmes in contemporary Shia visual culture conform to historically developed, conventional forms of representation. Viewers’ interpretations of signs demonstrate monosemic understanding, but also polysemic meaning. The interpretation is placed within cultural constrains, but is at the same time motivated by personal experience. This process cannot be accounted for by applying a fixed and static notion of sign in Saussure’s sense, who described each signifier as stitched to a stable signifier.36 To explain what binds the sign and its object together, and allow us to interpret a sign as referring to that particular object, and not another object, Peirce introduced an important distinction between iconic, indexical and symbolic signs.37 According to Peirce, the iconic sign works through similarity with the object, that is by sharing certain qualities or structures with the object. Indexical signs work through connection and possibly through interaction with the object. Symbolic signs work by being tied to the object by virtue of conventions. Despite these distinctions, it is important to note that a sign does not occur in pure form, as only iconic, indexical or symbolic. The designations ‘indexical,’ ‘iconic’ and ‘symbolic’ indicate the sign’s dominant, although never the sole, mechanism of the standing-for relation.38 A portrait of a figure may be interpreted iconically because it shares certain qualities with the portrayed. A portrait may also be interpreted as an indexical sign, on the basis of the causeeffect relation between the original and the image. A symbolic sign is dependent on the image created in the mind of a viewer.39 An imaginary portrait of Imam Ali may therefore symbolically be assigned many different interpretations, for example, to stand for just law or compassion. Any sign can motivate similar complex and changing meanings. In the Iranian Shia context, for example, the colour red may iconically refer to blood, indexically point to murder and symbolically allude to sacrifice and martyrdom.

The Text in the Image The design of contemporary Shia portraits, visual narratives and symbolic representations also include abstracts of texts which may influence the interpretation of images. In the Iranian context, the combination of image and text invites three different readings of the images, depending on the viewer’s competence. The viewer can perform a reading in which he or she evaluates both image and text. Figures estimated by UNESCO Institute for Statistics for 2000, when this study was undertaken, show that female literacy in Iran to be 68.9 per cent and male literacy 83.0 per cent, a total literacy rate of 76.0 per cent.40 The survey revealed a certain gender bias, indicating that literacy is less developed among

Introduction

15

women than among men. The implication is that a number of viewers are excluded from comprehending the text placed in an image and have to relate to its pictorial aspects in order to ‘read’ it. A third strategy of reading is to give priority to the text. One motivation behind the reading strategy is that the viewer finds a word, for example ‘Ali,’ to be a more forceful representation of the saint than a figurative image. Another reason is that the viewer is not familiar with the iconographic conventions and the figurative image remains mute to him or her. Roland Barthes has discussed the dialectic interplay between word and image in the expression and production of meaning.41 Based on a study of advertisements, Barthes suggests that the linguistic message appear to have two functions in an image: to anchor and/or relay the pictorial message. The anchorage function of the linguistic message is to make its polysemic message less ambiguous. ‘In every society’, he declares, ‘various techniques are developed intended to fix the floating chain of signifieds in such a way as to counter the terror of uncertain signs; the linguistic message is one of these techniques.’42 The linguistic message may guide both identification and interpretation. The anchorage can be ideological in that the text directs the reader through the signified of the image, causing him or her to avoid some and receive others.43 The function of relay is to operate together with the image in a way that both image and text contribute to the overall meaning of a picture. Image and text thus stand in a complementary relationship to advance the message. Barthes argues: ‘The words, in the same way as the images, are fragments of a more general syntagm and the unity of the message is realized at a higher level, that of the story, the anecdote, the diegesis.’ 44 It is important to note that anchorage and relay may co-exist in imagery. Whereas a text can anchor the meaning of a visual sign and a design, a picture accompanying a text may illustrate an important point in the text and as such manipulate the reader’s understanding of the text. Moreover, a picture can elaborate on a minor issue in the text and place this issue in the foreground of the reader/viewer’s attention, motivating a certain interpretation of the text, and perhaps also change the meaning of the text.45 I have here outlined a semiological approach treating signs as communicative systems based on codes, being interpreted by viewers according to conventions and personal experiences. The interpretation of signs move back and forth between iconic, indexical and symbolic significance until meaning is established. In this sense narratives are being conveyed though interpretation of visual signs. This process has been accurately described by Brilliant, who proposes visual narratives are part of a communication process that actively involves three different agents in the telling of a story: the painter/artist, the protagonist/actor(s) in the story and the reader/viewer.46 He argues that all three agents may be regarded as narrators of a story. It depends on the painternarrator to make sure that the viewer-narrator understands the point(s) of the picture, both in terms of story and message. The painter, therefore, must provide enough information to the eye of the viewer if the image is to represent

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Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiism

successfully a specific story. The thought processes of the protagonist/actor in the image must, however, be supplied by the viewer, on the basis of the actual visual material introduced and on the viewer’s own prior knowledge.47 The separation into three different agents is useful because it helps clarify the perspective from which one analyses a visual representation. I locate the investigation between the actor-narrator or sign, and the viewer-narrator. I am thus interested in what characterizes the visual signs, and the way they are located and arranged, but I attribute to the viewer an active part in the telling of the story. As the researcher, I will be the principle viewer-narrator in this text. I anchor my reading/viewing of visual signs, and its reconstruction into the verbal media of a text, in the well-established tradition of Shia visual storytelling. Besides, I supply my own interpretation with comments and opinions from religious viewers, as an attempt to broaden our understanding of how the content of these narrative images may be comprehended from Shia perspectives. I explore how these images may function as Shiite forms of expression, given the sentiments found in the interpretive community in which the images circulate, as I know it.

On the Chapters The book is divided into three parts. Part I and Part II discuss the representation and reception of two popular genres: the portraiture of Imam Ali and the visual narration of the battle at Karbala. Chapter 1 traces the introduction of the single imaginary portraiture genre of Imam Ali into the Iranian society in the mid-nineteenth century and its dissemination into communal ritual life. Local representation, reception and function of the imaginary portrait of Imam Ali are grounded in the way Imam Ali has been conceptualized in Shia memory and this is outlined in Chapter 2. Chapter 3 concentrates on Imam Ali in contemporary portraiture and introduce a number of posters, paintings and wall hangings to analyse how Imam Ali is represented and discuss local receptions of the portraits. Part II deals with the visual narration of the battle at Karbala. Wall hangings and colour posters depicting scenes from the battle at Karbala are particularly associated with rituals commemorating the martyrdom of Imam Husayn, his supporters and family members in 680 ad. Chapter 4 introduces the Karbala event in Shia memory and piety, and Chapter 5 traces the tradition of visual Karbala narratives since it developed in Iran in the nineteenth century. The visual vocabulary and symbolic meaning of contemporary wall hangings are discussed in Chapter 6. Chapter 7 introduces a selection of colour posters depicting scenes from the battle at Karbala. The selected images serve to illustrate the current range of motifs and offer examples of how a motif is rephrased into various designs. Possible connotations of the visual language are anchored in the culture of ritual commemoration developed in the interpretive community, and local viewers’ reception.

Introduction

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Part III addresses the functional aspect of images in devotional space. The votive practice in Iranian Shiism has been discussed in recent ethnographic and anthropological studies, but the images as invocation and thanksgiving are yet to receive proper attention. Chapter 8 discusses the image as a votive gift, and analyses the image as part of the reciprocal transaction characteristic of a votive process. The introduction of images into the ritual dramaturgy makes topical an examination of Shia attitudes to the making of images, and the introduction of images into ritual contexts. Chapter 9 pursues the liturgical functions of images in ritual contexts to address the role of decorative programmes and imageries in the liturgy of commemoration and celebration. Chapter 10 discusses tendencies concerning decorative programmes and imageries across ritual spaces, comparing male and female run spaces and discussing factors that contribute to uniformity and diversity. The iconographic language in contemporary Iranian Shiism is conventional, drawing on a repertoire of well-known and long-established visual signs. The iconography is well suited to indexically and symbolically convey ideas and sentiments central to Twelver Shia belief. We may speak of a specific Shia iconography. There are, however, examples of transpositions of unconventional visual signs into the Shia iconography and theses are discussed in Chapter 11.

The images reproduced in black-and-white within the pages of this book are also presented in full colour on a companion website, to be found at http:// religiousstudies.flaskerud.continuumbooks.com. Please visit the link and register with us to receive your password and access to the website. If you experience any problems accessing the Companion website, please contact Continuum at [email protected].

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Chapter 1

The Emergence of a Prototypical Model and Its Survival

Despite iconographic variation, contemporary imaginary single-portraits representing Imam Ali share similarities with a single-portrait representing Imam Ali which began to circulate in Iran in the mid-nineteenth century.1 The new portraiture genre eventually became the prototypical model for contemporary representations of Imam Ali. A historical survey demonstrates, however, that the novel genre introduced in the mid-nineteenth century was preceded by a narrative visual programme, different iconographic formulae and other thematic preferences, which have now more or less disappeared. Why did the iconographic programme applied to represent Imam Ali chance and which factors may have supported the survival and popularity of the new portraiture genre? I suggest three factors were important to this development: first, the Shah’s endorsement of the portrait, second, the portrait’s accommodation into the tradition of popular religious devotion, and third, the impact of a new genre of Karbala narrative painting developing during the same period.

A New Prototypical Model and Its Iconography In 1856 the Qajar shah, Nasir al-Din Shah (r.1848–1896 ad), obtained an alleged portrait of Imam Ali. It is unclear where the image originated, although it has been suggested it came from India. If this is the case, one may presume it was a gift from one of the Shia princes of Oudh or Sind.2 The portrait was soon adopted into Nasir al-Din Shah’s system of Imperial Effigy (nishan timthal ) and became the imagery symbol for a new order, ‘The Order of Imam Ali’, to be an exclusive privilege of the Shah.3 The order was instituted by the Shah in a formal ceremony on 26 November 1856 with great ceremonial courtesy, in which princes and other members of court, together with representatives of the ulama, were present.4 In several portraits of Nasir al-Din Shah, painted between 1857 and 1870, the Shah is depicted wearing different versions of the Order of Imam Ali. The iconographic resemblances between these effigies are striking, and it seems that an iconographic model soon was established. In one portrait, the Shah wears two

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Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiism

miniature-portraits of Ali, one on each side of his chest, in addition to other effigies, of which one is the Order of the Lion and Sun, see Figure 9. The portrait is painted with punctilious details, and I presume the depicted effigies are close to the originals worn by the Shah.5 The two portraits of Ali are almost identical, but reverted. Ali is described in a half-length portrait, presented in part profile. He has a dark beard, and wears a green headdress and a brown cloak over a white shirt. The two miniature portraits are encircled by several bands of precious stones, and a crown surmounts one of them. In another painted portrait of Nasir al-Din Shah dated 1857, only one year after the introduction of the Order of Imam Ali, the Shah is depicted wearing a similar effigy with the portrait of Ali.6 The Shah sits in a European chair, wearing a red uniform jacket, decorated with blue sash and a double chain of pearls across the chest. His pose and dress signalize a modern sovereign, inspired by Western standards. In fact, also the Imperial Effigy was a borrowing from Europe (through the Ottomans), but adopted to suit Qajar etiquette. Accordingly, on the upper-centre part of the Shah’s chest is attached an enamelled medallion of the Order of the Lion and Sun, whereas an enamelled medallion with a portrait of Imam Ali is attached to the upper, right side of his jacket. Imam Ali is shown in a three-quarter portrait. He is depicted with a dark beard, and wears a green headdress and a brown cloak over a white shirt. The background surrounding his head is illuminated as though there is a yellow nimbus around his head. In a third portrait, made between 1860 and 1870, the Shah continues to demonstrate his modern acquisitions and is placed in a mountainous landscape standing beside a cannon holding a jewelled spyglass in his right hand.7 Around his neck he wears an enamelled medallion, showing Imam Ali. In the design, Ali is seated on the ground, his legs folded under him. He wears a red and green head cover, and brown cloak. Across his lap is placed a sword and he holds a prayer bead in his left hand. Clearly, the two iconographic models presented in the Order of Imam Ali are repeated in contemporary Ali singleportraiture; see for example, Figure 3 and 4. The portraiture genre introduced to Iran in 1856 thus seems to have formed a prototypical model for later visual representations. The origins of the portraiture’s iconography before its arrival in Iran is, however, obscure. I suggested above that the model for the portrait of Imam Ali presented in the Imperial effigy probably came from India. There is, however, an alternative opinion as to the origin of this portraiture style. This is presented in the publication Anhar Jarieh ‘Flowing Rivers’ by Wahid al-Awliya (1869/ 70–1955 ad), who was a Shaykh or Qutb of the Dhahabiyya Sufi order in Iran.8 In the publication is printed a portrait of Imam Ali seated with his sword across his lap, see Figure 10.9 In the accompanying text above the image, it is suggested that the portrait stems from a picture made by a painter from Greece. The reader is informed that the painter made the picture in the honour of hezrat maula al-mawalin, ‘The Honourable Master among Masters’. No dates are suggested in the text, only that the image was later passed over to the treasury

The Emergence and Survival of a Prototypical Model

23

of Egypt. With great effort, it continues, one of the Safavid sultans was able to bring it to Iran. It is acknowledged in the text that during the reign of Nasir al-Din Shah, the image was duplicated in many copies and that one copy was obtained by the humble Ahmad Tabrizi, whose title was Naib al-Velaye. The image was then brought to a publisher in Shiraz, where it was printed and distributed in Shawwal, 1344 ah/May 1926 ad. I have not been able to secure any historical information that can verify the claims made in this publication concerning the origin of the image, and that the image arrived in Iran during the Safavid era. The text does, however, confirm that the image was duplicated during the reign of Nadir al-Din Shah, and indicate that the single-portraiture of Ali was introduced to the public in the nineteenth century.

Alternative Iconographic Designs At the time when the Order of Imam Ali was introduced in Iran a very different iconography circulated in the country. Visual narratives depicting scenes from the life of Imam Ali was distributed in illustrated lithographed booklets.10 Illustrated lithographed booklets became a regular phenomenon in Iran from 1846 onwards and continued to be produced until the middle of the twentieth century. There is reason to believe that the booklets continued to circulate also after going out of print but by the end of the twentieth century they are seldom found.11 According to Ulrich Marzolph, the booklets typically recount broadly similar texts and identical illustrations are reproduced in the different booklets. The visual narratives about Imam Ali tend to enhance his courage and strength. One theme is clearly mythical. In booklets published in 1846, 1852 and 1861, the infant Ali is shown in the cradle ripping an attacking dragon in two halves. Another popular theme is based on an historical event, namely the Muslims combating the Jews at the fortress of Qamus in Khaybar in the year 7 ah/ 628 ad. In illustrations published between 1852 and 1860, Ali is shown in the battle attacking enemies from horseback while using his two-pointed sword, Zu al-Feqar. A minimal schema of iconographic representation of Ali in the lithographed illustrations presented by Marzolph is the face veil, a disc halo around the head and the two-pointed sword. A typical theme is to underline Ali’s super human strength by depicting him fight dragons, cutting human antagonists in halves with his sword and being assisted by angles in combat, see Figure 11. The recurrent representation of person, event and story, suggests that a codification system of visual signs and representation had been developed. Codification makes characters and narrative content easily recognizable to the informed reader, and we therefore may assume that these images functioned as powerful means of communication. Apparently the lithographed booklets were very popular. The Qajar readers’ attractiveness to these stories and forms

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Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiism

of representation is, Marzolph proposes, suggested by their frequent reproduction. Moreover, the booklets’ popularity is reflected in their material condition. Being able to actually hold many of these booklets in his hands, Marzolph observes that they show signs of repeated use. Given such popularity we may then also assume that the representative meaning of these codified signs were recognized and appreciated by many Iranians by the second half of the nineteenth century. Whereas the iconographic and thematic repertoire of the Ali representations in the lithographed booklets seemed to attract Iranians readers and viewers in the nineteenth century, the programmes were developed already during the first century of the rule of the Safavid shahs who adopted Twelver Shiism as the state religion (1501–1722).12 To the Safavid, it was important to underline the position of Ali as the first Shia Imam and the close relationship between him and the Prophet Muhammad. This eventually had consequences for the arts, and came to influence the subjects selected for illustrations in manuscripts, and artists’ treatment of holy figures.13 Among the most prominent subjects represented in their visual art were Ali and his followers, frequently portrayed in battle combating non-Muslims. The iconographic vocabulary portrayed Muhammad and Ali with veil and a flame halo, which at the time were divine attributes accorded to no other figures. At the time, however, patrons and audiences of religious painting were mainly the Safavid court and elite. Peterson argues that the Safavid refrained from using the visual arts publicly for propaganda purposes, and suggests that it would have provoked the public’s rather orthodox stand on figural representations. Apparently public sentiments changed over time, and by the mid-nineteenth century images depicting the heroic Ali imitating Safavid conventions were mass produced in lithographic booklets and circulated among the general public. During the same period this well established iconography was challenged by a new iconographic formula, the imaginary portrait of Ali, which gained popularity. There are several remarkable iconographic differences between the Order of Imam Ali and its duplicates and the established iconography. In the new pictorial programme Ali’s face is unveiled and clearly visible, whereas in the established iconography the face is veiled and thus invisible. A second dissimilarity between the two programmes relates to genre. The lithographies are narratives whereas the effigies and its copies are portraits. A third difference concerns the application of the two-pointed sword. In the narrative images the sword is vigorously used in combat and is instrumental for achieving victory. This particular form of representation supports a hero image based on physical strength and courage. In the new style of portraiture, the sword is passively resting on Ali’s lap or is omitted. The two genres, the visual narrative and the portrait, continued to be produced and circulated into the twentieth century. However, by the end of that century, the prototype instigated by Nasir al-Din Shah had become the most common. Visual narratives depicting events in Ali’s life can still be observed, for example the conquest of Qamus, but narrative

The Emergence and Survival of a Prototypical Model

25

images are far outnumbered by portraits copying or imitating the imaginary portrait introduced in 1856. Which factors may have promoted the establishment of the new prototype and secured its survival?

The Power of the Order of Imam Ali During the Qajar era, images were associated with immense symbolic power capable of representing the absent social actor and to propagate ideology, belief and attitude. The symbolic power of images was related to their iconography and their contexts of display. Portraits were used to make the absent ruler present and visible on ceremonial occasions, and were venerated as if representing the ruler, a practice introduced during the reign of Fath Ali Shah (r.1798–1824). For example, it is reported that before transporting a portrait of Fath Ali Shah, intended for the ruler of Sind, it was carried through the streets of Teheran and accorded with the same respect as if it were the sovereign himself.14 Fath Ali Shah also recognized the advantage of associating his image with holy shrines and during his reign life-size representations of the ruler was introduced in shrines and royal mausoleums. From the mid-nineteenth century onward, memorial portraits in tombs became widespread in Teheran and the provinces.15 The visual language and semiotic potential of portraits were further elaborated when Muhammad Shah (r.1824–1848) introduced the use of effigies, and established his ancestor’s portrait, Fath Ali Shah, as an imperial effigy.16 Nasir al-Din Shah continued the tradition of employing images in the exercise of power. In 1848, for example, a life-size portrait of the Shah substituted him at a banquet inaugurating a dam in Shiraz.17 On the occasion, the image is reported to have been treated with respect and ceremonial etiquette. Nasir alDin Shah also maintained the use of effigies. The symbolic intention of wearing an effigy decorated with the portrait of a person, historical or mythical, is to express homage to that person. It also emphasizes a commitment and, sometimes, a legitimate right to continue the legacy of the person represented. It is therefore interesting to note that Nasir al-Din Shah first continued the practice introduced by Muhammad Shah and wore a portrait of his father on his chest. However, eight years into his rule, Nasir al-Din Shah introduced the Order of Imam Ali. The Shah’s intentions may have been spiritual as well as political. He expressed a lifelong devotion to Imam Ali and came to hold the Imam as his protector and patron saint.18 The Shah’s princely education included works on ethics, the institution of kingship and the administration of the kingdom. A classic source to insight on these issues was a section from the Nahj al-Balaghah, a certain document of instruction written by Imam Ali for Malik al-Ashtar al-Nakha’i upon him being appointed Governor of Egypt in 658–659 ad.19 Personal veneration for Imam Ali was combined with respect for the Imam as a model for statecraft, although the Shah did not always follow the advice

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Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiism

suggested in the Imam’s instructions. They remained, however, ideals which the Shah continued to care for also when he later, particularly in the 1850s, became more exposed to modern European ideas of government. Recalling the three portraits of Nasir al-Din Shah introduced above, it is evident that the Shah from 1857 recreated his imperial image in a way that emphasized his commitment to the modern age and to the Shia Iranian heritage. The Shah’s aspirations to modernize the Iranian army, partly according to European models, is apparent in the presence of the cannon which reflects the Shah’s promotion of modern technology. So does the jewelled spyglass, which has replaced the royal sceptre typically used by Fath Ali Shah as a symbol of sovereignty. A more complex sign is the Shah’s uniform, whose design is inspired by Iranian and European conventions, signifying both continuity and change. The Order of Imam Ali is another innovation inspired by European traditions, but is adapted to express commitment to Shia heritage. The visual design of the Order of Imam Ali circumvented the available iconography of the time which typically depicted an active, heroic, fighting Ali, captured at a particular moment in his vocation. Instead, the Order adopted a visual language which transcended the Imam’s historical context to appear rather like a statement underlining the Imam’s holiness. The iconography of worldly power is instead reserved for Nasir al-Din Shah, and the viewer is invited to observe a ruler whose kingly authority and power is symbolized in his possession of modern inventions. The effigy with the portrait of Imam Ali, however, anchors the depiction of the Shah in a religious framework. Given Ali’s position as the first Shia Imam, his imaginary portrait can be seen as a symbol for Shiism, and held to signify the Imam and everything he embodied. By employing this portrait as an effigy, the Shah may have suggested his alliance to Imam Ali and Shiism. The Shah’s new imperial image thus functions as a political symbol aimed at demonstrating the modern Shah’s military power as well as propagating his allegiance to the first Imam, a commitment which placed his rule under saintly protection.20 The symbolic potential of the combined portraits of Imam Ali and the Shah, alluding to modernization, religious values and nationalism is anchored to the division of power in the Qajar era and to the political situation in the 1850s. When the Qajar dynasty seized power in 1785, their legitimacy to rule became dependent on support from the class of ulama. The formula for distributing power was a consequence of the ulamas’ strengthened position in late Safavid rule, but the political theory justifying the division of power was produced only later, mainly by Sayyid Jafar Kashfi (d.1269/1850).21 In his opinion, the Shia Imam held both religious and political leadership in the community. However, with the occultation of the Twelfth Imam (874 ad) the Imam’s function devolved upon two groups, the ulama and the ruler. The ulama should act as the vice-regent of the Hidden Imam in spiritual matters, and were given the title ‘Representative of the Hidden Imam’. The ruler should hold political viceregency, and carried the title ‘Shadow of God on Earth’. Essentially, the two bases of power should be dependent on each other. The Shah’s role as ruler was to be

The Emergence and Survival of a Prototypical Model

27

the protector of the faithful that is, the Shia, not only in Iran but also in Ottoman Iraq. In Iraq there was a large Shia community and the pilgrimage towns of Najaf and Karbala were the centres for the major Shia ulama of this period. Being the political authority of a Shia state, the ulama recognized the Shah as protector of the Arab and Iranian Shia population in the shrine cities, which were under the political control of the Sunnite Ottomans.22 Subsequently, when Nasir al-Din Shah went on a three months visit to the holy shrine cities in Iraq in 1870, he was received by religious scholars, mujtahid, in both Karbala and Najaf. Nasir al-Din Shah’s relationship with the Iranian Shia ulama was, however, complex in nature. Whereas the ulama residing in Iraq remained, for the most part, unreceptive to issues internal to Iran, the Shah had both supporters and opponents among the Iranian ulama. His devotional practices did not always follow mainstream theology, but were friendly to popular religious practice. In the 1850s he proclaimed the birthdays of Imam Ali, Imam Husayn and the Hidden Imam (the twelfth Imam), and the commemoration of Ghadir Khumm to be celebrated as public festivals in Iran.23 These initiatives strengthened the position of Shiism in the Iranian population, but they were not necessarily appreciated by orthodox members of the ulama. At the same time the Iranian ulama became increasingly engaged in political issues. In some cases they welcomed the Shah’s political initiative, such as his vigorous persecution of the Babi movement in the mid-nineteenth century. However, many religious scholars expressed great concern at the growing influence of European powers in Iran and resented and feared processes of modernization initiated by the Shah. With a call to jihad, the Shah was able to draw support from the ulama in mobilizing the public for his campaigns against the British in the 1850s.24 On the other hand, the ulama’s involvement in overthrowing the European-inspired Prime Minister Mirza Husayn Khan in 1872 and in the prelude to the Tobacco Concession in 1891 are examples of their contesting political power and popular support. The inauguration ceremony of the Order of Imam Ali on the 26th of November 1856 took place at a turbulent and confusing political period. Between 1855 and 1857 there were several military encounters between Great Britain and Iran. In 1855, one year before the inauguration of the Order, there was a break in the diplomatic relations between the two countries. The Shah made attempts to establish a broader base of international support to counter the pressure from Britain, as well as from Russia. He was a great admirer of Napoleon III, whom he considered a role model, and established relations with France. In 1856 he also approached the USA, a rising world power, offering a trade agreement in exchange for military protection in the Persian Gulf.25 Despite these efforts, the inauguration of the new effigy on the 26th of November coincided with the arrival of the British declaration of war.26 Also domestically the Shah faced several challenges during this period. There was unrest in many provinces, due to bad governorship. The population’s distress

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was worsened by hunger. Protests and upheavals were opposed by brutal force from the Shah’s representatives, increasing popular discontent. By visually promoting the impression of there being a close affinity between Imam Ali and the Shah, the ruler could publicly emphasize his position vis-à-vis the ulama and present himself as the protector of the faith and the faithful. At a time of war and foreign invasion, his association with Imam Ali was a way to boast the Shah’s image as the defender of the faith. By publicly demonstrating his devotion to Imam Ali, the Shah combined sentiments linking religion and patriotism, and the Shah appeared as a defender of the faithful and of Iran. At a broader religious-political arena Nasir al-Din Shan may also have aspired to present himself as the protector of all the Shia in the region, including the Ottoman Empire. If this is the case, it reflects a novel view of Shiism as a source of common identity and national cohesion. We may speak of a Shiite nationalism.27 The Shah’s recreated imperial image may thus express a personal, pious commitment to the first Shia Imam. Moreover, it conveys political credence; it may serve to position the Shah in relation to the ulama, and it presents a modern ruler with a mission to save his nation with the protection of Imam Ali. He is suggesting continuing the legacy of Imam Ali, but also proposes that the sovereign and his subjects are under divine providence. As such, the imaginary portrait of Imam Ali became a powerful political, as well as religious symbol.

Popular Religious Devotion Whereas the Order of Imam Ali was used exclusively for the Shah, the imaginary portrait of Imam Ali was soon adopted into Shia popular devotional practices, a custom promoted by Nadir al-Din Shah. According to Western travel accounts, the nineteenth century saw a transformation in Shia practices regarding the use of images in cult. During the reign of Fath Ali Shah, Frederick Shoberl reported that ‘Their religion forbids them to pray in a room containing any painting of the human countenance. To evade this injunction, the face is represented with one eye only: thus mutilated, it is no longer an image; say these doctors [religious scholars], but a grotesque figure that is not forbidden by their law.’28 Shoberl describes the modification of the images as a trait that demonstrates the subtlety of the Persian divines but does not mention which images were treated in this manner. During the reign of Nadir al-Din Shah, however, images of holy personages entered the devotional space. The Shah is reported to have daily visited the painting of Imam Ali sent from India, although we do not know what took place during these ‘visits’.29 Agnete Læssøe, who accompanied her husband to Teheran where he worked as an officer in the Shah’s army in the 1870s, offers a glimpse into the etiquette of the court.30 According to her report, the Shah claimed to own the only authentic representation of Imam Ali. The small enamel image was kept in a box made of

The Emergence and Survival of a Prototypical Model

29

gold and when it was transported through the room everyone would bow to the ground in courtesy, the Shah performing a less elaborate curtsy. Whether Læssøe’s report is the result of first-hand observation or is based on an anecdote is, however, unclear. Nevertheless, it is evident that during the reign of Nasir al-Din Shah, images representing Imam Ali and other members of the holy family subsequently spread from the court to the general public and were adopted into private devotional practises. Heinrich Brugsch, who travelled in Persia in the early 1860s, reports that Ali is venerated throughout the country and that his portrait is very popular.31 A few decades later, Reverend Samuel Wilson, a missionary who spent 15 years in the country and published his accounts in 1896, describes how a life-size picture of Imam Ali together with his two sons, Hassan and Husayn, seated on either side was part of a cult of adoration in the home of a wealthy Persian.32 Wilson recounts how the Persian residents of the house prostrated themselves in front of the painting, ‘kissing it and paying it profound adoration, while they mumbled their prayers’.33 Pictorial objects and eye-witness descriptions from the era suggest that portraits of Imam Ali served three functions when used in popular devotional practices. They were used to offer protection from the evil eye, to make the saint present and to function as a means through which people could express one’s alliance to the saint. For example, a mirror case produced in 1871 shows Ali depicted according to the new model.34 His head is surrounded by a halo; he kneels on an animal skin, and seizes his two-pointed sword with both hands. The last couplets from the poem that frames the visual representation reads, ‘Nasir al-Din Shah has the good fortune of seeing his beautiful countenance; May grace be upon him and may the evil eye always be blind and remote from him.’ Mariam Ekhtiar suggests the case was commissioned by Nasir al-Din Shah as a devotional piece to Imam Ali, and that it may be intended to protect the ruler from the evil eye, working as an amulet. Smaller-scale portraits of Imam Ali were also used to introduce a hilyah,35 a verbal portrayal of the Prophet Muhammad. In this context, the portrait may be seen to pay tribute to Imam Ali as the Prophet’s close companion and legitimate successor. The belief in the representational power of the portrait, which had previously been assigned to the ruler’s portrait, was eventually extended to images of saints. Nasir al-Din Shah used portraits of Imam Ali to represent the saint in private and public ceremonies. For example, on the walls of the Tekkieh Dawlat theatre, built by the Shah for the performances of passion play, ta´ziyeh, and operating by the early 1870s, were placed large portraits of Imam Ali. Later, at the funeral of Nasir al-Din Shah in 1896 a life size image of the Shah was displayed behind the funeral bier, and above it was placed a portrait of a seated Imam Ali.36 The iconographic depiction of Imam Ali in late nineteenth-century portraits parallels that of the above-mentioned Order of Imam Ali, although the singleportrait is sometimes developed into a group-portrait. In the group-portrait of Imam Ali and his two sons mentioned by Wilson, the Imam is represented with

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his face visible and as crowned with a halo. He wears clothes in camel’s hair and has the double-pointed sword in his hand.37 Charles Wills, who lived in Iran between 1866 and 1881, reports that Imam Ali is depicted as well-built, with dark and scanty beard.38 This appearance is supposed to be a typical trace of the family of the Prophet Muhammad. Imam Ali is portrayed seated on an antelope’s skin with his hand grasping his sword. Often he is depicted wearing a green robe and turban, and a nimbus surrounds his head. The antelope skin is adopted because, we are told, the Persians believe the skin was used in Arabia before the luxury of carpets was known there. In the decade following the 1850s, religious paintings seem to have been in great demand, and Charles Wills described the production of portraits of Muhammad, Ali, Husayn and Hassan almost as a trade in itself, responding to the demands of the general public.39

The New Genre of Karbala Narrative Painting During the reign of the Qajar shahs, Imam Ali was visually represented as the Shia chief heroic figure. The image of the heroic champion, fighting his enemy with his exceptional sword from on top of a strong, white stallion was, however, eventually exchanged with the portrait of a sombre looking man, sometimes seated with the sword safely placed on his lap. Instead, Husayn ibn Ali, Ali’s son, and the third Imam, emerged as the new chief heroic figure. The central theme chosen for representing the new chief heroic figure was Imam Husayn’s unselfish and noble battle against the corrupt regime of Caliph Yazid in defence of the true Islam at the plains of Karbala in 680 ad. I shall return to the genre of Karbala visual narratives in more detail in Part II. Here, I want only to highlight the transition from one heroic figure to the other. The motives used to shape the new heroic figure focused on the battle at Karbala and the various participants in the battle. In particular, the bravery and suffering of Imam Husayn and his supporters were highlighted, with emphasis on their self-sacrifice and martyrdom. Reports from travellers to Iran during the second half of the nineteenth century, relate that the Karbala event became a popular theme in painting and by the end of the century there was a flourishing school of artists painting representations of holy figures.40 The visual vocabulary adopted to narrate the story of Karbala was drawn from ta´ziyeh performances, a new popular religious theatre commemorating the martyrdom of Imam Husayn and his supporters. The theatre was promoted by Nadir al-Din Shah, who took an ardent interest in the productions, as did the elite.41 The visual language and symbols used in the theatre productions were soon made known to the general public both in urban and rural areas. As the new genre of Karbala visual narrative developed as oil on canvas and in illustrated lithographed books, the audience was thus already familiar with its visual devices.

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31

Concluding Remarks Contemporary imaginary portraits of Imam Ali are based on a prototypical model introduced to Iran in 1856. There is ample evidence, such as surviving images and objects, to state that the single portrait of Imam Ali soon was reproduced in various techniques, media and sizes, and that is spread throughout the country. The genre survived its own era and has set the standard for the present Ali iconography. Following Baxandall and Bryson, the portraits of Imam Ali are not necessarily interpreted the same way today, as they were when the prototype was introduced to Iran more than a century ago. There is, however, reason to believe that the imaginary portrait achieved widespread acceptance due to its ability to represent Imam Ali in an adequate way. Its iconography has eventually shaped the visual capacity of the Shia interpretive community in Iran through its repetitions and stable convention. Today the image is reproduced as colour posters and in wall hangings and can be purchased in bookstores which specialize on religious literature, in poster stalls, and in the bazaar. The iconography cannot, however, sufficiently explain the portrait’s survival and popularity. It is also important to consider how the portrait’s authority as a prototypical representation has been historically constructed, particularly by looking at its dissemination and use. The fact that the new portrait of Imam Ali was introduced as an imperial effigy certainly lends authority to the genre. The Shah’s endorsement also made it legitimate to copy and distribute the portrait. However, if the Shah’s endorsement was the main supportive foundation for its popularity, the image would have lost its popularity and authority once the reign of Nasir al-Din Shah ended. But it didn’t. The continued popularity of the imaginary portrait of Imam Ali is due to its entering into the public space, in particular the space of religion and devotional practices, where it resumed new functions and where it continues to be found today. The existing visual culture in Iran, in which portraiture was used to represent the absent portrayed, as memorial and as an expression of alliance, provided the cultural framework which facilitated the transfer of images into the devotional space.

Chapter 2

Imam Ali in Shia Memory

According to a man involved in organizing mourning ceremonies during Muharram, artists have visually shaped the faces of the saints in a way that people accept and in a manner that makes it possible for people to recognize the saints’ characteristics. The comment corresponds to a point made by Brilliant, who suggested that a portrait’s success depends largely on the artist’s ability to manifest particularities of appearance and character in a manner that is both accessible and acceptable to the viewers.1 For an imaginary portrait to pass as Imam Ali the visual language must be approved of as adequate depictions of his character, appearance, status and role in society, perceptions which are shaped by historical events, theological reasoning, hagiographic interpretations and political interests. In general, Muslims consider the society ruled by Prophet Muhammad an ideal society. He ruled the first Muslim community with infallible wisdom, guided by the word of God until his death in 632 ad. After Muhammad’s death tension arose over the question of leadership, since he did not leave any rules for his succession. When choosing the successor a minority of Muslims, known as Shi´at Ali, the ‘Party of Ali’, considered Ali, the Prophet’s cousin and sonin-law, the legitimate successor. The majority of Muslims did not support this claim. Instead, three individuals close to the Prophet, Abu Bakr (r. 632–34), Umar ibn al-Khattab (r. 634–44) and Uthman ibn Affan (r. 644–56) preceded Ali in the office of Caliph, until Ali was appointed as the fourth Caliph in 656 ad. Whereas the Sunnis recognize all four men as righteous Caliphs, only Ali’s reign, from 656 to 661 ad, is acceptable to the Shia. Moreover, his government is not associated with that of the Caliphate, but of the Imamate, as it is believed his authority exceeded that of the Caliph. The title Caliph, khalifa, may be translated as ‘successor’ or ‘viceroy’. According to a common Sunni interpretation, the Prophet was the viceroy of God on earth, khalifatu Allah, whereas the subsequent Caliphs were the successors of the Prophet, khalifatu Rasul Allah.2 The use of concepts reflect the idea that Muhammad was both a spiritual and a political leader, whereas the subsequent Caliphs were the custodians of the moral and material heritage of the Prophet and acted as political leaders, but not as spiritual leaders and interpreters of God’s word. It did, however, become the position of the Twelver branch of

Imam Ali in Shia Memory

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Shiism that Ali was qualified to hold both a spiritual and a political office. The theology of the Imamate, as it developed during the centuries, perceived the Imams to be God’s viceregents and representatives on earth, and the guardians of His revelation. Like the greatest Prophets the Imams are infallible, or protected, ma’sum, from error.3 This idea has influenced the Shia perception of Islamic history, and consequently the role of Ali and his family in that history. The history, as recorded by Shia writers, therefore tends to underline Ali’s excellence, and argue that his right to the Caliphate was usurped. Conflicts between the Prophet’s family and the new Caliphs is said to have begun from the day after the death of the Prophet. An emblematic example of the injustice imposed on the Prophet’s family is Fatemeh’s, Muhammad’s daughter’s, failed claim to the estate of Fadak, which had been the personal property of the Prophet. Caliph Abu Bakr refused this claim, stating that the property belonged to the whole community, since the Prophet had said, ‘nobody should inherit from me, but what I leave is for alms’.4 Ali did not inherit anything from his own father, since the father had been an unbeliever and it was forbidden for a Muslim to inherit from unbelievers. As a result, Ali and Fatemeh are said to have lived in poverty. Ali did not, however, challenge the rule and position of the three Caliphs. Instead, he is said to have adopted a strategy of silence, waiting patiently for his turn. He retreated to work solemnly cultivating the land, praying, contemplating and during nights bringing food to the poor. He made some money as a drawer and carrier of water, and Fatemeh ground corn. They lived a modest life with their children, Hassan, Husayn and Zaynab. The Shias perceive this as a time of injustice and that Ali, Fatemeh and their family, had to bear great sufferings. When Ali eventually became Caliph, this was approved and accepted by the vast majority of Muslims in Medina and in the provinces of the Empire, and not simply by the Shi´at Ali. Ali soon, however, faced grave internal political problems. In particular, there were charges made against him by one of the Prophet’s wives, Aisha, and others, that Ali was protecting the murderer of Caliph Uthman. This opposition was scattered at the Battle of the Camel. In addition, Ali was up against Mu´aviyyeh, the Governor of Syria (r. 661–680), who refused to accept Ali’s Caliphate. The two armies met at the battle at Siffin in 657, but the long and bloody encounter ended in arbitration. Discontented, a faction of Ali’s army, known as the Kharijites, left him only to challenge him soon afterwards. It is said to have been one of their members who stabbed Ali in the mosque in Kufa on the 19th of Ramadan, 40 ah/661 ad. Ali died two days later. The Caliphate/Imamate of Ali is understood as a Golden Age ruled by a courageous, learned and just man. It is held that he had complete knowledge of the religious law, and was the perfect judge. He is also regarded the founder of the study of Arabic grammar, and the originator of the correct method of reciting the Quran. His discourses and letters, compiled in Nahj al-Balagha, ‘The Path of Eloquence’, are considered the earliest examples of Muslim writing

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on philosophy, theology and ethics.5 His judicial decisions are highly regarded both by Sunni and Shia experts in jurisprudence. After Ali’s death, the Shias gradually developed the theology of the Imamate, in which Ali is considered the first Imam.6 The Imams hold a special position as transmitters of the word of God. Their role as transmitters should not be confused with that of the Prophet Muhammad, God’s messenger. Muhammad was the seal of the Prophets and with him the revelation was concluded. The Imams, on the other hand, are perceived as offering the believers spiritual guidance, valaya, in interpreting the message revealed by the Prophet Muhammad. In the Quran it says, ‘Your guardian (vali) can only be God, His apostle and those who say their prayers, pay alms, and bow down before God’ (Al-Maidah, The Dinner Table, 5:55). In a comment to this verse S. V. Mir Ahmad Ali says, This verse clearly lays down that the guardians of the believers are only God, the Holy Prophet, and Amirul Mominiin Ali. [. . .] the word ‘vali’ being kept in singular for all the three persons means that the ‘velayat’ or the guardianship of all the three is essentially one in nature as well as in effect, and that there is not the least difference between them. Hence the obedience to the Holy Prophet must be, as it should be to God and the obedience to Amirul Momineen Ali or any of his successors in the Imamate must be as it should be to the Holy Prophet.7 The importance attributed to Imam Ali as a guardian of the believers is accordingly reflected in the Shia version of the Islamic creed, la ilaha ill Allah, Muhammad rasul Allah, va Ali vali Allah, ‘There is no god but God, Muhammad is God’s messenger, and Ali is God’s guardian.’ The last section is omitted in the Sunni version of the creed. The need for such guidance is attributed to the complex depth of the revelation. The Quranic text presents plain verses and ambiguous verses, a mode of expression that constitutes a challenge to the believers’ understanding of the text. In addition to the Prophet, the Imams are regarded as the sole authorized interpreters of the Quran, due to their particular knowledge of its esoteric meaning, which include the allegorical interpretation of the Quran and mystical knowledge, as well as its exoteric or apparent meaning. Accordingly, there has developed a strong identification between the word of the Quran and the Imams in the sense that the Imams embody the meaning of the Quran. They are regarded as the hidden meaning and personification of the revealed word. Thus, the Quran is the silent, samit, immanent divine logos whose application and understanding is dependent on the Imams, who are the active logos, or the speaking Quran, natiq.8 The Imams guide mankind into the mystical or inner truth of religion, and it is through him that God’s grace reaches earth. The Imams are thus perceived as both spiritual and political leaders of the Muslim community. They would interpret the law and be theoretically responsible for its execution, although in reality this authority was never held by any of the Imams following Imam Ali.9

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The following abstract from a lecture, held by a female ritual leader during Muharram in Shiraz in 2002 to an audience of women, can serve as an illustration on how these ideas are communicated today at a popular level. Some people asked me why God chose certain persons as imams and prophets. I don’t have any answer, but can only say that all people are at the same level in front of God. But some, because they will guide other people with the Holy books, would be prophets. These people are in the high levels, as well as the imams, who guide people in the way like prophets. It means that some are holy persons and others are the ones who are guided by them. Then all of us have a special place in front of God, not only the imams and the prophets. There is no straightforward statement in the Quran designating Ali and his descendants as Imams. Instead, Ali’s position as Imam is related to the Shia idea that certain members of the Prophet’s family are in receipt of divine inspiration. These historical persons function as the channel of God’s guidance to men, whether they hold de facto power or not. The Twelvers, the branch of Shiism dominating in Iran, believe in the rule of twelve Imams. Hassan and Husayn, Ali’s two sons whose mother was the Prophet’s daughter Fatemeh, became the second and third Imam, respectively. The line was continued through Husayn’s son Ali Zayn al-Abedin, who survived the battle at Karbala to become the fourth Imam. The Imamate in the Twelver line survived until 874 ad, when the twelfth Imam, al-Mahdi, is said to have gone into occultation. The orthodox position today is that his life has been miraculously prolonged until the day when he will manifest himself again by God’s permission, probably shortly before the final Day of Judgement.10 The Imam Mahdi will then rule for a number of years, and after him follow the return of Christ, Imam Husayn and the other Imams, as well as prophets and saints. The concept of valaya, the offering of spiritual guidance, also has a Sufi connotation. The concept developed during the early centuries of Sufism. A vali, meaning ‘master’ as well as ‘friend’, is a person whose affairs are led by God and who performs worship and obedience. Whereas the Shia hold Ali to be the vali Allah par excellence, the Sufi also use the term for the ‘ideal’ Sufi.11 The authority to teach the Sufi path has been handed down from the master to the pupil through generations. Most of these chains of authority traditionally go back through various intercessors to Ali, who among Sufis is considered to have received initiation into mystical truth from Muhammad. Thus, among the certain Sufi orders there has been a tendency to glorify Ali. Shiism and Sufism are both lined with the esoteric dimension of the Islamic revelation. Like the Shia imam, the Sufi shaykh or qutb, meaning pole or axis, is preoccupied with the inner or esoteric aspect of religion. Annemarie Schimmel has pointed out that there is a close structural relationship between the concept of qutb as the highest spiritual guide of the faithful, and that of the Hidden Imam of the Shia.12 Such similarities have sometimes aroused antagonism. The vow of obedience to the

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Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiism

Shaykh or the Qutb, which is taken by the Sufis, has by some Shias been considered incompatible with devotion to the Imam.13 The present three main Sufi orders in Iran are the Nurbakhshi, originating in the fifteenth century, Dhahabi, originating in the sixteenth century and Nimatullahi originating in the fifteenth century. Lewisohn points out that the political history of modern Persian Sufism is still largely unresearched and unknown.14 But he suggests that around the turn of the twentieth century, for example in connection with the constitutional movement, they were royalist or theocratic, advocating a conservative approach to social problems. Their form of Shia-Sufi spirit has resulted in a pious conservatism. In addition to their role as spiritual guides, the Imams are perceived to play a central role in the history of human salvation and judgement. The role of the twelve Imams as mediators and intercessors are manifest in the many Shia personal and communal prayers, ritualized behaviour and public festivals. In popular piety, Imam Ali is addressed as spiritual guide and consort, and popular prayers are recited from his collection of prayers, the Nahj al-Balaghah. Imam Ali is commemorated at festivals honouring his birth, on the 13th of Rajab, remembering his stabbing on the 19th of Ramadan, mourning his death on the 21st of Ramadan, and celebrating Muhammad’s designation of Ali as his successor at Ghadir Khumm on Id al-Ghadir on the 18th of Dhu al-Hijja. All events, except the stabbing, are commemorated on public holidays in Iran. Following Fish, the Shia community of Iran may be perceived as an interpretive community which shares cultural assumptions as to how to interpret the role and character of Imam Ali. These cultural assumptions are not always univocal. Historiographers belonging to the Twelver branch of Shiism have developed a historical narration about the life of Ali which is today generally accepted by the followers of the sect. In addition, the theology of the Imamate developed by theologians, sanctifies the role of Imam Ali and his family in history, and gives their existence meta-historical importance. This meta-historical importance has motivated two different strands of thought, often referred to as a separation between a quietist and an activist understanding of Ali, the first underlining the pious aspect of the holy character, the second highlighting the revolutionary agency.15 Throughout Iran’s history, since Islam became the state’s official religion in 1501 ad, most Shia clerics have accepted the rule of the various Shahs. The majority of the ulama in the Safavid era generally preferred an acquiescent position towards the monarchy, as their dependence on the state for positions led them to cooperate with the temporal ruler.16 The idea that during the period of the twelfth Imam’s occultation, government belonged to the ulama, gained more ground in the eighteenth century and particularly during the reign of the Qajar. Nevertheless, the Qajar period did not witness any demands by the ulama to assume directly the leadership of the government. During the constitutional movement in 1906–1911, the ulama were divided in their attitudes. Some ulama supported the democratic modernists, taking an activist approach,

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but the majority was against the movement, and adopted a conservative or quietest, spiritual position. Similarly, during the reign of the Pahlavi Shahs, many ulama concentrated on the quietist aspect. Michael Fisher and Mehdi Abedi relate how, for example, the incident over Fadak, when Fatima’s garden was illegitimately confiscated, was used by preachers to motivate lamentation during memorial rituals like rowzeh.17 The idea was that the audience, among whom many had had their land confiscated by the Shah, would easily identify and sympathize with Imam Ali and Fatemeh, and thus be motivated to mourn the injustice inflicted upon the ahl al-bayt. Since the 1960s, and to a greater extent during and after the revolution in 1978–1979, members of the ulama, in particular those inspired by Ali Shariati, Ayatollah Khomeini, and others, launched activism and revolutionary action as the new ideology to change the religious and social direction of Iran. The sacred history of Shiism provided an important resource in this project. As we shall see in Part II, the battle at Karbala in 680 ad, in which Ali’s son Husayn was martyred, became the most important model for an activist approach in the 1970s. Also Imam Ali served as a paradigmatic figure in transforming the more common quietist approach to Shiism into an activist movement aimed at toppling the Pahlavi Shah. Khomeini’s alternative to monarchic rule was Islamic government hukumat-e Islami, a government fashioned on the ideals prescribed in the Quran, and by the leadership of the Prophet and Imam Ali. According to Khomeini, the ideal Islamic regime was the regime that existed during the days of the Prophet Muhammad and Imam Ali. According to his interpretation of history, the ideal state of affairs had remained as long as the Prophet headed the Muslim community. As the Umayyad gradually attained influence at the court of the Caliphate, they returned government to the state of jahiliyya, to the system of distinction, discrimination, exploitation and oppression.18 When Ali assumed the Caliphate, he made untiring efforts to restore the government of the Prophet. His success was short-lived, because he was martyred after only five years of rule. When the ulama installed an Islamic government in Iran in the late 1970s, the new political leaders needed to show that their form of government was a continuation of the ideal rule of the Prophet and Imam Ali. The new ideology was published through television broadcast of Friday prayers, and was a conscious plan by the authorities to propagate their cause and goals to the public. Haggay Ram has observed that Imam Ali was usually acclaimed in Friday sermons for his endless efforts and struggles on behalf of the Prophet and Islam. This included the mentioning of his bravery as a youth, the battles at Badr and Uhud, and the conquest of Mecca, in addition to his opposition towards the Umayyad Caliph Mu´aviyyeh.19 Ram notes that having established the militancy, revolutionary zeal and bravery of Ali, prayer leaders urged the people to emulate his example, and to re-enact his exemplary exploits. In the first two or three years after the overthrow of Muhammad Reza Shah, prayer leaders still held Iran’s Islamic government to represent a continuation of the government of Imam Ali.20 Ayatollah Rafsanjani claimed that Imam Ali’s

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society was the model of the contemporary society, and Ayatollah Khamenei, in a sermon in 1980, recalled that Imam Ali was the symbol of submission, taslim, to the Prophet.21 He called upon the people of Iran to follow this example, and claimed the revolution was victorious because they practiced submission, that is, they followed Khomeini. The activist approach continued to be emphasized during the war with Iraq (1980–1988). When Iraqi missiles hit Iranian towns, Ayatollah Abd al-Karim Musavi Ardabili encouraged the people to resist by comparing their anxiety with that of the political and physical pressures imposed on Imam Ali.22 Imam Ali’s resoluteness and courage was therefore an ‘instructive lesson’ for the people of Iran. In the prayer leaders’ view, this very same decisiveness was successfully re-enacted by the struggling Iranian nation. The result of this activist interpretation has been the establishment of an Islamic government, headed by ulama, on the basis of a new doctrine developed by Ayatollah Khomeini, velayat-e faqih, the governance of the jurisprudence. The characteristics of Imam Ali, his personal history, and the legendary stories about him, as it is recorded in sacred Shia history, is well known to the general public, although details of Islamic history and theology are not necessarily known to every layperson. Basic knowledge about Shia hagiography is transmitted to the wider community through many channels, such as school curriculum, Friday sermons, study circles, rituals, religious literature and public television. Today, more than two decades after the revolution, the ideals of the activist approach is still felt, but popular religious sentiments continues to underscore the quietist aspect of Shiism. Believers perceive Imam Ali to be a spiritual guide, a mediator, a model to pious life conduct, to truthful social behaviour, as well as to righteous ruling and law. Imam Ali appears as a complex figure in the Shiite memory endorsed with multifaceted religious and political significance. Momen comments that ‘Any attempt to draw a portrait of the personal qualities of Ali is indeed a difficult task, for he has assumed an almost legendary dimension as a paragon of virtues and a fount of knowledge.’23 He mentions, for example, Ali’s courage in battle, his magnanimity towards his defeated opponent, his sincerity and straightforwardness, his eloquence and his profound knowledge of the roots of Islam. To the list we could add psychological and intellectual characteristics; he was righteous but suffered injustice, he was authoritative but also humble and compassionate, and he was vigorous but also patient, he was learned but also did manual work. Momen addresses the difficulty of drawing a literary portrait of a complex character like Imam Ali. The same challenge applies to any visual portraiture of the Imam. Both literal and visual portraiture require some discernable connection between the image and the person portrayed, however imagined, in order to legitimize that analogy.

Chapter 3

The Iconography of Imam Ali and its Reception

A hagiographic biography about Ali published by the officially recognized Ansariyan Publications in Qum, presents a vivid description of the Imam in which physiognomics is associated with psychological qualities.1 The author suggests that Ali’s physical strength is reflected in his powerful arms, broad chest and strong and roughened hands. Moreover, Ali’s physical appearance is said to express the ‘radiant qualities of heart and head.’ In particular, his facial characteristics is said to be those of a ‘noble’ man. The author claims that those who encountered Ali were said to learn about his character through his looks and from the way he moved his face. When his face was in motion it revealed his intellect, but when in repose it expressed his spirituality. The physiognomics of the face is here perceived as an index of the mind. Despite such ideologically acceptable description presented by the author, Shia Muslims I consulted claimed that nobody really knows what Ali looked like. Nevertheless, as we shall see below, the physiognomic signs introduced in imaginary portraits of Imam Ali were often associated with his psychological qualities. What kind of personhood, character, status and role does the iconography signify?

The Character in the Face The entire body is a helpful sign in the process of recognizing and identifying someone. Gesture and other movements may provide valuable information, although visual studies confirm that the face is the most important key to the recognition and identification of a person based on appearance.2 In the genre of portraiture the face functions as a source of reflection on a person’s character and social standing.3 Human communication depends upon the face which can ‘speak’ even when it is silent and motionless. Interest in physical likeness and psychological characterization began developing in Iran in the early 1840s as the chief painter of Muhammad Shah, Abu al-Hassan Ghaffari, returned from studies in Italy and France.4 Contemporary portraits of Imam Ali also give importance to the face.5 The viewer’s attention is drawn to the Imam’s face by a light illuminating the upper part of his face, that is, the forehead, nasal bone

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and cheekbones. However, the iconographic detailing of the face often differs between images to present a variety of physiognomic traits all held to represent Imam Ali. The most commonly produced and distributed portraits, which I call the ‘conventional’ facial type, are illustrated in Figures 2, 3, 12 and 14. Imam Ali is shown in part profile with lofty forehead and wide, a little oversized, eyes with large pupils. The high eyebrows accentuate the size of the eye. Ali avoids eye contact with the viewer and the gaze seems to be directed slightly upwards with the look of a far-sighted visionary, creating an almost dream-like appearance. The face is oval, and the cheekbones round. The lips are full rather than thin. Cheekbones and lips are partly covered by a dark, thick, well-trimmed beard. In addition to the conventional facial type described above, there exists a variety of alternative iconographic designs which I group under the label ‘unconventional’ facial types, see, for example, Figures 6, 8, 10 and 13. It is sometimes difficult to put into words the fine nuances of physiognomic variation. Family resemblance between conventional and unconventional portraits is anchored in a basic schema of iconographic representation, that is, an illuminated face with importance given to the forehead, eyes, lips and beard. However, conventional and unconventional types differ in terms of physiognomic details. Such iconographic diversity influenced the viewer’s ability to recognize and identify portraits representing Imam Ali, but did not invalidate the authority of imaginary portraits in representing the Imam. Different facial types would be accepted as adequate representation of Imam Ali, although not necessarily appeal to every individual in the interpretive community. The important distinction between the conventional and unconventional facial types is that the conventional type functioned as a coded sign which could more easily be recognized and identified, whereas some viewers eventually had to rely on captions or attributes in order to identify and recognize Imam Ali in the unconventional type. The iconographic diversity in depicting Ali raises the question: On what ground can the person presented in the portraits be said to represent Imam Ali? Resent research combining cognitive and social perspectives on facial attractiveness within and across cultures has added new knowledge to our understanding of what makes a face attractive and appealing, and why we have certain preferences.6 Tests show that certain physiognomic cues tend to encourage particular social messages. Small eyes, thin lips, square jaw and chin, and thick brows, tend to be perceived as mature traces, and men carrying these traces are often recognised as dominant looking, socially influential and attractive.7 Behavioural studies show that they tend to have more influence over peers during social interaction then less mature-faced men. Another category is labelled ‘neotonic’ and is characterized by large eyes, full lips, rounded jaw and chin, and thin brows. Large eyes tend to communicate submission, but also warmth and trust. What is appealing about a face may, however, shift based on social context and role expectations. In contexts valuing warmth, trust and honesty, having a less mature look is often associated with increased social appeal and

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positive outcome. By thus influencing social judgements, physiognomy helps guide decisions about whom to approach, help, mate, follow, fight and avoid.8 Caroline Keating suggests that what is evaluated as attractive and appealing in a face is not purely decided by the symbolic value associated with each facial cue, but by the combination of facial cues in a face. The conventional visual representation of Imam Ali corresponds to the neotonic type. Accordingly, conventional portraits could be said to represent a person possessing warmth, trust and honesty. In some social situations such a person could be perceived as submissive, obedient and passive. In other situations he could be regarded as trustworthy, reliable, honourable and upright. The interpretation would become more refined if we judge the eyes by what they do, not only by what they look like. In the conventional portrait, Imam Ali is given a firm gaze and he focuses on something outside the visual field of the viewer. The viewer, on the other hand, does not partake in the ‘seeing’ of the Imam, and can thus not share his vision. Instead the viewer is left to observe the Imam, notably from a position lower in relation to the portrayed. Imam Ali’s gaze and the positioning of the viewer serve to elevate the status of the portrayed in relation to the viewer. An interpretation based on the analysis of iconography, combined with crosscultural studies of physiognomics, thus suggest that the conventional representation of Imam Ali presents a high-ranking person, perhaps a visionary with distinguished insight not shared by ordinary people. Moreover, the Imam is presented with an affectionate and honest character, although there could be some ambiguity as to his role in society, that is, whether he is active and vigorous, or passive and submissive. The category I have called the ‘unconventional’ facial type refers to a variety of different faces. The face depicted in Figures 4, 6, 8, 10 and 13 shows a person whose eyes are comparatively narrow, the lips are thinner and the face is leaner and longer. The facial traits in these images imply a ‘naturalization’ of Imam Ali’s appearance in contrast to the idealized presentation in the conventional type. This is due to a more realistic appearance, in which, for example, the eyes are of normal size and the texture of the beard is accentuated. Studies in physiognomics show that such traits are often interpreted as mature traces, and men carrying these traces are recognized as dominant, attractive and socially influential. For example, the face observed in Figure 6 is represented with a light illuminating the face. The portrayed has narrow eyes and a firm wrinkle between his eyebrows gives him a firm look. The gaze is directed to the side expressing the look of a determined individual. The character is given full lips and there seems to be a hint of smile on his lips. A full beard indicates maturity. The character thus seems to be a person of strong personality and disposition, perhaps capable of expressing compassion but who is not of a sublime nature. On the other hand, the frontal look of the portrayed in Figure 13 creates a face-to-face relation between the portrayed and the viewer, in contrast to the third-person relation created by the conventional part profile type. With a direct, persistent gaze, accentuated by the narrow eyes and contracted eyebrows, the portrayed

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fixes the viewer who is positioned at a lower level. The impression is a firm, demanding and challenging gaze addressing the viewer, and the portrayed displays authority through the directness of his gaze. Otherwise, the facial cues show a combination of traits from the conventional, and various unconventional types: The lips are full, but the jaw looks firm, and the cheekbones are high rather than round. The beard has grey stain, presenting Ali older then in many other images. These visual cues give Ali a dynamic appearance which, when combined with his positioning in relation to the viewer, induces vigorous authority. The above analysis of facial cues in the portraiture of Imam Ali points to different and, sometimes, conflicting traits of character. The conventional facial type emphasizes visionary, perhaps spiritual qualities. In addition, there are some indications of compassion; Ali is presented with facial cues suggesting affection and honesty. Otherwise, the cues give some ambiguity as to Ali’s role in society, that is, active and vigorous, but also passive and submissive. The unconventional facial type spans from the idealized to the realistic. The facial cues seem to represent a determined, dynamic character, thus underlining active and vigorous characteristics. Despite these variations, the portraits seem to allude to a high-ranking person or a person with authority. We can choose to see the different visual representations of Imam Ali’s character as excluding one another, implying that some are right and some are wrong, or as complementary, that is, contributing to the representation of a complex character.

Appearance through Paraphernalia and Attributes Whereas the face is the most important ground for recognizing and identifying a person and expressing his or her character, that person’s character, status and roles can also be signified through a number of other signs. It is, in fact, not possible for the viewer’s eye to completely isolate the face from other visual elements in the visual field. Information surrounding the focus of observation will be apprehended in the peripheral vision and the immediate surrounding or background of the head will frame the face. This context may influence what we read into the face. Dress is a powerful sign, pointing to social, ethnic, religious and gender identity, as well as political affiliation.9 Similarly, paraphernalia and attributes are typically used to signify a person’s religious and political affiliations, social status and dignity. In addition, gestures, background, labelling and other facets of a portrait, may provide clear signals about whether the portrayed is rich or poor, powerful or subjugated, and whether he or she can be associated with a particular profession, class, club or other group of people.10 In most contemporary visual representations, Ali is surrounded by some kind of light. Yellow sunbeams emanate from the sky above to light up a cloudy background (Figures 3 and 14), a sun-ray-like halo encircles Ali’s head (Figures 7, 12 and 13), or light emanate from behind his figure (Figure 8).

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In the iconographic language of several religions a nimbus or halo is a zone of light placed around or behind the heads of divine or sanctified personages to identify their dignity.11 In Islamic iconography, the use of light to designate a holy person is an old attribute. Throughout the Seljuk and Mongol periods the circular-shaped halo was sometimes used for holy personages, but mainly as a decorative device.12 The halo became an exclusive divine attribute during the Timurid reign (from the fourteenth century) when a new shape appeared. This was the cloud-halo which was used to glorify the Prophet Muhammad, Ali, Hassan and Husayn, and the first three Caliphs. In later Safavid paintings, Ali is often represented with a flame halo and a face-veil.13 In the popular Karbala painting genre developed during the Qajar era, the use of the halo was expanded to include, in addition to prophets and Imams, al-Abbas, Ali Akbar, Qasim, Zaynab and in general the martyrs of Karbala to point to their sainthood. In contemporary visual language, light and halo retain their significance as denoting holy personage, but the veil is usually reserved for the female characters, see Part II. In Shia iconography the halo is, however, not simply an indexical attribute denoting a holy person but symbolically illustrates the nature of that person’s holiness. In Twelver Shiism the Imams are considered bearers of nur-Muhammedi, the Muhammedan light. The concept of nur-Muhammadi is developed from the Quranic verse, al-Nur, The Light, 24:35. God is the Light of the heavens and the earth; the similitude of His Light is as a niche in which is a lamp, the lamp is in a glass; The glass is as it were a star shining bright, lit from a blessed olive tree, neither eastern nor western, the oil whereof almost gloweth forth, and though fire touches not; light upon Light; God guideth unto His Light whomsoever He willeth; and god setteth forth parables for people; and God is All- aware of all things. The verse has inspired a rich theological and philosophical debate.14 In the eighth century, Muqatil introduced a mystical interpretation of the Light verse by suggesting the lamp as a fitting symbol for Muhammad.15 Through the Prophet, the divine Light would shine in the world, and through him mankind was guided to the origin of the Light. The sixth Imam, Jafar al-Sadeq (d. 765 ad) did, however, develop an exegesis in which he connected ahl al-bayt to the Light. Confirming that God is the Light, he associated the niche with Fatemeh, but instead of associating the lamp with her father, Muhammad, the lamp in the glass is her son Imam Husayn.16 The Imams are seen as the bearers of the Light, and the expression, ‘God guides to His Light whom he will’ is interpreted to mean that God guides people to His wisdom and knowledge through the Imams. The contemporary position among the Shia is that the full prophetic revelation, wahy, was only revealed to Muhammad and the other prophets, whereas the Imams have received inspiration, ihlham, from God. The principle of this is explained by the fifth Imam, Muhammad al-Baqir, who is

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reported saying, ‘Ali used to act in accordance with the book of God, i.e. the Quran, and the Sunna of his Apostle, and if something came to him and it was new and without precedent in the book or the Sunna, God would inspire him.’17 Accordingly, in a recent commentary to the Light verse by Ayatollah Agha Haji Mirza Mahdi Pooya Yazdi (1899–1973 ad), the Prophet is associated with the lamp, whereas his household is understood to be the protector and transmitter of that Light.18 By associating the niche, in which the lamp (Muhammad) is placed, with the ahl al-bayt, the commentator establishes an intimate spiritual correspondence between Muhammad and the members of his household. The commentator supports the idea that the Light shines through Muhammad to enlighten the creation, but claims that the Light is being protected by Ali. Moreover, when the Light is reflected through Ali (the glass) this produces a radiant effect that results in the continued transmission of the Light thought the Imams. The Imams are therefore the necessary guides to that Light and only those who attach themselves to the House of the Holy Prophet would receive the Grace of God and be enlightened. In this sense, not only the Prophet is a mediator, but also the Imams can partake in this task.19 Within a Shia interpretive community, the halo and light thus function as iconographic devices to formulate the spiritual in visual forms and make it accessible to the viewer. These qualities are, however, assumed as a result of theological discourse and the halo thus signifies a dogmatic truth. In the portraits discussed here Imam Ali is depicted in four different dress codes. The point here is not whether these garments are historically correct or historical anachronistic, but to consider their possible symbolic values. A common piece of clothing is the green head-cover. According to Annemarie Schimmel, green is believed to have been the colour of the Prophet and is often held to symbolically represent Islam.20 The colour has also been used to denote the Prophet’s descendents. At the Abbasid court in Baghdad in the ninth century, green became associated with the Shia Imams and the black flag signifying the Abbasid was for a period exchanged with a green flag.21 In 1371–1372 ad the Mamluk sultan ordered that the descendents of the Prophet should wear some green as an indication of their status, so that proper respect could be paid to them. Also in miniature painting, green has been used to symbolically represent the Prophet’s ancestral line and miniature painting of Ottoman Baghdad often dressed the Prophet Muhammad and Ali in green.22 Although the colour has not received proper attention in the studies of Persian Islamic art,23 a survey of Persian tile paintings produced in the first half of the twentieth century demonstrate a distinct use of green turbans and head-gear to identify the Prophet, Imam Ali, Imam Husayn, Imam Reza, al-Abbas and Ali Asghar.24 A similar symbolic use of the green colour in Iran is applied in ta´ziyeh production. Typically, holy protagonists wear some green to identify them whereas the antagonists wear some red, see Figure 16. The denotative practice is continued in contemporary portraiture and visual narratives but not in social practice. Sayyids descendents of the Prophet, among the ulama

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wear black turbans to distinguish them from non-sayyid ulama, who wear white turbans. Instead, green is used as a colour for joyful religious celebrations, such as mowludi, see Part III. Moreover, the colour green has taken on political significations. When green headbands are used in protests marches throughout the Muslim world, the colour signifies Muslim identity and some notion of a Muslim value system. Typically, symbolic signs are however, polysemic, and green is applied to express protest against non-Muslim opponents as well as to challenge hegemonic discourses on Muslim values. Representing Imam Ali in a green headgear thus signifies his family relation to the Prophet, being the Prophet’s cousin, and promotes his authority as a representative of Islam. The most common manner of representing Ali in terms of garment is to dress him in a white shirt under a dark (brown) cloak and a belt across his chest, see Figures 2, 3, 4, 10, and 12, 14. The cloak is plane in design, colour and material with no decorations or insignia. Typically, the cloak’s material is represented as being of rough texture, perhaps coarse wool. Presuming that the dress code is selected to convey some information about the identity of Ali, his religious affiliation and social standing to an Iranian interpretive community, it could be understood to illustrate aspects attributed to his position as both Sufi and Imam. Among Sufis, dress is typically loaded with meaning. Most Sufi orders have developed dress codes to be worn exclusively by their members, and dress and colour is used to indicate how far each member has developed in his spiritual search.25 The woollen cloak, khirqa, for example, is considered a typical Sufi garment, and is often presented to the novice upon initiation into an order.26 From a non-Sufi Shia perspective, the choice of a simple dress code could be interpreted to underline the modest aspect of Ali’s character. Shia hagiography emphasizes that Ali lived a simple life, in contrast to the lavish life of Governor Mu´aviyyeh, Ali’s contestant in Damascus. According to hagiographic narratives, even the poorest could afford the food Ali ate and the dress he wore and he did not intend to improve his standards until he had made the poor more comfortable.27 The depiction of Ali living a simple lifestyle is therefore not simply an indexical sign pointing out Ali’s poverty but can also function as a symbolic sign expressing his ideology of modesty and compassion. In a second commonly depicted dress code, Ali is instead dressed in colourful garments combining the green headgear with a bright, blue cloak covering a yellow shirt, see Figure 5. Over his shoulders he carries a red drape that is tightened around his waist. Among the colours applied in this dress code, blue has traditionally been the most costly to produce. Blue dyes were used by already the ancient peoples of the Middle East but they had to import indigo from Asia and Africa, making it an expensive colour to apply for clothing.28 Assuming that blue dye was an expensive commodity also in early Islamic history, the portrait of Ali dressed in a blue cloak conveys an image of a rich and socially important person. This line of argument is, however, contested by the use of blue clothing in the tradition of Persian miniature paintings. Here, the colour blue did not emphasize a social hierarchy among the painted subjects, but was applied in the

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clothing of rulers and servants alike. The costly blue colour was perhaps instead used for aesthetical reasons to embellish the work of art.29 The colourful garments used to dress Imam Ali in contemporary designs certainly give an impression of splendour but the signification of the use of colours in contemporary Shia iconography requires further research. For example, we need to know more about designers’ knowledge of the historic and esoteric uses of colours, and how colour is used intentionally to shape the person Ali. In a third dress code introduced in Figure 8, Ali is depicted standing, dressed in a green head-cover and a white, loose shirt, wrapped in a garment. The garment is illuminated by a light that seems to emanate from behind and in front, creating a play of colours in shadows of blue and green. The white, loose shirt resembles a thob, also called jalabiyya, which is worn mainly by Muslim men in the Arabian Peninsula, North-Africa and East- and West-Africa south of the Sahara30 The design conveys the notion of a person of modest appearance but the play of light suggests a man of spiritual power. This contrast to the fourth dress code, in which Ali dressed in armour, is striking, see Figure 6. On his head, Ali carries a helmet with the green head-cover partly visible under it. He is dressed in a tight, grey, string-vest with short sleeves. His arms are uncovered revealing a stocky-looking person with muscular arms. This is the representation of a warrior. A single indexical sign like dress can be symbolically polysemic and inspire various interpretations regarding Ali’s character, social status and role in society. Among the four dress codes applied in contemporary poster art, one suggests a modest, humble, compassionate person, as well as pointing to mystical attraction. Another suggests splendour, a third suggests a person with spiritual authority and a fourth depicts a warrior. Dress may, however, have the limitation of only tentatively signifying the portrayer’s identity and values. Dress must therefore be analysed in combination with other signs in the pictorial field, keeping in mind that the significance of a sign may alter according to how it is being combined with other signs such as attributes and pose. In addition to the halo, attributes associated with Ali in contemporary posters are the sword, the lion, and the book. Since the early fourteenth century, visual representations of Ali in illustrated historical and hagiographic manuscripts have presented the sword called ‘Zu al-Feqar’ as his most recognizable attribute.31 In the modern era of nineteenth- and twentieth-century Iran, Ali is continuously represented with a two- or one-pointed sword in a variety of media, such as mirror cases,32 illustrated lithographed books, depicted on painted tiles,33 wall hangings, in colour posters and in illustrated booklets about the life of Ali addressing children in Iran.34 In the contemporary single portrait, Ali is depicted standing posing with the sword, seated with the sword resting on his lap, or the sword is placed below the portrait, like an emblem; see Figures 5, 4, 6, 10, 14, 12, and 13. The sword is typically depicted with two points, although sometimes with only one point.35 It has been suggested that the bifurcate is not an iconic sign referring to the actual design of the sword, but rather an

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iconographic construct applied to symbolize the sword’s magical character.36 The sword is said to have been obtained by Muhammad as booty at the battle at Badr (624 ad) and later offered to Ali. Since then, both the man and the sword have achieved legendary fame. Their reputation is reflected in the proverbial expression la fata illa Ali, la saif illa Zu al-Feqar, ‘There is no true hero like Ali, no sword like Zu al-Feqar.’ The expression is the most commonly used caption in contemporary posters referring to Ali and may appear above or below the portrait, see Figures 3 and 5, 6, 13, 14, or be presented in combination with the sword emblem; see Figure 12. The Arabic term fata is mentioned in the Quran where it refers to a ‘youth’ (Surat 18 verse 10; Surat 21 verse 60) and a ‘slave’ (Surat 12 verse 32, 36 and 62; Surat 18 verse 60 and 62).37 Although Surat 21 verse 60 explicitly states the youth refers to Abraham, the term has become connected with Ali and Hadith literature endorsed by both Shia and Sunni Muslims accept the expression ‘There is no youth braver than Ali’ as an authentic statement by the Prophet Muhammad.38 Whereas the role of Ali in important battles fought between the Prophet’s supporters in Medina and his opponents in Mecca is mentioned in Islamic historiography, the hagiographic literature offers legendary accounts of Ali’s heroic and chivalrous deed. In his biography on the Prophet, Ibn Ishaq relates that when the Meccans in 627 ad advanced towards Medina, Muhammad ordered the digging of a ditch, which prevented the attackers from invading the town.39 Medina came under siege and at one point Amr ibn Abdu Wudd from the tribe of Quraysh challenged to single combat Ali. Reluctantly, the Prophet granted Ali permission and Ali eventually killed Amr. In contrast to the matter-of-fact account of Ibn Ishaq, the present-day Shia hagiography highlights that although Ali was still a youth at the time he was the only one who offered to fight Amr, a man described as a giant warrior.40 The duel between Ali and Amr is described as legendary and the death of the Meccan hero Amr, by Muhammad’s sword Zu al-Feqar in the hands of the young Ali, is said to have destroyed the Meccans’ morale and decided their fate. In addition to highlighting Ali’s bravery and strength in the battle, hagiographic literature also comments on the ‘noble behaviour’ of Ali after having slain Amr. Contrary to customary rule, Ali is said not to have stripped Amr of his armour and clothes. Upon witnessing this, Amr’s sister is supposed to have uttered that this behaviour signified a ‘unique champion of spotless character’.41 Perhaps the most famous story about Ali’s noble behaviour is connected to the Prophet’s flight, hijra, from Mecca to Medina. In order to mislead the opponents, Ali took the place of the Prophet in his bed. While the Prophet fled town, Ali was surrounded by enemies who believed him to be Muhammad sleeping in the bed. Ali survived the attack, but his willingness to self-sacrifice is praised as a virtue. These few examples give an idea of the eulogizing representation of Ali in verbal hagiographic portraiture. Ali is described as brave, courageous and chivalrous. He demonstrates the virtues of a fata and as a result, the Prophet is described as putting his trust in Ali and eventually offers him his sword. Assisted

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by the exceptional sword, Zu al-Feqar, Ali is described as obtaining many victories for Islam. To the extent that the concept fata was applied to other men than Ali, it is understood as ‘the young brave man’ who was generous and faithful. In early Sufi vocabulary the term futuwwa refers to the ‘chivalrous qualities of a man’, a virtue defined by placing other people above oneself.42 This state of mind is made manifest by liberality, altruism, self-denial, immunity against disappointment and indulgence against other peoples’ short-comings. Islamic mystics have been inspired by the concept, and in the Middle Ages formed movements called futuwwa, governed by chivalry precepts, in parallel to more spiritually oriented movements. However, futuwwa movements have also been exploited by political leadership. During the reign of Caliph Nasir (575/1180–1225), futuwwa was reorganised into a political network of allegiances although the symbolic importance of Ali did not escape the political oriented movement. In this context, Ali was as the sayyed al-fetayan, the epitome of courage, generosity and selflessness.43 The Persian translation of fata is javanmard. The concept has inspired the ideal of Islamic chivalry, javanmardi, in zur-khaneh ethics, as it is perceived and practised in Iran today.44 Such chivalric behaviour implies courage and strength, honesty, generosity and philanthropic work and javanmardi represents the ideal of Islamic masculinity directed at shaping the Muslim man into a social being conscious of societal needs in his surroundings. These values are held to be embodied in the exemplary behaviour of Imam Ali and portraits of the Imam typically decorate interior walls of zur-khaneh while Ali is honoured in the religious vernacular. Similar to the new prototypical iconography introduced in the mid-nineteenth century, contemporary representations of Imam Ali do not employ the sword in battle but present it like a regalia in his hand (Figure 5), resting on his lap (Figures 4, 6, 10 and 14) or presented as an emblem below the portrait (Figures 12 and 13). The sword is sometimes inscribed with the caption, la fata illa Ali, la saif illa Zu al-Feqar, see Figure 14.45 In some visual programmes the sword retains its iconographic character as a weapon, whereas in other programmes it is richly ornamented (Figures 5 and 13) appearing more like a ceremonial object then a weapon. Although most contemporary images of Ali do not depict him using the sword while fighting, many interviewees suggested that the presence of the sword indicates Ali’s readiness to fight (for Islam). The presence of the sword in the Ali iconography functions like a signature, an indexical sign identifying the portrayed but also to symbolically represent Ali in non-figural imagery. The conventionally established association between Ali and the bifurcated sword Zu al-Feqar has turned the sword into a powerful symbol capable of also representing its absent owner. Sergio Stocchi has reproduced two colour prints in which the Holy family is visually represented through a combination of symbolic signs, in which the two-pointed sword refers to Ali and the grave mosque of Muhammad represents the Prophet.46 The origin

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of these two prints is not identified in Stocchi’s catalogue, but a comparison with prints reproduced by Pierre Centlivres and Micheline Centlivres-Demont suggests them to be from Pakistan.47 In today’s Iran one may observe banners decorated with the sword in which the sword is supposed to stand for Ali. Also in the media of film and television production, Zu al-Feqar is applied to represent Ali. In an Iranian television production on the biography of Imam Ali the lens consistently avoids showing close-ups of an impersonated Imam Ali.48 Rather, the camera focuses its attention on the simple dress and shoes worn by an unidentified actor. In battle scenes, the camera lens frames the bifurcated sword and uses it to identify the intended social agent as Imam Ali.49 The technology of the zoom lens thus makes it possible to censure and limit what the viewer will see by manipulating the lens. Dress and sword are promoted as indexical signs pointing to the figure Ali in the film, a signifying strategy made possible due to the conventionally established symbolic powers of these signs. A live performance on stage such as the ta´ziyeh, where everything is visible to the viewers, has to rely on a different technology and has developed a different iconography. In ta´ziyeh productions, according to Sadeq Humayuni, actors impersonating angels and the ghosts of the Prophet, Imam Ali and Imam Husayn, will appear with a dark cloth, parcheh, covering the head.50 The black cloth is a stage device applied to signify people who no longer inhabit this world. Moreover, the visual code is consistent with the representation of holy persons in ta´ziyeh productions. Since no living person should be associated with the saints, actors are provided with a face veil. The association between the person Ali and the bifurcated sword works because Ali is believed to have been the owner of such a sword. Since the sword is known to have been used by Ali to fight for Islam, first on behalf of the Prophet Muhammad, and later in his capacity as the first Imam, the sword is also a sign of Ali as an ardent supporter and protector of Islam. The symbolic power of the sword is eventually dependent on its ability to signify and reflect Ali’s character as the chivalrous young hero, as well as his bravery, strength and agency. Moreover, if one believes that the sword was offered to Ali by the Prophet, the sword may also symbolize the close relationship between these two key Islamic figures.51 In the poster shown in Figure 5 Ali is accompanied by a lion, located vertically at his feet. The lion’s front legs are placed in a sphinx-like position, and the head is presented in the same three-quarter profile as that of Ali. Similar to Ali, the lion is given a gaze diverted to its right, looking into the distance. When associated with Ali, the lion carries an indexical as well as a symbolic significance. Ali’s proper name was first Haydara (or Haydar), meaning ‘Lion’, and from early days he was praised as the ‘Lion of God’.52 Moreover, Lalljee recounts that at the battle at the Jewish citadel Khaybar, when Ali challenged the Jew Marhab who declared to be ‘the greatest warrior in the world’, Ali stated, ‘I am he whom his mother named Haydar, a Lion of the Wilderness.’53 And indeed,

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at Khaybar, Ali’s courage and strength is said to have impressed both Jews and Muslims. The lion is an animal universally associated with certain qualities, such as courage and strength, and has become a symbolic representation for Ali. According to Fahmida Suleman, Ali’s association with the epithet ‘Haydara’, together with his rise as a hero par excellence, was popularized already in the late ninth and early tenth century.54 To the Shia Fatimid, the symbol of the lion was associated with victorious combat, although not exclusively. Suleman quotes a poem by the famous Fatimid poet Nasir Khusraw in which he combines the motif of the lion, light and sun to express the esoteric relationship between Muhammad (sun) and Ali (the attacking lion and light), as understood by the Fatimids. The Fatimids would also make visual representations of the lion in banners and standards. The lion has also been used as a symbol in Persian/Iranian Shiism since the time of the Safavid until today. Throughout Persian/Iranian history the lion’s symbolic meaning has alternated between nationalistic and religious inclinations although in postrevolutionary Iran the lion is no longer considered a national symbol. Depicted in combination with Ali and his sword Zu al-Feqar, it retains its religious symbolic reference as an Ali attribute, pointing to his physical, as well as psychological characteristics. In the portraits in Figure 7 Ali is depicted holding a book, which could be either the Quran or the Nahj al-Balaghah. The book could be the Quran, since Ali is held to have comprehensive knowledge and understanding of its esoteric meanings. In contemporary Iranian popular posters, however, the Prophet Muhammad is sometimes depicted holding a book on which it explicitly says ‘The Glorious Quran’, see Figure 15. Moreover, in representations similar to the poster in Figure 7, a red inscription, reading Nahj al-Balaghah is placed on the brown cover of the book. Nahj al-Balaghah contains speeches, letters and sermons by Imam Ali, later collected by Al-Allamah al-Sharif al-Razi (d. 406 ah/1015 ad).55 Al-Razi has divided the text into three categories, of which the first presents sermons and decrees which reveal Ali’s knowledge about the esoteric meaning of the Quran.56 The second category contains letters, in which Ali’s role as Imam and leader is reflected in his communication with supporters and enemies. The third category contains maxims and counsels, in which Ali’s high moral standard and ethical consciousness are revealed. Many Shia regard the book second only to the Quran in importance and consider it part of the Shia Hadith literature.57 Among the Shia, the book is held to express the personal qualities of Ali, such as, eloquence, knowledge and judgement. Accordingly, the book is kept in many Shia homes in Iran and consulted in matters of history, ethics, theology and spirituality. In Chapter 2, I described an iconographic design prevailing in Iran at the time when the single-portrait was introduced, in which Ali is described as the chief hero of Islam, fiercely fighting various battles. This theme has almost disappeared from contemporary popular religious art. Instead, Ali is generally shown either seated or standing. The two poses can be observed in the portraiture of Ali soon after the single portrait was introduction to Iran in 1856. When

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seated, Ali is typically shown seated on a skin rug, resting on his lower legs with his sole turned towards the back, see Figure 14. Jürgen Wasim Frembgen notes that this difficult seating position is a characteristic mystic posture in the subcontinental Sufi tradition.58 In the Iranian portraiture tradition, however, the posture is adopted for kings, as well as religious figures. For example, Karim Khan Zand (ruled late eighteenth century) was depicted seated with legs folded under him. Likewise, in the early nineteenth century, Fath Ali Shah was shown seated on a jewelled carpet with jewelled regalia and headgear.59 By the time of the introduction of the single portrait of Ali, however, Nasir al-Din Shah was often portrayed seated in a Western-chair or sofa. The transformation in the ruler’s pose was related to Nasir al-Din Shah’s modernization programmes. At the same time, holy figures such as the Prophet Muhammad, Ali and Fatemeh continued to be portrayed seated on a rug. One important sign distinguishing a worldly ruler from a religious figure in Iranian iconography is the base on which the person is seated. Whereas the Qajar Shahs were shown seated on jewelled or knotted carpets, Ali was shown seated on a skin rug. One interviewee suggested that Ali was depicted seated on a skin rug because this was the practice of the Arabs in the seventh century. The argument honours historical authenticity, treating the skin rug as a conventional sign referring to ethnic and cultural tradition. However, in Sufi circles in Iran the head of the order is often referred to as sajjada-nishin, ‘rug-sitter’, referring to the prayer rug the mystic will be seated on.60 A Sufi interpretation of a seated pose on a skin rug base could be justified, since Ali is held to have initiated Sufism. The rug thus appears as a polysemic sign, referring to a holy person, to an Arab, and/or to a Sufi. The above sections have described and discussed the facial characteristics of Ali, and introduced attributes, dress and pose applied to construct his pseudo-portraits. It is evident that the Shia visual tradition over the centuries has developed a visual vocabulary in which certain signs have a monosemic, yet also polysemic significance. It is thus not fruitful to identify particular signs as either monosemic or polysemic in itself, but instead to distinguish between the denotative and connotative aspect of their significance by paying attention to how signs are combined in various ways to depict Ali, to represent his character, his status and his role.

Reconciling Imam Ali in Contemporary Portraiture In contemporary single-portraiture of Imam Ali divergent characteristics are negotiated and harmonized, such as worldliness and sublimity, power and compassion. The representations have to deal with what West calls the ‘effigy,’ that is, the social role of the individual, in relation to the likeness or personality.61 The reconciliation of these aspects is well illustrated in the postcard shown in Figure 3, but which aspect should take precedence before another in the interpretation depends to a large extent on which sign presents itself before others

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to govern the interpretation. The portrait in Figure 3 depicts Ali with a conventional facial type, which in certain social contexts is perceived as submissive, obedient and passive, but in other situations could be regarded as reliable, honourable and upright. The sublime aspect of his character is suggested by sunbeams emanating from the sky above. When associated with the concept of nur-Muhammadi, the viewer is invited to observe a person who acts as a transmitter of the Divine Light and who is gifted with the capacity of spiritually guiding the believer to God. The impression of sublimity, or at least high rank, is supported by the positioning of the viewer in relation to Ali, but the simple dress code undermines the notion of this being a high-ranking person with great wealth. The combination of the conventional facial type with a simple dress code suggests an honest and obedient character with modest lifestyle. Although this image is not a narrative image, the story of the compassionate Imam Ali who expressed empathy with the poor, may be read out of it. Added to this iconographic description of Imam Ali is a caption placed below the portraiture, reading ‘There is no true hero like Ali, no sword like Zu al-Feqar.’ When the concept of fata is connected to this visual representation, it underlines the idea of Ali being brave, courageous and chivalrous; a notion supported by the mentioning of the sword. The caption thus anchors the image of a compassionate, humble person, gifted with spiritual insight, to the legend about a powerful, victorious Muslim. In terms of presenting the social role of Imam Ali, the image does not focus on worldly rule but on the spiritual appearance of a man with great potential power, who is submissive to the will of God, and while in the service of God also serving fellow human beings. Regarding the social role of Imam Ali, he is portrayed as a spiritual guide and ethical model, rather than a statesman. The poster in Figure 13 depicts a similar dress code to that in Figure 3, but the physiognomics of the face and its expression are very different. The gaze is firm and demanding and the facial expression is composed. A halo is indicated surrounding Ali’s head, and light beams emanate from behind him to accentuate the fierce expression of the eyes and the character’s authoritative appearance. Behavioural studies show that the facial characteristics represented in the image tend to be perceived as traces of maturity and to symbolize a dominant and socially influential person. The sword placed below the portraiture resembles a symbolic object rather than a weapon. It is decorated with ornaments and the blade and point are provided with shining sparks, which accentuate its brilliance, radiance and magic-like power. There is certainly an aura of sublimity in this portrait, but the viewer is also confronted by a man of flesh and blood with great potential for agency and power. Drawing on the perception of Imam Ali in the Shia memory, one could connect agency with justice, and read into the image a narration elaborating on an activist, rather then a quietist appearance. In the poster in Figure 4, Ali is depicted seated, holding the sword across his lap. His facial physiognomics include a stern, direct gaze, which suggest a mature man with social influence. The face is illuminated, but there is no halo

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surrounding Ali’s head or light emanating from the sky above. Instead, Ali is positioned against a green illuminated background. Symbolically the colour refers to Islam, and Ali’s commitment to Islam is further enhanced in the label Allah, written on an amulet he carries on his chest. Moreover, Ali’s outstanding position as a human being and spiritual guide is conveyed in the caption written on a black leather cordon. Added to these signs are the simple dress which suggests modesty, and the resting sword, suggesting potential agency. Another example of Ali seated with the sword across the lap is presented in the poster in Figure 14. The caption on the sword suggests strength, bravery, chivalry. The textual message thus appears to be in contrast to the visual message of the conventional facial type, which signals a submissive, compassionate person. This combination of signs enhances the notion of potential agency rather than direct agency. Other conventional signs, such as light beams from the sky above and the simple dress, reiterate the notion of a humble, modest, spiritually enlightened man. The caption written above Ali supports this notion, ‘Of whomsoever I am Lord, then Ali is also his Lord.’ In addition, the caption below his portrait, ‘From Ali, learn sincere deeds’ cast Ali as a modelling exemplar. In Figure 5 Ali is dressed in colourful garments which give the impression of splendour. In his hands he holds the drawn sword, Zu al-Feqar, but instead of being engaged in battle, the sword appears as a symbolic object with inlaid precious green stones. This representation somewhat contradicts the sober-minded hagiographic literary description of Imam Ali and the conventional iconographic description discussed above, but local viewers did not regard it inappropriate. Ali is also depicted together with a lion. This is another polysemic sign which can function indexically to identify Ali, whose name is also Haydar. Symbolically, the sign enhances the power of Imam Ali, as his physical strength is compared to that of a lion. Some local viewers also suggested it demonstrates the eagerness of even strong animals to follow Imam Ali, thus pointing to his spiritual capacity to also reach out to the animal world. Certainly, the use of colours, magnificent sword and lion, contribute to the fashioning of an impressive character, which Ali after all is held to be. Another poster focusing on the strength of Ali is the sticker in Figure 6, which highlights the warrior aspect. The face observed in the sticker is different from the ones presented so far. Facial expressions and physical appearance suggest the character has strong personality and disposition. This portrait is a rare example which many local viewers failed to associate with Ali. Despite the assertion in the caption above the portrait, ‘There is no true hero like Ali, and no sword like Zu al-Feqar,’ most viewers hesitated to accept this as an acceptable representation of Imam Ali. The argument they raised was that although underlining Ali’s physical strength, the representation failed to pay tribute to his gentleness. In their opinion, both face and body were that of a ruffian. Yet another dimension added to the enlightened, powerful Ali is introduced in the posters in Figure 7, in which Ali is represented holding a book, possibly the Nahj al-Balaghah. The book is a powerful symbol, given that many Shia viewers have first-hand knowledge of its content and use it as a guide. It refers to Ali’s

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eloquence, juridical reasoning, ethics governance and esoteric knowledge. The iconography in the poster in Figure 8 depicts an unconventional face, combined with an unconventional dress code, and no attributes. Despite being depicted with empty hands passively folded in front, the character looks impressive and resolute, mainly due to his facial expression. Light surrounds his head, and clusters of white colour are spread on a blue background. Ali seems to appear from a celestial environment.

Local Receptions of Imam Ali in Imaginary Portraiture When commenting on various imaginary portraits of Imam Ali local viewers only sometimes anchored their interpretation in the visual vocabulary applied to describe the Imam. While physiognomics seem to play an important role, the attributes were less important. More often, a portrait would invite the viewer to recall information about the Imam from the hagiographic literature, reading narratives about the Imam out of the portraits. A third strategy was to anchor interpretation in personal life experience, typically related to an experience of the saint’s compassionate mediation. Moreover, interviews with local viewers suggest that images representing the conventional facial type (Figures 2, 3, 5, 12 and 14) were very popular among local viewers, particularly among the older generation who were used to seeing the portrait type since their childhood. From a denotation perspective, familiarity with the facial type was an important factor for making identification between the visual representation and Imam Ali. From a connotation perspective, long time exposure to this representational mode had instigated in the viewers a feeling of delight and familiarity when looking at it. Fewer viewers chose to comment on more recently designed unconventional portraits (Figures 4, 7, 8 and 13). Evidently, the conventional type had over time been established as a discursive field with which people could more easily engage perceptions, knowledge, emotions, expectations and experiences. Based on cross-cultural studies of physiognomics, I have argued that the conventional facial cues represent a warm, trustworthy and honest person. Indeed, facial cues played a role in local viewers’ interpretation of the imaginary portraits of Imam Ali and some viewers saw a relationship between physiognomics and his physiological qualities. In order to justify why the conventional facial type in Figure 3 offered a plausible representation of the Imam, one female viewer pointed out it was very beautiful and that the beauty reflected Ali’s kindness. ‘Beauty’ may thus not be understood simply as an aesthetic evaluation but also as an expression of psychological traits. In accordance with Keating’s observations, interpretation of physiognomics was often influenced by role expectations. One interviewee, for example, suggested that the face in Figure 3 conveyed the spiritual aspect of Ali’s guidance. She argued for her interpretation by referring to a well-known Hadith by al-Tirmidhi (824–end of 800 A.D.),

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in which the Prophet is reported to have said: ‘I am the City of Knowledge, and Ali is its Gate.’62 To the interviewee, Ali is perceived as the spiritual guide to the Revelation. A similar attitude is expressed in another woman’s comment, who suggested the portrait revealed Ali to be wise and possessed great knowledge. The viewer claimed to find these traits of character in the eyes, particularly in the gaze. The interpretation was anchored in her prior knowledge of Imam Ali as ‘a man of great wisdom in society’. She explained, ‘Ali knows about the hidden meaning of the Quran.’ The woman’s comment is in accordance with Twelver Shia theology, which regards the Imams as embodying the meaning of the Quran. They are said to be the hidden meaning of the revealed word of which they are the concrete personification.63 Accordingly, the local viewer understood Imam Ali’s knowledge and comprehension to excel that of ordinary people. However, she also explained that Ali had to conceal his knowledge, suggesting the Muslims at the time of Ali were not ready to comprehend Islam as he understood it. Her remark refers to the situation developing during the Caliphate of Ali, when disagreement and conflict developed between Ali and those who gathered around governor Mu’aviyeh, and those united in the breakaway faction known as Khariji. The viewer thus first associated the physiognomics of the eye with Ali’s spiritual wisdom and then connected this quality with the notion of Ali as the patient, quietist man of God. The interpretive strategy was typical of many lay viewers I interviewed. Many viewers seemed to have a basic knowledge of religious dogma, history and hagiography, sufficient to guide them in their daily religious observance and social interaction. This knowledge instigates respect for Ali, and trust in his commitment to mediation and support. The discussion of the visual representations illustrates how dogmas are embedded in lay people’s religious vocabulary, sentiments, understanding, perspectives and world-view. Lay people do not necessarily possess the verbal eloquence characteristic of theological discourse, but refer to basic tenants of dogma and hagiography. The unconventional facial type shown in Figure 4 generated a different set of interpretations. A woman of prime age, a layperson active in organizing commemoration ceremonies, gave a compound evaluation of Ali’s facial expression and described the image to show a sad, but at the same time, upset face. The foundation for this evaluation was based on her evaluation of the facial cues and her prior knowledge of Ali’s life history. She underlined that Ali had been a very patient man but got upset when the people of Kufa were unjust to him. The woman was not a very competent reader but she was familiar with Ali’s life story from frequent visits to sermons. The Nahj al-Balaghah is an important source for such religious instruction, and I will make a few references to how Ali is reported to have responded with patience after first being deprived of the right to the Caliphate. In the sermon ‘al-Shiqshiqiyyah’, counted among the most famous sermons by Ali, he considers his situation after Abu Bakr was appointed Caliph. Ali says he ‘began to think whether I should assault or endure

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calmly of tribulations’, but decided that endurance was a wiser response.64 When Ali was inaugurated Caliph, the Kufans swore alliance to him. The support withstood as the Muslim community became divided over the issue of avenging the murder of Caliph Uthman. In Ali’s conflict with Aisha, one of the Prophet’s wives, and Mu’aviyeh, governor of Syria, the Kufans supported Ali. Ali had moved his headquarters from Medina to Kufa, and men from the town fought with him at the Battle of the Camel in 656 ad and helped him secure his position as the leader of the Muslim community. Despite his support in Kufa, Ali was killed there while praying in a mosque. The assassin was probably a member of the Khariji, a group that had deserted Ali’s army and went underground in Basra and Kufa. The female viewer held that in general the pictures of Imam Ali expressed his kindness and generosity. She supported her impression with information about how Ali used to help the orphans and the poor in his community. This viewer thus found the images to be very complex representations of Imam Ali, capable of reflecting various aspects of his character. She would not, however, limit the effect of Ali’s character in society to his own lifetime, but gave it a meta-historical breadth. She held that Ali’s compassion for the poor and needy extended into the present. She claimed that she on several occasions received help from the Imams, and concluded: ‘Everything we have, we have from the Imams. They are our mediators, and God will give us what we need.’ A female maddah also underlined the expression of distress in the portrait in Figure 4. In her opinion, the image showed Imam Ali to carry anger in his gaze. Her interpretation did not limit the extent of the distress to the person Imam Ali. She claimed there was an important cosmic dimension to this anger; it reflected the anger of God because, she continued, ‘When God is angry, God’s people are angry.’ In this case, the image was not considered to be iconic in a Christian orthodox sense. The viewer did not claim to see God in the image, but Ali’s face became a site through which one could know God. This woman also made another observation. She noticed that Imam Ali’s sword is drawn half-way out. There are two possible ways of interpreting such a feature: either the portrayed is about to take the sword out of the scabbard, or he is about to put it back in. The woman stressed the active potential in the action, and declared: ‘He is ready for war (jihad).’ In Persian the word for war is jang. By referring to Ali’s war as jihad, the viewer applied an Arabic term with a specific Islamic connotation. The basic meaning of jihad is ‘struggle’ and in general the term refers to struggle in the way of God. Islamic theology recognizes two different types of struggle. One is the soul’s moral and spiritual inward struggle against temptation, laziness and other diversions to the path of God.65 The other is an outward military campaign against the enemies of Islam. The wars fought by Ali are believed to have been carried out to protect Islam, and are talked about as jihad, in contrast to the pre-Islamic jang of, for example, Rustam in Shah-Nameh.

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In Muslim discourse jihad is not specifically connected to the role of Ali, but addresses the Muslim population in general. Some members of the Shia ulama have on several occasions urged the people of Iran to wage jihad against foreign influence and control, such as against the Russians in the early nineteenth century and the British in the early twentieth century.66 After the Iranian revolution in 1979 the ulama campaigned to establish Shiism as a religious revolution by displaying Shiism as the religion of struggle and sacrifice.67 In the ulamas’ representation of Imam Ali’s biography and political career, he was usually acclaimed in sermons for his endless efforts and struggles on behalf of the Prophet Muhammad. His resoluteness and bravery were also reflected in his attitudes towards the Umayyad Caliph Mu´aviyyeh. Haggay Ram sums up, ‘the militancy, revolutionary zeal and bravery of Ali thus established, prayer leaders now urged the people to emulate his example, to enact his exemplary.’68 This propaganda became especially important as the Islamic Republic was beginning to take form during 1979–1981. The ideology was transmitted in sermons and otherwise, including visual propaganda. One example is a propaganda poster containing a depiction of Imam Ali reprinted in a study by Fisher and Abedi.69 The poster was issued by the Islamic Republican Party (IRP), and depicts a revolutionary fist, inscribed with an iconographic green silhouette of Imam Ali and his sword Zu al-Feqar placed inside a red tulip dripping with blood.70 Behind is placed a red flag symbolizing vengeance and a green flag symbolizing Islam. The flags are placed on standards topped with a hand symbolizing Fatemeh, al-Abbas or the Five Pure Souls. The standard carrying a red flag is decorated with a portrait of Khomeini in the palm. The other standard, carrying a green flag, is decorated with the new emblem of the Islamic republic. The fist, together with the two standards topped with hands, Fisher and Abedi suggest, reiterates and reinforces one another. Here, Khomeini and the new Islamic republic are to be associated with the legacy of the ahl al-bayt. A modified version of this poster is printed by Chelkowski and Dabashi.71 In accordance with the above-mentioned multiple interpretations of the portraiture of Imam Ali, performed by local viewers, Chelkowski and Dabashi calls this portraiture of Imam Ali an ‘excellent example of polysemous image with an open-ended reading’ but adds, ‘were it not for its caption 22 Bahman, which refers to the day the Pahlavi regime collapsed’.72 They point to how an openended interpretation of an Ali representation may be anchored and manipulated by a caption connecting the defeat of the Pahlavi Shah to the prevailing power of Imam Ali. Political rhetoric was, however, not typically made explicit in contemporary representations of Imam Ali, nor did it surface during the interviews I conducted. The iconography and captions in the portrait in Figure 4 did not connect to any particular ideological reading. No explicit references were made between Imam Ali and the revolution of the late 1970s or the current Islamist regime. Instead, the iconography invited open-ended interpretations.

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Given the sentiments in the interpretive community, interpretations would often relate to some notions of the importance to struggle for Islam, but not necessarily connect with specific political ideologies. Other viewers preferred to focus on generous and merciful characteristics. A middle-aged man claimed that to represent Ali in the poster with a sword, indicated that he was a killer. However, he continued, this is not correct, because Ali was actually the symbol of kindness. He cared for the orphans and the poor. To support his argument the he told a story about Ali. One day a woman walked through the street. She carried a bag of water and a sack of flour. Ali said he wanted to help her carry the things home. On the way she was cursing Imam Ali. When they reached the house he carried the things inside. Inside the children came running towards the mother, they were hungry. He asked her, ‘Why do you curse Ali?’ She said, ‘Ali called my husband to the war and he was killed. Now I have to work, but my children are still hungry.’ Ali said, ‘I will play with your children to amuse them so you can work.’ Then he played with them on the floor. The mother was still condemning Ali. Then a neighbouring woman came to visit and she recognised Ali and greeted him. When he left the house, he put his hands over the fire so they burned. He said: ‘This is to repay you, because you were ignored by me.’ The middle-aged man explained that because Ali had ignored the needs of this woman, he imposed on himself a punishment similar to touching the flames of hell. The story was supposed to illustrate the humility of Ali with people, in the sense of showing people respect and in repenting. Moreover, the story about Ali’s compassion inspired the man to support widows and fatherless families in his local community. The man continued with a second story, elaborating on the issue of Ali’s kindness towards the general public, and the poor and helpless in particular. Hasan and Husayn buried their father, Ali. In a ruin they saw a blind man in a poor condition. They asked him what had happened to him. He said that each night a man would come and bring him food and brought the food to his mouth. But the last three days the man had not come. The blind man said, ‘I don’t know what happened to him.’ The stranger in this story, who brought food to the blind man, is supposed to have been Imam Ali and the theme of the story is his philanthropic character. The altruistic nature of Ali’s character is communicated by his disinterest in making him self known to the client. In fact, the compassionate nature of Ali is often recalled to promote philanthropic engagement among the citizens. For example, in a sermon addressing a predominantly male audience, a mullah argued that Ali’s behaviour holds a universal moral message which also concerns men in contemporary Iranian society.73 He pointed out that the Revolution in 1978–1979 and the following war with Iraq had left many women widowed.

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Arguing that Ali helped widowed women in many daily practical matters, he challenged his audience to follow suit. Many well-to-do Iranian males have in fact internalized the exemplary behaviour of Imam Ali as a model for contributing to social welfare. Many contribute to the livelihood of several fatherless families, often through an endowment, vaqf, run by a mosque. On the other hand, many people argued that the social morality in the Iranian society is not particularly high. People struggle economically and focus their efforts on the welfare of their families. In this situation, many needy of material assistance find confidence and hope in relying on Ali’s metaphysical mediation. As a mediator it is within his power to help those who make requests. Thus, the kindness of Ali is believed to continue to disseminate in contemporary society, through the work of ordinary people and through Ali’s superhuman intercessions. The picture shown in Figure 10 is similar to the one in Figure 4. The picture is printed in an introductory book to the Dhahabiyya Sufi Order and when I discussed the meaning of the picture with members of the Order, they highlighted some of the aspects already mentioned, such as courage and compassion, but anchored the interpretation in a Shia mystical world-view.74 A male member of the Order pointed out the dual nature of Ali: he was courageous but also kind. The Sufi elaborated on the connection between the two aspects of Ali’s temperament. He suggested that Sufis admire Ali because he was very courageous in the war. Today, however, there is no war in which the Sufis can participate. Instead, courage can be connected to commitment, that is, one commits oneself to the Path of God. To illustrate his point, the Sufi gave an example, ‘Ali would starve for several days, but nevertheless brought food to the poor and the orphans. This is very beautiful. He was so kind.’ Thus, according to the Sufi, philanthropy combines the courageous and compassionate aspects of Ali’s character, and should be emulated by the believer. According to the Sufi, ‘The one who likes other people will never die.’ Certainly, this idea applies to Imam Ali, his doings and sayings are still very much alive in the Shia memory. But the statement may also suggest the hope for deliverance believers seek to realize by doing ‘God’s work’, an expression often used about philanthropic work. This viewer admitted, however, that his interpretation was based more on his preconceived knowledge about Ali rather than on what was depicted in the image. The image brought to his mind what he already knew about Ali, and he was inspired by Ali’s character when looking at the image. He explained, ‘It is our [Shia] idea that Ali is not dead, only his material part is dead. His character and moral is alive and we follow it.’ The notion of being inspired when looking at the image of Imam Ali underlines the social agent’s part in reading meaning out of the image, but also in recognizing, comprehending and deciding on the nature of Imam Ali’s emulating authority. In accordance with both Sufi and Shia understanding of Islam, the viewer explained that, ‘The skill (hunar) is to be able to see the soul inside amir al-mu’minin (The commander of the Faithful).’ In his opinion, the image was only an appearance, relating to the

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material (zahir) aspect of Imam Ali. The talent was to understand the inner (batin), moral part of amir al-mu’minin. The Arabic term batin, means ‘inner’, and often refers to what many Muslims hold as the inner or spiritual meaning of the Quran as against its exoteric or literal meaning, zahir. In the Sufi’s exegesis, the terms are used to distinguish between the esoteric and exoteric aspects of religious knowledge and enlightenment conveyed through the sayings and doings of Imam Ali. Another member of the Dhahabiyya Order, listening to the above-mentioned conversation, underlined that a visual representation may function as a powerful mediator. On the wall in his room he had a copy of the poster in Figure 4, which is similar to the image in the Sufi publication in Figure 10. The image had made a tremendous impression on him the first time he saw it. He had felt the charisma of Ali and he cried. He explained that when he turns in his bed in his sleep, and faces the image, he wakes up. His friend confirmed the mediating power of the image. He held that images are holy and suggested to use these holy images for protection and good fortune. He explained, ‘If you have a shop you can put an image of a holy person there and it will give your shop barakat, and it will be a good space.’ Many Sufis would also carry a small picture of a holy person for protection. This was to symbolize that ‘their lover [God or a saint] were with them always in any situation’. What gives this image a Sufi connotation is thus not a particular iconographic vocabulary, but the ground in which the viewer anchors his interpretation, in this case a Sufi perspective on a Shia world-view. A middle-aged woman suggested the conventional facial type represents one who loves God and is loved by God. Her interpretation highlights yet another known characteristic of Ali, namely his piety, but it also makes a statement about Ali’s status in relation to God, that is he is loved by God. The viewer’s comment has resonance in a well-known Hadith transmitted by al-Tirmidhi. The Prophet is reported to have said in reply to someone who had complained about Ali: ‘What do you think of one who loves God and his Prophet, and who in turn is loved by God and his Prophet?’75 The viewer was not aware of the textual sources of her interpretation, but had internalized the notion of there being an intimate relationship between God and Ali. The intimate relationship between God and Ali and his family is elaborated also in popular tales describing how God provides for ahl al-bayt. Ayoub explains that the friends, awliya, of God enjoy a nearness to Him which often borders on free intimacy.76 The most common strategy applied by interviewees when I asked them to comment on various representations of Ali, was to consult the facial traits, as described above, and then to complete the interpretation by referring to preconceived knowledge and personal inclinations and experiences. Some interviewees trained in text exegesis would, however, take a text-based approach and place more stress on the text applied on the picture rather than the figurative representation. A female ritual leader explained that the Shia love these pictures mostly because of what is written on them, such as the names of Ali, Husayn and verses from the Quran. In her opinion, the meaning of a picture

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was indicated by the lines from the Quran and the references to sayings of the Prophet. A similar disregard for the importance and role of figurative representations were reflected in the opinions by two men active in zur-khaneh. They underlined the importance of the information conveyed in written sources, such as the Nahj al-Balaghah. One of them explained, ‘When we read Nahj al-Balaghah we understand that God chose Ali to have a special role for people, both for the poor and the rich.’ The textual sources about Imam Ali, transmitted in written and verbal form, certainly supported most viewers’ interpretation of the pseudo-portrait of Imam Ali. It is important, however, to notice the figurative representations’ capability to communicate religious knowledge and sentiments to the viewers. The iconography has developed a vocabulary of visual signs which are held by many viewers in the interpretive community to represent Imam Ali, to symbolically stand for him, and to express the protagonist’s character, feelings, status and role. Similarly important is the visual vocabulary’s capacity to let viewers relate to their emotions and experiences. The pseudoportrait is not a narrative image, yet it is a very complex sign system out of which many viewers read narratives about Imam Ali, as well as reading Imam Ali into their own personal narrative. The conventional portrait of Imam Ali is often displayed in peoples’ homes. The practice reflects that many people feel they have established a close and long-lasting relation with the saint, who despite his physical absence is believed to be spiritually present and active. The nature of the relationship resembles the affection felt for family members and friends and is attributed to Ali’s compassionate nature and mediating power.77 A literate middle-class woman, for example, had purchased a small card depicting the conventional portrait of Imam Ali from which a painter had made a larger reproduction in oil. The oil painting was displayed at a visible location in the woman’s home to symbolize her alliance to the saint, whom she held to be the greatest man in Islam. As an orphan she had benefited from Ali’s compassion and had since established a lifelong relation with the saint. She explained: ‘As a child I used to put my trust in Ali; he became a symbol of security and he still has a great place in my heart.’ Comparing the power of God to Imam Ali, she explained that God is the ultimate benefactor whereas Ali has the power to intervene directly in certain cases.78 She would thus usually pray to God, but turned to Ali as a mediator when she needed help from him directly. Whereas the portrait of Imam Ali is on display in homes to express alliance to the saint, the image also symbolizes that the household and its members are under his protection In her living room, a widow kept a commemorative portrait of her late husband next to a framed wall hanging depicting the conventional portrait of Imam Ali, see Figure 17. The image symbolized the saint’s blessing (shifa’) of the household including the soul of her deceased husband. Azam Torab has noted that Quranic emblems and calligraphy are perceived as bringing the home grace, increase the beneficial effect (kheyr) and bring light (roshani) to the eye and in the home, protecting against misfortune.79 In the case introduced here, the power of protection was not believed to rest with

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the image; rather power came from the intent (niyyat) of the devotee and her spiritual relationship to the Imam. Repeated looking at the saint’s image served to keep the memory of the relationship alive, and thus to renew it and prolong it. The display of depictions of Imam Ali functioned as visual statements on the centrality of the Imam to Islam, the Muslim faith and to human existence. The hagiographic literature recounts many stories about how Ali cared for the people before and after he became Caliph. He is said to have been a kind husband and father, to have brought bread to the needy and cared for orphans. Such stories are well known and the typical Shia perspective is to see Ali’s conduct in the past as an example of how his kindness will benefit believers in the present and in the future. According to one woman, ‘If you ask Ali something God cannot say no, because Ali holds much respect with God. The religious community has developed ways to attain or attract benediction, and the woman went on to explained about the best way to approach Ali in order to fulfil a request: The Khatme Ali is a very effective introduction if you want to ask something from Ali. The khatme Ali has first 10 ‘Ya Allah,’ Ten ‘Ya Muhammad,’ and then hundred and ten ‘Ya Ali.’ After having performed this eulogy, you can ask Ali to help you in front of God. And God will give it to you, because he respects Ali. Each time I do the khatme I feel very close to Ali. Accordingly, the supplication khatme Ali is a popular prayer at lay-peoples’ religious meetings in Shiraz. While honouring God’s benediction and the Prophet’s mediating power the supplication nevertheless underlines Ali’s position as mediator between God and humans. Ali’s qualities as a spiritual guide is another aspect treasured in personal, daily piety. A female hairdresser in her twenties kept the card in Figure 3 attached to the mirror in her room. First thing in the morning she would look herself in the mirror, while at the same time cast a gaze upon the depiction of Ali and acknowledge his guiding and exemplary role in her life conduct. This way of relating to the image presupposed the viewer’s reading out of the image prior knowledge about Imam Ali and relating this knowledge to her own life situation in a reflexive manner, contemplating moral and ethical aspects of her life. Whereas several of the comments mentioned above underlined the personal relationship between the believer and Imam Ali, other viewers pointed to the communal dimension of Ali’s leading role. A male layperson acknowledged the historical importance of Ali’s government in the seventh century, but also referred to the meta-historical importance of Ali’s government and role as leader today. This perspective is in concordance with a politicized and activist interpretation of Ali’s continuing role in contemporary society. The above examples illustrate that viewers may read out of a portrait justifications for political positions, as well as affirmation of a spiritual orientation. Interpreted in this

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manner, the pseudo-portrait is not merely an aide memoir, but can motivate polysemic statements about how people perceive the role and characteristics of Ali. The reading out of the images of such statements may reflect how people chose to give meaning to the portrayed figure. It may also indicate how a person chose to live as a Muslim when one holds Ali as a model for emulation, that is, how religion gives meaning to people, and how people give meaning to religion. Sadeq Humayuni, a Shiraz based researcher, has studied the visual representation of Shia thought and sacred history, such as the passion play, ta´ziyeh, and the related genre of Karbala painting.80 He suggests that painters have wanted to focus on certain aspects of Ali, as they perceive it, for example his strength, kindness, wisdom and courage.81 The painters have made a representation of a person they think reflects this, without referring to any particular event. They focus on the symbolic meaning of the character, not the particular actions he participated in. The fact that these images are not authentic portraits leaves open to analysis how people perceive the holy figure. One source is the historical literature about these characters; another is the emotional aspect, that is, the emotions the holy character induces in people. Thus the images are based partly on the literature, and partly on how people imagine the holy character. Moreover, the images are made beautiful, and beauty here becomes a symbol, a manifestation of the sacred. Hamayuni’s observations and reflections include many of the aspects raised by the local viewers I interviewed. Many local viewers claimed to recognize characteristics such as strength, kindness, wisdom and courage in the pseudo-portraits, although the portraits do not situate Ali in any particular social setting or event. In addition to relating to the message in the visual signs, viewers drew on knowledge of hagiographic literature, and personal attitude such as spiritual or ideological sentiments. This study also demonstrated that personal life experience influenced viewers’ interpretations of the images. Very often viewers would tell about a lifelong relationship between themselves and Ali, a relationship characterized by Ali’s protective intervention and the believer’s pious support.

Concluding Remarks Contemporary portraiture of Imam Ali can be categorized as ‘pseudo-portraits’, in that they are not authentic depictions, but represent traits of a character that people are prepared to accept as being Imam Ali. A survey of the history of the contemporary single portrait of Imam Ali in Iran suggest that in 1856 the Qajar shah Nasir al-Din Shah obtained an alleged portrait of Imam Ali, probably from India. The portrait was adopted into the Shah’s system of Imperial Effigy and became the imagery symbol for a new order, ‘The Order of Imam Ali’. Its visual programme became the new prototypical representation of Imam Ali, eventually more or less replacing a genre depicting Ali as the Shia chief heroic

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champion, a function passed to his son Husayn ibn Ali, the third Imam. The single portrait of Imam Ali was adopted into Shia popular devotional practices where it obtained three functions: to offer protection from the evil eye, to make the saint present and to function as a means through which people could express one’s alliance to the saint. The contemporary visual language used to fashion Ali gives attention to the face and its physiognomics, in addition to attributes, gesture, pose and dress, used to signify a person’s religious and political affiliations, social status and dignity. These elements form a vocabulary of visual signs from which painternarrators draw to underline certain aspects of Ali. Imaginary portraits of Imam Ali show a man represented at different stages of adulthood. A physiognomic analysis of facial cues points to different and, sometimes, conflicting traits of character. A ‘conventional facial type’ emphasizes visionary, spiritual qualities and compassion, although the cues are ambiguous as to Ali’s role in society. The cues of an ‘unconventional facial type’ represent a dynamic character, underlining active and vigorous characteristics. The contemporary visual vocabulary also includes attributes associated with Ali, such as halo, sword, lion and book. The symbolic references of these attributes are anchored in Islamic and Shia hagiographic sources and theological reasoning. In the present interpretive community these attributes are typically understood to symbolically signify holiness, spiritual understanding, courage, strength, governance and eloquence. The prototype has thus developed into poly-vocal appearances in which divergent characteristics, such as worldliness and sublimity, power and compassion, are negotiated and harmonized. Iconographic diversity affected viewer’s ability to recognize and identify portraits representing Imam Ali. Whereas the conventional facial type is easily recognized as a representation of the Imam, more difficulty is expressed in identifying the unconventional types as representing Imam Ali. Iranian Shia viewers’ association between the historical Imam Ali and the portrait was typically generated by reading identity into portraits, based on the knowledge of and familiarity with visual signs, which have been conventionally established to stand for Ali. When viewers had identified the portrayed they proceeded to interpret the portrait, to assign meaning to it. Based on the facial characteristics given Imam Ali, viewers would read out of the images personal characteristics they attributed to the Imam and admired, such as kindness, courage, wisdom, patience, distress, love for God and being loved by God. The imaginary portraits of the Imam discussed in this study do not depict Ali participating in any specific event. Nevertheless, viewers would translate the above-mentioned characteristics into functional capacities such as intercession, protection and guidance offered by Ali to the believers. This interpretive strategy was influenced by viewers’ prior knowledge of Imam Ali’s activities and accomplishments. An additional factor was the viewers’ personal affection for Imam Ali, strengthened by an incident, the Imam’s intercession. In the process of reading Imam Ali’s qualities out of the portrait, each viewer would present individual,

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although often matching interpretations grounded in orthodox Twelver Shia belief in the nature of Imam Ali, as well as in personal experience. For example, viewers’ understanding of the nature of Ali’s guidance was motivated by personal spiritual, ethical and ideological sentiments. Portraits of Imam Ali were on display in homes, and in public spaces such as work environment and religious meeting halls. Some people would also carry with them small portraits of Imam Ali, often for protection. In the context of the home and in relation to personal devotion pseudo-portraits of Imam Ali were used to show respect for the Imam and honour him, and to symbolize the protection of the home. To some believers the image played an important role in mentally connecting to the spirit of Imam Ali, a process facilitated by looking at the image. In addition, repeatedly looking at the saint’s image kept alive the memory of a relationship with the saint, renewing it and prolonging it, and strengthening the viewer’s emotional attachment with Imam Ali. Most viewers I have interviewed were not used to talk about art or images. When invited to comment on the images, they did not use a vocabulary typical to a ‘professional’ commentator and they were not concerned with form, style and technique, but tended to focus on connotational aspects. In doing so, many related to physiognomic cues. Aesthetical aspects, such as the beauty of an image, were evaluated according to how the image conveyed presumed characteristics of Imam Ali and how the image could communicate with the viewer’s opinions and feelings. Perhaps that is why conversations with interviewees often shifted from addressing the iconographic representation of the historical person depicted in the image into the viewer’s reception of the holy person represented. As such the images became discursive fields with which viewers could engage mentally and emotionally. These are important aspects of lived religion and personal piety, and may explain why imageries are so popular in Iranian Shiism.

Figure 1 Neon sign-board depicting an imaginary portrait of Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 2 Framed poster depicting Imam Ali, displayed in a shop. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2000.

Figure 3 Postcard depicting Imam Ali (10.5 × 14.5 cm). Caption: La fata illa Ali, la saif illa Zu al-Feqar, ‘There is no true hero like Ali, no sword like Zu al-Feqar.’ Photo: I. Flaskerud, 1999.

Figure 4 Poster depicting Imam Ali (34 × 50 cm). Caption: Ali ma´a al-haqq, va al-haqq ma´a Ali, ‘Ali is with the truth, and the truth is with Ali.’ Print: Khut Sevum, Signature: M. Suhrabi -77 (1999 ad). Photo: I. Flaskerud, Mashhad 2000.

Figure 5 Colour poster depicting Imam Ali (25 × 35 cm). Caption: ‘There is no true hero like Ali, no sword like Zu al-Feqar.’ Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2000.

Figure 6 Paper sticker depicting Imam Ali (8 × 11 cm). Caption: ‘There is no true hero like Ali, no sword like Zu al-Feqar.’ Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 1999.

Figure 7 Framed poster depicting Imam Ali holding a book presented in a perfumery. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 8 Colour poster depicting Imam Ali (34 × 50 cm). Print: Torqeh, Signature: B. Zuhrabi, 1379 (2001 ad). Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2003.

Figure 9 Early Portrait of Nasr al-Din Shah ca.1850. Artist Unknown. Courtesy by Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA). Medium: Ink, opaque watercolour and gold on paper. Size: 60.96 × 40.64 cm. Copyright: Photo SCALA, Florence.

Figure 10 Book illustration, Anhar Jarieh [Flowing Rivers], Shiraz: Kitabfurushi Ahmadi Shiraz, 1373 ap (1994 ad). Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2000.

Figure 11 Imam Ali with face veil killing Marhab Kheidari. Lithographic print. Iran, Jouhari, Tufân al-bokâ’. s. a. ca.1852–1860. Courtesy by Ulrich Marzolph.

Figure 12 Poster depicting Imam Ali (34 × 50 cm). Caption: ‘There is no true hero like Ali, no sword like Zu al-Feqar.’ Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2000.

Figure 13 Colour poster depicting Imam Ali (34 × 50 cm). Captions: ‘There is no true hero like Ali, and no sword like Zu al-Feqar.’ Timthal mubarak hezrat Ali amir al-mu´minin, alayhu al-salam. ‘Image of the blessed, honourable Ali, Leader of the faithful, Peace be upon him.’ Print: Galery Elmira. Signature: Muslim Sarlak. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 1999.

Figure 14 Colour poster, Imam Ali (34 × 50 cm). Captions: Man kuntu maulahu fahadha Ali maulahu, ‘Of whomsoever I am Lord, then Ali is also his Lord.’ Az Ali amuz ikhlas ´aml, ‘From Ali, learn sincere deeds.’ Caption on the sword: ‘There is no true hero like Ali, no sword like Zu al-Feqar.’ Print: Postere Iran. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2000.

Figure 15 Colour poster depicting the Prophet Muhammad (34 × 50 cm). Captions: la ilaha illa Allah, Muhammad rasul Allah, va Ali vali Allah, ‘There is no god but God, Muhammad is God’s messenger, and Ali is God’s guardian.’Muba´ath rasul akram hezrat Muhammad, sala Allah alayhu va sallama, ‘The calling of the Prophet, the most noble, honourable Muhammad, may God send benediction and greetings to him.’ Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 16 Ali Akbar is represented dressed in green and white, fighting the enemy at the Battle of Karbala. Ta´ziyeh performance at Masjed Nadir al-Mulk. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz, 1999.

Figure 17 Framed embroidery depicting Imam Ali, presented in a private home. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Chapter 4

The Battle at Karbala in Shia Memory and Piety

The exact course of events at the battle of Karbala is difficult to establish. The ta´ziyeh director’s identification of different ways of representing the battle also applies to the re-presentation of Karbala in religious literature.1 In popular literature and storytelling the audience is often presented with miraculous events, imaginary conversations between the participants at Karbala and accounts of their thoughts and emotions. Such embellishment functions to enhance the image of sanctity, sincerity, suffering and sacrifice of the ahl al-bayt and, conversely, the cruelty and impiety of their opponents. In the following I give an account that is generally recognized by both Shia and Western scholars although, as Ayoub has pointed out, ‘historical accounts are not totally free from hagiographic influence, whereas hagiographic works may have some historical basis.’2 An example of the hagiographic elaboration of the battle at Karbala in visual and verbal narratives is demonstrated in the presentation of the print in Figure 18, in which angels and jinns are depicted arriving to assist Imam Husayn in the battle. The antagonism between the house of Mu´awiyeh and the Umayyad dynasty, and the ahl al-bayt continued after the death of Caliph Ali. Ali’s eldest son, Hassan, abdicated and Mu´awiyeh became Caliph. According to some accounts, the agreement between the two was that the Caliphate should revert to Hassan on Mu´awiya’s death. When Hassan died in 699 ad (supposedly poisoned), his younger brother, Husayn, became the leader of the descendents of the Prophet’s family. It had already been arranged, however, that the succession of the Caliphate should pass on to Mu´awiya’s son Yazid, who succeeded his father as Caliph in 680 ad and continued to keep his court in Damascus. The reign of Caliph Yazid met with some resentment, particularly from the people of Kufa. In 680 ad they sent envoys to Husayn in Mecca, urging him to come to Kufa and take leadership there. Husayn sent his cousin Muslim ibn Aqil to Kufa to assess the situation. Despite warnings, Husayn decided to leave for Kufa. In his company were a few dozen supporters and close family members. On the second of Muharram the army of Caliph Yazid, under the command of Umar ibn Sa´d, intercepted Husayn’s company on the plains of Karbala, close to Kufa. Husayn’s party was cut off from access to the Euphrates River, their only source of water,

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and placed under siege. After a few days Ibn Sa´d received orders through Shimr to attack Husayn’s camp. On the evening of the ninth of Muharram, tasu´a, Ibn Sa´d made preparations for the assault. The army of Caliph Yazid far outnumbered Husayn’s company and the following day, the tenth of Muharram, ashura, Husayn, together with most of his male family members and supporters, were killed.3 Only one son, Zayn al-Abedin, survived together with the women and children. They were brought to Damascus as hostages, where some died. The survivors were later deported to Medina. Zayn al-Abedin became the new head of the family, and is by the Shia considered the fourth Imam. In Damascus, however, the Umayyad continued to rule the Caliphate. In Shia memory, the battle at Karbala is given cosmic dimensions. According to the theology of the Imamate, the Imams are held to offer believers spiritual guidance. With regard to Husayn, his defeat at Karbala is seen as necessary to fulfil his role as Imam. He defended what the Shia recognizes as ‘True Islam’ against the unjust ruler of the Muslim community, Caliph Yazid. Dying for a just cause Husayn becomes a martyr, and his defeat is turned into victory. As a reward for his sacrifice, God is believed to have given Husayn the gift to act as a mediator, shafi´, to intercede to help believers in the mundane life and act as their mediator on the Day of Judgement. Through his martyrdom Husayn is thus made a redeemer. For the Shia community salvation can be achieved through internalization and emulation of Husayn’s suffering.4 The theme of martyrdom and patient suffering is very strong in Shiism. Fatemeh and, to some extent, Ali epitomize the patient suffering and the theme is also embodied in the lives of the other Imams. The essence of this attitude is summed in the word mazlumiyyat, which means the patient endurance of the suffering caused by the tyrannical act of those who have power over you. Husayn, however, rose against injustice and is called Sayyed al-Shuhada, ‘The Lord of Martyrs’. As Momen points out, here lies a paradox.5 Most Imams have been praised for their patient enduring of suffering, whereas Husayn has also been praised for not submitting to tyranny but fight, even in the face of overwhelming odds and the certainty of martyrdom. Historically, within Iranian Shiism two ideologies have emerged from Husayn’s uprising. One interpretation concentrates on Husayn as intercessor, the other highlights Husayn as example. The ideology focusing on Husayn as intercessor is devotionally oriented towards establishing a rewarding transactional relationship with Husayn and the other Imams. In popular religion, the internalization and evocation of the battle at Karbala in rituals of remembrance have been organized into the annual commemoration of ashura. Shia traditions relate that memorial services were initiated by female members of Husayn’s family already before leaving Karbala for Damascus.6 By the early Abbasid era, services had moved from the realm of private gatherings into public space. Today, commemoration ceremonies have developed into many rituals forms, primarily memorial services, visitation to the shrines, public mourning processions, passion play and flagellation. No binding format has been developed but a common trait is

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that rituals are designed to bring participants into tears.7 The Shia tradition asserts great merit of weeping for the Holy Family, in particular Husayn. Weeping is an important act of remembrance, and is intended to aid the faithful in identifying with the sufferings of the Imam.8 In addition, mourning is an important expression of alliance, sympathy, love and support of the ahl al-bayt. Weeping is thus an act of worship and a source of salvation for those who participate in the ritual. Under certain circumstances it may, moreover, be a symbolic act of opposition against tyranny.9 The battle at Karbala as a historical event has become mythologized. As Gustav Thaiss has pointed out, it is not unusual to find, ‘under conditions of social change that meanings and interpretations of myth tend to be modified as each generation reinterprets the past in terms of its own current premises and values’.10 In recent Iranian history, the battle at Karbala and the uprising of Husayn has been evoked as an example to be emulated by the believers. At a rowzeh in the Teheran bazaar, just a few days before the riots and demonstrations against the Shah and the government in 1963, the leading cleric Sayyed Mahmud Taleghani referred to Husayn as the example for rising against tyranny and oppression.11 Again, during the Iranian revolution in 1978–1979, the battle at Karbala was used to mobilize the masses in overthrowing the Shah.12 Ideologically, Ayatollah Khomeini would cast the struggle against the Shah in cosmic terms. He introduced the revolution as a struggle between good and evil and for the liberation of the oppressed, in this case the poorer classes. The revolutionary combat would be a re-enactment of Karbala. The Shah and his army were cast in the role of Caliph Yazid and the Umayyad troops, while Khomeini became the Imam leading his people against overwhelming odds. The annual ritual of Muharram processions was turned into a tool for the revolutionary forces to mobilize and organize the masses in protesting against the Shah and his allies. Banners declaring ‘Everywhere is Karbala and every day is Ashura’ should convince the masses that they were fighting in the way of Husayn. Accordingly, demonstrators killed by the Shah’s troops were designated and honoured as martyrs, in parallel with the Shia martyrs at Karbala.13 In the process of mythologizing, Husayn has become a symbol and his martyrdom at Karbala serves as a metahistorical example of resistance against tyranny. The powerful exemplary aspect of the symbol of Husayn may instigate the impression that the symbol has its own agency, directing people’s actions in certain directions without people thinking. Mary Elain Hegland has, however, warned against the perception that the symbol of Karbala alone was responsible for the revolution in 1978–1979. Instead, she has argued, at the time of the revolution people would rally behind the symbolism of Husayn and his battle at Karbala to the extent that it corresponded to their otherwise notion of economic, social and political ideas.14 An important premise for this development was the reformulation of the ideology of Husayn. Hegland suggests that the ideology of Husayn as intercessor previously had motivated political accommodation in that believers would try to connect themselves with the powerful in

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society, so that they would protect citizens and assist them.15 Through the teachings of Ali Shariati, the ideology of self-reliance and resistance to unjust authority gained credence.16 This version of Shiism presented an ideology and a worldview that encouraged Iranians to revolt, thus imitating Husayn’s refusal to acknowledge the sovereignty of the Umayyad Caliph rather than comply to an unjust ruler. In relation to the political oppression of the Shah, this ideology of resistance increasingly came to reflect people’s own attitudes and worldviews.17 Themes and motifs from Shia sacred history played a significant role in the making of the revolution and later in sustaining the Islamic Republic. More than twenty years later, the Karbala event is still used to legitimate the Islamic Republic and unify the people under a common religious and national identity as Shia and Iranians, and in some circles the revolutionary spirit is maintained. In the Post-Revolutionary state, nevertheless, we may observe a combination of the two Husayn ideologies. In popular piety, both commemoration and activism are prerequisites for intercession and salvation. Activism, however, is for many people synonymous with social awareness and philanthropic work. Many related Husayn and Karbala to ethical issues, such as, how to live as a Muslim and how to shape community according to Islamic values. The following abstract is from a lecture delivered by an independent, well-liked, female maddah on the 2nd of Muharram 2002, at an all-female commemorational ceremony. Imam Husayn’s war took place because Ibn Ziyad was using the public’s funds (bayt al-maal) for himself and not for the people. But Imam Husayn was angry about it and went to Karbala to take Islam from the hands of Ibn Ziyad. There were too many people living in poor conditions, but Yazid used the resources for himself, and people were angry about it. People should use the common funds accumulated in trade and in the shrine. Then it will also help poor people. The Imams don’t like to have a golden dome (gunbad). They are much more pleased if the money from their shrines are used for the poor people.18 In the first part of this abstract, the maddah gave an account of Imam Husayn’s motivation for challenging Caliph Yazid and his ally Ubaydallah Ibn Ziyad, the governor of Kufa. She underlined Husayn’s concern for justice and welfare of the poor in contrast to the rulers’ self-interest and neglect of people’s needs. We may recognize central themes from the revolutionary rhetoric more than two decades ago, but when the example of Husayn is transported into the present the addressees are not a particular ruler or ruling elite, but merchants and religious endowments. Holding the modest life conduct of the Imams up as an example, the maddah discouraged keepers of the shrines to accumulate material wealth, and instead spend the money they received on philanthropic work.19 The female maddah did not have the opportunity to address merchants and keepers of shrines, since most of them are men and a female preacher is not permitted to lecture men. But she could shape public opinion on moral behaviour through female channels.

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In Shia ritual tradition, weeping for Imam Husayn and members of his holy family is recognized as a way of expressing alliance and support. Such support and mourning is believed to produce personal merit, savab, and is hence a source of salvation. At the very outset of the mourning festival the maddah, however, took the opportunity to remind her audience that support for Imam Husayn and striving in his way also requires social commitment. Just crying for Imam Husayn is not continuing his way. Also taking the hands of orphans and the poor, and defending the victims is continuing his way. Disaster, pain, and patience are for everybody, but I hope God will bless us from this kind of disaster and does not leave us alone! Imam Husayn saw too much injustice being committed toward his father. Ali put his head in the well and talked to the water. Why? Because he had to keep silent. But by the time of Husayn it was the time of jihad. The maddah’s speech has resonance in the audience because many share the difficult life situation described. Hosts and many guests to the ceremonies in this environment were often middle-class women, but working-class women earning low salaries as unskilled workers, sometimes in the houses of other female guests, were also present. Nevertheless, difficulties such as illness, suicide and drug abuse, did not spare members of any class. The visitors would therefore readily join in the petition presented by the maddah, asking God to bless them from disaster.20 In the last part of the abstract the maddah related Husayn’s initiative inspired by the patient suffering of his father Ali, who was first deprived of his right to the Caliphate. During the reign of the three first Caliphs he adopted a strategy of silence, and according to tradition it is said that he would put his head in the well and speak to the water. The maddah’s last comment on Husayn decision to act can be understood as an invitation to the audience to follow his example as laid out in the first section of the abstract, by helping the orphans and the poor. The nature of Husayn’s struggle was a recurring theme in the lectures. On the eighth of Muharram, the maddah elaborated on the topic of evil as one aspect of the struggle. God, accept our worship and make us aware of evil. We should keep our mouth shut. The bad tongue is the foundation of sin. The sin started from Qabil and Habil [Cain and Abel]. It will continue to the end of the world, but we should be strong and not sin. God, we vow to You, if we say something, somewhere that is not correct and true, and we bother someone, have mercy on us! O Husayn, still today Karbala is very affecting! Rather than addressing people with authority and the well-to do, the maddah here addressed the common citizen, the neighbour. She associated evil with slander and defined it as a sin. The maddah sometimes included in her lectures topics brought to her attention by her audience. It is therefore not unlikely that

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her focus on slander and harassment was generated by certain people’s unfortunate experience. But according to Shia theology, a repentant sinner can be forgiven, and the maddah offered a petition to the merciful God. The topic of evil was framed within the context of Karbala, which was described as continuing to have great impact. Husayn’s struggle for justice was related to being truthful. Everyone who wishes to follow in the way of Husayn should therefore uphold that virtue. The importance of being truthful was also pointed out in the following passage, which addressed vengeance and redemption. I have to say these things because in the future, on the Day of Resurrection (qiamat), Fatemeh will ask me: ‘Did you tell the Truth like the way my Husayn was telling it? Or did you just take your money and leave?’ Woe to people who rob the property of weak people! This would make Imam Husayn very angry. And when he is angry, it will be like a flood coming to us.21 The cosmic aspect of the suffering of the ahl al-bayt is here laid out. According to Shia tradition, Fatemeh endured her sufferings patiently, her only weapon being her tears. Out of respect, God has given her the authority to stand at the gate of hell on the Day of Resurrection and act as intercessor to save repentant sinners who love the ahl al-bayt from God’s judgment.22 To illustrate her point, the maddah referred to her own situation as a professional preacher. She, like everyone else, will be held accountable for her honesty on the Day of Resurrection. Next, she addressed in more general terms those who swindle weak people, and warned them against the wrath of Husayn. After the lecture, a young female visitor to the ceremony offered me her interpretation on the meaning of ‘weak people’. The visitor said that due to revolutionary upheaval and years of war in the past, there were today many widows in the country. Their rights were not respected, whether in questions such as wage rates or inheritance. Today, the battle at Karbala is attributed cosmic, as well as spiritual and societal dimensions. Husayn the redeemer offers mediation and redemption, and Husayn the model is a guide on issues of right conduct in society. Accordingly, community and individuals should emulate Husayn’s struggle for ‘True Islam’, and strive to protect it. In addition to literature and lectures, visual representations are used to remind the believers of the events at Karbala, to function as statements of alliance, and as an aid to express grief.

Chapter 5

Visual Karbala Narratives in Shia Piety

The visual mode of representing the battle of Karbala, as we know it today, is the result of changes occurring in Iran during the early nineteenth century.1 During the reign of the Qajar Shahs, visual representations began to appear in new forms and paintings of the battle at Karbala were introduced. These include two different but related popular genres, the portable painting on canvas, pardeh, and wall paintings and tile-paintings applied on the walls of ritual assembly halls like imamzadeh, husayniyyeh and takiyyeh.2 The themes depicted relate to Shia martyrology, in particular the last days of Imam Husayn and his supporters at Karbala. Samuel Peterson and Peter Chelkowski have pointed to thematic and iconographic similarities between the Shia passion play, ta´ziyeh, and the new genre of religious paintings.3 Ta´ziyeh became very popular during the Qajar era and Chelkowski suggests that it developed around the middle of the eighteenth century as a result of the fusion of the stationary ritual rowzeh-khani, the recitation of and listening to stories about the battle at Karbala, and ambulatory parades.4 The purpose of participating in pardeh-dari and rowzeh-khani was the same as that of watching a ta´ziyeh production, that is, to lament the martyrdom of Imam Husayn, his family members and supporters. Theatre performances were typically performed in towns, mainly due to high expenses and elaborate preparations. A new ritual practice, painting recitation, pardeh-dari, was then developed to complement the expensive and elaborate ta´ziyeh productions. In pardeh-dari rituals, large portable narrative paintings, pardeh, were introduced to aid the travelling storyteller, pardeh-dar.5 Lamentation has been, and continues to be, considered a meritorious act, through which participants position themselves to request mediation and salvation. It has therefore been considered essential that the storyteller creates an emotional atmosphere that can aid participants to mentally cross the threshold of everyday life and express allegiance with the long-since dead saints. To aid in the process the storyteller manipulates his voice, adjusting its sound and force, and the intensity of declamation and lamentation to the evolving drama of the battle. While reciting the story, the pardeh-dar would use a pointer to guide the audience through the visualized story. The pardeh typically shows illustrations representing various scenes of the battle at Karbala, in addition to

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presenting scenes about what awaits the human being in the afterlife, either the joy of redemption or the pain of punishment. The visual narrative should be read/viewed from left to right, contrary to Persian texts, which are read from right to left.6 To the left is typically shown sequences of the events of the battle. On the right side of the painting are scenes of the hereafter, representing the rewarding fate of Husayn’s supporters while his opponents are tortured in hell. Chelkowski identifies two different kinds of pardeh, that is, the pardeh used for painting recitation, as described above, and the pardeh-like painting, initially used for the court and private residences.7 The paintings used for ritual recitation were crude in colour and scheme, and in the overcrowded placement of various scenes. In the courtly pardeh both colouring and mood are less violent, the scenes are more subdued and the protagonist more princely and stately. In an example of a courtly pardeh discussed by Chelkowski, the protagonist Imam Husayn is depicted on a white horse, presented as the central figure in the foreground. Later, the style developed to show scenes taking place in the background as well. The sign-order did not necessarily follow the story-order, that is, these images were not designed to be viewed from left to right as the story unfolded on the screen. Instead, various scenes from the event at Karbala would be distributed across the visual plane of the image, and it would fall upon the viewer-narrator to reconstruct the chronology of the story. In yet another programme, the hereafter was always on the right side of the panel, with heaven above and hell below. Narrative paintings were soon utilized in imamzadeh, husayniyyeh and takiyyeh to create splendour and dramatic settings for ta´ziyeh production.8 According to Peterson, these paintings were essentially translations of the ta´ziyeh theatre. The ta´ziyeh repertoire also include Quranic stories about Ibrahim, Joseph and his brothers, as well as hagiographic stories about the Prophet Muhammad, Imam Ali and Fatemeh Zahra, before turning to the battle at Karbala.9 The theatre productions focusing on the battle at Karbala consisted of a series of plays dealing with the faith of Imam Husayn’s supporters see Figure 16, the martyrdom of Imam Husayn see Figure 19 and the fate of the Imam’s family as prisoners at Caliph Yazid’s court in Damascus. Jamshid Malekpour proposes that each ta´ziyeh play can be divided into three sections based on their differing structural features and subject matters: prologue, episode and sub-episode.10 Murals and tile-paintings inspired by theatre productions focused for the most part on the battle at Karbala and its aftermath, and concentrated on the episode. Painters developed four different modes of structuring the story which are copied in contemporary colour-posters. Some paintings depicted isolated episodes from the battle. The episode could be simple in its dramaturgical design, for example showing Imam Husayn holding in his arms the dying Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas, Qasem or Ali Akbar, against a plain background.11 Other depictions were more complex, for example showing the protagonist al-Abbas centrally situated on a white horse with sword or spear drawn in the act of slaying members of the enemy’s army, while surrounded by

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combatants and warlike commotion.12 The camp of Husayn’s family and supporters, as well as representatives of the women in the family, was sometimes depicted in one of the upper corners, compare with a contemporary poster in in Figure 20. A second strategy was to show the different stages of an episode organized into sequences.13 A third method was to simultaneously present many episodes of the battle.14 This method is also applied in more recent drawings; see for example, Figure 18. A fourth method was to present a succession of scenes squared in numbered divisions. There were also similarities between ta´ziyeh and images from an iconographical point of view. Costumes in murals were reproductions of the standard attire of ta´ziyeh performances of the Qajar time.15 For example, main male protagonists in the paintings would wear a white shroud over their armour, similar to the actors in ta´ziyeh, compare Figures 16 and 22, which show examples of similar contemporary designs. Women in the paintings had their faces covered, copying a stage device used by men who played the female roles in ta´ziyeh. Many characters in the new religious paintings were labelled shabih, impersonator, or ‘likeness of’.16 Tashabbuh, ‘to imitate’, or ‘appearing to be the same as someone else’, became the impetus for the appearance of theatrical roles. The term shabih refers to an actor playing a role in which he will be designated impersonator of so and so. The idea is to ensure that the actor does not pretend to be the character but only a role player. The idea has resonance today when local viewers insist that visual representations of holy personage in posters and prints are symbolic. Accordingly, in contemporary posters the term timthal, meaning ‘portrait’, ‘image’, and ‘statue’, is sometimes written below the image, see the colour poster in Figure 22. The function of religious paintings varies according to the ritual contexts they appear in. In the pardeh-dari ritual, the pardeh was set up temporarily at different locations to visually assist the storyteller in his narration of the battle at Karbala. In ritual assembly halls like the husayniyyeh and takiyyeh large numbers of people came together during Muharram for rowzeh-khani and sineh-zani, chest beating. In these contexts, murals and tile-paintings served as a backdrop while the preacher told the story about Karbala without directly using images as a visual tool.17 Nevertheless, people would benefit from seeing the story illustrated and use this as an aid to express grief. Religious murals and tile-paintings were often painted by autodidact artists who also worked for the teahouses, qahveh-khane (lit. coffee house).18 An important characteristic of qahveh-khane customs was naqqali, storytelling elaborating on heroic, romantic and religious aspects in the old mythic and historic epics, such as Ferdowsi’s (935–1020) Shah-Nameh, the Biblical-Quranic story about Joseph and Zuleikha, and the battle at Karbala. The painters were commissioned to paint scenes from the stories, either on canvas or on the wall directly. The qahveh-khane often served as ateliers of the pardeh painters, who painted for both the secular and the religious traditions. In terms of composition, there are many parallels between the scenes showing Ferdowsi’s hero Rustam on the battle-

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field, and those of Husayn and his followers depicted on the plains of Karbala. Nevertheless, the iconographic pattern is distinct and a trained viewer will not confuse the two dramas. In fact, the influence from the ta´ziyeh productions on the new genre of religious paintings is so convincing, that Peterson suggests calling the new genre ‘Karbala paintings’ rather than ‘qahveh-khane painting’.19 Rowzeh-khani is still a very common ritual throughout Shia communities in Iran. The ritual is performed at shrines and other public places, as well as in peoples’ homes for confined groups of people. Visual storytelling in the form of pardeh-dari is, however, less common. The tradition has been in decline since the 1960s when the last great painter, Muhammad Mudaber, died.20 Yet, the production of visual narratives related to the battle at Karbala continues. Today, there are in particular two genres that dominate. One is the wall hanging, parcham, made of fabrics and presented at ritual assembly halls, typically used for mourning ceremonies and birthday celebrations, mowludi. The other is mass-produced colour posters presented throughout the year in ritual assembly halls, homes and work-related spaces.

Chapter 6

The Parcham Wall Hanging

The parcham is a wall hanging used to decorate assembly halls during Muharram and Safar when the battle at Karbala is commemorated, and during the celebrations of birthdays, mowludi. It is difficult to date the introduction of parcham into the visual culture of Shia commemoration and celebration rituals. If a date is given on a wall hanging it states the date when the image was donated as a gift to a ritual assembly hall and not the year of its production. The wall hangings presented here have been in use since the mid-1950s. Material, techniques, programmes and designs have changed over time and appear today in different formats. Some wall hangings are made in the technique of hand-knotting, using wool and sometimes silk, but this is rather costly and not very common, see Figure 17. More widespread is the technique of embroidery on cotton or synthetic fabric, see Figures 23, 24 and 25. In recent years, there is an increased use of appliqué in which various types of fabrics in different colours are combined into a design and applied to a black or green background, see Figures 26, 27 and 28. Iconographically we can distinguish between four main programmes. One programme presents scenes explicitly referring to the battle at Karbala, see Figures 23, 26 and 29. Another programme shows representations of architectural structures, see Figures 24, 25 and 27. A third programme depicts imaginary portraits of Ali, Husayn, and al-Abbas, see Figures 28 and 30. A fourth programme presents calligraphic emblems, see Figure 31. Sometimes the four programmes are combined. Wall hangings circulating in Iran are produced in Iran and Iraq. Old figurative motifs are preserved in the Iranian items, while new designs are added, for example, portraits of Ali, Husayn and al-Abbas. Most parchams purchased by Iranian pilgrims to Iraq, on the other hand, are calligraphic or depict holy places. To what extent the production of wall hangings is a large-scale enterprise, has yet to be established. However, small-scale businesses are run by male tailors in small workshops in the bazaars of, for example, Mashhad, Teheran and Shiraz. When motifs are completed on the tailors’ sewing machines, the lower section of the frame is left open so that a potential buyer can personalize the object by having his or her name, or a vocation, added to what typically will become a donation to a ritual assembly hall. The tailor remains anonymous. Despite its popularity and widespread use, the parcham is only briefly mentioned

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in research literature. Azam Torab observed that the interior walls of a private home in Teheran were draped in black cloth banners bearing Ashura elegies at a jalaseh, a ritual commemorating the events at Karbala.1 But her analysis of ritual performance focuses on gendered discourse and not visual culture. The use of wall hangings has also been recorded among the Shia in India. David Pinault briefly describes the iconography of a few wall hangings, which in the local vernacular is called dast-kari tasvirein (hand-work pictures), presented in a matam-serai. 2 The typical Karbala motif depicts Husayn’s horse Zu al-Jenah decorated with saddle pad and saddle, and pierced with arrows. The images are said to have been made in Iran and purchased when Indian Shia pilgrims visited the shrine of Imam Reza in Mashhad. Back home, the image is presented as an ex-voto offering. Syed Akbar Hyder, moreover, recounts how the narrative of Karbala is being conveyed to the larger community of believers through visual depictions of Karbala on wall hangings, which in the local vernacular is called shabih, and is presented in the ashurkhanas.3 In the following, I examine the iconographic and calligraphic repertoire of commonly seen wall hangings in Iran. Relating the wall hangings to representation of the battle at Karbala in literature, theatre, theology, popular belief and ritual practice, I argue that the wall hangings are visual elegies, narrating sacred history and expressing popular piety.

The Battle at Karbala In many wall hangings there are clear references to the battle at Karbala. The white horse placed at the centre of the pictorial field of Figure 29 functions as a vigorous eye-catching device and I shall take it as the point of departure.4 The horse is shown in profile. It carries saddle and bridle, but no horseman. Stitches in red colour on the horse’s crest, shoulder and haunch can be read iconically to refer to blood, and indexically to point to wounds having been inflicted on it. Arrows pierce the wounds and thus, iconically, indicate how the wounds were inflicted. The arrows suggest the horse has been attacked, perhaps in battle, and testify symbolically to suffering and bravery. On the ground below the horse lies a water skin and helmet. In front of the horse is placed an amputated arm with red marks on the back of the hand. Again, the red stitches iconically refer to blood and indexically to a wound. Above the horse flies a white bird, and in the left lower corner is a deer. The horse is introduced as a main protagonist, whereas the deer takes a secondary role. In the upper left corner of the wall hanging are three tents. The artist-narrator has given some keys to a story, but it falls upon the viewernarrator to put the signs into a narrative sequence and complete the storyline. To construct a story line I suggest that we consider the relation between the signs, and their relation to the story about the battle at Karbala as it is known in popular religious environments. The horse, water skin, helmet, arm and tents,

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carries iconic, indexical and symbolic significance connected to hagiographic literature, and the visual Karbala narratives developing in the early nineteenth century. Given the conventional vocabulary applied in Karbala visual narratives the water skin and amputated arm refer symbolically to al-Abbas and his martyrdom. He is believed to have had both arms cut off by the enemy during his attempt to collect water from the Euphrates River for his family members in the camp at Karbala. The identification of the protagonist is assisted by the helmet and its characteristic design: a helmet-type decorated by two feathers on its front and chain mail attached to the back has become the established sign for al-Abbas’ headgear. The group of tents is a conventional sign referring to the camp of Imam Husayn and his family. The wall hanging was on display during commemoration rituals in Muharram 2002, organized and attended by women. Below is a version of the rowzeh of al-Abbas presented at the ceremonies. It gives an example of how viewers get prior knowledge of Al-Abbas’ activities and accomplishments, and which characteristics are communicated. When al-Abbas asked Husayn to go to the battle, he said, ‘O God, help you.’ Everybody came out of the camp to say goodbye, the last farewell. Al-Abbas said, ‘I want to see Zayn al-Abedin.’ He revealed to him, ‘When you come back to Medina, send my greetings to my mother Umm al-Banin, and to my orphans.’ One of the children of Imam Husayn pulled the clothes of al-Abbas and asked for water. Abu al-Fazl took a water skin and went to the Shatt al-Furad. He filled it with water. Then he took some water in his hand to drink, but when he remembered the thirsty lips of Imam Husayn, he poured it out. When he went to Shatt al-Furad, the army [of Yazid] would not let him through, but they couldn’t stop him. When he wanted to return, they decided to surround him. They sent an arrow to the water skin and said, ‘Abu al-Fazl, we made a hole in the skin.’ Ibn Sad said to Hermaleh, ‘Don’t let him take the water to the camp.’ Hermaleh cut the hands of Abu al-Fazl and the water skin fell on the ground. They sent an arrow to his eye. He couldn’t balance himself on the horse. He fell on the ground. He cried, ‘Brother, come to me!’ Imam Husayn took the head that was wounded, on his knee. He began to clean the blood from his face. Al-Abbas said, ‘Brother, I have a wish, don’t take me to the camp when I am alive because I promised the child some water.’5 In the iconography, the battle and the martyrdom of al-Abbas are represented as analepsis, in retrospection through the symbolic reading of conventional signs firmly anchored in a well-known story. The absent al-Abbas is represented by his amputated arm, some of his belongings and a horse without a rider. The horse is not simply a vessel referring to an absent actor at Karbala. A tear pours down its muzzle from the large eye. This anthropomorphic trace is a powerful focalizer. Through the weeping horse, the viewer is invited to perceive the death

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of al-Abbas as a sad event. It also makes the horse a model on how to respond to the sad event, that is, with expressions of grief and weeping. Indeed, the listeners’ response to the rowzeh of al-Abbas was to weep and beat the chest in a structured form of flagellation symbolizing mourning. The horse’s juxtaposition with the household’s camp reminds the viewer of al-Abbas’ motivation for risking his life: to bring water to the thirsty family members in the camp at Karbala. The family in the camp was, however, not relieved from their thirst and their deprivation of water is only a forewarning of the suffering that awaits them in the course of the battle and its aftermath. The interpretation of the image can be further elaborated by connecting its iconography to Shia conceptions about al-Abbas in popular piety. A notion commonly held in the interpretive community is that because al-Abbas failed to fulfil his mission and provide water for his thirsty relatives in the camp, he is particularly eager and impatient to intercede and help anyone who asks his assistance. The juxtaposition of the horse and the camp may therefore function to affirm the notion of al-Abba’s mediating qualities, which motivates many people, both men and women, to seek his help. According to Pierce, a sign, or representamen, may create in a viewer various mental images referring to different objects. The horse in the wall hanging points symbolically to its missing horseman al-Abbas. There is, however, an iconographic resemblance between the horse in this image and those of Imam Husayn’s horse, Zu al-Jenah, as presented in contemporary colour posters. The horse may therefore also refer to Imam Husayn. From yet a more general perspective the wounded horse without horseman may allude to the destiny of any of Husayn’s martyred supporters at Karbala. As such, the wounded horse functions as a powerful sign standing for the battle at Karbala and its martyrs. In the Karbala context, the wounded horse is therefore a polysemic sign, although when considered in relation to other signs in the wall hanging, its reference al-Abbas stands out as its dominant signification. A bird is depicted flying above the horse’s back. It has been suggested to me by Shia observers that this could be a ‘soul bird’. According to Islamic conception, spirit and soul have airy connotation. Spirit, ruh, can be translated as ‘wind’, whereas soul, nafs, can be translated as ‘breath’.6 The bird, as a symbol of spirit and soul, duplicates this airiness. The positioning of the bird above the empty saddle can represent the soul of the absent rider who, according to the signifying meaning of the collection of signs below the horse, has been slain and, based on the depiction’s cultural anchorage, martyred. The deer is an exceptional sign in Karbala verbal and visual narratives. A deer does appear in one of the miraculous stories associated with the battle at Karbala but is given only a minor part; see the discussion of Figure 18. The deer’s location in the periphery of the pictorial plain in the wall hanging indicates that it is only indirectly related to the battle at Karbala. A Shia observer suggested the deer could refer to the eighth Imam, Abu al-Hassan Ali Ibn Musa al-Reza, whose attribute is a deer. Imam Reza is a martyr said to have been poisoned by Caliph Ma´mun

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in 818 ad. His shrine in Mashhad is a revered sanctuary and popular pilgrimage site. In contemporary colour posters Imam Reza is represented together with a group of deer who he supposedly saved from a hunter. Figure 32 shows a photograph of a pilgrim having his portrait taken at a gallery in Mashhad, close by the shrine. The young pilgrim is depicted against a canvas showing Imam Reza protecting a deer from a hunter. According to the photographer at the gallery, such portraits are popular souvenirs among pilgrims. Acknowledging the representative character of an attribute, a possible interpretation of the wall hanging in Figure 29 is therefore that the horse points to al-Abbas and the deer points to Imam Reza. Why would a deer associated with Imam Reza be included in a Karbala motif? A local viewer suggested that the artist or the client had placed Imam Reza’s attribute (the deer) in the image in order to draw attention to the link between members of the ahl al-bayt. Al-Abbas acted as the protector of the thirsty and innocent in the camp at Karbala, whereas Imam Reza acted as the protector of innocent animals. Their good deeds and their martyrdom have also made them protectors of the believing faithful. Implied in this interpretation is a promise of saintly intercession. For viewers who can read the inscription in the wall hanging, the iconography is anchored in the destiny of al-Abbas and Imam Husayn at Karbala. The caption placed in the upper right corner reads Ya Abu al-Fazl. The other, placed under the horse’s front leg, reads Ya Husayn Shahid, ‘O Husayn Martyr’, an elegiac and panegyric exclamation repeatedly pronounced by ritual participants during ceremonies. The existence of a conventional visual language is evident when comparing the wall hanging in Figure 29 with that in Figure 23. However, in Figure 23 the horse is presented only with its front part visible, which is an unusual depiction in wall hangings. Moreover, its pose and gesture have changed. The horse has come to a halt, and it bows its head towards the armour lying on the ground. On the ground are the amputated arm, the water skin, the helmet with two feathers and chain mail, and the flag attached to the standard. Three arrows pierce the hand and blood flows from the wounds. On the left side of the plain is the camp, represented by four tents. To this conventional composition are added a few new signs: a sword, a shield and two spears, signs of a cavalryman and warfare. Between the horse and the camp are six palm trees, alluding to an oasis. By placing the horse to the side, more space is given to the collection of signs referring exclusively to al-Abbas. In the absence of the pardeh-dar and his pointer it is the horse, through its pose and gaze, which undertakes pointing out the event that took place. Moreover, in the absence of the manipulating voice of the pardeh-dar, the horse’s pose and gaze become subtle focalizing signs creating in the viewer an opinion or feeling about the event. If one should give the horse anthropomorphic qualities, we might say it stands in reverence, and invites the viewer to do the same. The epithet at the centre of the pictorial plane reading; Ya qamr bani Hashim, ‘O, Moon of Hashim’s clan’ honours al-Abbas. Hashim is the name of the

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Prophet Muhammad’s great grandfather, from whom the Prophet’s clan took its name. In Persian poetry, the moon is a symbol of beauty and to compare one’s beloved to the radiant moon is the highest praise one can bestow upon him or her. Among the Shia of Iran, the epithet Qamr bani Hashim conventionally refers to al-Abbas, although it is sometimes applied to Imam Husayn’s son, Ali Akbar. Husayn’s martyrdom is commemorated in the cartouches in each corner which present the elegiac and panegyric exclamation ‘O Husayn Martyr.’ Also the inscriptions in the frame, read from the right, belong to the genre of elegiac poetry. The text is not complete, but can be recognized as the first lines from a famous twelve-stanza elegy (tarkib-band) by Muhtasham Kashani (d. 1587), mourning and honouring the martyrdom of Imam Husayn.7 Baz in che shuresh ast keh dar khalq alam ast. Baz in che nowheh che ‘aza va che matam ast. Again, what is this revolt that is among the people of the world? Again, what is this lament, this condolence and this mourning? Muhtasham Kashani was a favourite court poet at the Safavid court and wrote elegies, marasiyeh, about the martyrdom of Imam Husayn.8 The literary tradition can be traced back to a period soon after the battle at Karbala, when members of the Prophet Muhammad’s family would come together and perform and listen to marasiyeh.9 The gatherings soon developed into communal rituals. A simpler and more dramatic style later replaced the language used in the writing of elegies, and a new style developed which was closer to the language of ordinary people.10 This form of poetry evolved in various directions to be used for different ritual purposes, such as the rowzeh-khani, ta´ziyeh and nowheh, lamentation poetry, which continues to be performed in today’s Iran. The elegy about Imam Husayn from which the verse on the wall hanging originates, achieved fame and popularity upon its publication and it remains one of the masterpieces of Persian literature. It has been used for decorating halls for the performance of ta´ziyeh and assembly halls for matam ceremonies.11 The verses are inscribed vertically on hangings attached to pillars, and horizontally under the ceiling and on the walls. The fact that many wall hangings present an incomplete version of the poem suggests that it is expected to be known in the interpretive community. The caption in the frame below states that the hanging is an offering, taqdimi, from Jawad of Karman, presented in 1338 ap/1959 ad. The wall hanging commemorates the martyrs at Karbala, in particular al-Abbas. By juxtaposing the saint and one of his supporters, the donor, the donor expresses his veneration of the saint, and places himself under the saint’s protection. The wall hanging in Figure 33 presents yet a third example of the conventional al-Abbas iconography, but also illustrates variation within the programme. The iconography presents the wounded, white horse carrying saddle and bridle, but no horseman. In front of the horse is placed a water skin and a bleeding

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hand. Two red tents in the upper right corner point to Husayn’s camp. Two palm trees placed next to the tents allude to an oasis. There are, however, no signs of armour. Instead, space is allowed for blue wavy lines to surround the horse’s legs, signifying the Euphrates River where al-Abbas was ambushed while collecting water. The iconography thus depicts the moment after al-Abbas has lost his arms and is no longer to be seen on the battlefield. In this respect the iconography presents a visual lamentation over al-Abbas, like the previous wall hangings. However, the voice of the mutilated but still alive al-Abbas can be ‘heard’ in the marginal excerpts, which read, from the right, via the top to the left side: Uftad dast-e rast, Khoda ya ze peikaram bar damane Husayn, beresan dast-e diagram. My right hand fell off, O God, from my body in the lap of Husayn. Send the other hand. The passage is copied from ta´ziyeh episodes describing the martyrdom of al-Abbas. The lines are recorded in a compilation of ta´ziyeh librettos collected by Hassan Salehi Rad and published in 2001, as well as in older compilations.12 These include the ta´ziyeh collection of Lewis Pelly who served the British Empire in the Persian Gulf between 1862 and 1873,13 Wilhelm Litten, a German diplomat to Iran during the last three decades of the twentieth century, 14 and Enrico Cerulli, the Italian ambassador to Iran from 1950 to 1954.15 In the English translation of a ta´ziyeh manuscript Cerulli collected from the city Kashan in the province of Isfahan, al-Abbas is directed to tell the audience: My right hand has fallen from my body. O God, let my left hand be at Husayn’s service: I have yet a left hand. What a pity, one hand cannot clap.16 The majority of ta´ziyeh manuscripts are simply collections of pieces of paper, written separately for each character in the play in the form of a libretto. The above references demonstrate, nevertheless, the congruence between ta´ziyeh librettos across geographic areas and through time. It is therefore likely that many local viewers will associate the inscription in the wall hangings with the destiny of al-Abbas. While on mission to fetch water for the thirsty relatives in the camp, al-Abbas is intercepted by Hermaleh, and they enter into combat. Al-Abbas is weakened by lack of water and Hermaleh defeats him. In ta´ziyeh productions Hermaleh then declares to Husayn that he has cut the hand off his standard-bearer. Al-Abbas is not killed immediately, but is said to first proclaim the phrase referred to in the margins of the wall hanging. In the passage on the wall hanging al-Abbas asserts his willingness to serve Husayn, but regrets that he has lost his ability to do so. In Pelly’s collection, al-Abbas elaborates on the consequences of having lost his hand.

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Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiism Alas, my two hands fell off my body; they were my wings. Alas, Husayn has lost his standard-bearer. Alas, Zaynab will be humiliated by scornful people. She’ll be tormented by my death. Alas, my mother does not know that my two hands have been severed from my body. No one could equal me in strength if my hands were still on my arms. In the midst of this tumult and confusion I hope only to get a glimpse of Husayn’s face once more. O Husayn, lonely I am. May I be your sacrifice you are so kind and generous.17

In the libretto, which follows soon after the one reproduced on the wall hanging in Figure 33, al-Abbas laments the loss of his hands since they were so useful to his service for Husayn and his close relatives. Al-Abbas has served as their supporter and protector and can foresee only suffering after he is gone. His last wish is to have a glimpse of Husayn before he dies. In the ta´ziyeh librettos al-Abbas thus comes across as the personified quintessence of altruism and loyalty, virtues that are captured also in the abstract on the wall hanging. Scholars have pointed to the influence of ta´ziyeh theatre on Karbala visual narrations. Peterson describes the new Karbala paintings emerging in the early nineteenth century as translations of ta´ziyeh theatre productions, and Andrzej Wirth notes that the Iranian popular painting of battle scenes referring to Karbala has preserved the exact documentation of many symbolic signs still alive in today’s performing habits.18 In the process, Wirth suggests, symbol, index, icon and other signs enter into complex affiliations of significance. Likewise, the iconography of Karbala in the three wall hangings in Figures 29, 23 and 33, derive from the ta´ziyeh representational tradition. The iconography does not, however, copy ta´ziyeh choreography or elaborate descriptions found in narrative paintings, but use a condensed symbolic design. These wall hangings are therefore not immediate translations of ta´ziyeh but conceptual abstracts. As narratives they are powerful and evocative, but indicative rather than descriptive and explanatory. Few wall hangings concentrating on the destiny of al-Abbas depict him alive. Two examples are recorded in Figures 34 and 26. In Figure 34 which is, I believe, the older of the two on the basis of the techniques applied, al-Abbas is shown seated on his horse, holding a standard.19 He wears the characteristic helmet decorated by two feathers, a veil covers his face and his head is surrounded by a sun halo. The horse is depicted standing on a terrain made of grass and flowers. A second iconographic distinction in this Karbala wall hanging is the veiled woman standing in front of the horse. She is placed next to a palm tree, below a tent camp. The scene can be recognized as Sakineh handing her uncle the water skin. This visual motif is not very common in today’s wall hangings, but was presented in lithographic book-illustrations in the nineteenth century and tile-paintings in shrines and takiyyeh in the early twentieth century.20 A comparison between these sources demonstrates that the face veil applied in representing al-Abbas and Sakineh is an excellent example of adaptation across media and establishes a semiotic connection to ta´ziyeh productions. The veil is a stage

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device adopted to represent holy personage, male and female, see Figure 16 in which Ali Akbar is represented wearing a face veil in a ta´ziyeh performance in Shiraz in 1999. The face veil is, however, not used consistently in images. In Karbala booklet illustrations from the late nineteenth century copying a ta´ziyeh iconography, the face veil is reserved for Imam Husayn and his female relatives.21 In contemporary wall hangings al-Abbas, Imam Ali, and Imam Husayn are most commonly represented without the veil, see Figure 28 and 30. The same iconographic practice is adopted in colour posters where only the women retain the face veil, compare with the farewell scene between Husayn and Zaynab in Figure 35. When a character is introduced it tends to dominate the narrative. When two characters are introduced, the viewer will look for signs of interaction and communication between the two. In this case, the personification of Sakineh and al-Abbas suggests action, interaction and dialogue. There is thus some element of choreography in the design and the association to ta´ziyeh is obvious. Despite the crude visual style the story telling is rather intricate, both in terms of narrative technique and the highly symbolic value of the signs. One story line is that Sakineh hands the water skin to al-Abbas and the viewer may read into the picture a dialogue in which Sakineh, on behalf of the besieged women and children in the camp, asks al-Abbas to collect water. In the ta´ziyeh collection of Pelly, this incident was verbally represented in the following way: Sakineh: Come uncle, may I be offered for thee! Take from me this skin, for my body and soul are both burning with thirst in this desert. Oh, if they sell water even at the price of life, I beg thee, dear uncle, to get it for me!22 The encounter between Sakineh and her uncle is also narrated in contemporary responsorial elegies, nowheh. In the following elegy, a female chanter impersonates Sakineh who expresses her thirst and agony to her uncle, without explicitly asking him to collect water. Sad Sakineh with wet eyes Al-Abbas dear uncle, look at me, my lips are dry The desert is full of water, but I am thirsty Answer: Sad Sakineh with wet eyes Al-Abbas dear uncle, look at me, my lips are dry I am suffering from thirst Answer: Sad Sakineh with wet eyes Al-Abbas dear uncle, look at me, my lips are dry My lips are dry, my lips are dry Answer: Sad Sakineh with wet eyes Al-Abbas dear uncle, look at me, my lips are dry There is not a drop of water in the camp. Without water my, dear uncle, I cannot live

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Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiism Answer: Sad Sakineh with wet eyes Al-Abbas dear uncle, look at me, my lips are dry

The repeated reference to dry lips and wet eyes underscore the suffering and produced an emotional reaction in the audience, who responded by repeating the refrain, while weeping and wailing, and beating their chest in a structured mode of flagellation. There is, moreover, a second story line in this wall hanging. Behind the horse on the right flank lies a shield on the ground, a sign of the fallen combatant. The story line thus tells about what happened after Sakineh had handed al-Abbas the water skin; he was killed. The shrine above the shield introduces a third story line about the cult subsequently established at the martyr’s shrine. The iconography in the wall hanging thus introduces a multi-layered narrative in which events developing over a long time span are introduced simultaneously: the various events at the battle, the later development of the pilgrimage cult, and the present pilgrimage cult. The different story lines are introduced simultaneously and to make sense of the visual narration, the viewer-narrator must reconstruct the linear chain of action. The reconstruction of the battle at Karbala is only possible if the viewer is already familiar with the story and knows how to place the various signs in the correct story order. The viewer narrator must also fill in some gaps, for example what is believed to have been communicated between Sakineh and her uncle al-Abbas, and then complete the story. To grasp the implication of the Sakineh-Abbas incident at a connotative level, the viewer must understand the role of water as the ultimate symbol of suffering. Moreover, the viewer should perceive Sakineh and al-Abbas not only as characters in their own right, but as types. Sakineh typifies the innocent victims of Karbala, whereas al-Abbas epitomizes the hero and the martyr. The Sakineh-Abbas incident is thus a very emotional moment that encompasses some of the most significant aspects of the Karbala event. In terms of textual information the captions in the wall hanging simply name a number of holy personages, such Abu al-Fazl, Allah, Muhammad, Ali, Fatemeh, Imam Hassan, Imam Husayn and Imam Reza. By being named, they are recalled and honoured, but also called upon. Below the horse is a caption informing the viewer that the wall hanging is a donation, vaqf, presented by a woman named Fatemeh Kharbarian. The image is thus most likely a votive gift. The iconography and design presented in the wall hanging shown in Figure 26 resembles the one in Figure 34, but some differences influence its story line. In Figure 26, the horse is placed with its feet in a river, alluded to by a bright blue material on which white lines are stitched to indicate ripples on the water surface. Behind the horse, on the right side of the panel, is placed an amputated hand still holding on to a water skin. From the skin water is pouring out, flowing back into the river. In this wall hanging the viewer-narrator is invited to selectively apply visual signs to reconstruct a chronology of events that is not entirely consistent with what one sees. The challenge is not simply

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that all constituent parts of the story are visually accessible in one viewing or that the composition is not arranged in chronological order unfolding a story’s evolving event. The main challenge is that a sign belongs to several sign systems, that is, a sign has more than one meaning and its narrative quality changes according to how it is combined with other signs. The viewer-narrator must therefore revisit each sign system in the visual plane to decide when to include a sign in a system. The sign ‘al-Abbas on his horse’ belongs to the same sign system as do ‘Sakineh offering a water skin’. Together they produce the narrative ‘Sakineh offers al-Abbas the water skin.’ But the sign ‘al-Abbas on his horse’ is also associated with another sign system, which includes ‘water’ representing The Euphrates River. From this signs system the informed viewer-narrator can deduce that al-Abbas went to the river to collect water. But the sign ‘water’ also belongs to another sign system, that of ‘a hand holding a skin.’ Here, the viewer can observe water depicted spilling from the skin back into the water. In fact, in this sign system the ‘water’ sign has a double reference, signifying both the water that spills from the skin, and the river it flows back into. Certain signs, such as ‘Al-Abbas on horse’ and ‘water’, are thus polysemic and multifunctional. Similarly, Andrzej Wirth points out that requisite in ta´ziyeh productions are multifunctional and, semiologically speaking, ‘read’ differently according to the way they are used.23 Comparing the visual narrative in Figures 34 and 26 with the rowzeh referred to above, the wall hanging in Figure 34 concentrates on Sakineh requesting Abu al-Fazl to fetch water. By including the amputated hand and water pouring out of the skin, the wall hanging in Figure 26 has expanded the story line and elaborated on al-Abbas’ tragic destiny. By placing the iconography on a black fabric the narration is framed in a lamenting mood, not to be grasped by ear but by sight. While all-Abbas is lamented in the visual representation, he is honoured in a series of epithets: In the upper frame is written in Persian, Ay mah bani Hashim khurshid laqa al-Abbas, ‘O moon of Hashim’s clan, shining [sun] face of al-Abbas’, and to the left is written: Sham shuhadat al-Abbas, ‘The light of martyrs al-Abbas’. In a caption to the right his father, Imam Ali is commemorated and praised: Ay nur del heidar, ‘O light in the heart of the Lion’. The confidence in the visual and verbal literacy of viewer-narrators is not unreasonable when we consider the context in which the wall hanging was displayed. It was a gift for the Hay´at Mutawasilin beh Abu al-Fazl, which is located in the mosque Masjed Ilkhane Shams (see the texts in the lower frame). Parcham representing the battle at Karbala have, at least since the 1950s, employed a repertoire of iconic, indexical and symbolic signs from which visual compositions are made and story lines communicated. Iconography and textual information correspond to elements in other media of visual storytelling, verbal storytelling and ritual practice which are part of the same discourse combining certain theological, hagiographical and semantic perceptions. In particular, the genre of wall hangings discussed above is visual expressions of religious poetry. Shia religious poetry can be defined into different categories.24

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The panegyric or eulogistic poetry expresses praise of saints, descriptions of their compassionate nature and elevated status near God and their brave and generous deeds. The poetry of martyrdom is devoted to the martyrdom of the saints, and sometimes the death of other heroes found in the religious epics. The elegy is also about the martyrdom and suffering of religious figures. The distinction between elegy and the poetry of martyrdom is that elegy pays less attention to the details of historical events; rather, the poet assumes that the reader is already familiar with the circumstances. The poet therefore emphasizes some of the sadder and more heart-rending aspects of the tragedy and inaugurates lamentation of the martyrs. It is, nevertheless, sometimes difficult to make clear distinctions between the styles, as praise is often incorporated in an elegy, and in some cases the various styles are combined in a religious poem. The ta’ziyeh libretto is similarly not interested in a precise rendering of the saints’ biography but takes advantage of the fact that the story is known to the audience, and enhances the protagonists’ bravery and heroic deeds, their suffering and saintliness.25 The wall hangings discussed in Figures 29, 23 and 33 are examples of verbal and visual art forms being integrated into a distinct form of image whose style is predominantly elegiac, but also panegyric. The wall hangings are visualizations of an elegiac mournful symbolic language developed to express lamentation. Parallel to the verbal elegy, nowheh, there is less attention paid to the details of historical events and the viewer-narrator is offered only a few, but essential, signs to complete an already familiar story. Characters introduced in the visual programmes in Figures 34 and 26, imply dialogue, and the visual narration resembles the genre of the poetry of martyrdom and rowzeh. However, similar to verbal religious poetry, wall hangings combine different genres. Epitaphs placed across the visual plane of wall hangings, such as ‘O Husayn Victim’, are elegiac and panegyric. Textual abstracts on the margins connect the visual elegy to commemorative lamentation poetry, as well as to saints’ sentiments as impersonated in ta’ziyeh librettos. The genre of lamentation poetry and narratives of suffering and sacrifice also has a distinct performative characteristic. The narrator or chanter will manipulate his voice in order to instigate in the listener a sad emotion. The black background used for most wall hanging has a parallel performative function. The black colour signifies condolence and is used to instigate in the viewers a mournful mood.

Karbala In some wall hangings, a grave-mosque and a camp occupy the central field of the visual plane to function as the primary visual signifiers.26 At the centre plane of the wall hanging in Figure 24 is placed a mosque-like construction in which a dome is flanked by two minarets. Birds fly above the dome and two green flags wave from its spire. A cartouche to the right bears the inscription, ‘O Husayn Martyr’, and is matched by a cartouche on the opposite side of the mosque,

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which reads, ‘O Honourable al-Abbas’. In the upper corners is mentioned, Allah, Muhammad, Ali, Fatemeh, Husayn and Hassan. The inscription in the frame below the mosque announces that the wall hanging is intended for the ‘Zaynabiyyeh for Bushehri ladies resident in Shiraz’. The identification of the mosque design as referring to the grave-mosques of Imam Husayn and al-Abbas is based on information found within the visual plane of the wall hanging, as well as outside the image. The linguistic messages honouring Imam Husayn and al-Abbas serve to anchor the identity of the design as referring to their shrines. As such, the shrine design becomes a symbolic emblem of the two holy characters. The identity of the shrine is also supported by the iconography’s similarity to the factual architectural design of the saints’ grave-mosques at today’s Karbala. The remaining linguistic references connect the two protagonists to the Divine plan and the Shia creed. The text informing the viewer that the wall hanging is intended for a zaynabiyyeh, anchors the image in a ritual context and the black background identifies the ritual context as oriented towards mourning and lamentation. The wall hanging shown in Figure 25 combines the grave-mosque with three tents arranged in a cluster to form a camp, and below is placed a row of six palm trees. Following a conventional reading the shrine, the tent camp and the palm trees are place markers, referring to Karbala. The interpretation of each iconographic sign is also anchored by inscriptions placed in close proximity to the iconographic sign. Above the mosque it says, ‘O Abu al-Fazl Abbas’, whereas above the tent camp it says, ‘O Husayn, Martyr’. A spire on top of the mosque dome is designed as calligraphy, reading ‘Allah’. Also this wall hanging is a donation, labelled as vaqf, ‘endowment’. The wall hanging shown in Figure 27 represents a recent design of the shrine motif. Innovations include new combinations of iconographic designs, the use of material and the linguistic message. Here, two identical mosques are placed next to each other. According to conventional iconography and factual architectural design, they refer to those of Imam Husayn and al-Abbas in Karbala. Compared with older shrine-mosque motifs in which the dome is often fashioned in the technique of embroidery, the two domes are fashioned in the technique of appliqué and the design of the minarets imitates the tile-pattern applied on the minarets in Karbala. The saints’ names are mentioned on each dome, as well as above the dome. The shrine to the right is attributed to Imam Husayn and the one to the left to his half-brother. In the space between the two shrines is written: ‘O Fatemeh al-Zahra’ and above are mentioned Muhammad and Ali. The two-pointed sword of Ali is depicted above their names, and at the top God is acclaimed by the words Allahu Akbar, ‘God is Greater’. Of recent design is a calligraphic profile with references to all the Imams. In each of the two upper corners are six cartouches, mentioning al-Zahra (referring to Fatemeh), al-Zaki (‘The Pure’, the 2nd Imam), al-Shahid (‘The Martyr’, the 3rd Imam), al-Sajjad (‘The Prostrator’, the 4th Imam), al-Baqir (‘The Splitter open of knowledge’, the 5th Imam), al-Sadeq (‘The Truthful’, the 6th Imam), alKazem (‘The Forbearing’ the 7th Imam), al-Reza (‘The Approved’, the 8th Imam),

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al-Javad (‘The Generous’, the 9th Imam), al-Hadi (‘The Guided’, the 10th Imam), al-Askari (‘he who is kept in the camp’, referring to the 11th Imam’s long detention in Samarra) and al-Qaim (‘The one who will rise’, the 12th Imam). Above each name is written an abbreviation sending God’s peace upon the Imams. A male organizer of rituals pointed to the moral value of inscriptions on the parchams. In his opinion, the moral aspect of a parcham increases according to how many of The Fourteen Infallible are mentioned. In addition, quotations from the Quran, Hadith and sayings from an Imam are important since inscriptions, like figurative representations, help believers remember the holy characters of Islam. According to inscriptions on the wall hanging, it is a ‘Gift from Karbala’ and presented as an endowment from a man and his wife. The wall hanging was thus bought in Karbala, probably also produced there and brought home as a pilgrimage souvenir. The use of the mosque-shrine as the main figurative sign, presented in appliqué technique, combined with the mentioning of all the Imams are common features in wall hangings brought back to Iran by pilgrims returning from Iraq. The style is gradually becoming more popular and the trend may reflect the increased visitation of Iranians to the shrines in Iraq since the fall of Saddam Husayn. The wall hangings are sold to Iranian pilgrims in both Karbala and Najaf and vendors approach the Iranians at their hotels and on the buses they arrive in. To the Iranians the trade is profitable since a parcham in Iraq would in 2002 cost 20,000 toman (22 Euro), compared with 50,000 to 70,000 toman (52–74 Euro) in Shiraz. Presented as wall-decorations in ritual assembly halls and intended to be observed from a distance, it is the iconography and not the captions that functions as eye-catching devices. In the wall hangings in Figures 29 and 23, 26 the shrines and the camp are incorporated into complex sign systems. The shrine connects the events at the battlefield to the saintly character of the protagonists and the tent connects the protagonists to the house of the Prophet Muhammad, the ahl al-bayt. In the wall hangings in Figures 24, 25 and 27 the iconography is, however, reduced to a minimum applying only the shrine sign and sometimes also the tent sign. The viewer-narrator is given few keys to construct a story. However, to the informed viewer, the tent symbolically represents the camp in which the ahl al-bayt stayed at Karbala during the siege and the battle. It is where the female members of the family of Imam Husayn waited in agony and mourned their martyred sons, fathers, brothers, husbands and nephews. The camp therefore also symbolically refers to the pain and suffering experienced by the family of Husayn at the time, and as such creates associations with both personal and ritual experience of mourning. The shrines were not present at Karbala at the time of the battle in 680 ad. A pilgrimage cult is reported to have developed at Karbala around 684–5 ad. when a tomb was erected where Husayn’s body was buried.27 By the ninth century, the Imams attempted to institutionalize the pilgrimage cult for ashura.28 Over the centuries the tomb has been destroyed, rebuilt and expanded into a

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walled, domed shrine, with two minarets. The two shrines at Karbala are among the most important Shia pilgrimage sites, next to Imam Ali’s shrine in Najaf and Imam Reza’s shrine in Mashhad. The mosque design in the wall hanging points iconically to the shrines of Imam Husayn and al-Abbas at Karbala, indexically to the place Karbala, and symbolically to the battle, the martyrdom, to the promise of redemption and to the pilgrimage cult that takes place there. The tent and the shrine are polysemic signs that absorb and amalgate historiography, mythology, theological conceptions, ritual practice and personal experience. The camp was temporarily constructed to host the holy family during an honourable battle in the past. The grave-mosque expresses the meta-historical and cosmic significance of the battle that the dwellers of the camp engaged in, and functions as a permanent resting place for the martyred Husayn and al-Abbas. In Shia devotional practices it is an important pilgrimage site where believers can address the Imams and honour God. Wall hangings presenting mosque designs and the camp as their primary signifiers, thus symbolically create a spiritual connection between the ritual location where the wall hangings are presented and the holy site at Karbala. As religious poetry, the iconography and verbal message of the wall hangings are panegyric and elegiac, a mood also stimulated by their black backgrounds. In addition, the condensed visual symbolic language in the wall hangings resembles the style of the liturgical verbal language of Muharram commemorations. On the ninth of Muharram 2002, a female maddah lead the following supplication at an all-female ritual gathering. Maddah: Karbala, O Karbala (always repeated four times) We have wishes Answer: Karbala, O Karbala Maddah: Take our hands Hussein Answer: Karbala, O Karbala Maddah: From Karbala look at us Answer: Karbala, O Karbala Maddah: We are your lovers with tired hearts Answer: Karbala, O Karbala Maddah: We like to see you O Hussein. Answer: Karbala, O Karbala Maddah: If you call us Answer: Karbala, O Karbala Maddah: Will come to you like beggars, O Hussein Answer: Karbala, O Karbala When repeatedly referring to the site Karbala in the supplication, the devotees simultaneously refer to the battle and its protagonists, and the dramatic story of suffering and betrayal is evoked in their minds. The line, ‘From Karbala look at us’ is, on the one hand, an acknowledgment of the meta-historical character

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of Husayn’s mission, that he is capable of interceding in the present from a position in the past. In addition, it acknowledges the power of his present abode at his shrine. The visual and verbal language of these wall hangings and the supplication illustrate the symbolic power of signs denoting the site Karbala.

Portraiture New wall hanging designs keep appearing on the market. In the wall hanging in Figures 28 and 30, iconography from traditional Karbala visualizations is combined with representations of Imam Ali.29 The motif in Figures 28 is composed of a triple portrait of, from left to right, al-Abbas, Imam Ali and Imam Husayn. Al-Abbas is depicted in a conventional Karbala motif, riding his white horse. He is dressed in the chain-mailed helmet, decorated by two red feathers and a green fabric. He wears a brown coat over a green shirt. Across his waist hangs the water skin. The horse is galloping through the blue water in the direction of the viewer. The iconography has been repeated in various media since the nineteenth century, including lithographic painting, tile-paintings and, more recently, in colour posters, see Figure 36. Imam Ali is portrayed together with a lion lying on the ground in front of him, similar to the iconography of contemporary colours posters; see Figure 5. Imam Husayn is portrayed on horseback. In one arm he carries his son, Ali Asghar and in his right hand he carries a standard with a red flag. Imam Husayn’s head is draped by a green cloth, and he is dressed in brown coat and pants. Ali Asghar is draped in green cloth and white shroud, kafan. The depiction can be recognized as the episode at Karbala when Husayn plead water for his innocent child. Again we are faced with conventional representations, known from lithographic illustrations, tilepaintings and contemporary colour posters (see Figures 37 and 38). Moreover, in each of the upper corners is placed the conventional grave-mosque design. God, the prophet Muhammad and Imam Ali are honoured in large red and purple inscriptions, pointing to the Shia creed. Above the portrait of Imam Ali is written in large, red letters, Allah. The name ‘Muhammad’ is placed between the portraits of Imam Ali and Imam Husayn, whereas the name ‘Ali’ is written in large purple letters between the portraits of al-Abbas and Imam Ali. Each of the three figures is saluted in banners placed above their head. The banner above the head of al-Abbas reads: al-salam alayk ya saqqa´ ‘atashi Karbala, ‘Peace be upon you, O Water Carrier of the Thirsty at Karbala.’ The theme of this inscription is consistent with the iconographic theme and together iconography and inscription denote the important task carried out by al-Abbas at Karbala. Above the depiction of Ali it says: al-salam alayk ya asad Allah al-ghalib Ali Ibn Abu Talib, ‘Peace be upon you, O Lion of God, the Victorious Ali Ibn Abu Talib.’ Symbolically the lion represents courage and strength. This impression is strengthened by the presence of the sword. The inscription above Imam Husayn says, al-salam alayk ya Aba Abd Allah al-Husayn, ‘Peace be upon you O Aba Abd Allah al-Husayn.’

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The wall hanging has been purchased in Iraq. Below the portrait of Imam Ali is written, ‘Gift from Najaf and Karbala.’ Below the portrait of Imam Husayn is written, Taqdimi (NN) beh Hay´at Mutahedeh Janesaran Abu al-Fazl, ‘Offering from (NN) for Hay´at the succeeding allies of Abu al-Fazl.’ Typical of more recent designs arriving from Iraq, the inscriptions praise God and there are citations from the Quran. According to the conventional arrangement of captions, it is written ‘Allah’ in the upper centre region. In the upper right corner is presented the Islamic creed ‘In the name of God the Merciful, the Compassionate.’ The creed is followed by a citation from the Quran, Sura 33:33 Al-Ahzab, ‘The Clans’ Innama yuridu Allah li-yudhihba ´ankum al-rijs ahl al-bayt wa yutahirakum tathiran, ‘Verily, God intendeth but to keep off from you uncleanness O ye the people of the House, and purify you (with) a thorough purification.’ The revelation of the verse is related to an incident in the house of Umm Salema, one of the Prophet’s wives, in which the Prophet covered himself, his daughter Fatemeh, her husband Ali and their two sons, Hassan and Husayn under his mantle, and addressed God, introducing them as his progeny.30 Interpreted in this context, the revealed verse positions the ahl al-bayt as being pure and, by implication, infallible. The above quotation is followed by another Quran citation, Sura 6:91 Al-An´am, ‘The Cattle’: qul la as´alukum ´alayhi ajran, ‘Say, (O Our Apostle Muhammad!) I ask not any recompense from you on it (the apostleship).’ In Iran, the whole Sura is read in a rite called Khatm-e An´am, which is performed as a nazr, sometimes presented as an invocation and sometimes as a thanksgiving. Another typical trace of the newer designs is to name Fatemeh and the twelve Imams. Here, they are mentioned in the lower row of captions. The names of Imam Husayn and al-Abbas are repeated in large red captions on either side of the three portraits. In the wall hanging in Figure 30, a rectangular plane centrally placed on the wall hanging shows a triple portrait of al-Abbas, Imam Ali and Imam Husayn. According to conventions established for the triple-portrait design, Ali is placed in the centre. To the right is the portrait of Imam Husayn and to the left can be seen al-Abbas. Both are depicted according to conventional iconography, except for the red jagged edging of their necks which iconically point to blood, indexically to beheading and symbolically to martyrdom. In addition, the holy characters can be identified by inscriptions. Below Imam Ali is written, ‘O Ali Ibn Abi Talib’. Around Imam Husayn is written in smaller letters, ‘O Husayn, O Martyr’. Above Al-Abbas is written, ‘O moon of Hashim’s clan’. The wall hanging decorated an interior brick wall of a large congregation hall at a shrine in Shiraz, during Muharram in 2002. From a distance, visitors to the shrine would recognize the depicted characters, whereas the inscriptions could only be read at a close distance. According to new conventions, ‘Allah’ is written in larger letters and centrally placed along the upper margin, and below is written in Arabic, Jall al-Jalala, ‘Outstanding Sublimity’. The Fourteen Infallibles are mentioned in cartouches, Ali and Fatemeh are also greeted in two small rectangular frames with yellow inscription. The one to the right is a greeting for Imam Ali, the Commander of the Faithful, Al-salam alayk ya Amir al-Mu´minin. On the

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opposite side is a greeting for Fatemeh, Al-salam alayk ya Fatemeh al-Zahra. Between the two greetings is repeated the Quran citation from Sura 33:33 Al-Ahzab, ‘The Clans’, sited in Figure 28. On the far right and left side of the parcham and below the three portraits are cartouches presenting 72 names, the number of men said to have supported Husayn at Karbala. The caption in the lower frame is a greeting written in Arabic: Al-salam ala al-Husayn va ´ala Ali Ibn al-Husayn va `ala awlad al-Husayn va `ala ashab al-Husayn, ‘Peace be upon Ali, al-Husayn and upon Ali Ibn al-Husayn, and upon the children of al-Husayn, and upon the companions of al-Husayn.’ Although presenting new wall hanging designs, the iconography in the wall hangings in Figures 28 and 30 draw on a conventional visual language known from pardeh, tile-paintings and contemporary colour posters. They are, however, crafted to suit particular ritual needs, that is, lay-peoples’ arrangement of large-scale commemorative rituals. The wall hangings are cheaper to produce than tile-paintings, more visible at a distance than pardeh and colourposters, and more robust than posters. The single portraiture of Imam Ali, Imam Husayn and al-Abbas has a strong representative value. Combining the three portraits offers the possibility of conveying their personal characteristics and deeds as embodiments of the Quranic revelation. The message is underlined by the verbal references in the wall hangings. The two new figurative designs discussed here are therefore symbolically rich, but offers more narrative clues than, for example the shrine and tent design. Compared with the religious poetry, the wall hangings in Figures 28 and 30 may therefore resemble the rowzeh, which gives more attention to detail, rather then the nowheh. They demonstrate each individual’s specific status, Al-Abbas the persistent supporter, Ali the guide and leader and Husayn the defender. An overall context is produced by linking the three figures together and moving beyond the immediate position that enclose each one of them. This overall context is the history of Islam, the true religion and the ahl al-bayt as its guarantor and defenders. This overall context is also reflected in the many references to the twelve Imams and Fatemeh. These parchams are thus not strictly Karbala images, but represent a broader Shia identity and worldview.

Concluding Remarks Contemporary wall hangings introduce three signifying devices: the iconographic sign, inscriptions and colour symbolism. The iconography draws from a conventional visual language. Compared with other visual forms of Karbala narratives, such as pardeh and tile-paintings, the style is simplified but the symbolic significance is complex. The figurative sign or actor-narrator is sometimes a person, for example, al-Abbas, Sakineh, Imam Ali, Imam Husayn and Ali Asghar, more often an animal, typically a horse and most commonly an object,

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such as a hand, water skin, shield, shrine and tent. The story represented in wall hangings has to be constructed around these signs. The status of a sign a communicative vehicle may change from one wall hanging to another. In complex sign designs, tent and shrines are relegated to the upper margin and serve to provide a spatial and spiritual context for a core sign, for example the horse. In other programmes, tent and shrine are presented as core signs. By moving the two signs into the central field of the visual plane they function as signifiers of the event at Karbala, as well as of Shia theology. A sign may have a strong influence on how a viewer interprets an image. In the wall hangings, the horse’s head and front foot function as a pointer, directing the viewer-narrator’s attention to certain objects. The horse can also function as a focalizer, the tear in the eye influencing the viewernarrator’s perception and emotion. When persons, for example, al-Abbas and Sakineh are included in the iconography, a narrative can be formed on the basis of interaction between the two and the context surrounding them. Associating the choreography with scenes in the verbal storytelling tradition, dialogue and exclamations can be read into the iconography. Inscriptions are important communicative tools which serve to anchor the interpretation of figurative signs. In the wall hangings, inscriptions identify characters and point to the relationship between an object and an absent character. The repeated presentation of certain names consolidates the word’s power to signify by convention and viewers recognize the calligraphy and know its meaning although they cannot read. Captions complement the purpose of iconography in honouring, saluting and praising holy personage. In addition, inscriptions may complement iconography from a connotational viewpoint. Poetry and eulogies enhance a sad emotional temperament which, together with the visual language, phrases a visual lamentation. Most wall hangings have a black background. Culturally, the black colour symbolizes mourning. Similar to the manipulated voice of a storyteller and an elegist, the colour functions to instigate in the recipient sad emotions and mournful attitudes. The black background is central to defining a wall hanging as a ritual object which is used to express condolence. As such they are popular object for decorating the interior walls of ritual locations. Imam Husayn is the main character of the drama at Karbala, but most wall hangings refer to his half-brother and standard-bearer, al-Abbas. Al-Abbas is regarded as Husayn’s most faithful supporter and friend and he is one of the most popular intercessors in Shiism. Visitors to rituals describe him as Husayn’s attendant in the process of mediation. In addition, al-Abbas is himself an important intercessor and is commonly known as bab al-havaij, ‘The Gate to the Wishes’. He is known to be particularly eager and impatient to help anyone who asks for his assistance, and many believers recount stories about how he has helped them. The al-Abbas-iconography recounts the story of Karbala, reminds people of why they have come to the ritual and helps them cry. It also indicates

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a sense of hope, that worshippers can put their trust in al-Abbas and the martyrs at Karbala. Wall hangings produced in Iran draw on the cultures’ long tradition of ashura commemoration rituals, inspired by processions, theatre, visual-narration rituals, verbal storytelling and lamentation poetry. The inscriptions in wall hangings purchased in Iraq refer to the Quran, and salute the holy personage. That is not to say that the Shia in Iraq do not have an elaborate tradition of ashura commemoration, but its vernacular is not reflected in the contemporary wall hangings brought from Iraq to Iran through pilgrimage.

Chapter 7

The Representation and Reception of Karbala in Colour Posters

Contemporary Karbala narratives presented in colour posters are organized into episodic presentations of the battle. Some episodes are more commonly illustrated than others and there are various ways of visually narrating the same episode. In the following, I offer some examples which are organized according to the chronology of the historical event, inspired by hagiographic literature and ta´ziyeh performance schedules. The strategy offers an opportunity to study various characters and episodes, and to treat each representation as part of a larger context. The larger context is the story about the battle at Karbala, as well as the relevance of the event at Karbala to Shia belief and piety. The colour posters were bought or registered in Teheran, Qum, Mashhad, Nishapur and Shiraz between 1999 and 2003. They are representative of a popular artistic style and a genre of religious images prevailing at the time, although other motifs and styles also existed during the same period. Contemporary colour prints referring to the battle at Karbala follow a conventional iconographic language which seems to be well known among religious beholders. Typically, local viewers can identify time, place, characters and event. Local observers know exactly when, where, who and why. Isolated scenes from the narrative pardeh-dari paintings now serve as models for designs in mass-produced posters. To illustrate this point, and to establish a background for discussing variety in iconographic designs and interpretive strategies I present a printed drawing, see Figure 18, in the style of a pardeh-like visual narrative. The print was on display in a husayniyyeh during matam and mowludi ceremonies. The image is rather small, about 22 × 34 cm, and should not be expected to be part of any ritual involving the oral narration of the battle of the Karbala in the style of the pardeh-dari ritual. The owner of the husayniyyeh did not recall who gave the image to the assembly hall, but suggested it was at least thirty years old. The print is a popularization of the classical pardeh-dari painting and represents a phase between the large-scale, hand-made, complex narrative style of the pardeh and contemporary single-episode posters. The print is the only of its kind I registered. The motif has, however, been reproduced in several publications, but scenes and characters have not been identified and the inscriptions have not been translated.1 That is another motivation for presenting a detailed description of the image.

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When looking at the print in Figure 18, the viewer encounters a visual plane in which many scenes are presented simultaneously. The description and interpretation of the image start from the left lower corner and I call the first scene ‘A’. (A) In the lower left corner is al-Abbas on his white horse at full gallop in the river. He is bearded and wears a green helmet decorated with two white feathers. Around his head is a yellow sun disk. His pants are red. He has a water skin under his right arm, a shield in his left hand and a sword in his right. On his left side gallops a brown horse, carrying a horseman. The horseman is dressed in a yellow coat, and a red band marks his helmet. AlAbbas is about to behead the horseman. Behind them is a palm grove and a man on a horse hides among the trunks, observing the horse and its rider in the river. In the recounting of Ali Hussain Jalali, the man among the trunks is identified as Zayd Ibn Ruqad.2 He has a sword raised in his hand. Later, he will appear from his hiding place to cut off al-Abbas’ right hand. In the blue river floats a helmet. Beyond is a group of soldiers on horses, all dressed in the same attire as the horseman next to al-Abbas. Some soldiers ride away from al-Abbas and the antagonist, while some approach them. In the river below the horse, is a severed head. Above this scene is written in Persian, Jang-e Abu al-Fazl, alayhu al-salam, Nahr al-Game, ‘The battle of Abu al-Fazl, Peace be upon him, at the River of al-Game’. (B) Above is a scene showing a young man on a galloping white horse. He wears a helmet decorated with two white feathers and a green veil. There is a yellow sun disk around his head. He is dressed in a white shroud, red pants and sandals. In his right hand he drags a man by his head. A helmet and a sword lie on the ground in front of the horse, and a shield is placed next to it. Squeezed under the horse’s front legs is the head of a soldier, his tongue sticking out of his mouth. There are two young heroes in the family of Imam Husayn: Ali Akbar and Qasem. The figure in this drawing is supposed to represent Qasem, Husayn’s nephew. For example, Ali Hussain Jalali writes that Qasem was wearing sandals during his combat. Jalali recounts that during the fight, a strap on one sandal came off and Qasem stopped to fix it. Jalali then offers his readers an interpretation of the symbolic meaning of Qasem’s gesture: Qasem acted ‘as if to say that all of these soldiers are not even worth his one sandal’.3 Moreover, in the ta´ziyeh collected by Pelly, Husayn appears to tell his sister Zaynab to wrap the winding-sheet around Qasem’s body.4 To the left of the scene is written, Jang janab Qasem, alayhu al-aslam, ba pesaran Azraq, ‘The battle of His Highness Qasem, Peace be upon him, with the sons of Azraq’. (C) The section above depicts another battle scene involving many participants. At the centre is a young man on a white horse. Around his head is a yellow sun disk. The man wears a green helmet decorated with two white feathers. Attached to his body armour is a green cloth. Alone, he combats

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a large group of soldiers dressed in yellow coats and helmets with a red band. Behind and below his horse are fallen soldiers and horses; beyond wait more soldiers ready to fight. This is Ali Akbar, the eldest son of Imam Husayn. In the ta´ziyeh libretto collected by Pelly, Ali Akbar refers to this garment as a ‘nuptial garment’, applied to celebrate his battle.5 Above the scene is written: Jang hezrat Sayyed al-Shuhada, alayhu al-salam, ‘The battle of His Excellency, Lord of the Martyrs, Peace be upon him’. On the basis of a consistent use of iconographic signs, the viewer can distinguish two parties and make an evaluation of their standing. The men designed with a sun disk around their head are the protagonists, the holy combatants. The men dressed in yellow attire are the antagonists, the soldiers of the Caliph’s army. Bravery and skill are displayed by the faithful supporters. (D) In the top left corner is placed a large group of people, divided into various positioning of soldiers. In the first row is a soldier in yellow dress, kneeling, while holding a bow and an arrow in his hands, ready to shoot. Below the soldier is written the name Hermaleh Mal’un. In the rowzeh of al-Abbas, Hermaleh is mentioned as the one who amputated the arms of al-Abbas. Next to him can be seen a row of soldiers on horses and among them, an elderly man with a long white beard. This is Ibn Ziyad, the commander of Caliph Yazid’s army. Behind them are rows of soldiers on horses, and at the very back, endless rows of men wearing coats in various colours. Those on the front lines carry banners and those further back carry spears. The soldier ready to shoot the arrow faces a scene with a man on a white horse, holding a child in his arms. (E) The horseman is Imam Husayn, and the child is Ali Asghar. Above them are two small angels. The episode depicted is when Imam Husayn, following the death of al-Abbas, took the infant Ali Asghar with him to the enemy’s army and appealed for water for the child. The enemy responded by shooting an arrow at the heart of the baby, and it died while in the arms of the Imam Husayn. It thus appears that Hermaleh also killed Ali Asghar. According to the hagiography, the Imam caught some of the baby’s blood in his cupped hand and threw it into the sky saying, ‘O, God, You are witness to what they have done!’6 This is the gesture Imam Husayn is depicted doing in the print. To the left of Husayn and Ali Asghar is written, Meidan Bordan hezrat Ali Asghar, alayhu al-salam. ‘The field of carrying, Honourable Ali Asghar, Peace be upon him’. To the right is written a poem, probably a nowheh. (F) To the right of the A-scene, are two men dressed in the antagonists’ attire. Between their heads is written the name of two men, Shimr and Sennan Ibn Annas. Immediately to their left is a scene in which a man partly lies, partly sits on the ground on a large circular yellow mat, supporting himself by his right hand. He is a mature man, to judge by his beard. He wears a green shawl around his head, which is framed by a yellow sun disk. He wears a white shroud, and white pants. Numerous red arrows pierce his body.

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Next to him sits an angel, who holds a cup towards his mouth. This is Imam Husayn lying wounded on the battleground, surrounded by soldiers from the enemy, looking at him. The white horse seen galloping away from Imam Husayn is connected to the episode, although it is also perceived as an autonomous actor in the story. This is Zu al-Jenah. He too is pierced with arrows. As he leaves Imam Husayn, he turns his head to look back. Above the horse is written: Bargashtan Zu al-Jenah, ‘The retreat of Zu al-Jenah’. According to the hagiographic presentation of Jalali, the men surrounding Imam Husayn decided not to capture the horse, but leave it alone to see what it would do. The horse returned to Imam Husayn, sniffed his body and went back to the camp.7 (G) Above is another battle scene. Here, the viewer can observe Imam Husayn on his white horse attacking enemy soldier on his horse. Husayn cleaves the man in two halves with his sword, in a manner similar to that of Ali in the combat scenes from the nineteenth century (see Chapter 3). Beyond more soldiers are ready to attack Imam Husayn. Below the horse are several slain men from the enemy. Above the scene is written, Jang hezrat sayyid al-Shuhada, alayhu al-salam, ‘The battle of Honourable, Lord of the Martyrs, Peace be upon him’. (H) In the upper centre field of the drawing Imam Husayn is depicted on his white horse, dressed in his conventional attire: green head cover and white shroud. His head is framed by a sun disk halo. A man dressed in typical dervish attire addresses him. The dervish is known as the ‘Dervish from Kabul’. In the ta´ziyeh collection of Pelly, the dervish from Kabul appears in the episode presenting the martyrdom of Imam Husayn.8 In the print, the dervish offers his beggar cup to the Imam. In the ta´ziyeh libretto, the dervish explains to Husayn that during the night he heard a child bemoaning and complaining of thirst. He has therefore brought some water for the child, if he could only find it. Husayn discloses that the thirsty child is his daughter. By this gesture, the dervish has revealed his compassionate nature. When the dervish explains that he intends to visit the tomb of Imam Ali, ‘The successor of the chosen of God’. He also expresses his support for the cause of the ahl al-bayt and Imam Husayn grants him the honour of becoming a martyr at Karbala. The dervish is then killed by the soldiers of general Ibn Sa’d. To the left of the group is written, Ab avardan Jabril be surat dervish, ‘Water brought by Gibril (the archangel) in the form of a dervish’. (I) Sunrays shine from above towards Husayn. To the left, a scene depicts a line of creatures with horse legs and human-like faces dressed in red caps, blue jackets and red pants. In the ta´ziyeh episode Pelly collected about the martyrdom of Imam Husayn, Husayn is approached by the king of jinns, Ja’far. Together with his troops, the king has come to assist Husayn whose supporters are by now killed. Again Husayn refuses assistance and states

Representation and Reception of Karbala in Posters

( J)

(K)

(L)

(M)

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that he longs for his martyrdom. Above the group is written, Amadan aljenne, ‘The jinns arrive.’ Next to the group of jinns, a person dressed in blue garment is riding a camel. This could be Husayn’s faithless camel-driver. In Pelly’s ta´ziyeh collection there is an episode devoted to this character. After the battle, the Caliph’s army retreated to Damascus.9 The Imam’s camel-driver was left on the field, and was overcome by greed and plundered the dead bodies of Husayn’s supporters. Here, however, the text written to the left of the figure informs us, Amadan qased az Madineh, ‘The messenger from Medina arrives’. To the right of the sunrays are positioned a row of angels, dressed in yellow and green. When Husayn is left to fight the enemy alone on the battleground, the angels in heaven ask the archangel Gibril permission to assist the Imam. According to a ta´ziyeh collected by Pelly, the archangel prohibits them to do so, replying that God has ordained the following: ‘from this circumstance, Husayn’s mediation will be proved, and the salvation of his fellow-creatures be effected through his martyrdom’.10 However, the angels may descend to comfort Husayn, and if he wishes, they may also help him. Imam Husayn rejects their assistance to ‘destroying thine enemies with the tips of our wings’.11 To the left of the drawing is written, Amadan mala’ik be yari hezrat Sayyed al-Suhadat, ‘The angels arrive to help His Honourable, Lord of the Martyrs’. Below the jinns stands a group of men dressed in green headgear and cloaks in various colours. A cloud surrounds their feet, adding a mystical quality to their presence. These are the previous prophets in Islam manifesting themselves to help Husayn. Below the group is written, Amadan anbiya, alayhu al-salam, be yari hezrat Sayyed al-Suhadat ‘The prophets arrive, Peace be upon them, to help His Honourable, Lord of the Martyrs’. The following scene depicts Imam Husayn in a white shroud on his horse. Both are pierced with many arrows, and bleeding. In front of them stand two men. One wears a crown. At their feet lies a lion. The man with the crown is Sultan Qa’is, the other is his slave. While Imam Husayn was fighting at Karbala, he was approached by an angel who alerted him to the needs of a friend in Hind (India).12 Husayn was miraculously transported to the country where he found a royal hunter in pursuit of a deer. Separated from his followers, he is faced by a raging lion standing in his path ready to destroy him. Husayn addresses the lion and asks how he dared attack a faithful Shia. The lion asks for mercy. Anxious to serve Husayn the lion begs him to be allowed to join the ranks at Karbala and fight in defence of the faith. But the lion is denied the right to become a martyr. Nevertheless, Husayn requests the lion to be of assistance to his sister Zaynab after he and his soldiers have been beheaded. The lion is asked to protect their slain bodies. Husayn then returns to the battle

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(N)

(O)

(P)

(Q)

Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiism at Karbala. To the left of the group is written, Najat dadan hezrat Sayyed al-Shuhada, alayhu al-salam, sultan Qa’is, ‘His Honourable, Lord of the Martyrs, Peace be upon him, saving the Sultan Qa’is’. The scene above shows the slain, beheaded followers of Imam Husayn. A lion guards them. Nearby stands a woman on a hillock, her gestures indicating lamentation. To the right of the dead bodies is written: Na’sh-haye Shuhada, Peace be upon them, ‘The dead bodies of the Martyrs, Peace be upon them’. The hagiography tells that Umar Ibn Sa’ad remained at Karbala until the eleventh of Muharram, his men occupied with looting the camp of Imam Husayn and burying his dead soldiers.13 The body of Imam Husayn and his followers were left unburied, while their heads were brought to the court in Damascus. In his account, Zakir informs his readers that Zaynab watched the battle of her brother from a hillock near the camp, and that this hillock is known today at Karbala as ‘Zaynab’s hillock’.14 The text on the drawing informs the viewer, however, that the woman is called Fezzeh: Amaden Fezzeh nazd shir va emdad khastan, ‘Fezzeh arrives near the lion to help’. Imam Husayn, dressed in a white shroud, leads a group of people in prayer. Two men stand guard in front of him and a soldier sits on the ground next to them. There are two important situations related to prayer in the story about Karbala. The first supposedly took place in Husayn’s camp on the night of the ninth of Muharram. Umar ibn Sa’d was planning to attack the camp during the night. Imam Husayn sent al-Abbas to request a delay until the next day to allow them to pray to the Lord, and recite from the Quran. The request was granted. In the Karbala narrative, the sermon is important because this is when Imam Husayn is supposed to have stated to his followers that he would be killed the following day, and he offered them to leave. They, however, stated their support and willingness to fight with the Imam. The other prayer incident is supposed to have taken place in the camp at noon of the tenth of Muharram. Imam Husayn prayed with the rest of his followers while the battle was already being fought with large losses on both sides. The text in front of Imam Husayn explains that the people are praying namaz zuhr ashura, ‘The afternoon prayer on Ashura’. Two of Husayn’s followers, Zuhayr and Sa’id, are situated in front of the Imam to protect him.15 During the prayer, the enemy is said to have attacked with arrows and Sa’id is reported to have fallen. A scene in the upper right corner depicts Imam Husayn in the camp holding a young wounded man in his arms. Lamenting women and children surround them. The scene corresponds to an episode in the ta´ziyeh collection of Pelly, in which Husayn and his family lament the loss of the martyrs at Karbala.16 More specifically, the text in the print informs the viewer that the protagonist in this scene is Hezrat Ali Akbar, and greets him, alayhu al-salam. To the left of the lamenting group is depicted a woman introducing two children. This is Zaynab with her two young sons, A´un and Muhammad,

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said to be about ten and nine years old.17 Despite their young age, Zaynab appealed to her brother Imam Husayn, to let her boys participate in the battle. They were permitted to enter the battle and were killed. The text to the left of the group reads, Pesaran hezrat Zaynab, alayhu al-salam, ‘The sons of the Lady Zaynab, Peace be upon them’. (R) Behind Zaynab and her two sons, a man is depicted lying in the tent and attended to by a woman. The man is Imam Husayn’s son Zayn al-Abedin. During the battle he lay ill in fever. After the battle was over and the camp looted, some of the Caliph’s soldiers threatened to kill him, but he was spared. He became the fourth Imam. The text above the scene names him and greets him: Hezrat Sajjad, alayhu al-salam. The composition in the framed print resembles the pardeh-dari genre, but it is not a pardeh-dari image. It is too small to be utilized for such a ritual purpose and its narrative layout does not follow the formula of the pardeh, which should be read from left to right. Instead, the various scenes are distributed across the visual plane of the image and the viewer has to make out the chronology of the story for himself/herself. Thematically, there is some correspondence to the pardeh in that it deals with the battle at Karbala, but there are no references to heaven and hell. There are, however, references to the repertoire of ta´ziyeh productions. The main theme in ta´ziyeh productions is the battle at Karbala. The battle is often situated within a broader narrative of Islamic sacred history, including the life and death of various prophets, the fate of Fatemeh and Imam Ali, the prelude to the battle at Karbala, the battle itself and its aftermath. Each theme is divided into many episodes, highlighting the destiny of the protagonists.18 The theme in the image in Figure 18 concentrates on the time of the battle and highlights the destiny of each noble protagonist. In addition to being a historical introduction the presentation is infused with mythical and miraculous events. This is also a typical trait of ta´ziyeh productions. A reconstruction of the chronology of the hagiographic storyline in the print in Figure 18 is the following: The death of Ali Akbar (C), the death of Qasem (B), the battle of Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas (A),19 the attack on Ali Asghar (D and E), the angels approach Imam Husayn (K), Imam Husayn rescues Sultan Qa’is from the jaws of a lion (M), the lamentation of Husayn and his family for the loss of Ali Akbar (P), the arrival of the dervish from Kabul (H), the arrival of the jinn (I), the arrival of prophets (L), the messenger from Medina (J), the afternoon prayer (O), Zaynab with her two sons (Q), the martyrdom of Husayn (G and F), the lion guarding the dead (N), and Zayn al-Abedin ill in fever (R). The chronology may be of slightly different order in various ta´ziyeh productions but the young members of the family and supporters will die first, then other individuals and creatures will come to offer their assistance to Husayn, which he refuses. Next Husayn enters into battle and is martyred. Last appears the scene from the aftermath. In contemporary prints each image depicts an event from the battle or its aftermath, although some prints show a collage of several events, combined

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with portraiture. The denotative aspect of these prints is closed. The characters depicted are Ali Akbar, Qasem, al-Abbas, Ali Asghar, Husayn, Zaynab, and other women and children in the family. The events focus on the battle and the aftermath. The connotative aspect is, however, open, and different themes can be read into the images, for example, heroism, martyrdom, passion, mourning and redemption. I invited several local viewers to comment on the prints. Typically, they all had a story to tell when they looked at the pictures. Their accounts were related to something they had read or heard, perhaps at a rowzeh. They knew the hagiographic legends and associated the motifs in the pictures with these stories. Whether a representation was acceptable or not was decided upon according to several criteria. Although viewers knew that the visual representations did not give an authentic account of the unfolding of the battle, the visual account should be accurate according to the accepted procedures of the event. Another important criterion was the viewer’s pre-established perception about the individual depicted and his or her character and aim. Such preestablished perceptions influenced viewers’ interpretations of the images, as well as the evaluation of the quality of the representation. Which moments are visually narrated in contemporary colour posters? How is each moment framed according to a point of view, and how is this expressed in the iconography? How do local viewers respond to the motifs?

Ali Akbar The main protagonist in Figures 39, 40 and 21 is Ali Akbar, Imam Husayn’s son. Posters representing Ali Akbar are on display in temporararily constructed takiyyeh during Muharram, in peoples’ homes and in shops. The visual representation of Ali Akbar is a rather novel introduction in the Shia iconography. According to Peterson’s observations, there is no pre-Qajar tradition for visually depicting Ali Akbar and he suggests the appearance of a visual language illustrating the young martyr is related to the development of ta´ziyeh productions.20 Combat scenes between Ali Akbar and his enemies can also be observed in lithographed books produced in the nineteenth and early twentieth century and in tile-paintings in takiyyeh from the first half of the twentieth century.21 In these images Ali Akbar is depicted in the turmoil of battle confronting the grim enemies and brutally killing them by splitting them in two. The poster in Figure 39 is less graphic when it comes to depicting violence. It does, nevertheless, give a convincing picture of Ali Akbar as brave and cunning in battle. The poster in Figure 39 is a collage composed of Ali Akbar’s imaginary portrait and a narrative illustration of him in combat at Karbala. The introduction of a single portrait allows for detailed description of facial expressions and traits. The portrait presents a young man with traces of facial hair and a light moustache. He has delicate shaped eyebrows and long eyelashes like a woman and the feminine traces give him a tender look. His eyelids are heavy and his

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gaze averted. He has long dark hair, partly covered by a helmet with light chain mail decorated with green fabric. A sunray-halo merging yellow, green and white colours on a blue and black background surrounds the head. The halo indicates the holiness of the portrayed. The dry, cracked lips inform the viewer about his physical condition, he experiences thirst. In the narrative below, Ali Akbar is depicted attacking an opponent from his white horse. He is dressed in a helmet on which is attached a green cloth. A brown vest covers a white shroud. Ali Akbar’s sword is raised against the opponent. The drama is accentuated by the notion that the horses are also fiercely fighting each other. The hooves of Ali Akbar’s white horse stretches out as if aiming a blow to the crouched brown horse of the opponent. The enemy’s horse has fallen and his rider is about to be squeezed under him. The juxtaposition of the portrait of Ali Akbar and the Karbala narrative underscores the disposition of the protagonist. There is a sharp contrast between the gentle, serene, facial expression in the portrait, and the energy and courage displayed in the narrative below: His temperament is modest and humble, but his character is such that he will stand up and fight. In contemporary prints, Ali Akbar is not provided with any particular iconographic attributes. His youth is perhaps the most obvious sign of identification, when compared with other prominent fighters at Karbala, such as the older al-Abbas and Husayn. Nevertheless, to secure identification of the motif an inscription below the image informs the viewer that this is an effigy, timthal, of the ‘Blessed Honourable Ali Akbar, Peace be upon him’. Iconographically, the poster applies certain strategies in narrating the story of Karbala which is repeated in many posters. Although the depiction in the lower section represents a particular event, the story narrated anticipates its future result. While the viewer can observe Ali Akbar fighting fiercely, the viewer is simultaneously informed about the outcome of this battle, his death. The technique applied is to present simultaneously a combination of signs, in fact layers of signs. Ali Akbar’s warlike outfit and his raised hand holding a sword are indexical signs generally pointing to warfare and battle. The white shroud he wears under the coat of mail is, however, a cultural specific sign. Iconically it points to the white shroud, kafan, Muslims are draped in when buried. The fact that Ali Akbar is depicted wearing the shroud while fighting, points to his death in the future. Ali Akbar’s voluntary sacrifice at Karbala is also elaborated in a libretto in Pelly’s collection from 1879. May I be a ransom for thee, O thou full moon of the heaven of glory! May I be a sacrifice for thy stature and visage! . . . it is time we should freely give our life for the sake of the thirsty-lipped king (Imam Husayn). O sire, I greatly wish to stroll about in the garden of delight. I have, in a word, made up my mind to go to Paradise.22 Ta´ziyeh productions typically present a discussion between father and son on the issue of Ali Akbar’s participation in the war. Ali Akbar insists on going while

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Imam Husayn tries to prevent him, although he knows the son is already destined to fight and die. The aunt, Zaynab, begs Ali Akbar to stay, and his mother, Umm Layla, laments his departure. Eventually Husayn accepts to sacrifice his son and declares, ‘I have given up my son Ali Akbar for the people of my grandfather the Prophet’.23 Zaynab is then asked by Imam Husayn to dress Ali Akbar in a white shroud. The white shroud is also used in contemporary ta´ziyeh productions, see the photograph in Figure 16 from an episode called ‘Ali Akbar’ performed in Shiraz in 1999 by a company from Shiraz. The representation in Figure 39 is thus not simply a historical narrative. It is the account of a sacred history combining the theological idea about the battle at Karbala as a predestined divine plan, with the mythologized notion of the protagonists’ willingness to die. They become part of God’s plan by, on the one hand, being predestined to do so and, on the other hand, by willingly choosing to participate in the plan. Imam Husayn is the most central figure in this drama but as this visual representation shows, his family members are included in the plan. The illustrations in Figures 40 and 21 depict a later stage in Ali Akbar’s engagement at Karbala. In Figure 40, two figures are placed on a vast field dominating most of the poster’s visual plane. The wounded Ali Akbar lies in the foreground supported by Imam Husayn who kneels behind him. Ali Akbar’s chest is pierced by two arrows. His head is tilted sideways so the viewer can see his young face, his light moustache, and the blood running from his forehead. His left hand falls down along his body and touches his sword lying on the ground next to him. There are red spots on the sword, pointing to blood and indicating that it has been used in battle. Next to Ali Akbar is a shield, on which it is written Allahu Akbar, ‘God is Greater’. Husayn has brought his right hand to his face and covers his eyes. Behind them lies a brown horse on the ground, pierced by arrows and surrounded by red patches. More slain horses lie scattered on the plain, in addition to shields, swords and spears. To the left of the two men the viewer can observe a white horse looking at Husayn and Ali Akbar. The horse functions like a pointer in a manner similar to that observed in several wall hangings discussed above. Behind the horse is a row of soldiers on horses. The first soldier holds a standard with a green flag in his hand. On his coat of mail is written: ‘( . . . ) al-Abbas’. The inscription is probably intended to identify the combatant as al-Abbas. Next to him stand men dressed in helmets and green head bands. They are positioned in front of a camp in which a large green tent topped with a red pennant is surrounded by white tents, also topped with green pennants. This is the camp of Husayn. To the right of the two men can be seen countless numbers of soldiers, merging into an infinite crowd. This group represents the army of Caliph Yazid. The sky is painted red, yellow and orange. The text placed on the upper left part of the poster explains: Timthal hezrat Ali Akbar, alayhu al-salam, hengam shahadat ruz Ashura der daman pedar buzurgvar Khoda, hezrat Aba Abd Allah al-Husayn, alayhu al-salam, ‘Effigy of his Honourable Ali Akbar, Peace be upon him. At the time when he became a martyr on ashura, in the lap of his great father, his Honourable Aba Abd Allah al-Husayn. Peace be upon him’.

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The face is an important key to the identification of someone’s character, and its communicative advantage can be observed in Figure 40. Ali Akbar’s face does not express distress despite the pain which the many arrows and the wound in his head are expected to have inflicted. Ali Akbar’s face is on the contrary relaxed, the eyes are closed, his head rests in his father’s lap, and he seems peaceful. Ali Akbar’s serene attitude is also expressed in a ta´ziyeh libretto impersonating the juvenile.24 I, being a sacrifice, must proceed towards the altar, and being a traveller on the way of faith, must repair to my destiny. We may see one another on the Day of Resurrection. I therefore bid adieu to all the family, and say, God keep you! The lines are presented at the conclusion of a longer exchange between Ali Akbar and his sister Sakineh, who urges him to avoid fighting. The libretto gives an example of how in popular piety Ali Akbar’s intentions and perceptions of his role in the battle are linked to the idea of sacrifice. He is destined to be a sacrifice and this is a duty that eventually will be rewarded with resurrection. In the poster in Figure 40 the viewer-narrator is introduced to a wounded and dying actor-narrator who, nevertheless, is composed as if accepting pain, sacrifice and martyrdom. Imam Husayn is depicted comforting and mourning his dying son. The Imam is not depicted weeping, but the gesture of concealing his face with the hand is a gesture performed by believers to establish some privacy while collectively mourning and weeping during ritual performance, for example while listening to the recitation of a rowzeh. Chelkowski has, moreover, drawn attention to the iconographic resemblance between paintings and ta´ziyeh productions representing Imam Husayn mourning his dying son Ali Akbar, and the famous hero Rustam from the Persian epical drama Shah-Nameh, comforting his dying son Sohrab.25 The iconographic connection between the two stories and their representational forms can also be deduced from Ali Bulookbashi’s biographical note on the late famous coffeehouse painter, naqqashi qahveh-khane, Muhammad Mudabber in Teheran.26 As a child Mudabber used to recite the part as one of Muslim Ibn Aqil’s two children in ta´ziyeh performances at the Takiyyeh Dawlat.27 Muslim Ibn Aqil was Imam Husayn’s cousin and acted as his envoy to Kufa to asses the situation before Husayn decided to intervene in the conflict brewing in the town. Muslim was accompanied by his two young sons, and after initial negotiations between Muslim and the Kufans they were assassinated by the Caliph’s representatives. The martyrdom of Muslim and his two sons are re-enacted in ta´ziyeh episodes and young boys cast as the sons of Muslim. At the age of 12 Mudabber undertook the apprenticeship under the famous coffeehouse painter Ustad Ali Reza, and eventually developed his own style as a coffeehouse painter. The themes painted on canvases and tiles in coffeehouse paintings were selected from the famous Persian historical epic Shah-Nameh, and from the story about the battle at Karbala. Both narratives include tales about battles, heroes, bravery and the death of innocents,

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and like other coffeehouse painters Mudabber developed his thematic repertoire inspired by both dramas. As Chelkowski notes, iconographic signs were exchanged between the two genres and borrowings could go in both directions. For example, Rustam’s standard could be inscribed with the Quranic quotation, Nasrun min allah va fathun qaribun ‘Help from God, and victory is near at hand,’ Surat al-Saff, 61: 13, a motto generally found on flags in the ta´ziyeh perf ormance.28Nevertheless, the painters applied a repertoire of attributes that made it possible for viewers to distinguish between actors, events, time and place. Despite thematic similarities between Shah-Nameh and the event at Karbala, Shah-Nameh is an epic drama praised for its literary qualities and endorsed for its Persian nationalistic ethos. The story about Karbala is narrated to encourage religious passion, although this is sometimes exploited for nationalist purposes. Mudabber’s childhood experience of being cast as one of Muslim’s unfortunate children may have rendered him sensitive to the specific emotions underlying the story about Karbala, an insight he perhaps brought into his visual storytelling. Be that as it may, the likeness between ta´ziyeh performance and Karbala pictures is not simply iconographical but also emotional in that both are intended to inspire and arouse passion in the viewer. The above analysis suggests that the iconography shares similarities with the visual language in the secular qahveh-khane representations of Shah-Nameh, religious tile-paintings from the early twentieth century, and religious parcham in which the horse is used as a focalizer and given anthropomorphic attributes to represent the mourner. Themes from librettos in ta´ziyeh productions are translated into visual signs, and gestures are copied from the behavioural pattern of contemporary mourners in lamentation rituals. Thematically, the motif addresses sacrifice and martyrdom, as well as grief and pain. These elements are crucial in the Karbala passion as the precondition for Ali Akbar and Husayn’s position as mediators. The theme in Figure 21 addresses the martyrdom of Ali Akbar. In the foreground of the pictorial field the wounded Ali Akbar and his pose is identical to that in Figure 40. His chest is pierced with two arrows and there is a cut above his knee. His head rests on Imam Husayn’s knee. Ali Akbar’s helmet has fallen off and lies on the ground next to his shield. The most remarkable difference between the depiction in this poster and the previous, is that here Imam Husayn raises both hands and face towards the sky while looking up. His head is surrounded by a yellow sun-halo enclosed by a white mist above his head to symbolize his holiness. To his right sits an angel, its face partly covered by light coloured garments. Its head rests on its hands folded over its knees. To the right is a white tent and by the opening two women sit dressed in dark blue, chador-like garments. They have buried their heads in their hands but their dark fringe hair is visible. Across their shoulders they carry a green piece of cloth. A white dove with red spots, obviously wounded, rests by their feet. The scene is placed by a palm grove and a vast field dominates the background, scattered by red spots,

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indicating bloodshed. The iconographic visualization has a corresponding theme in a verbal visualization in a ta´ziyeh libretto, in which Ali Akbar says: ‘Behold how the land of Karbala is turned into a poppy-field through the blood of our companions shed there!’29 The blood-scattered field and the two armies refer to the battle that has already taken place and to the battle that will continue, a battle in which Ali Akbar is only one of many fallen combatants. In the horizon can be seen an infinite crowd of soldiers with their pennants raised. The sky is painted in red and yellow colours, perhaps alluding to the sunset signifying the end of the day, a powerful metaphor for the ebbing of life. At the bottom of the poster is a Persian text in Latin and Persian letters: Shadat’e Hezrate Ali Akbar (as), ‘The Martyr, the Honourable Ali Akbar, Peace be upon him’. Similar to the poster in Figure 40 the design in Figure 21 corresponds to popular narrations of the event at Karbala in other media, such as ta´ziyeh, rowzeh and older styles of iconography. In addition, Husayn’s raised hands parallel the gesture used by Shias when praising God and the saints, presenting supplications and engaging in lamentation. According to a retired female teacher, Husayn’s gesture, as well as the representation of vegetation and astronomical phenomenon, express lamentation. The poster thus offers a good depiction of Ali Akbar’s martyrdom. Husayn stretches out his arms and opens his hands. He is praying to God, lamenting. It is very emotional. Here Husayn has brought Ali Akbar to the camp. Because he is lamenting an angel joins him and cries. The palms are also affected by emotions, you see they bow down. And the sky is red because of its sorrow because a holy person is lamenting. However, local viewers presented different reactions to Husayn’s response in this poster. Some viewers recognized and sympathized with Imam Husayn’s grief, whereas others found his expression of grief improbable. Nevertheless, in a contemporary version of the rowzeh of Ali Akbar, Imam Husayn is described to respond to his son’s involvement in the battle in the following manner: Imam Husayn gave Ali Akbar permission to enter the battle. He helped him to dress in war clothes and tighten the sword around his waist. Oh, from the time Ali Akbar departed and until Husayn saw his dead body. Each father would kiss the son’s face at the night of the wedding party. But Imam Husayn had to kiss the son’s face when he was dying. He couldn’t carry the dead body of Ali Akbar to the camp, and called the youth of Bani Hashim to help him. They placed Ali Akbar in front of the camp. Umm Layla said: I cannot live after Ali Akbar.30 According to the rowzeh, Husayn accepted the son’s commitment to enter the battle, but mourned his death. Moreover, the dead body was brought back to the camp where Ali Akbar’s mother, Umm Layla, expressed her grief. The design

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in the poster in Figure 21 corresponds to the description in the rowzeh about Ali Akbar being brought back to the camp and highlights the individual sacrifice of Ali Akbar as well as the sacrifice of the fighting male relatives and the mourning female relatives. Robin Margaret Jensen has suggested that narrative images are not meant to be taken literally, but rather serve as openings to a far more complex set of layered meanings and significations.31 In a Shia context visual narratives are often interpreted as closed works, but also regarded as open works, as complex forms of expressions. For example, Ali Akbar’s youth is underlined in all three posters which in religious literature and storytelling is associated with innocence. However, he is simultaneously portrayed as a brave hero, a holy figure and a suffering martyr. The visual narratives thus convey qualities such as innocence, pain, bravery and holiness. The ta´ziyeh director I referred to above suggested posters in their narrative strategies imitate the verbal passionate storytelling rowzeh. The rowzeh-khani is supposed to tell the story about Karbala to emotionally affect the audience. The three arrows depicted in Ali Akbar’s chest and his back, are designed to underline that Ali Akbar is seriously wounded. Moreover, they are intended to attract the attention of the viewers, to stimulate and change their emotions, and make them think about what happened at Karbala. The representation is therefore manipulative, similar to the voice of rowzeh-khani. The visual language of colour prints is perhaps manipulative, but reception studies suggest that local viewers’ interpretation of the signs is often grounded in personal life experiences. An elderly man involved in a neighbourhood hay´at and in charity work though his network of merchants, argued that Husayn had worked hard to raise his son. Therefore, the actual death of Husayn took place when the youth Ali Akbar was killed. To illustrate his point, he recited a proverb, ‘Ali, in the world after you’, meaning: I don’t want to be in the world after you have left it. His voice trembled as he recited the line, his wife cried and young family members wiped their tears. Faegheh Shirazi has noted that the concept of celebrating the death of martyrs was emphasized by Ayatollah Khomeini on several occasions, and the martyr was referred to as a ‘perfect person’ and a ‘perfect son’.32 The focus in the elderly man’s interpretation is, however, founded on personal experience. He has also lost a son and he perceives this to be the real suffering symbolized by Karbala. The personal experience made the elderly man identify with Husayn and believe they shared the same pain. The son’s portrait was always present in the location where the local hay´at met to let his soul benefit from the blessings bestowed during sermons. The tendency to relate connotative interpretations to one’s own life situation was not uncommon among the viewers. A middle-aged woman, involved in the organization of mourning ceremonies for women in the local community, expressed empathy with Imam Husayn and could envision his anxiety, but mainly from her own perspective as a mother of several young sons. She said ‘It is like he [Imam Husayn] is saying, what shall I answer your mother, Umm Layla.’ The viewer-narrator did not simply relate to the iconographic content of

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the image, but applied her knowledge of the event and the characters involved and continued to read meaning out of the image. The result was an elaborated narrative comprising the broader context of the death of Ali Akbar, which allowed her to extend her sympathy to other members of the suffering family, in particular to someone being a mother, like herself. The two examples of local viewers’ reception of images presented above, focus on the hardship of loss and sacrifice. A different attitude to the nature of sacrifice was expressed by several younger viewers, who underlined sacrifice as a duty. For example, a woman in her mid-20s particularly liked the poster in Figure 40. In her opinion, ‘when a man goes to war he should expect to loose everything. Why then, should Imam Husayn cry in the manner he has been represented?’ Similarly, a young man found it unsuitable and probably incorrect to depict Husayn crying in front of his own army and the enemy. The weeping made the leader look weak. In these interviews there is a discrepancy between the older and the younger generations’ opinion on the correct attitude to sacrifice. Perhaps the difference is accidental, but it may also point to some socio-cultural tendencies. The older viewers accept the representation of Husayn grieving, and recognize the emotional dimension about the Karbala event. To some, Husayn’s grief is meaningful because it creates a framework within which they can deal with their own pain and grief. The younger interviewee did perhaps not share in that experience yet. On the other hand, the younger interviewees’ readiness to accept sacrifice as a duty could also be related to the governments’ persistent propaganda on the sanctification of martyrdom. Although these youths were not involved in religio-political activities, their mindset might still be influenced by the official point of view. On the other hand, a woman in her 20s, who often attended mourning ceremonies suggested, ‘It is strange that he [Imam Husayn] should cry for Ali Akbar, because he sent him to war and knew he would be killed.’ Contemplating the implication of this argument, she suggests the posters show that ‘Husayn was not killed for Muslims to cry for him. Rather, we should cry for ourselves and ask him to show us compassion. We should be afraid for the sins we committed.’ The young viewer interpreted the scene to state the redemptive power of Husayn’s sacrifice of Ali Akbar. The correct response for the believers would be to weep and ask for intercession, and the image was supposed to motivate that reaction. These few examples illustrate that although the iconographic signs are closed in a denotative sign, the connotational aspect is linked to personal ethical preferences, piety and life experience.

Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas Depiction of Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas at the battle at Karbala is a popular motif in contemporary posters. Posters are presented in ritual locations such as takiyyeh, imamzadeh and fatemiyyeh, in shops and other public spaces, as well as in peoples’

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homes, and presented in processions during Muharram. Similar to the history of the iconographic representation Ali Akbar, there is no pre-Qajar tradition for an iconography of al-Abbas. It is therefore likely that the iconography is modelled on his heroic portrayal on the ta´ziyeh stage.33 The discussion on contemporary wall hangings identified a set of prototypical visual signs applied to represent al-Abbas. These are a water-skin, a standard, two-feathered helmet and an amputated arm. The water-skin and standard can be categorized as core symbols, and al-Abbas is known as the water-carrier and the standard-bearer. The amputated arm may also be put in this category. Black flags applied at entrances to ritual locations often apply the cut off hand as its only sign to represent al-Abbas, the event at Karbala and all its protagonists and to announce a ceremony in their honour. The signs function to identify alAbbas, as well as to elaborate on his personal qualities, in particular, bravery and self-sacrifice. In the interpretive community these qualities are connected to the theology of redemption and mediation and many local believers perceive al-Abbas to be one of the most reliable mediators in Shiism. More complex sign compositions in wall hangings include horse, shrine, camp and river. These signs function as place markers, to underline al-Abbas’ chivalry and enhance his sanctity. The figure of al-Abbas is seldom represented. This visual langue is repeated in contemporary posters, but modern printing techniques allow elaborate use of graphic detail and colours, and al-Abbas is always represented. The poster in Figure 20 depicts al-Abbas on a white horse situated in a river. According to West’s identification of a portrait, ‘Portraits act as signifiers of the status of the individuals they represent.’34 Cross-culturally, the equestrian portrait has become an iconic sign of power and leadership, but here the equestrian portrait is framed in a context that blurs the distinction between portrait and story image so that the illustration can be read as a narrative. Water stirring around the horse’ legs indicate that the legs have just penetrated the water’s surface, and that the horse is moving ahead. Al-Abbas is dressed in armour and in his right arm he carries a flapping banner. He appears to be crossing the river and moving towards a vast field scattered by fallen horses and men and pools of blood. The colour green is used to identify the protagonists, a stage devise adopted from ta´ziyeh, in which the protagonists are dressed in green and the antagonists are dressed in red. Several of the fallen men can therefore be identified as belonging to Husayn’s camp. Accordingly, the approaching al-Abbas is dressed in a green helmet and green pants. The banner in his hand is also green and the horse carries a green band around its neck. In the near distance, to their right, is a camp with a large green tent in the centre, from which waves a red flag. This is Husayn’s tent, and it is surrounded by several white tents, illustrating his camp. Among the tents can be seen the black shapes of tall and short figures dressed in long robes, raising their arms towards the sky. They represent the scared women and children in Husayn’s camp. The battlefield and the camp are enclosed by the innumerable army of Caliph Yazid. Reorganizing the signs into a coherent narrative that corresponds with the Shia

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hagiography, the image, in short, narrates that the battle took place on a vast plane where Husayn’s companions fought against a superior force and many companions were massacred. Nevertheless, al-Abbas was committed to fight and appeared with determination on his strong horse. In the background his kin was watching and waiting in anxious anticipation. Inscriptions serve to situate the event at Karbala in a wider Islamic framework. On the green banner is written ‘Help from God, and victory is near at hand’ (Surat 61: 13). Many local viewers pointed out that the expression originally was a war cry used by Muhammad. According to the Shia commentary in the Quran edited by S. V. Mir Ahmed, the victory in question may be associated with the Prophet Muhammad’s conquest of Mecca, although Mir Ahmed also interprets the victory according to Shia understanding of the future, to refer to the ultimate triumph of Islam at the reappearance of the twelfth Imam.35 The battle at Karbala can be understood as part of that cosmic struggle. It continues the endeavour of the Prophet and secures victory until the reappearance of the twelfth Imam who will finally restore justice. The inscription has, however, also been used by the Sunnis who have inscribed the text on various implements of warfare, such as weapons, armour, banners and talismanic shirts.36 Similarly, on the shield carried by al-Abbas is written the Shia creed: ‘There is no god but God, Muhammad is God’s messenger and Ali is God’s guardian’. The creed has historically been used to decorate shields with the intention of protecting the combatant and secure victory. The invocation of Ali may also serve to associate the character al-Abbas with his father, Imam Ali, who was a forceful combatant. The excellence of al-Abbas is explicitly declared in an inscription in the upper left corner of the poster: Qamr bani Hashim. Abu al-Fazl al-Al-Abbas, alayhu al-salam. Shaja´ tarin parchamdar shah haqq, ‘O Moon of Hashim’s Clan. Peace be upon him. The Bravest Standard-bearer. The True King’. The poster in Figure 36 repeats many of the signs already mentioned and the pose is that of al-Abbas on a white bridling horse by the river. The connotational aspect has, however, shifted from referring to the victorious soldier to representing the unyielding martyr. In this representation al-Abbas does not carry chest-mail but is dressed in a white kafan. The shroud is torn, revealing al-Abbas’ naked, strong chest and muscular arms, exposing more skin than is usually tolerated according to the rules enforced by the Islamic Republic. The naked chest and arm expose bloody scars. Moreover, there is a cut on al-Abbas’ forehead and on his hand. Al-Abbas’ facial expression is determined, but he also looks worried and tired. He carries a standard with a red flag, by some local viewers interpreted to denote blood and sacrifice. In addition, he brings the water-skin, a bow and arrows. Around his head is a sun-halo and this is matched with a large, radiant full moon sending out rays of light across a dark, cloudy sky, to illuminate the river. The horse is also depicted to be muscular and vigorous, and his face looks alert. The many wounds inflicted on al-Abbas give a retrospect on the attack he has been through, whereas the torn kafan provides an excursion into the future martyrdom.

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The central motif in these two posters is the equestrian portrait. In general, the equestrian portrait has been applied to express the majesty of the leader, and his superior and exceptional character.37 The model was the ancient Roman statue of the emperor Marcus Aurelius. The genre became very popular in fifteenth-century Italy for commemorating military heroes and soon spread to other countries. It is not a great surprise to find the equestrian portrait copied in Iran, since Iranian monarchic portraiture painting was inspired by European tradition already in the early nineteenth century.38 With regard to Figures 20 and 36 there is, however, a fine line between portraiture and hagiographic narrative. The skilful combination of a few signs, such as the iconic red scars and the symbolic kafan, frame the portrait of the hero between past struggle and future martyrdom. Hagiography is communicated in a symbolic language to re-cast a historical event as a meta-historical event with cosmic implication. The motif in Figure 22 depicts a later episode in the Karbala narrative. The narrative strategy is similar to that in Figure 36 in that it makes use of retrospection while venturing into the future. Al-Abbas is shown seated by the river in the action of filling a water-skin. He is under attack and two arrows have pierced an already filled water-skin strapped across his shoulder. Another arrow has pierced his shoulder but he continues his task. Al-Abbas is dressed in a torn, white kafan. The combination of pieced water-skin and torn shroud indicate the trouble he endured to reach the river, as well as pointing to the price he shall have to pay for attempting to fulfil his promise. The award is, however, suggested in the sun-halo surrounding his head. His face and water-skin about to be filled is partly illuminated by a distant low moon, pointing out the water-skin as the eyecatching sign around which the theme in this motif evolves. Al-Abbas looks over his shoulder and his eyes are alert, as if paying attention to the movements of the absent enemy. Through al-Abbas’ gaze absent sign-narrators such as Caliph Yazid’s soldiers, are brought to the viewer-narrator’s attention and can be inscribed into the narration. Behind al-Abbas the rearing horse, attacked by arrows, serves the same purpose. In the upper right corner of the poster the protagonist is identified by the exclamation, ‘O Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas’. An important detail in this poster is that al-Abbas’ lips are dry (see also the portrait in Figure 1). The sign is preserved in Karbala storytelling traditions because of its condensed symbolic value. Upon studying the posters, several local viewers saw this as a sign of al-Abbas’ commitment not to refresh himself with water from the Euphrates Rivers while his kinship was still suffering from thirst. The interpretation reflects attitudes presented in the Shia theatre. In the ta´ziyeh collection by Pelly, al-Abbas is cast to utter to himself: ‘It is not right to drink water while Husayn, the King of religion, is parched with thirst; thou art a good servant indeed, do not then be so faithless.’39 The attitude is also expressed in contemporary rowzeh for al-Abbas, and in religious poetry. An elderly pious man recited the following poem in his home in Shiraz in 2001:

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With thirsty lips he went to the river and with dry lips he returned from the river. See the courage, the humbleness, and look at his greatness. The story about how al-Abbas refrained from quenching his thirst while at the river bank signifies that not only will he do his utmost to help others; he will not attend to his own needs until he has satisfied the needs of others. No wonder he is known as the bab al-havaij, ‘The Gate to the Wishes’. The motif in the posters in Figures 41 and 42 has become a prototype since it was introduced in the early nineteenth century. The scene in Figure 41 shows in the centre al-Abbas resting on the ground. Next to him sits Imam Husayn supporting al-Abbas’ head on his lap. Al-Abbas’ two arms have been amputated above the elbow and blood pours out. His chest is wounded by an arrow that has pierced his armour. The helmet is missing, displaying his long, dark, tousled hair. His eyes are closed. He is dressed in white kafan and green pants. Husayn has brought his right hand to his face and covers his eyes, as if mourning. He is dressed in helmet, white kafan and a brown vest. There is a dim yellow nimbus around his head. To their left lies the water-skin damaged by four arrows. On the opposite side of the two brothers stands a white horse. It bends the head towards the two seated men. Its facial expression is calm and composed, and the fierce gaze depicted in Figures 20 and 36 is replaced by a solemn look. In the upper right corner is a camp of white tents and to the left some palms. The sky is dark blue with a radiant full moon and sparkling stars. Conventional signs establish the event and the place. But the viewer-narrator’s attempt to interpret the meanings of what the actor-narrators possibly communicate can be pursued by investigating the relations between the characters, and their emotions. Useful viewing strategies are to focus on the spatial relationship between the characters, their physical contact, body language, gestures and facial expressions. The positioning of the heads of al-Abbas, Imam Husayn and Zu al-Jenah form an intimate sphere of relationship. The facial expression of al-Abbas is weary and grave. Death is introduced as a theme by the grieving gesture performed by Imam Husayn, covering his face with his hand. In addition, the horse stands in awe and its bent neck and solemn look express sympathy and condolence. The text above the horse expresses al-Abbas’ sentiments and echoes the content of the ta’zieh libretto presented in the wall hanging in Figure 33: va allahu inn qata´tum lamini inni uhami abadan ´an dini, ‘I swear to God, even if they chop off my hand, verily I will always protect my religion.’ Moreover, to the informed viewer, the scene illustrated is the verbal narration of the rowzeh, for example the versions presented in the discussion of the posters in Figure 29 above and 42 below. The poster in Figure 42 depicts al-Abbas resting on the ground, his back supported by Husayn who kneels behind him. Al-Abbas has lost the helmet and there is a scar on his forehead. He is dressed in armour with a green drape

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around his chest, revealing a piece of white cloth underneath. The clothing is torn and discloses bloody wounds. Two arrows have pierced the chest-mail. Al-Abbas’ two arms are amputated and a patch of blood can be seen under his back. Nevertheless, his facial expression is solemn and peaceful. Right above his head Husayn bends his face to look at his brother. Husayn is dressed in helmet and chest-mail, and his white kafan is illuminated by a yellow nimbus surrounding the heads of the two men. A shield and a sword is scattered on the ground next to them. Next to them stands a women dressed in a dark, blue chador over a white gown. Her face is replaced by a white disk although the contours of her eyes, eyebrows, nose and lips are visible. Her head is surrounded by a yellow nimbus. She bends down over the two men and in her hands she holds a red banner on which is written the slogan from the Quran, Surat 61:13, ‘Help from God, and victory is near.’ Behind her stands the white horse, also wounded by bloody scars. On his back are seated two white doves and a water skin pierced by an arrow. In the background, to the left, is a camp. Beyond is a vast plain. In the upper right corner is written, ‘The Martyr, the Honourable al-Abbas, peace be upon him’. According to a local female viewer, the woman in the poster is Zaynab. She has come to see her half-brother al-Abbas because she is worried. Al-Abbas used to guard their camp, day and night. He also used to assist her when she mounted her horse. The local viewer read into the image the emotional concern of Zaynab: ‘She is wondering, who is going to guard the camp and protect them when al-Abbas is gone.’ Reading conversation into the posters was not uncommon among local viewers. An electrician, working as a maddah for a hay’at in Shiraz, commented that when Husayn is depicted kneeling by the dying martyrs, al-Abbas and Ali Akbar, he whispers the Islamic creed in their ear.40 Ta´ziyeh librettos collected by Pelly also present conversations between al-Abbas and Husayn in which al-Abbas asks Husayn if he is pleased with him. Husayn expresses his satisfaction but also his pain. Al-Abbas then utters that he is prepared to die, and recites the Islamic creed.41 These references to conversations between Husayn and al-Abbas in older ta’ziyeh librettos and among the contemporary lay public are imaginary. They do, however, offer information about how the event is conceptualized in lived religion. To make the Karbala event alive in lived religion, the experience of the martyrs is framed in the context of peoples’ ritual practices and emphatic capacities. Reading the Islamic creed is part of the liturgy of rite-de-passage such as at name-giving and at funerals. To keep alive the memory of an event from the distant past and to evoke emotions, sympathy and support, the devotees must exercise empathy. To feel empathy requires the ability to share another person’s feelings as if they were one’s own. In general, local viewers do not have difficulties identifying the motifs in the posters, but some motifs are held to better represent historical facts and the virtue of the protagonists than others. A mature husband and wife, who were not involved in institutionalized religion but nevertheless pious, suggested that in the illustration in Figure 22, ‘. . . you can understand that the enemy tried to

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stop him by attacking al-Abbas and destroying the water-skin, but he continued and filled up the next skin. Al-Abbas is looking at the enemy with anger and although they sent an arrow in the water-skin, he is determined not to give in.’ The viewers preferred a depiction that would allow them to see beyond the immediate iconography, to let them fill in and elaborate the broader event. The visual representation functioned as a clue to unfold the drama. Looking at several other posters, the viewers’ respect for the virtues of courage governed their preferences. They preferred illustrations that revealed al-Abbas’ anger, for example reflected in his facial expressions, an emotion that symbolized his commitment to attack the enemy. These were virtues which the viewers already recognized in al-Abbas and they interpreted certain signs to underline these virtues, and other signs to undermine them. A supportive looking horse would, for example, underline al-Abbas’ commitment. The Karbala protagonists have, however, been utilized in propaganda posters distributed in Iran to promote the Islamic revolution and sustain the Republic. In posters, Zaynab has, for example, been referred to as being as eloquent as her father, Imam Ali, and her protest against the Caliph is introduced as a model for Iranian women to emulate in overthrowing the Shah.42 In the poster in Figure 42 the red banner with a Quranic citation is now in the protection of Zaynab. In Shia hagiography, Zaynab is introduced as an important witness to the event at Karbala. Moreover, due to the illness of her brother Zayn al-Abedin, who became the fourth Imam, she is described as speaking against the Caliph at his court in Damascus, defending the cause of Imam Husayn. It is, however, difficult to assign any explicit political significance to the visual vocabulary in the poster. Depending on the viewer, the representation can be interpreted to signify the responsibility now about to be transferred from Husayn to his sister Zaynab, and it can encourage viewers to be inspired by the courage of Zaynab to act against injustice in society, what ever that might be perceived to be. A comparison between the themes presented in posters and in rowzeh, can reveal which aspects of the life of the saints’ are being stressed and perceived to carry importance. A discussion of local viewers’ responses to the images might, moreover, offer information regarding how these events carry importance. The presentation of posters depicting the fate of al-Abbas at Karbala is organized in a chronological manner following the hagiographic narratives. Comparing the verbal and visual descriptions in the posters and the hagiography, there is a close correlation between themes and emotional atmosphere in the two media. Painter-narrators have, however, selected only a few episodes from the story to be illustrated. Among the most common themes depicted in contemporary prints is al-Abbas on the horse by the river, carrying the water-skin. He is also depicted in the act of filling the water-skin, although this is not very common. Otherwise, al-Abbas’ bravery is not illustrated through direct fighting but symbolically through the pain he had to endure and the sacrifice he made. Such creativity and liberty exist also in the tradition of verbal storytelling, like rowzeh. In the rowzeh presented when discussing Figure 29, the narrator

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presented an overview of the events related to al-Abba’s fate at Karbala, imitating a pardeh visual narrative. She opened with a farewell scene between al-Abbas and Zayn al-Abedin, and continued with a child asking al-Abbas for water and his mission to collect it. She described how he was tempted to drink water from the river, but refrained when recalling the thirsty in the camp. The maddah then described how al-Abbas was attacked by the Caliph’s army and his arms amputated, and closed the storytelling by elaborating on how Husayn came to hold al-Abbas’ wounded head on his knee tending to his scars, and how al-Abbas regretted that he was not able to complete his mission. A few days later in the same ritual location, and mainly for the same audience, a maddah presented a rowzeh offering a more detailed account of one episode in the drama. The maddah opened with a declamation impersonating Imam Husayn addressing his half-brother al-Abbas. Brother, the standard-bearer [alamdar] of Husayn! I was disappointed in my hope of keeping you, and the time for Kholi, Shimr, and Yazid began. Tonight Zaynab can’t sleep and in the heart of Kulsum [the wife of Abu al-Fazl] there is anxiety. She is impatient. Then followed the rowzeh: When the sound of al-Abbas was heard from the battle, Husayn went to him. He saw his brother covered with blood. He put his head on his knee. When al-Abbas couldn’t be calmed, Husayn placed his face on the face of his brother. ‘Brother, I was honoured by you. You were like a light in our night. Every night Zaynab and Kulsum were calm and slept well, because I used to tell them I have such a brother.’ Then al-Abbas said to Imam Husayn, ‘I have a wish. As long as I am alive, don’t take me to the camp. I feel ashamed I couldn’t bring the children and Sakineh water. Send my regards to Kulsum in Medina and send my regards to my mother Umm al-Banin, and tell her to take care of my children.’ Then Imam Husayn cleaned the blood from his brother’s eyes with his clothes and said, ‘Open your eyes, it’s me, Husayn, who came to see you.’ In the above version of the rowzeh of al-Abbas, the elocutionist began her account elaborating on the moment of al-Abbas’ death, and dwelled on the last encounter between Husayn and al-Abbas. By comparison, this is also the motif depicted in Figures 41 and 42. The rowzeh also focused on al-Abbas’ feeling of shame, and Husayn’s mourning for al-Abbas. Inner emotional aspects are difficult to convey in a visual language and for viewers to be able to read these connotations out of the image, prior knowledge of the story is required. The content of the various versions of rowzeh provides a ground for elaborating on the connotational aspects of the images. So does the experience of listening to rowzeh. In response to narration, listeners typically weep and lament, and beat the thighs and the chest. In a ritual setting, this is

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a communal ritualized response but it is not without personal affection. Looking at visual presentations of the fate of al-Abbas and other martyrs at Karbala does not produce the same emotional response as does listening to rowzeh in a ritual setting. Instead, images invite reflections on the purpose of the battle at Karbala and which lessons can be learned from it. The interpretation of it is grounded in people’s ideas and values. A middle-aged woman who worked as a maddah saw in Figure 20 evidence of al-Abbas’ courage. She explained that al-Abbas had killed many people in order to arrive at the river. Eventually, the enemy surrounded the palm garden where he was, and tried to kill him. Looking at the image, she said: ‘It looks like he is saying: If I cannot fetch the water, let me die!’ She went on to reflect on this moral reasoning and concluded that ‘If you are determined to do something, it is better to loose you life then be disappointed.’ Other viewers underlined the quality of honesty in al-Abbas. The motif in Figure 22 was interpreted to highlight this aspect. A young woman explained: ‘He was himself thirsty, but went to fetch the water for others. He was thinking about the thirsty ones in the camp although he himself was hurt. Being honest is an important characteristic of al-Abbas and it is represented in the picture.’ And she added, ‘If I should pick a picture for my room, it would be this one.’ The iconographic factor trigging the interpretation is the combination of al-Abbas filling the water-skin but having dry lips. A middle-aged woman also preferred this image to the others. Describing the situation, she pointed out: ‘It shows that when Abu al-Fazl filled the skins he was very thirsty. He wanted to take some water in his hand to drink, but then the memory of the thirsty lips in the camp came to him, and he couldn’t drink.’ She reflected on the dilemma, ‘He could drink and become stronger but, on the other hand, he didn’t want to return to the camp with water in his face when the people in the camp were still so thirsty.’ In her opinion, the images showed his honesty. Commitment and honesty were virtues many viewers attributed to the protagonists at Karbala, and this is an important motivation for people to respect the protagonists at Karbala and honour them. In addition, these virtues are advocated in contemporary society. In Chapter 5 I described a popular female maddah making links between the ethics of the Karbala protagonists and the ethics of contemporary society. Moreover, a young woman gave an example of a moral lesson to be learned form the event at Karbala: Umm al-Banin was the mother of Abu al-Fazl. She was also a relative of Shimr, who killed Husayn. At Karbala, Shimr sent a message to Abu al-Fazl offering him money and inviting him to join the enemy’s camp. But Abu al-Fazl refused. This shows that money is not the important thing we should think about. We should think about moral values rather than material ones. The woman’s reply demonstrates that not only religious leaders extract ethical and moral lessons from the event. Lay people use episodes from the Karbala narrative as a framework for reflecting on contemporary dilemmas, evaluating

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them and finding solutions. This does not necessarily imply copying the behavioural pattern of the protagonists, but to follow some principles they set. Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas is a very poplar saint among the Shia in Iran. He is believed to have held, and still holds, a very important formal role as Husayn’s attendant. Several informants stated, ‘If you get permission from al-Abbas, Husayn will see you.’ The expression refers to the theological dogma on intercession, promising the believers’ the opportunity to seek saints’ mediation. When looking at images of al-Abbas and commenting on them, many viewers did in fact not so much relate to the specific motif depicted in the image. Instead, the interpretation of the image shifted from being related to the iconographic representation to leap into the field of personal experiences of ‘encounters’ with Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas. Personal affection for the portrayed was often based on this kind of ‘contact’ with the saint. Below follows an example from a conversation with an elderly widow who is a frequent visitor to commemoration rituals, and who every year hosts ten days of commemoration for women in the courtyard of her home. After taking a look at the posters introduced above, she told me that different holy persons have different characteristics. To illustrate her point she told a Hadith which she then used to elaborate on the generousness of al-Abbas. In Medina there was a Jew who used to throw fire on Muhammad when he passed his house. But Muhammad never said anything to him. But one day when Muhammad passed the house, the man was not there. Muhammad went to the house to ask for him and found that he was ill. Muhammad said: I was worried about you. Imam Hassan was like Muhammad. He was very patient when facing injustice. Imam Husayn, on the other hand, was stubborn to end injustice and get his rights. Ali was something in the middle. He was stubborn to get his rights, but he was also patient and silent when facing injustice, and he was kind to the poor. Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas was even more impatient then Imam Husayn. Because of this, we will soon get our wishes from Abu al-Fazl. He is impatient to help us. But it also means that he is impatient to get his nazri [offering]. If you have had your wish fulfilled, you should hurry to give the nazri. Towards the end of her account, in which she distinguished between the characters of central members of the ahl-al-bayt, the woman concluded that al-Abbas is a most reliable mediator. Moreover, she pointed out the reciprocal relationship established between the believer and the saint in that a saint’s interventions will indebt the believer. She continued to narrate her personal experience of al-Abbas’ intervention. Now, I will tell you a wish I had. Last winter my son had a car accident. He is a bus driver and was driving the bus. In front of him was a tanker lorry. Oil was leaking from it and made the road slippery. My son lost control over the bus and drove into another car. Two persons were killed. My son was made

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responsible and had to pay blood money and go to jail. When this happened I was supposed to go to Karbala with his wife. We already had the tickets and my son told us to go. First we went to the town Qasemein, where the sixth Imam, Ja´far, is buried. I read two rowzeh and the namaz of Imam Ja´far in front of his shrine. The namaz contains 14000 salavat. When I had completed 7000 I stopped and told Imam Ja´far that I would complete the next 7000 salavat if he helped me. I asked him to help my son get back his old job in the oil company. Then I went to the shrine of Abu al-Fazl and made a nazr. I promised to give a sufreh [a votive meal] if I would see my son again as a free man. When I returned to Shiraz, my son was at the airport to meet me. He was let out of jail. They found he was innocent. He told me he would go back to his old job at the oil company. Now I have to send 7000 salavat to Ja´far, and give the sufreh for al-Abbas. I asked the host at the zaynabiyyeh to organise the sufreh now [in Muharram]. But she asked: How come, this is the time of Imam Husayn’s ceremonies? I told her I was in a hurry, Abu al-Fazl was waiting. Every time I ask Abu al-Fazl for a wish, he gives it to me. I would say: Vow to your mother [Umm al-Banin], your father [Imam Ali], and your brother [Imam Husayn] give me my wishes. Then it is impossible that he shouldn’t give it to me. The widow’s account offers an example of how the solution to an almost impossible problem is attributed to saintly intervention. It is also an illustration of the direct and personal relationship many believers feel they have with the saints. This bond gives many a sense of empowerment, of taking control of the situation; it also offers hope and encouragement in difficult circumstances. A photograph of the widow’s sufreh held in the honour of al-Abbas can be observed in Figure 43. Several local viewers told about the intervention of al-Abbas in connection with dramatic events in their life. Another example, told by a female maddah, demonstrates the prolonged relationship often established between a saint and a beneficiary and illustrates the way the saint is being inscribed into the life story of many believers. When I was nineteen years old I was four months pregnant. Then my husband and I had a car accident. In front of us was a lorry carrying steels for house building. We crashed and I had a bad injury. My left eye was almost thorn out, I was cut in the face, and the teeth were damaged. My husband lifted his hands and cried: O Abu al-Fazl, let her keep her eyes! We went to a hospital to take care of my eyes, but they sent us to another hospital to take care of the wounds in my head. They sent us to back to the first hospital. A doctor told me to wash the blood out of my mouth, so they could look at my teeth. When I saw myself in the mirror I fainted. My husband was very upset and brought me to a private hospital where he knew a doctor. Almost everyone working there were Christians, and I really liked them because they

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were so nice to me. My husband was afraid I would loose my eyesight. The doctors were worried about my pregnancy. When they found out that I had taken many x-rays, they said this could injure the child and they wanted to take it out. But I said no. I asked Abu al-Fazl to help me, to protect the child. My father used to go to Mecca. He made the pilgrimage three times. For the Isma´il sacrifice we are supposed to sacrifice one sheep. My father used to sacrifice two, of which one was for the protection of Abu al-Fazl. He also gave food to the poor. When my father saw me at the hospital, he made a nazr for Id al-Qurba. He promised to kill a sheep every year and I promised the same. My child was saved; it is Muhammad, who sits over there [a man in his twenties, sitting in the sofa listening to us]. I have given a sheep every year since. I believe I am protected by the panjtan and Abu al-Fazl. The maddah’s account demonstrates the belief in the generosity and capability of al-Abbas in mediating help in critical conditions. Al-Abbas is perceived as a patron with whom one continuously renews the relationship through privately initiated offerings although many offerings, like the sufreh and philanthropic work, also involve the community at large. The generosity of al-Abbas is also imitated in street processions during Muharram when water carriers, saqqa-khani, offer water to thirsty participants and onlookers. Sometimes young men walk around the streets carrying a water-skin on their shoulders from which they offer water, and sometimes water is offered from water containers transported on lorries, see Figure 44. On a more regular basis, the general public can satisfy their thirst at the saqqa-khaneh, ‘House of the Water-Carrier’, a stationary water-supply to be found in the bazaar and along streets. The saqqa-khaneh is typically decorated with tiles depicting scenes referring to al-Abbas’ participation at the battle at Karbala, see Figure 45. Chelkowski has described the saqqa-khaneh to symbolically counteract the thirst of Karbala. Moreover, some believers approach the water receptacle as if performing a minor pilgrimage to a tomb.43 Certainly, it offers welcoming refreshment for passers by on a warm day. The above examples illustrate the manner in which many viewers do not so much engage in an iconographic discussion of the visual representation of al-Abbas, but use images to activate a personal memory of an encounter with the saint. Nevertheless, for this process to take place, it is necessary that the iconographic re-presentation of the saint meet some of the already preconceived ideas the viewer held on al-Abbas, such as courage, honesty, sincerity and commitment.

Ali Asghar Husayn’s baby boy Ali Asghar is another popular mediator in lived religion. Like al-Abbas, he has earned this position as a mediator due to his martyrdom

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at Karbala. But whereas al-Abbas is honoured and commemorated for his bravery, honesty, as well as suffering, Ali Asghar is commemorated as the personified quintessence of the innocent victim. Contemporary colour posters depicting the fate of Ali Asghar represent Husayn on his horse, Zu al-Jenah, carrying Ali Asghar in his arms. This is a classical pose, copied out of the pardeh-dari tradition, and also depicted in lithographic prints and qahveh-khane painting.44 The hagiographic context is that the army of Caliph Yazid had placed the camp of Imam Husayn under siege, preventing the dwellers from access to water supplies from the Euphrates River. In the hagiographic literature it is recounted that Husayn eventually approached the enemy to plead water for the women and the children in the camp. To appeal to the mercy of the enemies, Husayn brought along Ali Asghar, but the enemy is said to have responded by killing the baby by sending an arrow through his throat. In the portraiture in Figure 37, Husayn, Ali Asghar and Zu al-Jenah occupy most of the visual plane, thus attracting the viewer’s attention. Perhaps the most powerful sign is Ali Asghar, resting in the crook of Husayn’s left arm, dressed in a white shirt and wrapped in a green cloth. A green headband is tightened around his forehead. In his right hand, Ali Asghar holds a red rose placed across his chest. A golden disk-halo surrounds the head of Husayn and Ali Asghar, symbolically signifying their holiness. Husayn does not carry weapon or armour, indicating he is on a non-military mission. Instead, he carries in his right hand a red standard on which is written ‘There is no god but God’ thus announcing who he represents. The white shroud anticipates the death of Ali Asghar, but the anticipation is also dealt with in other iconographic signs, in particular the tear shed from the horse’s eye. Moreover, behind Husayn, Ali Asghar and Zu al-Jenah, is depicted a camp. In front of the camp is a group of five people, of whom one is a small child. Three characters are dressed in long black coats over green dresses, and probably signify the women in the camp. The fourth, a character dressed in a green and white robe, could represent Zayn al-Abedin. Each of them is provided with a golden disk-halo to signify their holiness. Their pose and body language suggests agony. Two women kneel on the ground with head bent. The other two grown-ups have spread out the arms, and the child clings to one of the women. The scene in the background supplements the sad emotion conveyed by the weeping horse in the foreground. The child dressed in the white shroud is thus framed in an atmosphere of sadness. Although the visual language in the poster describes Husayn leaving the camp with his baby boy Ali Asghar, the main theme in the iconographic design is thus the martyrdom of Ali Asghar. The poster in Figure 38 repeats the iconographic signs necessary for identifying the characters and event depicted, and signifying their sanctity and martyrdom. However, differently from Figure 37, the scene focuses on Husayn’s return to the camp with the murdered Ali Asghar. The child has an arrow in its throat and the neck is red from his blood. Another novelty is the female covered in a black chador, standing next to the horse. She is small compared to the horse and Imam Husayn, and perhaps she is meant to represent a girl, for

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example Sakineh. Husayn’s gaze is not firm and direct, but rather evasive and blank. The same holds for the horse, which seems to be lost in distress and mourning. Moreover, also Husayn is portrayed wearing a white kafan, suggesting his suffering has not come to an end. The scene in Figure 38 is also identified by a text in Arabic saying: Shahidna ya al-Imam Husayn ma’a tifle al-radi, ‘Our Martyr Imam Husayn with infant child’. Ali Asghar is the quintessence symbol of the innocent victim. This interpretation is supported by many viewers who suggested the depictions in the two posters made them think about injustice. Most viewers commented on the emotional qualities of the illustrations. Comparing the mental aspect in the two posters, a young woman contemplated that Husayn in Figure 37 departs to the battle full of hope. In Figure 38, however, he has lost his hope. The reason is that he did not succeed in providing water to his infant child; on the contrary an arrow killed the child. In her opinion, Husayn’s facial expression reflected his hopelessness. She also attributed to the horse’s anthropomorphic qualities, suggesting that the horse’s pose indicated a sad emotion, rather than energetic force. Another female local observer interpreted both posters to represent the moment after Ali Asghar has been killed, although only the poster in Figure 38 shows any sign of the attack. She was thus critical to the representation of Husayn in Figure 37. She argued that after all Husayn was a human being and after the loss of his child he would have been grief-stricken not have been strong enough to carry the standard. Her comment illustrates an interpretive approach that focuses on the emotional aspect of the representation, rather than the historic. The emotional aspect of the event is also underlined in the verbal narratives of ritual practices. A rowzeh of Ali Asghar performed at an all-female mourning ceremony on the ninth of Muharram, 2002, describes the departure and return illustrated in the posters and elaborate on its unjust and tragic feature. Imam Husayn called Umm Layla [mother of Ali Asghar]. Bring me Ali Asghar. I want to see him before going to the battle. Zaynab brought Ali Asghar to him. She told him his mother didn’t have any milk to offer him, and Ali Asghar was about to die. The colour of his face was yellow and the lips were dry. He could no longer cry. Husayn took Ali Asghar and went to the battle, although he knew they would kill Ali Asghar with the thirsty lips, as they had killed Abu al-Fazl. He knew there was no mercy in their hearts. The enemy thought he brought the Quran to be a mediator. But Imam Husayn said: If in your mind I am guilty then this child is innocent. Take it and give it water, he is going to die. But they sent an arrow to his throat. My Asghar, the crown of my head. My Asghar, the crown of my head. Imam Husayn returned to the camp and said: They filled my Ali Asghar with liquid [meaning, his throat was filled with blood]. The sad mother of Ali Asghar asked: Why don’t you put your feet on my lap? Why don’t you look at me? My Asghar, you died in your father’s hands. Sakineh said: Give Ali Asghar to me father; I want to sing a lullaby for him.

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In the rowzeh circulating in the interpretive community, Husayn is made aware of Ali Asghar’s critical condition when he wants to bid him farewell before entering the battle. Indirectly, the listeners also learn about the weakening situation of the women, as Umm Layla is reported not to be able to feed her child. Husayn requests the enemy to recognize that the child is innocent and spare the child from its suffering. The request is not granted. Instead Ali Asghar is murdered by an arrow through his throat. The rowzeh concludes with Husayn returning with the child to the camp. The mother is portrayed bewildered about the situation, while the sister wishes to comfort or mourn the child. When reciting the rowzeh referred to above, the maddah manipulated her voice according to rowzeh-khani conventions. She discriminated by adopting a ‘narrator’s voice’ and reciting in the third person, and impersonating the various actors in the story by adopting an emotional style in the first person. The manipulative style of storytelling is also reflected in posters in which the narration of the event is phrased in a visual language symbolically conveying a sad voice. In the local interpretive community, viewers’ reception of the iconography’s sad voice is thus likely to be enhanced by their own experience of conventional ritual response to rowzeh and nowheh commemorating Ali Asghar. When listening to the rowzeh referred to above, the audience responded with weeping, and hitting the thighs and the chest as a form of flagellation. They also participated in singing elegies. The following two nowheh were performed at various commemoration ceremonies on the ninth of Muharram 2002, and were accompanied with flagellation and weeping. The first nowheh centres on the martyrdom of Ali Asghar, as perceived by Imam Husayn. God, my Asghar, the way you died in my hand The young flower in the gardens of Imams is separated from the branch of my hand In my heart I have the love of Karbala, in my heart I have the memory of Neinava God, you know that my Asghar, the last son of mine, was killed When I remember my Ali, flames burst out of my heart To Paradise my silent baby is travelling, with bloody throat and smile on his lips God, in my hand, my infant like a bird was flying His flight in his father’s heart made a special fire The bloody war of Karbala is alive until the end of the world, because of the blood of my Asghar45 The next nowheh centres on the response of the mother, Umm Layla. My Ali, my small Ali The infant who didn’t drink milk My son Asghar, lay, lay Crown of my head, lay, lay

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Stretch your hands towards my breast Lay, lay, lay Move your feet on my lap Why are you so silent? Why do you not cry? Lay, lay, lay 46 The overall theme in the two nowheh corresponds to that referred to in the rowzeh, but in the nowheh there is more focus on the emotional response from the father, Imam Husayn, and the mother, Umm Layla, to the martyrdom of Ali Asghar. Local viewers brought knowledge of the content of these verbal stories into their own verbal reconstruction of the visual storytelling introduced in the posters. Looking at the posters in Figures 37 and 38, a woman often visiting mourning ceremonies explained: It was like this: Husayn took Ali Asghar under his cloak and brought him to the battle. At first the enemy thought that it was the Quran he brought to place between them. He said to the enemy: If I in your opinion committed a sin, at least this little child did not commit a sin. Please give it water. The representatives of the enemy said to Hermaleh: Kill him. He asked: Which one of them, the father or the son? They answered: The son. Hermaleh sent an arrow in his throat. Husayn placed his hand under the wound and collected the blood. He threw the blood up in the air and said: God, please accept this six months child of mine as a martyr. In her recounting of the event the woman combined elements from the rowzeh referred to above, which she had heard many times at ceremonies and knew by heart, and elements from other hagiographic sources. For example, her last reference to Husayn throwing blood up in the air resembles his expression referred to under the discussion of Figure 18, scene E. The association between visual and verbal storytelling is partly supported by the display of images depicting episodes from the Karbala event in ritual locations. The poster in Figure 37 was, for example, on display in a zaynabiyyeh during Muharram 2002. Rituals performed in the memory of Ali Asghar are accompanied by supplications asking for Ali Asghar’s mediation. In fact, performing a ritual is in itself a supplication. Moreover, both male and female ritual communities make a replica of Ali Asghar’s cradle to symbolically represent him, as well as his grave, in the ceremonial hall. In women-only rituals Ali Asghar is also sometimes represented in the shape of a doll. During the performance of nowheh, women stand in circles around the cradle, gently hitting their chest with one or two hands, a flagellation called sineh-sarpay or aza-sarpay. They also move anticlockwise around the cradle while flagellating, a rite called sineh-dowr, see the photograph in Figure 46.47 The ritual offers participants the opportunity to honour Ali Asghar as well as seeking his protection. There are also other methods for seeking

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Ali Asghar’s protection. During Muharram, Iranians typically dress baby boys in a white jacket and green headband similar to the way Ali Asghar is represented in the posters, and bring the children to the street procession. The idea is to let the children benefit from the protection of Ali Asghar. In accordance with such belief, the painter in the poster in Figure 37 offers a personal statement reflecting his motivation behind making the image. The caption on the upper right margin declares: Taqdimi beh hamaye kudakane jahan keh mazlumane raftand va khahar-e kochekam, ‘Offering on behalf of all little children in the world who died unjustly, and my little sister [who is dead].’ By making a visual representation of the martyrdom of Ali Asghar, the painter seeks the saint’s mercy for the soul of his little sister and other innocent deceased children.

Imam Husayn The main protagonist in the battle of Karbala is Imam Husayn but the posters discussed so far, have depicted episodes dealing with the destiny of some of his family members, copying the structure of ta´ziyeh performances in which the story is organized into episodes. In these representations, Imam Husayn is given the supporting part, being the comforting father and brother of martyrs (Ali Akbar and al-Abbas), the anxious, although determined father of a suffering, innocent child (Ali Asghar), and a mourner of a martyr (Ali Akbar and al-Abbas and Ali Asghar). When these episodes are combined into a comprehensive narrative, however, the sacrifice of Husayn, that is, the endurance of loosing those dearest to him, appears to be a continuous important theme. For someone familiar with the Christian iconography of passion, the depiction of Imam Husayn kneeling, with the head of Ali Akbar or al-Abbas in his lap may give associations to a pietà. A pietà is a representation of the dead Christ lying in the lap of the mourning Virgin.48 The Latin term pietà means ‘pity’, and the central theme in the motif is the suffering of the mourning mother. In the Catholic tradition, the image entered the cult of devotion and the image of Mary’s suffering was supposed to help viewers achieve the heightened emotional state thought to bring one closer to God in prayer.49 Many local viewers similarly claim that Karbala images affect them emotionally and some maintain that an image will help them focus their mental attention on God and saints, although they will not pray in front of an image. Nevertheless, local viewers’ opinions on the representation of the grieving Husayn vary. Some viewers find depictions of Imam Husayn expressing grief inappropriate, thinking it would cast him as being weak. Others perceived grief to be an aspect of his strength; in fact, it makes his sacrifice even greater. In their view, representing Husayn grieving is not contradictory to his supremacy. The following three posters cast Imam Husayn as the main protagonist; see Figures 35, 47 and 48. The motif in these posters deals with Imam Husayn’s final battle against the army of Caliph Yazid. The poster in Figure 35 depicts Husayn

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seated on Zu al-Jenah. A typical trait of popular visual culture is that signs and compositions are copied from one image to the other. The strategy is reflected in the depiction of Imam Husayn dressed in conventional attire, with green headgear, kafan, and chest-mail. But when comparing the design in Figure 35 with that in Figure 38, the white shroud is manipulated to situate the episode in Figure 35 at the end of the Karbala narrative. In Figure 38 the viewer’s attention is brought to the child dressed in kafan and the viewer only gets a glimpse of Imam Husayn’s white shroud under his garment. The visibility and concealment of the kafan function to stipulate the sequence of events: first the child will be martyred and next the father. In Figure 35, Imam Husayn wears no garment over the kafan and it is only partly covered by a chest-mail. The symbolic reference related to Husayn’s impending combat, suffering and martyrdom is made explicit. In his left hand Imam Husayn carries a standard with a red flag on which is written Allahu Akbar. As in Figure 37 the standard functions to identify the cause for which Husayn is fighting. The new character introduced in the Poster in Plate 35 is a female figure standing next to the horse and grabbing Husayn in his right hand. Her face is depicted in profile and the face is depicted in the shape of a white surface with the contours of nose and eye socket. The woman is dressed in a black chadorlike garment. Below the picture is a caption labelling the picture Veda´ hezrat Zaynab, ‘The farewell of Zaynab’. The poster depicts Zaynab taking the last farewell with her brother Husayn. Zaynab’s face is directed up towards Husayn and functions like a pointer drawing the viewer-narrator’s attention to Husayn. Husayn’s gaze does not reciprocate his sister’s attention but is instead diverted, grave and perhaps troubled. The third sign-narrator in this image is Zu al-Jenah, who is the only agent confronting the viewer-narrator with his gaze. His gaze is serious and grave. Judging from this iconographic representation, none of the characters are enthusiastic about the impending combat. In that respect, the visual representation is consistent with a verbal account found in Pelly’s ta´ziyeh collection, in which Zaynab is lamenting the condition her brother is left in. O Lord, Zaynab’s brother has no one to assist or support him! Occasions of his sorrows are innumerable, without anyone to sympathise with him in the least? Sad and desolate, he is leaning on his spear! He has bent his neck in a calamitous manner; he has no famous Ali Akbar, no renowned al-Abbas any more.50 The sentiment conveyed in the voice of Zaynab in the libretto suggests the desolation felt by a survivor who has been deprived of his supporters. In the libretto’s continuing exchange between brother and sister, Husayn also informs Zaynab that he shall soon be beheaded by Shimr and cut to pieces. He therefore asks her not to come and see him. These are Husayn’s last words of farewell to Zaynab, as conveyed in ritualized theatre performance. The content of the verbal exchange between Husayn and Zaynab, revolving on the fatal outcome of

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the last battle Husayn is about to engage in, is also conveyed in nowheh circulating in the local interpretive community in this study. On the ninth of Muharram 2002, the following nowheh was performed at a female mourning ceremony under the guidance of a female maddah. Maddah: When come the night of absence, sister don’t cry, don’t cry Answer: Tomorrow in the desert of Karbala, Zaynab, O Zaynab My head will be separated from my body, Zaynab O Zaynab Maddah: When tomorrow comes, I will go to the battle I will drown in my blood Answer: Tomorrow in the desert of Karbala, Zaynab, O Zaynab My head will be separated from my body, Zaynab O Zaynab Maddah: Don’t be so sad, you have a great challenge after me Don’t wonder tomorrow [what you should do] Answer: Tomorrow in the desert of Karbala, Zaynab, O Zaynab My head will be separated from my body, Zaynab O Zaynab Maddah: I put my orphans in thy hand, take care of them I put you in the hand of God Answer: Tomorrow in the desert of Karbala, Zaynab, O Zaynab My head will be separated from my body, Zaynab O Zaynab Maddah: You will see me tomorrow when my head is put on the pole Answer: Tomorrow in the desert of Karbala, Zaynab, O Zaynab My head will be separated from my body, Zaynab O Zaynab The maddah is here impersonating Imam Husayn, who is cast to prepare his sister Zaynab for what will come the following day. The maddah performed the dirge in a slow rhythm and the congregation supported the responsorial song with rhythmic flagellation of the lap. Shortly afterwards, they performed a dirge called al-veda, ‘The farewell’, while performing a ritual dance and flagellation called sineh aza´ sarpay, standing in circles beating the chest with the hand. The nowheh was followed by an exclamation accompanied by lat, a gesture of ritualized mourning expressed by slapping one’s cheek with the hands. Farewell, O my sisters, farewell Farewell, my orphans, farewell Farewell, it fell on the ground like flower, farewell Farewell, farewell, farewell The day of Ashura, farewell Stranger Husayn, Victim Husayn! Oh without kafan, distant from his country! Husayn, Husayn, Stranger, Victim, Husayn (repeated five times) The nowheh calls to attention the separating of Husayn from his family, and in fact life as we know it. The exclamations ‘Stranger Husayn’ and ‘Victim Husayn’ express the believers’ sympathy and alliance with Husayn. Their expression of

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commitment was supported by ritualized gesture of mourning, performed in a manner that sometimes inflicted pain on their body, although not seriously. The signifying value of the gestures was emblematic rather than material. The motif in Figure 35, depicting the farewell between Imam Husayn and his sister Zaynab is thus symbolically re-enacted and commemorated in contemporary ceremonies in a manner that affects the ritual participant psychologically and physically. The particular ritual experience referred to above is from a femaleonly gathering. The experience is not shared by all women in the community, and certainly not by men. The case does, however, demonstrate a continued interest in the culture on the farewell scene. The farewell-event is represented in various media, like ta´ziyeh, images, literature and dirge, and it is a topic both male and female worshippers relate to in ritual performances. The poster in Figure 47 deals with Imam Husayn on the battlefield of Karbala and a caption below the images reads, ashura, referring to the tenth day of Muharram, when Imam Husayn was killed. The viewer’s attention is immediately drawn to the protagonist seated on a white horse, occupying the central plane of the visual field. They are the only actors located on the open field between Husayn’s camp, which is at their rear, and the countless army of Caliph Yazid, which is in front of them. A swift survey across the visual plane detects several core symbols commonly applied in Shia conventional iconography. Husayn’s head, and therefore his person, is brought to the viewer’s attention with the aid of specific pictorial devises. His head is surrounded by a sun-ray-like halo, a sign for a sanctified person. He wears a helmet, armour and he carries a spear in his right hand, all typical devices for a warrior. Very significantly, under the armour he wears a white shroud signifying death. He holds a standard in his left hand. Its red-coloured banner waves behind his head, a colour that in this context could be interpreted to signify blood and death. Story, characters and event can easily be identified. It is the moment before Imam Husayn will engage in the battle, and indeed perform his last act as a living being. A viewer-narrator may attempt to interpret what an actor-narrator communicates by investigating his or her facial expression, the spatial relationship between the characters, physical contact, body language and gestures. A closer look at Husayn’s facial expression suggests that he meets the enemy and death with a severe and determined gaze. Located on the plain between camp and enemy army, Imam Husayn is represented as saint and warrior ready to face death, symbolically predicted by the white shroud and red banner. Embedding this visual representation within the hagiographic tradition and its conception of Imam Husayn as the ‘Prince of Martyrs’ he is represented as a saviour of Islam. Husayn as a focalizing character is presented to the viewer through symbolic dress, colour, attribute, in addition to calligraphy and gaze. There are several clues as to how to interpret Husayn’s gaze. The fact that Husayn is dressed in a white shroud, which Muslims use to swaddle dead bodies in, reveals that he

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knows, at least would be expected to know, he will be killed. On the red standard is written Allah. A standard is a sign of affiliation and representation and the standard indicates that Husayn is fighting in the Way of God, and for that reason he can expect to be rewarded by God. Therefore, one can anticipate, Husayn is not sad, but faces his destiny with brave chivalry. Knowledge of death, but also assurance of martyrdom, is embedded in the protagonist’s iconographic representation. In the poster’s visual plane the viewer’s attention is directed towards the horse’s head by the following iconographic devices: The end of the standard pole and the tip of the spear, which Husayn holds in his hands, form a cross below the horse’s head. Husayn and Zu al-Jenah’s head are consequently framed inside a triangle. Given the prefiguring narrative role of symbols used to represent Husayn, the horse is less prone to appear as an actor-narrator. However, considering the focalizing power of Zu al-Jenah’s gaze, he also appears as an actor-narrator. Zu al-Jenah’s gaze seems to contemplate the future, but that he perceives the future in a different manner from Husayn. In his fixed position, Zu al-Jenah’s head is slightly tilted downwards. His gaze is directed not towards the facing army, but towards the ground. However, Zu al-Jenah is not looking at the ground. Instead, his gaze seems to have a contemplative look, as if lost in thought, and there is a trace of (anthropomorphic) sadness in his eye. At this point, the horse does not participate in the ‘looking’ of his master, nor does he share the vision. This sad, emotional expression is not often evident in older iconography, although there is a tendency towards anthropomorphic descriptions of Zu alJenah in some contemporary images. Nevertheless, the horse’s distressed emotion does have grounding in hagiographic literature and popular belief and ritual practice. The sadness in Zu al-Jenah’s gaze could be attributed to his awareness of Husayn’s approaching death, a truth that he already mourns. Together, the gazes of Husayn and Zu al-Jenah convey the full implication of the battle at Karbala: death, which is defeat, but also martyrdom, which is triumph. Moreover, as a mourner, Zu al-Jenah becomes a modelling signal for the pious viewer-narrator. His emotional expression presents pious viewernarrators with what is considered their proper response to Husayn’s sacrifice, namely to express allegiance and sympathy to the man who fought in the Way of God, and mourn his sufferings and death. This is what lies at the heart of Shia mourning ceremonies. These shared ways of seeing are cultivated in various forms of rituals in which believers collectively commemorate and learn about the battle at Karbala. However, the production of meaning is localized in the interaction between the image and its viewer. The representation of Imam Husayn as the exemplary hero who faces death, but is ensured of martyrdom and triumph, corresponds to Shia theology and popular belief. When taking up the mission to go to Kufa, Husayn is said to have known that he was marching to his death, ‘having been informed of his

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martyrdom in the land of Karbala by none other than his holy grandfather who even named his killer’.51 Late in the evening of the ninth of Muharram the following rowzeh of Imam Husayn was recited at an all-female ceremony. Al-salam alayk ya Aba Abd Allah. Al-salam ya ibn Rasul Allah. Turn off the light in respect of the night when Imam Husayn in the darkness turned his back to his friends after the esha’ [evening prayer between 21.00–24.00], and told everybody that those who wanted to leave his camp were free to go. He said, tomorrow me and my friends will be killed. I am asking my sons and my brothers to make their decision. Some of them went. Because it was dark and Husayn had his back to them, they were not ashamed to go. Husayn didn’t force anyone to be killed with him. Imam Husayn’s aim wasn’t bloodshed and war. He was killed in the way of amre be ma’aruf [guiding someone to do the right thing] and nahye asmunkar [ordering someone to do the right thing]. Husayn, you went to Kufa to give the message of God to Yazid. You did your duty according to amre be ma’aruf wa nahye asmunkar, but Yazid didn’t take up the Way of God. The people who committed injustice disappeared, but the victims are alive by now. At Karbala, Husayn told God: Labbaika ‘Here I am, at Your service!’ In the rowzeh, Imam Husayn is cast to offer himself to God. According to the reasoning in the text, the sacrifice should be voluntary, and hagiographic literature underlines that Husayn let his family members and supporters be free to choose whether to go on fighting until death or leave. Before commencing the recitation, the female maddah requested the light to be turned off in the ceremonial hall to imitate the conditions surrounding this important settlement, and enhance the notion of connection between the past and the present. The rowzeh also let know that those who decided to fight with Husayn and were martyred would be remembered for ever. Although Husayn endured great suffering, he was persistent and his triumph is evident; his martyrdom is believed to be the greatest redemptive act in history. Therefore believers participate in the annual commemoration rituals. They hope to obtain salvation on the Day of Judgement, and they seek out what is believed to be a constant source for help and protection in this life. During such mourning rituals, participants are encouraged to follow Husayn’s example, and fight in the way of God. It is against this background the image can function as a reminder for the viewers. When Zu al-Jenah confronts the viewer or the interpretive community with his gaze, he connects the battle at Karbala with the reality of people. Despite the challenge expressed in Zu al-Jenah’s direct, confrontational gaze, the real challenger is God. According to Shia theology, God is the One who has promised redemption and salvation. This can be achieved by maintaining the memory of Karbala, and demonstrating allegiance through mourning. Zu al-Jenah can play the role of the reminder in the painting because in devotional literature, elegies, and mourning processions

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he is described as the paradigmatic mourner.52 In devotional literature it is said Husayn’s horse came circling around him, rubbing his muzzle in Husayn’s blood, while neighing very loudly. Imam Abu Jafar al-Baqir used to say that the horse was repeating: ‘Retribution! Retribution against a nation that killed the son of its Prophet’s daughter!’53 The horse then went to the camp neighing likewise. The enemy tried to capture it but the horse kept kicking with its front legs and killed 40 riders and the horses. The poster in Figure 48 depicts Husayn on his knees occupying the central plane of the visual field. His head is tilted upwards and his face is illuminated by light beams from above, from which seem to drizzle small sparks. Around his head is a yellow sun-ray halo. His eyes are closed. On his head he carries a helmet and a green head cover. His right hand holds on to a glimmering sword positioned vertically towards the ground. By his side rests a shield. His left hand rests on his chest, which is pierced by an arrow. More arrows have penetrated his chest-mail, and pierced his shoulders and his back. Blood keeps pouring out from his wounds and he is inflicted with many scars. Under the chest-mail he wears a white kafan. The pose, facial expression and condition, indicate Husayn is represented shortly before dying. The red coloured whirl surrounding the kneeling Husayn underlines this impression. In the background, in the upper right corner, is placed a man seated on dark horse. The man is dressed in armour and his sword is held vertically towards the sky. He cannot be identified due to a conventional iconographic program, nor is he named by a caption. But according to the hagiographic literature, this man could be Shimr, the soldier who eventually beheaded Husayn. The scene depicting the killing of Husayn and the character of Shimr are not common in contemporary colour poster production, but is a well-known theme in ta´ziyeh productions. The photograph in Figure 19 depicts a scene in a ta´ziyeh production called Sham, performed in Shiraz in 1999. The episode deals with the martyrdom of Husayn at Karbala, and the aftermath of the survivors at the court of the Caliph in Damascus (Sham). The photograph depicts Shimr about to bring forth the decapitated head of Husayn to the Caliph at his court. According to ta´ziyeh colour symbolism Shimr, the antagonist, is dressed in red. Husayn’s head is wrapped in green cloth, the colour of the holy protagonists. So are the heads of his dead supporters, placed on poles in the background. The poster in Figure 48 carries a caption, located in the upper field. The caption, ‘O Husayn Martyr’, is written in dark purple letters framed by a red colour that dissolves into something that looks like dripping blood. This style of presenting a commemorating epithet could sometimes be seen as graffiti painted on walls in public places. For example, a wall in the courtyard of an imamzadeh in Shiraz was during Muharram 2002 decorated by a similar graffiti, declaring ‘O Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas’. While observing it one evening as the local hay´at was preparing to start its street procession, I was approached by a young man who was a member of the hay´at. Coyly, he inquired about my opinion regarding the graffiti. I opted for a symbolic interpretation and described the red colour

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depicted dripping from the text to signify that Abu al-Fazl had lost a lot of blood while fighting at Karbala. The young man was reassured. He told me he had been worried I might associate the reference to blood with the nature of Iranian people, and come to think that they were bloodthirsty. His concern is interesting because it demonstrates awareness of the multivocal nature signs. The young man was aware that a person not belonging to the local interpretive community could anchor the interpretation of the calligraphic sign in a ground other than the religious or pious reference to Muharram commemoration, and that the meaning of the sign would change. Assuming I would associate the calligraphy with ill-behaved Iranians, he must have been aware of the not so flattering reputation of Iran abroad. His assumption is not totally misplaced, due to the many graffiti from the revolutionary era still visible on walls in public space calling for death to Israel and the USA.54 The maqatil literature has been an important source for the formation of the image of Husayn in the Shia consciousness. It has inspired ta´ziyeh productions, and the many popular variations of rowzeh, and nowheh. In his discussion on the image or verbalized conception, of Husayn in maqatil literature, Khalid Sindawi underlines that the hagiography has played a vital role in this process, through the centuries.55 Sindawi describes Husayn as cast in the shape of a saint’s image. Cross-culturally, the saint is a prototype with uniform traits highlighting his or her virtue and inconspicuous personality, and the biography of the saint has a symbolic significance. According to Sindawi, the verbal descriptions of Husayn highlight his moral authority, courage and heroism. It is also being related that he sacrificed his life and died a martyr’s death. In their accounts, Sindawi observed, the maqatil authors use the description of the outward appearance of Imam Husayn mainly as a first sign of recognition.56 Typically, attention is given to Husayn’s face and his beard. His face is described as unusually fair, as if shining with light. His beard is described as full and thick, and this trait is being compared with his father, Imam Ali, and his grandfather, the Prophet Muhammad. Another exterior description in the maqatil literature is Husayn’s clothing. In fact, Sindawi noticed, the authors attached great importance to the way Imam Husayn was dressed. Sindawi suggested the authors used clothing as an indication of the inner belief and character of the saint. His observation is here in agreement with my discussions on the symbolic importance of the clothing of Imam Ali, and other members of the ahl al-bayt. The maqatil literature seems to underline the continuous use of clothing, armament, sword and horse from the Prophet Muhammad, to Imam Ali and Imam Husayn. Contemporary colour posters seem instead to apply an iconography that can indexically and symbolically highlight the tragedy at Karbala, including the suffering of the innocent, injustice, and courage and sacrifice. Signs are specifically developed to serve the narration of the battle at Karbala rather than the broader Shia sacred history. Concerning the inner aspect of Imam Husayn, the maqatil literature describes his deep feelings, grief and sensitivity.57 He is said to have shed tears on several

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occasions and been overcome by sobbing. He was supposed to have cried when Ali Akbar and Qasem asked his permission to take part in the battle, because he knew they would be killed. He also cried upon hearing that many of his worriers, and in particular his brother al-Abbas had been killed. On the other hand, Imam Husayn is described as being a hero. He was not afraid to die at Karbala but faced the enemy courageously. His heroism is displayed in a number of ways, some of which are repeated in contemporary posters, for example, that Husayn was killed by a large number of fighters. Sindawi has made an interesting observation when it comes to the source of Husayn’s heroism. He suggests that Husayn is not described as being a hero because of his physical strength, but because ‘something within him acted in a different way; in other words, Husayn is a conduit of prophetic and divine revelation.’58 In contemporary posters, Husayn is generally depicted with a strong body, but at the same time his sanctity is underlined with some kind of light or halo surrounding his head. Conventional iconography, hagiography and devotional rites function as foundations for interpreting the connotation in images depicting Husayn. Interviews with local viewers also suggest that personal experiences shape the ground for interpretation. Richard Brilliant has pointed out that the association between a person and his or her pseudo-portrait is formed by projection.59 The viewer reads into the picture actions associated with the portrayed and read out of the image qualities about the person one admires. This appears to be a common strategy applied by local viewers when looking at the portraiture of Imam Husayn and members of his family. Although viewers are aware that the visual representations do not give an authentic account of the unfolding battle, the visual account should be accurate according to known procedures of the event. Another important criterion is the viewer’s already established perception about the individual depicted and his or her character and aim. Such pre-established perceptions influence the viewers’ interpretation of the image, as well as the evaluation of the quality of the representation. There was a widespread opinion among the local viewers that Husayn was very courageous, and most people liked to see this courage represented. Nevertheless, several viewers pointed out that Husayn’s courage should not be exaggerated; he was a human being and possessed a range of emotions, including sadness and grief. Accordingly, some viewers underlined Husayn’s sufferings as an aspect depicted in the posters. Some beholders would emphasize both aspects, whereas others would choose only one as the most essential characteristic of Imam Husayn. Nevertheless, representation of courage and suffering served a common purpose, to make Islam and the Quran alive. For example, many viewers suggested that the portrait of Imam Husayn depicted in Figure 47 showed him to be courageous and found this to be a correct representation. Some also pointed out his humbleness, meaning he was humble in front of God. In making these interpretations many viewers supported their argument by interpreting the expression in Husayn’s eyes. During conversations on the

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character of Imam Husayn several viewers claimed the expression in the portrait had a strong emotional effect on them. An elderly man suggested Imam Husayn in Figure 47 looked humble, courageous, brave and generous. To him, these were qualities found in a pious man who follows in the way of God. He explained: ‘In a way, for me, to look at Imam Husayn is to see God.’ That is to say, he could perceive the will of God through the qualities observed in Imam Husayn. On the other hand, some viewers were critical towards the representation in Figure 48. This depiction of Imam Husayn at Karbala did not appear to them as believable. There were several reasons for this. One had to do with the representation of Imam Husayn’s character, and again the issue of courage was brought up. In the opinion of a mature woman engaged in the organization of commemoration rituals the image did not show the story of Imam Husayn becoming a martyr. She mainly disagreed with the way Husayn was represented being killed. In her opinion, the viewer was encouraged to feel pity for Husayn. Instead, one should have seen his courage. Courage could be represented by depicting Husayn on his horse waving his sword. The sword in this case would acquire the symbolic meaning of representing a certain quality attributed to Husayn. The other kind of comment addressed deviancy of historical accuracy. Some viewers claimed there is no historical report confirming that when Imam Husayn was about to be killed, he fell down on his knees in pity and disappointment. Some viewers found the image to be an exaggeration, and dismissed it as a valid representation of Imam Husayn. While looking at the images of Imam Husayn, several viewers recounted stories on their personal relationship with Imam Husayn, and it is evident that this experience shaped their perception of the person depicted in the image. An elderly man active in ritual arrangements and involved in local charity work, was particularly pleased to observe posters depicting Imam Husayn. He said they gave him a good feeling and explained that since he was seven years old he had a special relationship with Imam Husayn. His childhood and school was hard and the teachers were authoritarian. When he was unhappy with school, he would ask Imam Husayn for help. To express his feelings for Imam Husayn he quoted a poem: There is no love in my heart but Husayn Husayn, Husayn, Husayn, is pleasant Seeing his face at the time of dying is pleasant My life belongs to Husayn The man’s wife suggested the posters in general showed the two sides of Husayn’s character. One was his stubbornness and courage, the other was his kindness. She explained that Imam Husayn would use these qualities to help people in this world and ask forgiveness for people in front of God in the next world. She and her family had experienced the generosity and kindness of

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Imam Husayn. After 16 years of marriage, her mother still did not have a child. The mother used to go to the ceremonies in her hometown, Bushehr, and serve tea. Once she asked God to give her a child. The host then went to the menbar, touched it, and asked God for help. She was born the following year, on the 28th of Safar (the day of Muhammad’s death). Because she was a gift from God, she was brought to the women’s ceremonies that year. This particular story connected to her conception has influenced her devotion and world-view: Because of this, I cannot stop going to the ceremonies. As you can see I go every day during Muharram and Safar. I can give up my child and my husband, but I cannot give up Husayn. I was born because my mother made a nazr [vow] to Husayn and he gave me to her. I am his gift. One of her methods to symbolically express her love and sympathy for Imam Husayn was to organize commemorative ceremonies for the martyrs at Karbala.

The Aftermath of the Battle at Karbala The illustrations in Figures 49 and 50 depict the situation in the camp after Imam Husayn and his supporters were killed. These designs are sometimes reproduced and combined with the iconographic programmes described above. Iconographically the representation of women at Karbala can be traced back to the early Karbala visual narrative tradition. In a tile-painting in takiyyeh Mo´aven al-Mulk in Karmanshan, from the first half of the twentieth century, women are depicted watching from the distant camp Ali Akbar fighting the enemy.60 In Figure 49 Zu al-Jenah is depicted standing in profile with his head bent down towards a woman who sits on the ground. She has pulled a cloth over her head, a typical sign of mourning in contemporary ritual behaviour. Her hands stretch out to touch the hoof of the horse. The white horse is speckled red from bleeding wounds, and blood is depicted to continue to run from the wounds. A tear runs from its eye. An arrow pierces its back. A green piece of cloth drops from its back on to the ground. Beyond, a small group of people have gathered to receive the horse. Among them are two women dressed in long garments, and white face veils. One is carrying a child. Two children stand by the women. Next to them sits a third grown-up person. Two of them have brought their hands to their face in a gesture of grief. Behind them is a row of tents. The green tent of Husayn is positioned in the centre and the red flag on its top is broken. Along the row of tents are positioned women and children, dressed like the ones already described, many with their arms lifted as if in despair. They face a vast plain and on its opposite side, troops of soldiers on horses make an assault. A beam of light emanates from the sky. Across the sky, which is coloured yellow, orange and blue is written: Akharin veda Zu al-Jenah pas az shuhadat Hezrat Sayyed al-Shuhada (alayhu al-salam) ba ahl al-bayt, ‘The last

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farewell of Zu al-Jenah after the martyrdom of The Lord the Martyr with the ahl al-bayt.’ The prominent positioning of Zu al-Jenah in the visual plane and the caption indicate that the horse is the central sign-narrator in this image. But in order to understand what he narrates it is necessary to pay attention to the communication between the horse and the woman stretching her hands to touch its hoofs. It is through her that the horse conveys the last farewell from Husayn to the family in the camp. Traditionally, Zu al-Jenah has been represented by a white horse in street procession and ta´ziyeh performances, but this is less common today. In the Iranian Shia iconographic tradition this symbolic use of the horse prevails in wall hangings, but in posters it is still the narrative that dominates iconographic designs. The card depicted in Figure 50 is a copy of the painting by the famous Mahmoud Farshchian (b. 1930). At the centre is positioned Zu al-Jenah. He is marked by several red wounds. Attached to the green saddle pad is an empty scabbard. Women and children of Husayn’s family have gathered round the horse. One woman embraces the back of the horse. Two girls clutch a front leg. A woman with a little child on her back embraces the muzzle. Next to the horse are two women, one embracing the other. Next to them on the ground is a saddle on which sit a few wounded doves. To the left are two palm trees and to the right is what looks like a white tent. Women and children, probably girls, are dressed in dark blue chadors. A few arrows are spread on the ground around them. The painting is called ´asr ashura, ‘The evening of Ashura’. The camp at Karbala after the death of Husayn, on the evening of ashura is given an important role in the story about Karbala. The loyalty of the horse and the suffering of Husayn’s family are at the centre of attention. One young female viewer suggested the horse was like a member of the family, and it was like a symbol for the family. This is also the moment when the family decided how to cope with the situation after the death of Imam Husayn. It is now left to the women and Husayn’s son Zayn al-Abedin to continue the struggle and to keep the memory alive (see also the discussion on the poster in Figure 42, in which Zaynab is depicted carrying the red banner). In ta´ziyeh, rowzeh and nowheh, the tragic circumstances characterizing their situation are typically emotionally underlined. Close to midnight on the evening of the ninth of Muharram, many women in the community I refer to met to commemorate ashura in a ceremonial hall. At some point a female maddah performed an oldfashioned nowheh about Zaynab. It was accompanied by the ritual gesture called sineh dowr wahid, meaning moving around in a circle, beating the chest with the hand, letting the maddah sing the song alone. In the middle of a sad camp sat the depressed Zaynab. Her eyes looked through the slit in the tent and her heart was with the battle. The minutes passed, but the sound of Husayn did not appear. She could hear only the

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sound of the hoofs of the horse, and the sound of the orphans shouting and crying, that made her impatient. There was no water to satisfy her thirst. In the camp a little girl wandered around asking for her father and for her aunt. She didn’t know what to answer her and besides, she was waiting for her brother to return. Time passed and she became impatient. Sometimes she sat silently; sometimes she stood whispering to herself. In the middle of Qaltegah the torn body fell from the horse on the ground, covered by blood. She saw with her eyes that on the chest of Husayn sat indifferent Shimr. She hurried to the battle very anxious. Zaynab cried: Stop, don’t kill my brother!61 Rowzeh and nowheh commenting on the aftermath in the camp often mention certain people by name and describe their situation. In the hagiography Zaynab, the sister of Husayn and the daughter of Imam Ali, is given a more prominent role than the others. The iconography in Figure 50 does not focus on any particular person, but highlight the prevailing feeling of despair among the survivors. Their despair is conveyed in the following declamation performed close to midnight on the ninth of Muharram. Who is the Husayn who all these people are crazy about? Everywhere I look I can see his face. Who is Husayn, who little ones and adults love? Tonight is the night of Zaynab’s wake. God, I vow you to the cut-off head of Imam Husayn. Give everybody their wishes tonight. Tonight Zaynab would be so worried. They will not have any brother tomorrow. How can they sleep securely in the desert?62 When asking viewers to comment on the image in Figure 50 a pattern repeated itself. Some viewers, particularly the younger, did not like to see the women in Husayn’s family depicted crying. A young woman explained: The Arabs would bring their wives to the battles because the women would encourage the men and in this way support them in the battle. I don’t think Husayn’s sister Zaynab would cry in this manner. It is unlikely that she would fall on the ground and expose her weakness in front of the enemy. She was a strong woman. Among the older generation, however, the representation of grief appeared to be perceived as correct. They recognized that Zaynab had a hard time because she saw her brothers die and the children become martyrs. According to their knowledge the depiction of grief was historically correct. A mature woman explained: The picture [Figure 50] expresses the emotions in the family of Husayn. How the women reacted after the event. It is very emotional. Zaynab loved her

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brother and here she shows her emotions by holding around the neck of the horse. It shows that there was a close relationship between the members of this family, and also that they lost everything at Karbala. It is noteworthy that everybody with whom I discussed these pictures recognized a thematic focus on grief and mourning in the images. To the older viewers this was acceptable; to the younger it was not. It should also be noted that there do exist in contemporary society another body of visual representations of the female members of Husayn’s family. After the revolution in 1978–1979 a new iconographic genre developed linking Zaynab and other women from the holy family to political activism and social commitment. Chelkowski has in several studies discussed the various strategies applied in the construction of the new iconography. One strategy is to situate the figure of Zaynab within the framework of a contemporary protester and symbolically creating a link between Zaynab’s opposition to Caliph Yazid and women’s protest against the rule of the Shah. Another strategy to create identification between the historical Zaynab and contemporary women has been to visually cast Zaynab in photographs of (unidentified) socially and revolutionary committed women.63 These visual representations supported the new activist interpretation of the battle at Karbala developed in Shia communities since the 1960s, and the following reinterpretation of the women in the Shia sacred history as models for social change.64 Images corresponding to the new genre of iconography have not been included in this study because they were not observed in any of the homes or the many ritual locations I visited. There is, however one iconographic element from the revolutionary rhetoric presented the in the image in Figure 50 and in the following Figure 51. This is the chador-like garment draped on the women. Although a traditional Iranian garment worn by women, in the course of the revolution the chador was introduced as a morally correct way of dressing. It was incorporated in the symbolic repertoire of signs applied to signify the emergence of an Islamic Republic. To argue for the necessity of change in dress-code it was claimed that Fatemeh had received a chador as a wedding gift when she married.65 A local viewer commenting on the image in Figure 50 gave a critical account of this kind of representation, based on its lack of historical accuracy. She argued that according to her knowledge, people at that time would wear an aba, and it did not resemble a chador. At the centre of the illustration in the card in Figure 51 sit three women dressed in dark blue chadors. Two of the women have pulled down the cloth over their face, holding it together by the fingers. The third woman has a light white face veil. A child has climbed up into her arms. To their right a camel sits on the ground, there is a tear in its eye. Behind the women is a ruin. In front of them a bowl is placed on the ground. It contains a bright item from which radiant light emerges. This is supposed to represent the cut off head of Husayn. This design is created by Muhammad Reza Sharifi, and on the reverse side of

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the card is written Kharabehaye Sham, ‘The Ruin in Sham’. The army of Caliph Yazid brought the survivors to Damascus, where they were kept as prisoners in a ruin. At some point Husayn’s head was brought to them. For a hagiographic account of the incident, see the rowzeh for Roqayyeh in Chapter 10. The design in Figure 51 is in some copies merged with a portrait of the Supreme leader Khamenei. While many viewers approved of the design by Sharifi, very few commented on the manipulated image. Their response was, however, clear. The association between the ahl al-bayt and a contemporary religious and political leader was not appreciated. The bitterness in the voice of one viewer could not be concealed when he commented that Husayn had gone to war and fought, whereas contemporary leaders would send other peoples’ sons. On the other hand, some viewers made the point that since the Supreme leader had accepted to be represented in the image, these pictures proved to be acceptable to the religious scholars in general, although there might be discussions about them.

Concluding Remarks Iconographic analysis combined with a tentative study of local agents’ reception suggests that representations of the event at Karbala are closed historical narratives, and open polysemic accounts with which viewers are encouraged to engage cognitively, emotionally and spiritually. The images are intended to visually represent the battle at Karbala in a manner that can be identified, understood and recognized by its viewers, that is, the images are intended to work as semantic vehicles for communication. Motifs and iconography in contemporary posters are developed from earlier generations of Karbala images. Differently from the pardeh, however, contemporary poster motifs depicting battle scenes are broken down into single combat scenes. And different from earlier tile-paintings, modern printing techniques allow for more elaboration of details and manipulation of signs. Visually and cognitively there is a change from the grand narrative of the pardeh through which a narrator using a pointer would guide the viewer/listener. Instead, most contemporary posters offer an episodic person-oriented image viewed without the contribution of the narrator. This is a mode of storytelling developed from theatre performances, ta´ziyeh, and the attention to individuals’ destiny in rowzeh. Detached from the guiding pointer of the traditional storyteller, parda-dar, the contemporary Karbala genre continues to apply conventionally established core signs such as kafan, waterskin, helmet, tent, halo and the anthropomorphic horse. Well-established types of scenes, figures and paradigms of scenic and figural composition are continued. The printing media, however, allows for more elaboration of facial expressions, and emotional reference in gaze and pose. The genre has also developed new methods for leading viewer-narrators through the story, and to contemplate the thoughts and emotions of the actor-narrator. The new guide is the gaze of actor-narrators, which functions as focalizers.

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Contemporary posters highlight the struggle of individual holy protagonists, sometimes elaborated to include the suffering of close family members. Nevertheless, viewers from the interpretive community allocated sign-narrators according to the protagonist’s relationship to the all-embracing story. This allocation presupposes some competence in terms of visual literacy and familiarity with written and orally transmitted hagiographic perspectives. Similar to verbal hagiography, the themes in images move between history and myth although, when compared with the pardeh-like image in Figure 18, many mythical elements have been omitted in the contemporary posters discussed here. Instead, the posters focus on heroism and bravery, and suffering and sacrifice of historical protagonists. Emphasis on the above qualities situates the images at the intersection between story and symbolic representations. The events illustrated are emotionally dense and the sign-narrators convey the protagonists’ quintessential characteristic. It is through this mode of representation the meta-historical perspectives of the event are conveyed, and through which contemporary viewers can engage spiritually. The ground on which interpretation is founded is complex. Visual narration and interpretive strategies are related to other modes of narration, such as verbal and performative modes. Interpretation and meaning production is on the one hand framed within the canonical dogma of religious tradition. On the other hand, connotational aspects are elaborated based on viewers’ competence, interest and personal world-view. Robin M. Jensen suggests that narrative images depend particularly on memory and use a kind of sign language to remind us of something we already know.66 In terms of identifying, interpreting and recognizing the story about Karbala Shia viewers must activate the memory of the story, as they have learned to understand it. For example, the scenes depicted in contemporary wall hangings and posters discussed here bring the viewer into the story’s medias res. To locate the episode in the broader story, the viewer must know what supposedly took place before and after the depicted scene. Consequently, the viewer has to rely on his or her memory, as Jensen suggests. But when we discuss religious art, I suggest, memory does not simply imply a formal, learned verbal body of knowledge. In this study of images in lived religion, religious knowledge is conveyed through recurring ritualized storytelling, responsorial song, pantomime, theatre and flagellation. This is a kind of bodily experienced story telling that inscribes not simply narrative content into the memory of people, but also emotions. The story is felt. The audience of Shia verbal and visual storytelling practices does not simply passively receive the message, but interacts in the storytelling by responding to it. Such participation may activate feelings of personal pain, as well as sympathy with the suffering of others. Embodied emotions are thus part of the memory activated by many viewers when they engage in interpreting images. These emotions are personally inscribed and experienced, but are also part of a collective devotional pattern related to the Shia dogma of redemption. In addition, the memory is anchored in viewers’ personal sentiments and experiences. An important aspect is the impression of the saints being alive,

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and willing and able to help people. Experiences of saints’ interventions alter peoples’ lives in terms of belief and behaviour. The memory of intervention is sustained through a system of devotional practices, including offering images as thanksgivings (see Chapter 8). The current study of interpretive strategies with regard to visual Karbala narratives also suggest that images function to recall the intervention, and that personal sentiments are being read out of the image. Viewer-narrators engage in evaluations of images as correct or incorrect, and good or not good. Whether a representation is evaluated as correct or incorrect is dependent on how it corresponds with the viewer-narrator’s perception of the characteristics and qualities of the main protagonists and the overall purpose of the battle at Karbala. Interview with local viewers show that the historical aspect must be attended to, although viewers do not agree on what is historically probable and historically correct. On several occasions viewers reflected on the relationship between history and hagiography, and saw it as a dilemma. One viewer commented: In a book about Imam Husayn it says that there were not 72 companions supporting Husayn in the battle. This number has been accepted because it is a holy number. In fact, nobody knows how many they were. The problem is that there are too many hadiths. The complete or true story is hidden, and we don’t know what is true and not. A ta´ziyeh director confirmed this concern. He explained there are many written stories available on the market, and in his opinion a lot of what these say is untrue. To illustrate the point he referred to a popular ta´ziyeh in which it says that the sons of Muslim were brought from Kufa to Karbala and killed there. But historical literature says that when Muslim left Kufa, he said farewell to family and friends. Thus, his sons did not travel with him. The ta´ziyeh version is, according to the director, an exaggeration added to stimulate people’s emotions. Another example is a proposition that Imam Husayn killed so many men that he had blood up to his knees. Instead of making such exaggerations, said the director, one should stick to the facts, to the exact truth about Imam Husayn. When he directs ta´ziyeh, he deletes those parts which he finds to be exaggerations. He could also recognize these aspects in the colour posters. In his opinion, the last farewell depicted in Figure 35 was historical, based on facts. Figure 47 depicting Imam Husayn and Figure 20 depicting al-Abbas both represent the courage of these two martyrs but are, nevertheless, based on some degree of exaggeration. The poster in Figure 41 is an example of emotions and vision, but also this depiction is an exaggeration. These different modes of representation were employed to suit the audience. In his experience, older people and those with no education preferred the emotional parts, whereas the young ones, who were educated, liked facts. In his opinion, a tradition should not be changed overnight, but gradually. Moreover, making exaggerations would cause people of other religions to make fun of the Shia. According to

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the director, the important aspect about Karbala is that a man like Husayn came forth to keep the religion alive. Because of this, Imam Husayn is the most attractive person in Islam. The ta´ziyeh director casts the story of Karbala in the mode he finds correct. Viewers of colour posters were likewise aware of the painter-narrator’s investment in the pictures. Iconography and text was said to refer to the painter’s opinion about the battle. But viewers claimed the right to interpret the images according to their own opinions and belief. Courage was a quality most viewers held to be important and that they recognized in the images. Another quality identified was honesty, something that viewers found appropriate to represent. On the other hand, viewers did not agree on whether the depiction of suffering and grief enhanced the status of the saints, or deprived them of honour and strength. Another criterion for evaluating an image was its ability to engage the viewer emotionally. The emotional engagement was described to be important because it would make both believers and those indifferent to religion search knowledge about the saints and about religion. A viewer elaborated on this common idea and explained that feelings and emotions are close to the heart. Religion is also located in the heart, and when religion affects the feelings it will produce new moral awareness. In her opinion, feelings and moral is what make the religion alive. The continuity of visual codes and themes may lead one to assume that the Karbala images, over time, tell the same stories and convey the same meanings. Such an assumption would ignore the communicative value of a new generation of Karbala visual representations. It would ignore the interpretive diversity produced by local viewer-narrators taking personal stands on what should be represented, how it should be represented and what it means.

Figure 18 Framed print depicting the Battle at Karbala (ca. 22 × 34 cm). Applied as wall decoration in a fatemiyyeh. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 19 Shimr, represented dressed in red, presenting Husayn’s head to Caliph Yazid in Damascus. Ta´ziyeh performed at Masjed Nadir al-Mulk. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 1999.

Figure 20 Colour poster depicting al-Abbas at Karbala (35 × 50 cm). Caption: Qamr bani Hashim. Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas, alayhu al-salam. Shaja´ tarin parchamdar shah haqq, ‘O Moon of the Hashimite Clan. Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas. Peace be upon him. The Bravest Standard-bearer, The True King.’ Print: Daryaye Poster, Teheran. Signature: Muhammad, Tajvidi. 1352/1973. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 21 Colour poster depicting Imam Husayn and Ali Akbar at the battle at Karbala (35 × 50 cm). Caption: Shadat’e hezrate Ali Akbar (as), ‘The Martyr, hezrat Ali Akbar, Peace be upon him.’ Signature: Abu al-Hamid Asadi. Date: (13)78/1999. Print: Daryaye Poster, Teheran. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 22 Colour poster depicting al-Abbas at Karbala (35 × 50 cm). Caption: ‘O Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas, Peace be upon him.’ Print: Poster Kayvan, Teheran. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 23 Wall hanging, parcham. Appliqué and embroidery on fabric. Presented as an offering, taqdimi, in 1338/1959. On display in a private courtyard during commemoration rituals in Muharram. Photo: Ingvild Flaskerud, 2000.

Figure 24 Wall hanging. Embroidery on fabric. On display in a private courtyard during commemoration rituals in Muharram. Photo: I. Flaskerud, 2000.

Figure 25 Wall hanging. Embroidery on fabric. Presented as an endowment, vaqf. On display in a private courtyard during commemoration rituals in Muharram. Photo: I. Flaskerud, 2000.

Figure 26 Wall hanging. Appliqué and embroidery on fabric. On display in an imamzadeh during commemoration rituals in Muharram. Photo: I. Flaskerud, 2002.

Figure 27 Wall hanging. Appliqué and embroidery on fabric. Labelled Hadyeh Karbala. ‘Gift from Karbala.’ Presented as an endowment. On display in an imamzadeh during commemoration rituals in Muharram. Photo: I. Flaskerud, 2002.

Figure 28 Wall hanging depicting Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas, Imam Ali and Imam Husayn with Ali Asghar. Appliqué and embroidery on fabric. Labelled Hadyeh Najaf va Karbala. ‘Gift from Najaf and Karbala.’ Presented as an endowment. On display in an imamzadeh during commemoration rituals in Muharram. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz, 2002.

Figure 29 Wall hanging, parcham. Appliqué and embroidery on fabric. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 30 Wall hanging depicting Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas, Imam Ali and Imam Husayn. Appliqué and embroidery on fabric. On display in an imamzadeh during commemoration rituals in Muharram. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz, 2002.

Figure 31 A woman touching a wall hanging at a zaynabiyyeh. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 32 A pilgrim having his portrait taken against a canvas depicting Imam Reza saving deer from a hunter. Publicity item purchased from the gallery ‘Akasi Zamani’, Mashhad, 2000.

Figure 33 Wall hanging. Appliqué and embroidery on fabric. On display in a private courtyard during commemoration rituals in Muharram. Photo: I. Flaskerud, 2000.

Figure 34 Wall hanging. Appliqué and embroidery on fabric. Presented as an endowment, vaqf. On display in a private courtyard during commemoration rituals in Muharram. Photo: I. Flaskerud, 2000.

Figure 35 Colour poster depicting Imam Husayn with Zaynab (35 × 50 cm). Caption: Veda´hezrat Zaynab, ‘The Farewell of Zaynab.’ Print: Nashbabak. Signature: Ashrafi. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 36 Colour poster depicting al-Abbas at Karbala (35 × 50 cm). Print: Poster Nuri. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 37 Colour poster depicting Imam Husayn with Ali Asghar (35 × 50 cm). Caption: Taqdimi beh hamaye kudakane jahan keh mazlumane raftand va khahar-e kochekam, ‘Offering on behalf of all little children in the world who died unjustly, and my little sister (who is dead).’ Signature: Majid Radi´Pour. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 38 Colour poster depicting Imam Husayn with Ali Asghar (35 × 50 cm). Caption: Sayyedna al-Imam Husayn, m´a tiflehu al-rasi´, ‘Our Lord Imam Husayn with his infant child.’ Signature: Bande [the Humble] Kamtarin Muslim Sarlak, Date: 1378/1999. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 39 Colour poster depicting Ali Akbar at the battle at Karbala (35 × 50 cm). Caption: Effigy (timthal) of the Blessed Excellency Ali Akbar, Peace be upon him. Artist: Muslim Sarmak. Print: Galery Elmira. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 40 Colour poster depicting Imam Husayn and Ali Akbar at the battle at Karbala (25 × 35 cm. Caption: ‘Effigy of his Excellency Ali Akbar, Peace be upon him. At the time when he became a martyr on Ashura in the lap of his great father, his Excellency Aba Abd Allah al-Husayn. Peace be upon him.’ Signature: Hajj Muhammad Tajvidi. Print: Daryaye Poster, Teheran. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 41 Colour poster depicting al-Abbas and Imam Husayn at Karbala (35 × 50 cm). Caption: va allahu inn qata´tum lamini inni uhami abadan ´an dini, ‘I swear to God, if they chop off my hand, verily I protect always from my religion.’ Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 42 Colour poster depicting al-Abbas and Imam Husayn at Karbala (35 × 50 cm). Caption: Band khaq pay hezrat Abbas, ‘I am the earth under Abbas’ foot.’ Signature: Majid Radi´Pour.Date: 1376/1997. Print: Daryayeh Poster. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 43 A zaynabiyyeh decorated for Muharram commemoration. Women praying during sufreh Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 44 Children on the flatbed of a lorry. Participating in a street procession, they offer water to passers-by with the words ‘O Abu al-Fazl!’ Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2000.

Figure 45 Saqqa-khaneh. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2000.

Figure 46 Commemorating the death of Ali Asghar, at a zaynabiyyeh. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 47 Colour poster depicting Imam Husayn (35 × 50 cm). Caption: Ashura Print: Nashr Babak, ‘Babak Publication’. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 48 Colour poster depicting Imam Husayn (35 × 50 cm). Caption: ‘O Husayn Martyr.’ Print: Poster Nuri, Teheran. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 49 Colour poster depicting the camp at Karbala (25 × 35). Caption: Akharin veda Zu al-Jenah pas az shuhadat hezrat Sayyed al-Shuhada (alayhu al-salam) ba ahl al-bayt, ‘The last farewell of Zu al-Jenah after the martyrdom of The Lord the Martyr with the ahl al-bayt.’ Print: Daryaye Poster Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 50 Card depicting the camp at Karbala (14 × 19. Caption: ‘The evening of Ashura.’ Signature: Mahmoud Farshchian. Date: 1359, 1981. Print: Zarrin and Simin Books, Teheran. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 51 Card depicting the family of Imam Husayn as hostages in Damascus (14 × 19). Caption: Kharabehaye Sham, ‘The Ruin in Sham’. Signature: Muhammad Reza Sharifi. Print: Gooya Card. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

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Chapter 8

The Image as a Votive Gift

Votive gifts are essential to Shia ritual performance and devotional life. In Persian, nazr kardan, means ‘to vow’ and ‘to dedicate’.1 The vow is presented ultimately to God but through holy personages who are considered to act as mediators between God and human beings. A supplication may concern protection, healing, material and spiritual assistance, and the safeguard of the soul of deceased friends and family members. If the votary believes to have received the requested assistance, he or she must meet the obligation made at the time of the vow and present an offering. The offering, or the gift, is called a nazri. A votum process is thus characterized by a reciprocal relationship between the votary and the personage to whom the vow is made. The offering is typically a meal, sufreh, held in the honour of Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas and Ruqayyeh, outfit for religious assembly halls, practical assistance related to ritual performance, the establishment of ritual assembly halls, the performance of ta´ziyeh, charity or a pilgrimage to the benefactor’s shrine.2 Also images are presented as votive gifts and are thus part of the reciprocal transaction characteristic of a votive process. The image can be presented at either end of the votive process to call upon the mediator and as a thanksgiving, corresponding to the class of ‘ex-voto.’ What characterizes the image as a votive gift, and why are images perceived as adequate vehicles for addressing God and holy saints and as thanksgivings?

The Image in the Transactional Process Shia votive images are not explicitly labelled as votive gifts, nor does its iconography describe a votum process. Moreover, assembly halls do not keep records of the gifts they receive. Information about when a gift was presented, who presented it, the donor’s motivation and to whom it is dedicated is thus obscure. The situation complicates the identification of votive images and makes it difficult to estimate a historical dating of when such practices began. The challenge can be met by a methodological approach that combines the study of iconography and epigraphy with ethnographic observation of the transactional dramaturgy including the votary, the beneficiary and the benefactor. In outlining a methodological and theoretical approach for the analysis of votive images in Shiism, I draw on Kriss-Rettenbeck, Hans Belting and

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Hugo van der Velden’s art-historical studies on Christian votive images and sculptures. There are two important differences between their studies and mine: we discuss two different religious traditions, Christianity and Islam, and whereas their approach is historical, mine is contemporary. However, the Persian expression nazr kardan has the same connotations as the Latin votum facere, which means ‘to make a vow’, ‘to redeem a vow’, and ‘to manufacture a votive gift’.3 Ultimately, the votum can be made only to God, but saints may serve as mediators between people and God. Christians may therefore approach saints through supplications, hoping to profit from the grace that saints have earned through their virtuousness. Similar to the Shia tradition, Christians may present images to invoke favour and to give thanks, in which case the image is known as an ex-voto suscepto, ‘from a vow made’. In the study of Christian votive images it has been argued that images presented beforehand, in the hope of assistance, are not votive images but dedications, or what Richard Andree has called weihegaben.4 Van der Velden refuses the distinction and argues that the term ‘votive gift’ embraces everything donated in relation to a vow. He suggests that the alleged distinction is ‘not between the gifts themselves but between the ends pursued by their donation’.5 I agree with this point, although I argue that the classification of gifts presented before and after the fulfilment of a supplication is useful in order to refine our understanding of the role images play in the process of reciprocality.6 Since the Middle Ages, European Catholic votive images have developed three themes which have become standardized components of its iconography and captions.7 The three themes are the making of the vow, the intervention and the thanksgiving.8 The process of mediation and thanksgiving towards celestial powers is, for example, depicted by the votary kneeling down in a praying gesture in front of the benefactor, while sometimes the beneficent is introduced to the benefactor by the mediating saint. Other votive programmes depict in detail the dramatic event in which the saint intervened to save the votary. With the introduction of photography to the general public, the votive iconography developed in new directions and it has become habitual to place photographs of the beneficiary at the mediating saint’s shrine.9 The beneficiary’s portrait is presented alone or in combination with a colour-print depicting the mediating saint. In that case, it is the positioning of the beneficiary’s portrait on the mediating saint’s sarcophagus, and not the iconography alone that situates the portrait in a transactional dramaturgy. Van der Velden approaches the dramaturgy of the votum process from yet a different angle. Analysing the iconography of a statuette representing Charles the Bold, he argues that it presupposes the presence of another but now absent statuette, a figure of St Lambert of Liège. The two sculptures were supposed to interact in a votum process in which Charles the Bold was the votary and donor, and St Lambert of Liège the recipient of the gift.10 In that case, the beneficiary and the mediator are independently represented in separate artefacts, but situated within the framework of a shared transactional dramaturgy. The context of display may thus be instrumental in identifying an image as part of a votive process. Captions are also

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useful sources when it comes to identifying an image as an ex-voto. In the Catholic tradition, the text can be of some length, describing the event, the aspiration and the intention by which the image was produced, or it may be a shorter dedication, identifying the person saved and the date of the event.11 In addition to personalized captions, the Catholic votive genre has developed a standardized repertoire of terms that serve to identify an image as an ex-voto. Most typical are the phrases ‘Ex-voto’ or simply ‘Ex V’, and ‘G.R.’, a shortening for Grazia Ricevuta or Per Grazia Ricevuta, meaning ‘For Received Grace’.12 Van der Velden has noted that the image is often only one component of a more complex, combined gift, which includes other objects as well as acts, for example a visit to a shrine and the veneration of the relics. He calls this phenomenon a ‘votive complex’.13 Some of the above examples demonstrate a tendency to personalize the votive gift by depicting the event in which a particular beneficiary received help, thus underlining the intimate relationship between the beneficiary and his or her benefactor. Belting suggests, however, that votive images may be used to facilitating the private relationship between a beneficiary and a saint, as well as to serve the public by offering members of a community the opportunity to ask a saint’s favour.14 The review of studies on Christian votive images suggests the votive transactional dramaturgy may include five factors: a votary, who wishes to invoke favours or give thanks, the beneficent, the mediating saint, the intervention and the gift. As a gift, the image may be introduced at either end of the votive process: at the beginning, to call upon the mediator or in the end, as a thanksgiving. Traces of the votum process can thus be found in the iconography and epigraphy within the visual plane of an image, in its context of display and in a votive complex. The relevance of these observations to the study of Shia votive image is that votive images are analysed in relation to broader religious practices related to invocation and thanksgiving, and that by analysing images’ iconography, captions, context of display and the image as part of a votive complex, one can examine how votive images relate to both personal and communal needs.

Iconographic and Textual Characteristics in Iranian Shiism Iranian Shiism has a tradition of visually representing important events from its sacred history. Significant episodes in the life of Imam Ali are remembered in pictorial accounts, the battle at Karbala is depicted in narrative and symbolic form, mythical and historical events are being enacted on stage, and pain and suffering are imitated in flagellation, by walking barefoot in processions and experiencing thirst and fatigue. In accordance with this tradition, one would expect to find narratives of divine mediation and intervention represented in Shia iconography. This is, however, not the case. What do Shia votive images depict visually and announce textually and how do iconography and text relate the image to a votum process?

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Many images, in particular wall hangings, can be identified as gifts on the basis of three different terms mentioned in the captions: taqdimi which means ‘an offering’ (Figures 23 and 28), vaqf which means ‘endowment’ (Figures 25, 27, 34, 52 and 53) and hadyeh or ehdai which means ‘a gift’ (Figures 1, 27 and 28). The gifts may or may not be a votive gift. The mentioning of the gift’s donor offers a more explicit reference to a votum process. The information is to be found in text passages placed below the iconographic programme or the calligraphic depiction in wall hangings. The donor can be an individual, male (Figures 23 and 25), a female (Figure 52) and a family (Figure 27). Occasionally captions mention the recipient of the image. The recipient can be a saint, for example the recipient of the wall hanging in Figure 53 is Aba Abd Allah al-Husayn. The receiver of an image-gift can also be a religious association. The wall hanging shown in Figure 26 was, for example, donated to Hay´at Mutavasselin beh Abu al-Fazl ‘Hay´at Resorting to Abu al-Fazl’, and the wall hanging in Figure 52 is an endowment, vaqf, from Mrs. Sabagh to Hay´at Banevane Bushehri, ‘Hay´at Ladies of Bushehr’. Images are also donated to religious locations. The caption in the wall hanging in Figure 27 reads: Vaqf Hajj Mas´ud Zadeh va banu beh masjid Abu al-Fazl, ‘Endowment from Hajj Mas´ud Zadeh and wife for the mosque Abu al-Fazl’. The votum process is characterized by a reciprocal relationship between a votary and a mediator. What would be the role of a hay´at and a ritual location in the votum process? A hay´at is an association organized on neighbourhood- or occupation basis for the purpose of religious instruction and ritual celebration. In addition to organizing prayer meetings throughout the year, often on a weekly basis, they are responsible for hosting commemoration rituals and festivals. Images are typically presented to the donor’s favourite religious community to which he or she belongs spiritually and socially. In addition to being a personal expression of religious devotion and commitment, the gift is presented to support the organizers morally and materially. Commemoration rituals organized by certain individuals and groups may gradually build up a reputation of being ‘favourable’ occasions for presenting a vow. The idea prevails that a vow presented on these occasions is likely to be rewarded. The role of the hay´at and the ritual location in the votum process is thus to provide a rewarding opportunity for people to make a vow. This may justify the practice of donating offerings to associations organizing rituals instead of to the actual mediating saint. Some wall hangings are, however, presented in ritual locations for which they were not originally intended. The decorative programme presented during Muharram in a home in Shiraz, for example, presented a wall hanging intended for Husayniyyeh Mian Zaqan. Mian Zaqan is a small town in the vicinity of Shiraz. Perhaps due to migration, the wall hanging was brought to Shiraz, or perhaps it was originally donated to a husayniyyeh in Shiraz frequented by people originally from Mian Zaqan. The historical context surrounding the donation of the wall hanging was lost to the organizer but she confirmed that as the wall

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hanging was donated the second time, it was identified as an ex-voto. Likewise, the wall hanging shown in Figure 52 is an endowment presented for the ‘Hay´at Ladies of Bushehr’, a hay´at that does not exist anymore. These images now form part of a collection of wall hangings that are lent to people who wish to organize matam rituals and need decorations for the temporary construction of the ritual space. Apparently, a votive image carries specific significance when donated to a ritual location or a hay´at, but a votive gift may travel beyond its original context of donation and enter new contexts of votive processes, being linked to new vows, votaries and benefactors. Some wall hangings are purchased from pilgrimage sites. The caption in the wall hanging in Figure 27 reads: Hadyeh Karbala, ‘Gift from Karbala’. Another common place for purchasing wall hangings is Mashhad. Both towns are important Shia pilgrimage sites, Karbala hosting the shrines of Imam Husayn and al-Abbas, and Mashhad hosting the shrine of the eighth Imam, Reza. Pilgrimage sites are connected to the votive process in at least two ways. A visit to a pilgrimage site may be the votary’s object for a vow. In addition to performing the hajj to Mecca, the Shia carry out ziyarat to local and regional pilgrimage sites.15 Pilgrimages sites are considered sanctified and the purpose of such visitations is to pay respect to the saint buried there and to seek his or her assistance. The journey is considered a pious act and is associated with religious merit, savab. In that case, the image is the votary’s return-gift to the saint for the fulfilment of a vow. As an ex-voto, the image functions as evidence of a benefactor’s successful mediation in granting the votary the opportunity to visit the shrine. On the other hand, the pilgrimage may be the votary’s gift to the saint in return for the saint’s intervention or fulfilment of a vow. In that case, the return-gift is the pilgrimage, whereas the image functions as testimony of the votary’s implementation of his or her obligation. The image is brought home and presented as a gift to remind the pilgrim/donor of his or her personal experience. Since several members of the local community are likely to share the experience of visiting a particular shrine, the souvenir may also bring back memories of journeys made by co-believers.16 The mentioning of a pilgrimage site is therefore a complex sign which points indexically to the place itself by naming it, but may also point symbolically to the saint who is buried there, to his or her character and to important events in Islam’s sacred history. The image gift may function as a personal souvenir, as well as stimulating the religious awareness of a local interpretive community. Moreover, a wall hanging purchased from a sanctified pilgrimage site is believed to enhance the potential power for mediation in a particular ritual location.17 Shia votive gifts are not labelled according to any particular formula. An image labelled taqdimi, hadyeh and vaqf can be a nazri, a votive gift, although not necessarily. Moreover, wall hangings which do not carry any precise text identifying it as a gift, see Figure 33, can also be votive gifts and should be included from the study of votive images. The analysis of captions referring to donor and recipient suggests that the Shia transactional dramaturgy does not limit itself to

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the intimate reciprocal transaction between donor and benefactor but adopts a broader perspective which includes the hay´at and the ritual location in the votum process. Turning to the information presented in other sources, for example, combining textual information with iconography, it becomes evident that Shia votive images do not refer to the event for which the saint intervened but to the event in which the saint earned his or her power to intervene. Figure 1 shows a characteristic imaginary portrait of al-Abbas. In this case there is an unusual abundance of information regarding traces of the reciprocal dramaturgy of the votum process. The image is labelled as ehdai, gift, but oral information confirms it to be an ex-voto. Written information reveals who the donor is and oral information explains about the event in which the saint intervened. Moreover, there is iconographic representation of the event in which the mediating saints earned his power to intercede. From the captions we learn that the image was donated to Hay´at Mutahedeh Janesaran Abu al-Fazl, ‘Hay´at The succeeding allies of Abu al-Fazl’, established in Shiraz in 1327 ap/1948 ad by hajj Khalil Setajeshgar. According to one of the organizers to the hay´at it was donated as an ex-voto the previous year (2001) from a man after the healing of his sick son through the mediation of Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas. In the image, the mediator is portrayed with reference to his virtues and to the event in which he was bestowed with the honour of acting as a mediator. Abu al-Fazl is portrayed alive, but wounded and thirsty. His portrait is almost immersed by water, a design which clearly refers to his unfulfilled mission at the Euphrates River. A similar reference to a votum process is repeated in the wall hangings shown in Figure 23, which is an offering from a man named Javad Karmani in 1338 ap/1959 ad and Figure 33, which does not carry any personalized information. The iconography depicts a wounded, white horse with a tear flowing from its eye. The horse carries saddle and bridle, but no horseman. Placed around it is a standard and other conventional attributes of Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas, that is, his arm, water-skin and helmet, all of which refer to his bravery and suffering at the battle at Karbala. The campsite in the background, moreover, refers to the other martyrs at Karbala. The iconography thus points to mediating saints and the event in which they earned their power to intervene. The same reference is made in inscriptions appearing on the margins. The wall hanging in Figure 23 presents an abstract of the elegy by Kashani mourning and honouring the martyrdom of Imam Husayn, whereas the wall hanging in Figure 33 shows an abstract from a ta’ziyeh libretto in the voice of al-Abbas. The symbolic significance of the shrine design conveys a similar message, see Figures 24, 25 and 27. A reciprocal transaction is not explicitly expressed, but the grave-mosque points symbolically to the martyrdom of two important mediating saints and the event in which they earned their position as mediators. The shrine also points to the cult of pilgrimage, an act often associated with vowing. The wall hanging presented in Figure 53 is an endowment, vaqf, donated by an individual called Shiwa’i in 1354 ap/1975 ad to ‘Abu Abd Allah al-Husayn’,

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that is, Imam Husayn. Its iconography presents a theme not often observed in contemporary wall hangings. A lion is placed at the centre of the pictorial plane, facing the viewer and holding a sword in one paw while a sun rises behind its neck. In contemporary Iran, the lion-and-sun may appear on wall hangings in different iconographic designs, combining the lion-and-sun with a mirror image, or combining it with the shrine design introduced above. The lion-andsun is an old iconographic programme in Iran.18 Since the early Safavid period, when it was applied as one of several Iranian state emblems, it has been vested with political and religious connotations. To the Safavid it combined the genealogical foundation for their legitimacy, the sun referring to Jamshid, the mythological king-founder of the ancient Persian kingdom, and the lion referring to Imam Ali.19 The Qajar shahs continued the use of the lion-and sun as a monarchic sign. In 1828 Fath Ali Shah introduced the Order of the Lion and the Sun20 and in 1834, Muhammad Shah (r.1834–1848) formally adopted the lion-andsun as the official emblem of the Iranian state.21 Later, Nasir al-Din Shah combined The Order of Imam Ali and the Order of the Lion-and-Sun to underline the emperor’s religious affiliation and legitimacy, thus referring to nation, monarch and religion. The sign became the national symbol of the Iranian state and until the revolution in 1979 the emblem decorated the Iranian flag. After the revolution in 1979, the lion-and-sun was abandoned as the state emblem and replaced by a new sign.22 As a political emblem its associations with the monarchical past was too prevailing, and the new leaders preferred an emblem that could signalize the transition to a republican government and its Islamic ideological foundation. During the Qajar era, the lion-and-sun also assumed a clear religious function when banners were used for Muharram processions and ceremonies. 23 The practice has continued into the twentieth century and wall hangings decorated with the lion-and-sun are presented in ritual assembly halls during Muharram and Safar and in public processions during Muharram. Some are labelled as gifts and donations, while others are not. I have not registered any wall hangings depicting this iconography dated after the revolution. This could indicate that the emblem is about to loose its significance also as a religious symbol, and is used today only as traditional handover. How may the lion-and-the-sun be related to a votum process? The lion traditionally refers to Ali, known as Asadullah, ‘The bold and daring Lion of God’, Shir-e Khoda, ‘The Lion of God’ and Haydar, ‘Lion’. The sun, Fahmida Suleman suggests, may refer to Ali’s esoteric knowledge.24 The sun may here also connect Ali to the nur-muhammedi. The combined sign may thus be associated with Imam Ali, the most important mediator in the Twelver Shia tradition. Other saints are, however, referred to in the captions. Above the lion-and-sun is written: In al-Husayn misbah al-huda va safinatu al-najah, ‘Husayn is the light of Divine guidance and the rescue vessel’. To the right of the lion-and-sun it says ‘O Moon of Hashim’s Clan’. To its left it says, ‘O Aba Abd Allah’, an invocation referring to Imam Husayn. In the top right corner is repeated ‘O Moon of Hashemite Clan’ and in the top left it reads, ‘O Abu al-Fazl’. In the lower right corner it

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says, ‘O Husayn Shahid’, and in the lower left corner it says, ‘O Imam Reza’. The poem presented in the marginal frames is an elaboration of the ta´ziyeh libretto in which Abu al-Fazl laments the loss of his right hand. In this votive image, one central mediator, Imam Ali, is referred to in figurative symbolic form, and others are mentioned in captions. The event in which al-Abbas, as well as Imam Husayn, earned their status as mediators is recalled in the ta´ziyeh libretto. Shia votive images may differ between themselves in terms of iconography, textual information and its references to the votum process. The iconography of Shia votive images may display portraits of mediators, and narratives referring to the battle at Karbala, the event in which some mediators earned their power to intervene. The representation of holy places may also be seen as conveying this event. The texts may refer to the donor, the benefactor or the recipient. Noteworthy, the donor is not necessarily the beneficiary, and the receiver, for example a hay´at, is not necessarily the actual benefactor.

Votive Images in Contexts of Ritual Performance The votive gift is a ritual object and in the following discussion the methodology shifts from analysing traces of the votive transaction within the image frame, to examine the relation between the votary, the beneficent, the holy patron and the gift itself, elements that reflect the mechanism of vow, action and reciprocation. During mourning meetings photographs of lay people, of which some are alive and others recently deceased, are placed in juxtaposition with wall hangings, on the menbar and in conjunction with replicas of shrines. The situation depicted in Figure 52, demonstrates how the host of a ritual location has placed a photograph of his late father at a visible location on the wall near a votive gift, whereas the photograph in Figure 54 shows the portrait of a boy which his mother has placed next to a temporarily constructed imaginary replica of Ruqayyeh’s shrine in Damascus. The picture of the deceased male was present during commemoration ceremonies for him to be remembered and receive blessings generated from communal prayers. The juxtaposition of his portrait with votive wall hangings was believed to further enhance the dissemination of holy grace and to secure the blessing of the deceased man’s soul. The positioning of the boy’s photograph next to the replica of Ruqayyeh’s shrine was intended to heal the boy’s handicap through the intervention of the female child saint. The two examples illustrate the role of the single portrait in situating the beneficent in the votum process when invocations are made on their behalf. They also demonstrate the power of prayer and votive gifts, such as wall hangings and replica shrines, in promoting the saint’s intervention in both this life and in the afterlife. Moreover, the examples demonstrate the power of the single portrait to represent the absent sitter. Rituals leaders, maddah, are often approached by people in the community and requested to ask for blessings on their behalf during matam majlis and mowludi.

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The congregation is invited to join in the call for blessing by participating in a prayer known as salavat: Allahumma salli ala Muhammad va al-e Muhammad, ‘O Allah send thy blessing on Muhammad and his family.’ Blessing is asked to improve the health of members of the local community, and to save the soul of its deceased members. Blessing is also asked for prophets and saints by declaring, for example, ‘Say salavat for the soul of Rasul Allah (i.e. God’s Prophet, Muhammad). God, don’t bring us to the other world (i.e. afterlife) until You have shown us mercy,’ upon which the congregation respond with pronouncing the salavat.25 Moreover, praise is declared to encourage the work of professional groups, for example ritual leaders, maddah, and ritual assistants, zakir. The call for blessing may address issues of great future importance, such as the reappearance of the Mahdi, and mundane issues, such as requesting a blessing for the soul of Thomas Edison for the return of electricity after a power cut during a ceremony. The deceased man referred to in Figure 52 is thus the beneficiate of blessings bestowed by God and the ahl al-bayt, while the congregation perform the supplication on behalf of the deceased. In a similar manner, the boy in the photograph is the beneficiary of divine blessings, while his mother and the congregation act on the boy’s behalf. The close proximity between the boy’s portrait and the shrine of the mediating saint is intended to enhance the healing effect of the supplications. The belief in the power of the shrine-representation to enhance supplication is grounded in the saint’s reputation as mediator, and in the fact that the replica is composed of votive gifts. The replica in Figure 54 does not share any resemblance with the original in Damascus; rather, its design is motivated by a dream experienced by the husband in the family owning the husayniyyeh.26 The base of the grave-replica is a wooden plate (50 × 30 cm) wrapped in green material. Above it is raised a canopy made of lengths of cloths in different colours. These are votive gifts accumulated during the years in which the family has hosted the ceremony. Additional gifts for Ruqayyeh are placed inside the canopy. People give items they believe a small girl like Ruqayyeh needed as a hostage, when brought from the plains of Karbala to the Caliph’s captivity in Damascus. Most people know the destiny of Ruqayyeh through rowzeh recited for her during ceremonies.27 Ruqayyeh, one day saw from the gate of the ruin that the Shami girls [girls from Damascus] put their hands in the hands of their fathers and crossed the street. She said to herself, if I could have my hand in my father’s hand, I would not have to sit in such a place. With this she fell asleep. In the middle of the night she woke with a dream of her father and started to cry. She cried a lot. Yazid heard the sound of a child crying, and sent someone to see what was going on. They returned and told him that the child of Imam Husayn was crying because she had a dream about her father. She was complaining, saying she wanted to see him. Yazid said, ‘O the child cannot distinguish between the dead and the living. Bring her the head of her father so she will be quiet.’ They brought the head to her on a plate. When they arrived in the ruin with

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the plate, Ruqayyeh said to her aunt [Zaynab]: ‘I didn’t ask for food, I want to see my father.’ They presented her with the plate and the head. The head was covered by blood. She became terrified and fainted. Then she departed to see her father in Paradise: ‘Being an orphan is a disease that cannot be cured. If the hand of my father was in my hand, I wouldn’t be in this ruin.’28 It is held that Caliph Yazid’s men forced Ruqayyeh to walk barefoot from Karbala to Damascus. The episode motivated people to bring shoes for the shrine. As the story goes, Ruqayyeh was lonely in Damascus, and grieved the separation from her father. Consequently, many believers brought gifts that might cheer up a sad little girl, such as dolls, small cups and plates to play with, and sweets as votive gifts. According to the story, Ruqayyeh died in a dark ruin in Damascus, an event that encouraged visitors to bring candles. Gifts were plentiful, and since they were votive gifts intended for Ruqayyeh they had to be presented in association with her shrine model. As a result, gifts covered a wide space on the floor around the shrine, and filled up available space in window posts and bookshelves in the ritual assembly hall.29 Votive gifts are believed to be invested with barakat. People may therefore approach a representation of a saint to honour him or her, express devotional sentiments and present their supplication or thanksgiving. For example, towards the end of the matam ceremony for Ruqayyeh ritual participants moved in a circle around the model shrine while flagellating, a rite called sineh dowr, and performed elegies, nowheh, to express their condolence.30 After the ritual performance had come to an end, many women paid a visit to the shrine and touched the gifts on display inside it and then touched their face to present a supplication and be blessed by the grace generated through the votive gift. When dismantling the model after ten days of commemoration ceremonies, some items were kept for next year’s rituals; others were distributed among those who visited the rituals and among the poor. This was done not only to support people materially, but also to contribute to the spread of barakat, blessing and good fortune, believed to be invested in the votive gifts. Displaying the boy’s portrait in conjunction with the replica was thus not accidental. The replica, which was made of votive gifts, was assumed to be invested with mediating potential. Moreover, the mother was hoping that Ruqayyeh, a child who had experienced great suffering, would answer the call from another child in distress. The idea seems to have been shared by other members in the community who approached gifts presented in the replica to share in their barakat (Figure 55). Similarly, Anne Betteridge observed in Shiraz in the late 1970s that vowing to spread ‘sofreh-ye Hezrat Ruqayyeh’ was believed to be especially efficacious when requesting cures of children’s diseases.31 The mother did not bring her son to visit the replica but let him relax in the kitchen connected to the assembly hall. Instead, the boy was represented at the replica by his portrait. Similarly, deceased members of the local community were represented by and recollected through the presence of their portrait. These strategies are based on the belief in the power of images to ‘stand for’, or

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to represent living beings. One should be cautious, though, to clarify the nature of a person’s presence through visual representation in the context of Iranian Shiism. In this case, the boy is being introduced to the saint through his portrait. However, conversations with mullahs and lay people in the local community revealed the conviction that portraits can substitute people, not because the portrait has the power to embody a person in an iconic manner, but because the image can stand for that person in a symbolical manner. In this manner the portrait assists in the recollection of the absent sitter, but not in making the sitter present.32 The placing of the boy’s portrait next to the replica of Ruqayyeh’s shrine served the purpose of calling Ruqayyeh’s attention to the boy, and to recollect the sitter in the minds of the ritual performers requesting blessing. The positioning of the portrait in conjunction with the replica shrine may also have served yet a third function, to state a commitment. Betteridge has observed that someone who is seriously ill might bind himself or herself to the grating around the tomb at a shrine or imamzadeh to draw the saint’s attention to a request.33 The action is, moreover, the initiation of a transaction binding the petitioner to the saint. To enhance the calling, votaries also present a letter to a shrine, or tie a piece of string, a safety pin, or a padlock, to the tomb grating or a window grating at the shrine building. The symbolic meaning of such action is to dakhil bastan, ‘binding the request for help’.34 A similar action with parallel symbolic value, which I observed several times, is to tie knots to the clots covering the hejleh Qasem. When the knots were undone at the end of the ritual season, the requests were believed to be forwarded to the saint. Betteridge’s report is an example of a clearly literal correlation between an action and its symbolic content and intention. The juxtaposition of the portrait at the model shrine serves the same function, but in a symbolic manner. The transactional process between the mother and the saint was enhanced by the mother’s participation in a votive complex of which the presentation of the son’s portrait was only one element. In addition, the mother made daily pilgrimages to the replica and offered her assistance in organizing the ceremonies, preparing beverage and food for the visitors. In Iranian Shiism, decorating ritual assembly halls and homes, and assistance in carrying out ceremonies is perceived as religious, meritorious work, savab. Such work is related to the votum process in the sense that it is perceived to support an invocation. The belief was common in the local community and in assembly halls reputed to bring ‘good fortune’, the host had a list of people waiting to participate in the preparations. The mother thus used various strategies of gift giving in order to present her invocation, to secure the adequate attention from the saint and raise sympathy for her cause. A single portrait was offered to introduce the son to the saint. It was placed in conjunction with the saint’s replica shrine to call the saint’s attention to the request. By visiting the replica shrine, the mother reassured the saint about her commitment and by performing religious work, she testified to her sincerity. Any potential fulfilling of a request would be perceived to be the result of the combination of gifts which served various purposes in the process, but which were all directed towards the same end-result.

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Images were ascribed with a mediating potential similar to the replica of Ruqayyeh’s shrine. During Muharram processions in 2002, the portable neon signboard representing al-Abbas, shown in Figure 1, was transported through the evening streets of Shiraz. One evening, two chador-dressed women parted from the watching crowd to approach the image. The two women stroked the face of al-Abbas with their hands and next crossed the hands over their own face. After having completed these movements, they returned to the watching crowd. In general, touching objects related to holy people is believed to secure the believer’s blessing, barakat. It is therefore reasonable to assume that the women were paying tribute to al-Abbas, perhaps also presenting an invocation. A similar incident took place in a ritual assembly hall after a ceremony in Muharram 2002. A young woman with a small child was stroking a wall hanging with her hand, see the photograph in Figure 31. The wall hanging carried a calligraphy saying, ‘O Moon of Hashim’s Clan’, referring to al-Abbas. After touching the wall hanging, the woman touched her child with the same hand and then herself. The woman later explained she had come to ask al-Abbas for help on behalf of her little family. Her husband was recently paralysed due to a motorcycle accident. The little money she made as an unskilled worker was not enough to make ends meet. Moreover, a middle-aged woman, apparently ill, walked around in the ritual assembly hall touching the parchams after the ceremony. She was particularly attracted to a large green cloth giving the names of all the 12 imams. She touched every name within her reach. Afterwards she stood facing the menbar, praying for a quite some time. Votive gifts are believed to disseminate barakat. Whereas the portable neon signboard representing al-Abbas was known to be an ex-voto, the wall hanging shown in Figure 31 was not. However, when it comes to the mediating power of images, perhaps this feature is not very important. Many people simply choose to approach the representation of a saint with whom they have a particular relationship. To others, any image referring to members of the ahl al-bayt would do. In the context of ritual performance, the transactional relationship between votary, beneficiate and benefactor is expressed in a dramaturgy that connects iconography and captions within the image’s frame to the careful arrangement of images and ritual objects in ritual space. A transactional structure is reflected in the way the votary relates to images and ritual objects, presenting supplication and thanksgiving. The invocation is enacted and embodied through the interaction between the supplicant and the benefactor’s symbolic representation. These are concrete representations of the petition although the content of the specific supplication remains unknown to the general public. According to this structure, the votary, the beneficiary and the benefactor, are independently represented but nevertheless situated in reciprocity within the framework of a shared transactional dramaturgy. For example, the mother as the votary appears in person carrying out religious work and devotional acts like pilgrimage. The boy as the beneficiary is symbolically represented by his single portrait, and Ruqayyeh as the benefactor is symbolically represented by a model of

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her shrine. These three constitute the core elements of the invocation process taking place, but the prayers, elegies, and rites performed by the congregation serve to enhance any request being performed during ritual performance, as do the abundant donation of votive gifts already offered to the saint.

The Relationship between the Vow and the Gift In Iranian Shia votive practices there is often a connection between the kind of vow the votary makes, the saint addressed and the gift presented. The study of the relation between the nature of the vow and the gift is, however, not a straightforward matter since making nazr is a personal request. It does not have to be pronounced, since God will know the request kept in the heart of the believer.35 The making of a vow is, nevertheless, often publicly known. On one occasion the host of an all-female ceremony in Muharram rebuked visitors for not bringing more gifts, such as sweets and beverage. She informed the visitors that she knew many of them had had their supplications fulfilled, supplications performed during ceremonies for which she was responsible. She urged them to complete their obligations to the saints and bring their gifts. Sometimes, however, an invocation gift can give a clear hint as to the content of a supplication. The relation between vow, the saint addressed and the gift presented was, in various ways, evident at many all-female rituals I attended during Muharram. The women prepared a doll intended to represent Ali Asghar. The doll was dressed in garment made by votive pieces of cloths. At some point during the ceremony, they let the doll pass from one person to the other, and silently presented their supplication to the saint.36 Their supplications were related to marriage, childbearing and the protection of children. The women also made a cradle out of several layers of votive pieces of clothes, gifts they had accumulated over the years. The cradle was a symbolic representation of Ali Asghar, although it lacked the mimetic similarity embodied in the doll. In the same manner women brought children to Ruqayyeh’s shrine for safe protection and healing, they approached the model of Ali Asghar’s cradle. Similarly, at the imamzadeh of Shah Queys, a son of Imam Reza, Betteridge observed a woman offering a small fabric cradle, and placed inside it a tiny bundle of cloth to represent the child she hoped to bear.37 Judging from these examples, there seem to be a correlation between the nature of the vow, the saint being addressed, and the visual or material representation with which the votary interacts during the presentation of the supplication. The mimetic relationship between the nature of a vow and the gift is sometimes underlined, but not necessarily. In the process of invocation, the object being approached may be a personal gift from the votary, but more often it is a donation put into circulation by someone else. The situation is different with regard to gifts presented as thanksgiving or ex-voto. When making a vow,

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the individual commits herself or himself to present a specific gift, held to be appropriate for the kind of supplication asked. The gift must correspond to that commitment. The question is why an image is held to be an adequate gift in return for saints’ mediation.

The Image as an Adequate Vehicle for Invoking Favour and Giving Thanks In Iranian Shiism, images are accepted as gifts presented for seeking help and as adequate thanksgivings. But as Betteridge so acutely observes, ‘Shia vow making is the gift giving and receiving process turned upside down.’38 The potential recipient of the gift, the saint, is not dependent upon the donor. Instead, the relationship is reversed and the person making the vow is dependent upon the saint’s goodwill. Why should an image be an adequate donation for invoking favour and giving thanks? I approach the matter by looking at the Shia perspective on redemption and reward, and how the faithful articulate this belief through the distribution of votive gifts in their communal ritual space. Votive practices are closely related to the Shia logic of redemption and reward. God is believed to have rewarded the suffering of Shia protagonists, such as Imam Ali, Imam Husayn and al-Abbas, Zaynab, Ruqayyeh and Ali Asghar, by making them mediators, shafi’. Their suffering is perceived as redemptive, and through the participation in their distress the faithful may be redeemed and rewarded.39 In this way, the life of the saints is connected with the promise stated in the Quran, Surat 40:60, committing God to answer the calling from the faithful. Votive gifts, such as food, shoes, candles, dolls and images are, however, not transferred from the mundane world inhabited by people to the transcendent world inhabited by saints. The gift, after it has been offered, remains in the human, social space. The saints do not consume the food, but it is shared by people.40 Van der Velden suggests that if the constituent elements of a votive complex served different purposes, it should be possible to classify votive gifts according to their function.41 Among objects he distinguishes between non-utilitarian and utilitarian gifts. Some votive gifts, like food and clothing, are utilitarian in the sense that they ensure people’s physical needs like feeding the hungry and dressing the poor. But as votive gifts the offerings should also relate to the Shia perspective on redemption and reward. The act of charity is a religious duty, institutionalized as one of the five pillars, zakat. Also voluntary charity is considered important to religious life. In general, Muslims hold that an angel will record every deed in the individual’s own book or pages, suhuf/sahaef, to be presented on the Day of Judgement.42 Accordingly, the Quran promises reward in the afterlife for those who do good deeds. Verily, God will admit those who believe and do good deeds, into gardens ‘neath which flow rivers; Verily God doeth what He intendeth.43

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The Quran mentions some deeds specifically, such as prayer, assistance for the orphans, nourishment for the poor and alms, but also insists on the importance of right intention accompanying good deeds. To do good deeds only to be seen is not acceptable. What! Hast thou seen him who belieth in Final Judgement? That is he who repelleth the orphan. And urged not others to feed the poor. And woe unto those praying ones. Who are heedless of their prayer, who does a good deed only to be seen. And withhold alms.44 The Surat underline eschatological dimensions of doing good deeds, such as their relation to Resurrection and the Final Judgement. In lived religion, also non-eschatological contexts have developed. In Twelver Shiism, this context specifically relates to the hardship of everyday life. It is believed that by doing good deeds one can engage the saints who act as intercessors to, God willing, improve conditions also in this life. Doing charitable work may thus have an eschatological and a mundane dimension, as well as a spiritual and social dimension. In fact, the spiritual dimension of mundane life is highlighted through the dissemination of votive gifts throughout the community. I have already directed attention to the sanctification of daily activities. Making drinks and food, and serving these during ritual performance, is perceived as religious work in the way of God. The value of such religious work is described as equivalent to praying, and qualifies as votive gifts. The same kind of transformation is attributed to commodities. Food is a typical consumptive gift, to borrow a term from Van der Velden, and it contributes to the maintenance and support of the cult. This, however, is not it’s only function, since shared votive meals are believed to contribute to the spread of barakat, God’s grace, among people. This is important since the effect of being bestowed by barakat is perceived to be of transformative nature. As noted by Kamalkhani, votive offerings such as food are believed to have a healing power and its merit is for those who share in its consumption.45 The idea is widespread, and towards the end of Muharram large quantities of sweets, cakes and fruits are typically distributed to visitors who are eager to collect the handouts. The same values are attributed to other types of votive gifts, for example shoes. Shoes are a regular commodity intended to protect peoples’ feet. But when entering the religious sphere of votive transaction, shoes become associated with the category of objects believed to transmit blessing. The intrinsic function of objects, that is, the purpose for which they were made, is no longer a foundation for their value. Instead, they circulate in the transactional process of gift offering and are treated with respect. One important function of votive gifts is thus that it disseminates grace and the sanctification of ordinary actions and objects are related to their status of being put into the service of the cult of the saints. By participating in the cult, the faithful express loyalty and sympathy with the saints. This is a specific expression of the more general corporeality of Islamic devotional practices, in which

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an internal ritual, such as a prayer or a supplication, is combined with various forms of external rituals, such as purification and standardized body movements. The difference is that the prayer, salat, follows an established pattern of procedure, whereas the supplication, the du’a, is receptive to popular influence. Although the dissemination of votive gifts is believed to spread barakat, it is important to note that the power of votive gifts is not held to be in the gift itself. A votive gift is not initiated as a miracle working act or object, but its power is generated by the intentions and commitments they symbolize.46 The votive image lacks the characteristics typical of charitable gifts in that it cannot provide material support to the poor. Neither can it distribute barakat by being consumed in a utilitarian manner. Nevertheless, it is sometimes addressed when supplications are offered and presented as thanksgivings after the request has been fulfilled. This is another example of how Shia devotional practices engage the senses. Apparently, there is a need in the culture to visualize the various aspects related to the votum process. In this effort the gift itself, the image, may refer in various ways to the votary or beneficent, and the benefactor. What is the role of visualization, and how does it relate to the votum process? The making and use of images in general, and the making of images of holy personages and the use of images in religious contexts in particular, are controversial issues in Islam.47 I shall therefore in the following discuss some examples of Shia interpretations on the issue, before returning more specifically to the role of visualization and how it relates to religious devotional practices such as the votum process. There are particularly two themes referred to in the Quran that makes up the nucleus of Islamic iconoclasm: God is the creator of living things, and only God is worthy of worship. Surat 59:24, ‘The Banishment’, underscores God’s creative power. He is God, the Creator (al-Khaliq), the Maker (al-Bari), the Fashioner (al-Musawwir).48 Surat 4:43, ‘The Women’, informs that God creates by shaping a form in clay, for example, human beings and birds, and gives life to the forms by breathing into them. The Arabic word musawwir means forming, fashioning, giving form, and is, besides being one of God’s beautiful names, also used for ‘painter’ (in Arabic, Persian and Turkish). Some religious scholars have interpreted a painter’s activities as attempts to himself usurp the creative function of the Creator and thus attempting to assimilate to God. The Hadith collector Bukhari (810–870) informs that the Prophet is reported to have said that among those who will be the most severely punished by God on the Day of Judgement will be the painters.49 According to Bukhari, the painter will be asked to breathe life into the forms that he has fashioned; but he cannot breath life into anything. The monotheistic doctrine in Islam underscores the unicity of God, tawhid. Nothing should be associated with God. Surat 4:116, makes it clear that to associate anything with God is idolatry, shirk, and will not be tolerated.

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Verily, God forgiveth not that (anything) be associated with Him (yushrik), and forgiveth anything besides this to whomsoever He pleaseth; and whoso associateth (yushriku) with God, hath indeed strayed far, far away (from the right path). Muhammad, as well as previous prophets, is said to condemn idolatry. In Surat 6:74 Ibrahim criticizes members of his community for taking idols, asnam, as gods, and declares they make an error. The same theme is mentioned in Surat 21:52 in which Ibrahim asks, ‘What are these statues, (al-tamathil) onto which you are cleaving?’ The people reply, ‘We found our fathers serving them’ (see also Surat 26:70 and 60:4). In Surat 5:92 idols, ansab, graven images, are compared to wine and divining arrows, and called abomination and the work of Satan. The believers are called upon to avoid it. The words for idols in these passages are al-ansab, al-tamathil and al-asnam, referring to visual representations in the form of statues and paintings. One important nuance should be observed in these Quranic texts. They express opposition to the worship of physical idols, but do not reject art or visual representations as such.50 In fact, in contemporary Iran this is interpreted to mean that one may make symbolic representations of idols, to teach the faithful not to worship idols. The broader narrative of ta´ziyeh productions includes stories from the lives of the Prophets. One of these stories is ‘Narnimruzi’, a production dealing with Ibrahim and his battle against idol worship.51 At a performance in Shiraz during Safar in 1999, Ibrahim fed five sculptures representing idols, but realizing their ‘false’ nature he then smashed them, see Figure 56. The ‘idols’ in the play were fashioned from clay, and presented with eyes, nose and mouth painted on the conical object. The following year the performance was aired on the Iranian State television channel during Muharram. Visualization may thus serve didactical purposes, and representations of idols may be fashioned to teach Muslims a lesson on not to worship idols. When discussing the issue of Islamic iconoclasm (rejecting the use of images), or aniconism (avoiding the use images), it is important to distinguish between different schools of thought. Rudi Paret has pointed out the divergent classical Sunni and Shia opinions in the matter.52 According to Paret, there is no condemnation against making images in the Shia Hadith he has consulted, recorded between the eighth and the eleventh century. Instead, Paret concludes, the discussion centred on the use of images. The believers were advised not to let images distract the prayer. If images were present in the room during prayer, the believer was advised to cover it. Moreover, an image should not come between the devotee and the qiblah. Paret also quotes Arthur U. Pope who in 1939 published interviews with mullahs at the seminars in Qum and Mashhad. The mullahs recognized that there is no prohibition on the use of images in the Quran, only against idolatry. They therefore ruled that it is permissible to keep images as long as they do not become objects of adoration at the time of prayer. They also stated it was permissible to have images in the

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mosque, as long as they were not placed in the sanctuary.53 Paret criticizes Thomas Arnold for having ignored the Shia sources when claiming that the ‘Shia theologians condemned the representation of living objects just as severely as ever their Sunni co-religionists did.’54 Interviews I conducted with religious scholars in Qum and in Shiraz between 1999 and 2003 confirmed some reservation with regard to the use of figurative images in general, and towards the presence of images in ritual contexts in particular. Nevertheless, acknowledging that there is no explicit prohibition against images in the Quran, the religious scholars could not prohibit it. They could only warn people against the dangers of idolizations. One scholar related the Quranic statements on the production of images to the historical context of its revelation. He argued that the warnings against images and idolatry were directed towards the Arab polytheists who would pray in front of pictures and sculptures. The question is whether the making of visual representations in other historical contexts constitutes a threat to Islamic monotheism or not. In his opinion it did not. He explained that Muslim societies today are mature, different from the Arab society in the time of jahiliyya, ‘Ignorance’. Today, Muslims know and understand the doctrine of tawhid, which stresses the unicity of God, and there is no likelihood of Muslims confusing visual representations with God. As long as images are excluded from the context of prayer, the making of images may continue. The scholar thus opted for a universal interpretation on the Quranic prohibition on idols, but decided on a contextualized interpretation on the less obvious interpretation on the production of imagery. A prohibition against idols would apply to all Muslims at all times, but any prohibition on imageries was directed towards members of the early Muslim community. In order to explain how we may understand the Quranic position towards idols and painters procuring images, the scholar drew a comparison with the Quranic position on poets. In Surat 26:221–227, ‘The Poets’, it is stated: Shall I inform you upon whom descend the satans? Descend they on every lying sinful one, Lend they their ears, and most of them are liars. And the poets, follow them the erring ones, See thou not that they, in every valley they wander bewildered? And that they say what they (themselves) do not do. Save those who believe and do good, and remember God much, and defend themselves after they are oppressed; And soon shall know those who deal unjustly, what an (evil) turning they shall be turned unto! The scholar explained that at the time of the Prophet Muhammad many poets used to compose poetic praise of the idols and against their enemies, condemning them. Some also argued against Muhammad’s prophesy and the revelations he brought. In these Quran verses God warns people against following such poets. Not all poets did however discredit the Prophet, but embraced his message. This means that poetry is not in itself evil but may, on the contrary, be

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used in the service of religion.55 In a commentary to the last part of this quotation, verse 227, the Shia Quran commentator Hujjatul Islam Ayathollah Haji Mirza Mahdi Pooya Yazdi suggests: This is an exception to the condemned art of poetry, in any poetic composition produced by the good believers who remember God in favour of the oppressed ones against the aggressors particularly those who were persecuted for their adherence to the truth. Therefore the poetic work in the praise of the Holy Prophet or the Ahlul-Bayt or their devotees, or condemning the aggressors and their unjust conduct is in the exception – Thus they are commendable.56 The commentator’s interpretation is consistent with the views of the scholar I interviewed in Qum, in that they underline the permissible use of poetry as long as it is performed in the service of Islam. By turning poetry and images into parallel issues, the scholar I interviewed suggested that also images might be used in the service of Islam. This idea is also reflected in the opinion provided by a scholar in Shiraz. The scholar and his colleagues preferred to compare images of holy personages as a way, tariqeh, to God.57 The scholar pointed out that an image would help the worshipper to focus his or her attention on God. The idea of the image as a device to focus attention was also brought up by a maddah, who compared visual imagery to the mohr namaz, the little piece of clay from Karbala that Shia Muslims place their forehead on when prostrating themselves in prayer.58 She explained that the mohr namaz is believed to make the distance between God and the worshipper shorter because God loves Husayn and will accept a prayer from someone who pays him respect. In the same manner a picture of a holy person brings God and worshipper closer to each other. One informant expressed this in the following way: ‘To look at Husayn is to see God.’ The idea is that through looking, the believer is drawn closer to God. It does not, however, mean that the image is an icon that brings the viewer into direct contact with the holy and provides the mechanism for epiphany. Instead, the representative character of images is underlined and the contemplative function of images is highlighted. The image may also have didactical functions important to devotional observance. A scholar in Qum did not mind the popular use of religious imageries.59 He believed images might be of assistance to the simple-minded in understanding and practising the religion, and pointed out the didactical advantage of images in depicting the sacred history to the illiterates. The scholar also acknowledged the important power of visual representations when it comes to influencing peoples’ emotions, but warned against becoming too emotionally absorbed in images. They were after all representations and not real portraits. Nevertheless, also many well-educated people presented images of holy personages in their homes, offices and studies. Several religious scholars confirmed that the framed representations of Imam Ali and Imam Husayn on display in their

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studies expressed their respect for the Imams, their support of the guiding and exemplary aspects of the Imam, and their love for the Imams. From the above discussion I will abstract two important points: images should not become objects of devotion but can otherwise be put in the service of religion.60 Diane D’Souza has noted, based on her study of alams in Shia piety in India, that a fine line must be drawn between veneration and deification, particularly when images are connected with the presentation of vows.61 In Iran, the Shia present images in ritual locations where prayers are performed. In general informants pointed to the importance of visualization in that it may serve to focus the worshipper’s attention on the person represented or referred to in the image. This mental orientation is of a contemplative nature. Through the visual encounter, the mind is oriented towards recollecting the holy figure to whom one should express alliance, support, sympathy and seek help from. It is also directed towards events from the sacred history that has become the collective history of the religious community or the interpretive community. At the same time, it inspires the recollection of personal experiences of an ‘encounter’ with a saint, in which a saint intervenes to offer assistance and safety. The memory of intervention confirms and strengthens religious belief and is an important motivation for votive practices, which is ultimately initiated and sustained by the faithful’s conviction that the saints may intercede in their life. Visualization may therefore help to focus people’s concentration on spiritual matters, and guide their attention to the saints. As such, an image would be an adequate vehicle for addressing a holy figure. This is the way an image may be shared among people as a votive gift. It may be shared in a technical manner, in that the public presentation of votive images allows many people to share, or participate, in the looking at the images, a practice that can be performed over and over again. It is also shared in a conceptual manner, in that many believers agree upon the votive function of the images and relate to them accordingly. One way to stimulate a spiritual orientation of the mind is thus simply to look at images. Another method is to touch images. The devotional practice of touching the mohr namaz is adapted into Shia orthodox ritual practice in connection with the performance of the liturgical prayer, salat. Devotional practices, such as touching various objects while silently pronouncing a supplication, du’a, is not stipulated by orthodox ritual practice but structured through popular sentiments. According to such attitudes, the image was not believed to be miraculous, like in some cases in Catholicism. Nor was it held to be an agent that can provide help. The votive image must therefore be distinguished from the category of talisman which is typically used to counteract spells cast by the evil eye, and in the case of sudden sickness.62 It is believed to be a blessed object, and may be consecrated. Wall hangings were not consecrated. Although the inclusion of images in ritual practice is not stipulated by orthodox regulation, it was not uncommon to kiss a portrait of Imam Ali and a Karbala narrative in the same manner that Muslims honour the Quran. Some also held that rules of

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purification should be observed before touching the names of the holy saints in wall hangings, posters and other media, thus respecting the same rules that apply to the Quran.63 Previous studies have shown that before and after the revolution in 1978–79 the practices of vowing, in particular women’s performance of sufreh Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas, have been criticized by men in general, and by women of orthodox leaning as being superstitious and materialistic.64 One argument is that making vows indicates and encourages a commercial relationship between believers and God, the assumption being that divine favours have a price. Torab has, however, shown that both men and women’s piety may be oriented towards the belief in the intermediary power of saints, and that men may use women to forward their vow to a saint.65 I have in the discussion above mainly given example of how women approach images to present invocations. It is, however, evident that both men and women appreciate the image as a votive gift. Both men and women were included in the transactional process, either by being named as donors of images or represented in single photographs presented as invocations. Male organizers of rituals often expressed their gratitude for the wall hangings offered to the ritual location of which they were in charge. These locations would typically be used by both men and women, but at separate hours. Moreover, members of hay´at’s were very proud of the large visual representations of Imam Ali, Imam Husayn and al-Abbas, which they transported through the streets on the evenings leading up to ashura. The advantage of using an image as invocation and thanksgiving is its permanent nature; it can be revisited over and over again. Visualization helps focus the worshipper’s attention on the person represented or referred to in the image. It is a contemplative device that serves to recollect God and the Imams in the minds of the faithful. An image is often perceived of as a tribute to the ‘True religion’. It is also a didactical tool used to inform the believer about religious dogmas.

Concluding Remarks The genre of Shia votive images is difficult to define since it does not express a specific iconographic programme. The programmes do not present a visually narrated votive transaction which involves a votary beneficiary, a mediating benefactor and the event of intervention. Neither do the present captions announcing images as nazri, votive gifts. Instead the genre shares characteristics with other genres, such as single portrait, Karbala narratives and calligraphy. A votive image may also function as a ‘commemoration’ parcham. The labelling of images as gifts is not done according to a specific formula. Moreover, ritual assembly halls do not keep records of votive gifts. Shia votive images are related to each other in ritual space in a way that reflects the mechanism of nazr kardan, that is, vow, action and reciprocation. This process involved a votary who makes the vow, a beneficiary, a mediator who

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intercedes and a gift. The image, being the gift, may be introduced to invoke favour or give thanks. Votive images are sometimes supplied with the name of the donor, the year of donation and the receiver, otherwise, the various elements in the transactional dramaturgy of the votive process are singled out and presented in individual images on display at various locations in the ritual space. The figurative formulae of Shia ex-voto does not represent the situation from which the beneficiant was saved, there is no reference to the supplication, and only occasionally is the beneficiant mentioned. Instead, iconography and calligraphy referred to the intervening saint, in particular the accomplishment that had bestowed the mediating role on the saint. The votive image is part of a reciprocal process that can be studied in the context of display, in which it is in subtle ways related to ritual actions, such as silent prayers, to produce a votum process. The single portrait of the beneficiary is typically used as invocation. The single portrait of the saint and visual narratives referring to the event in which the saint earned his power to act as mediator, are typically presented as ex-voto, but are also approached to present invocation. The votive image is a powerful testimony and public announcement of divine intervention and merciful grace, and it preserves the memory of mediators in the public space. Indirectly and directly, the congregation assists in bestowing benediction on the beneficiary by calling upon God to send blessings. Otherwise, invocational images are placed in close proximity of thanksgivings, such as portraits of saints, narratives and models of shrines. The purpose is also to call the saint’s attention to the person represented, and the juxtaposition of the images is a symbolic representation of the commitment between the two. Moreover, the juxtaposition of representations of beneficiary and benefactor is believed to enhance the effect of the invocation. This effect is held to be caused by the saint’s power as mediator and by the power of thanksgivings. A thanksgiving is held to be invested with barakat, blessing and good fortune. As it is presented to a ritual assembly hall it contributed to create new opportunities for votive processes to take place. A votive image is approached and made into the service of religion in two manners, by touching and by looking. Individual believers do not touch the images as part of a liturgical programme, but spontaneously, before, during and after the ritual. The power is not held in the image itself, but in the holy person it represents. The connection of images to votive complexes, including prayer and religious work, reflect that images should be put in the service of religion, and are not held to be the object of religion. It is precisely this notion that make religious images acceptable to Shia scholars and lay people. The fact that votive images are gifts from different members of the community, and are not the result of the arrangement of an institution or one single host, demonstrates the collective notion of the images’ adequate function as votive gifts in the community.

Chapter 9

Images in the Liturgy of Commemoration and Celebration

During religious festivals, the ritual space of imamzadeh, zaynabiyyeh, husayniyyeh, fatemiyyeh, as well as private homes, are decorated with epigraphic and iconographic wall-decorations, in contrast to the typically but not exclusively aniconic feature of mosque architecture. In some cases, painted tile-panels are permanently attached on the walls depicting inscriptions invoking God, the Prophets and the Imams in Arabic, and presenting quotations from the Quran and popular supplications in Arabic and Persian. Tile-paintings of the grave-mosques of holy Shia personages are also popular as decorations, see Figure 57. Painted tile-panels are, however, an expensive art form and often wall hangings, such embroidered tableau, banners and flags, in addition to posters and photographs, are used to decorate the interior walls in ritual assembly halls, see Figure 43. The creation and transformation of ritual space is an activity in which many people in the religious community are involved, and they spend a considerable amount of their free time making preparations in the period leading up to a festival season or a day of commemoration. Why are images and decorative programmes held to be important to ritual performance, and is there a preferred iconographic, epigraphic and decorative programme related to specific liturgical occasions? Following Peirce’s semiotics, I refer to ritual as the ground for interpreting images and the decorative programmes in ritual space and in the following, I compare two liturgical occasions, the celebration of Muharram commemoration and mowludi at a zaynabiyyeh, owned and administrated by the women in a family who host women-only ceremonies.1 The art-historian Sinding-Larsen has suggested a methodological strategy for the study of the visual setting of worship that can elaborate on the connection between images and ritual. He suggests looking at the internal relation between the different features in an iconographical entity, which may be an image or a programme consisting of a number of images, and between the iconography and the external world.2 Accordingly, I analyse images and decorative programmes and discuss the relationship between images, decorations and ritual performance. To study the relationship between the visual setting of ritual space and ritual performance I apply the term ‘liturgy’ as an analytical tool. Sinding-Larsen suggests liturgy

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can be understood as ritual performance organized according to some structuring principle.3 These structuring principles refer to the totality of cult behaviour, involving speech, recitation, song, movements and the use of specific symbols and colours. According to this definition, I suggest, images and decorative programmes are forms of liturgical expression and behaviour. Sinding-Larsen, moreover, suggests that liturgy may affect social agents and that those social agents may in turn respond to liturgy and shape liturgy. The approach makes it possible to study the visual setting of worship not simply as a backdrop or frame for ritual performance, but as an integrated part of ritual practice and devotion. The rituals I refer to as a ground for interpretation have a communal as well as personal significance. I shall address the rituals as a communal venture, although it is evident that there is always personal agency behind the formation of ritual space, and there is a clear element of privacy in devotion. Nevertheless, there is a definite sense of participating in a communal activity of shared meanings when individuals present offerings to a ritual location, members of the community work together to arrange the decorations in the ceremonial halls, and visitors participate in rituals.

The Visual Setting of Muharram The zaynabiyyeh is a rectangular shaped building in a residential area in the outskirts of central Shiraz. Upon entering the solid metal gate of the zaynabiyyeh one arrives in a small courtyard. Turning left, there is a small building with a kitchen for preparing beverage for the visitors, and a bathroom. Turning right, visitors step into the large rectangular shaped, spacious and lofty ceremonial hall. The entrance wall has two gates, above which are several windows that are permanently covered by fabrics to shut out the daylight. The brick walls are painted white, but the qibla corner is highlighted by ochre coloured marble stones, see Figure 43. The menbar is placed in the qibla corner and is flanked by two vertical rows of painted tiles in a floral pattern inserted into the marble. During the two to three hours long commemoration ceremonies in Muharram, there will be up to 250 women present. The hostess and her assisting friends offer a liturgical structure strongly influenced by Bushehri traditions but which seems to be popular with many women in the Shirazi environment. For Muharram commemorations in 2002 the interior walls were draped in black fabrics, an arrangement called siah pushi, ‘clothed in black’, or ta´ziyeh, ‘condolence’, see Figures 58 and 59. This is the traditional backdrop used for commemoration rituals, or sad ceremonies, aza´ in the zaynabiyyeh, on which is placed a number of wall hangings, photographs and posters. The many large pieces of black fabrics are offerings, nazri, from visitors to the zaynabiyyeh. The wall facing the entrance of the hall I shall call wall ‘A.’ A large rectangular green epigraphic parcham (about 4 m × 2 m and made of a shiny material) covered almost the length of the wall (see Figure 43). It was an eye-catcher for arriving

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visitors and remained within their sight during ritual performance. The wall hanging was introduced to the zaynabiyyeh in 2001 for the celebration of mowludi, but is used as wall-decoration during most rituals irrespective of their liturgical orientation. On the centre plane of the wall hanging is stitched in gold letters: kun lawlyyeka al-hojjat ibn al-Hassan, ‘Protect al-Hojjat ibn Hassan’ (the twelfth Imam). The text is an extract from the first line of the popular supplication du’a faraj, ‘Supplication for freedom from sorrow and release from suffering’. The whole passage reads, in translation from Arabic: O Allah! Protect Hujjat [the Proof] ibn al-Hassan and send salutations upon him and his ancestors now as well as at all times, Protector, Guardian, Leader, until You make him live on Your earth in obedience and cause him to live in it for a long time.4 Du’a faraj was often recited at ceremonies in ritual location in Shiraz and most visitors to the zaynabiyyeh would be able to relate the fragmented text on the parcham to that particular du’a. In the women’s ceremonies I attended, du’a faraj would be recited at the end of the reading of a pilgrim prayer, ziyarat nameh, at the end of a sufreh, and at the end of a longer du’a in which one asked for mediation.5 The purpose of reading du’a faraj is to call for the soon reappearance of Imam Mahdi, and for freedom from sorrow and release from suffering.6 The prayer begins with a salutation to the Mahdi and his family. The text continues to mention the roles ascribed to him, thereby also describing the Imam. When these designations are uttered in a prayer they function as invocations. The last part of the prayer is a profession of faith in the rule of the twelfth Imam until the end of human history. Twelver Shia eschatology claims that after a period of disintegration, fear and general chaos, the Mahdi will reappear to rule in peace and prosperity. The period will witness the final triumph of truth over falsehood, and justice and equity will reign for ever.7 This eschatological vision carries the expectation of a victorious future Imam who will succeed where Husayn was overcome.8 All the Imams are, however, attributed a role in this drama and in the green parcham they are referred to in medallions along the borders, mentioning Hassan, Husayn, Zayn al-Abedin, Muhammad al-Baqir, Jafar al-Sadeq, Musa al-Kazem, Ali ibn Musa al-Reza, Muhammad al-Javad, Ali al-Hadi, Hassan al-Askari, and Mahdi al-Hadi. At the centre of the upper border is written ‘Allah’. Continuing to the left is mentioned Muhammad, Ali and Fatemeh. As a form of liturgical expression, this parcham thus communicates the Twelver Shia code of belief. It salutes and invokes God and holy characters with redemptive power, and it presents an invocation. Above the parcham was a framed poster showing the prototypical imaginary portrait of Imam Ali. The portrait was one of the few images permanently on display in the room. The conventional portrait of Ali depicts him in modest dress surrounded by light. In its capacity to represent Imam Ali it is a powerful symbolic manifestation of his importance to Islam and Muslims. As an expression

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of personal devotion, it was used to state the host’s dedication to Imam Ali. To the right, was a framed black and white photograph depicting a deceased male member of the family running the zaynabiyyeh. The portrait was permanently present in the ceremonial hall to allow the deceased to benefit from the frequent performance of salavat and mediation. Portraits of political leaders were also present during ceremonies. To the left of the portraiture of Imam Ali was a framed portrait of Ayatollah Khamenei, Supreme Leader of the Islamic Republic of Iran since 1989. On another wall was a photograph of President Khatami (1997–2005). Portraits of political leaders were presented as part of the cult of the head-of-state. To the left of the large green parcham, towards the qibla wall, was placed a wall hanging with the representation of a mosque, fashioned in gold spangles on black background, see Figure 43. Under the mosque is written ‘Ya Husayn’, and below, ‘zaynabiyyeh’. The wall hanging was thus a donation, in the name of Imam Husayn intended for this ceremonial hall. For commemoration, the menbar was draped in a black fabric and on each side was placed a standard, alam, made of green fabrics. The host explained that the alam represented the panjtan (Muhammad, Fatemeh, Ali, Hassan and Husayn). In some alams, this reference is symbolically indicated by the iconographic design of a hand used as finial, but in this case, the conventional reference to the panjtan was made through the symbolic interpretation of the colour green.9 There were no figurative images presented in the qibla corner, but two epigraphic parchams were placed above the menbar, see Figure 43. The parcham immediately above the menbar was made in a bright green fabric decorated with border and inscription in gold. The upper sentence is the bismillah that opens every chapter of the Quran, as well as the daily prayer-rite salat: Bismi Allahi al-Rahmani al-Rahim, ‘In the name of God the Beneficent, the Merciful’. Below is a quotation from the first lines of Surat al-Fath, 48 ‘The Victory’, verse 1: Inna fathana laka fathan mabinan, ‘Verily, We have caused victory for thee a manifest victory.’ In the commentary in S. V. Mir Ahmed Ali’s Quran edition, the revelation of this verse is associated with the establishment of a ten years truce between Muhammad and his followers and the population in Mecca in 628 ad.10 The truce secured the Muslims the right to enter Mecca to make the pilgrimage to the new Muslim direction of prayer, the Ka´ba. In the Quran commentary, the truce is given great importance to the further development of Islam, and is described as ‘a glorious victory of the Holy Prophet and of Islam’. Moreover, it is said to have ‘opened the door for the free spread of Islam in Arabia, and thence throughout the world’.11 In the commentary, Imam Ali is ascribed an important role as the writer of the treaty’s text, and he thus appear as an important advocate for Islam and a close associate of the Prophet. Below the Quranic quotation is written: Sadaqa Allah al-‘aliyy al-´azim, ‘God confirmed, The Eminent, the Great’. This is an expression used to conclude oral performance of Quran quotation. Above the green wall hanging was a larger parcham with black background and green inscription. Reading from the top it says: Al-salam alayk ya Ibn Abd Allah al-Husayn, ‘Peace be upon you O Ibn Abd Allah al-Husayn’. In the

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right corner is written taqdimi, and in the opposite corner, Sabri. That is to say, this parcham was an offering from the family Sabri in the honour of Imam Husayn. On wall B, to the left of the entrance, was a parcham (ca. 2m × 1m) with colourful calligraphic embroidery on green background, see Figures 31 and 58. On the centre plane is stitched in yellow letters, Allahumma salli ala Muhammad va al-e Muhammad va ‘ajal farjhum, ‘O Allah send thy blessing on Muhammad and his family, and come quickly release from suffering.’ The first part of this salavat is a call for God’s blessing upon Muhammad and the ahl al-bayt. This is probably the most frequently used salavat at communal ritual performances and in private devotional life. It is typically used to send blessing for someone’s health and well-being. The second part is performed to ask for the soon reappearance of Imam Mahdi. The section is associated with du’a nodbeh, the supplication typically read on Fridays, a day associated with the ‘living’ Imam. He is reported to have been born on a Friday and is believed to reappear on a Friday.12 Du’a nodbeh more or less sums up the Shia interpretation of Islam. It begins by first praising God, and then the Prophet Muhammad for bringing the divine message.13 The text underlines the Prophet’s purity and exaltedness, and confirms that authority passed from the Prophet Muhammad to Imam Ali. A longer passage about Imam Ali legitimizes his role as one who warns and is a guide (munzir) for the people, with references to the event at Ghadir Khumm when the Prophet is supposed to have declared the by now famous axioms, ‘Of whomsoever I am his Master (maula) Ali is his Master’, and ‘I am the city of Knowledge and Ali is its Gate.’ The Prophet is said to have instructed Ali to become his successor and to keep the Prophet’s ‘way of life’. The text continues with a summation of the biography of Imam Ali after the death of the Prophet. It highlights the ummah’s rejection of Ali’s right to the Caliphate, and the following injustice and suffering inflicted upon his family. The believer is encouraged to ‘be purified and refined by making known and remembering the children of Muhammad and Ali’. The prayer continues with an exclamation over the losses inflicted on true Islam, suggesting that the path followed by ahl al-bayt focused on justice and compassion, peace and welfare. Towards the end, the prayer praises ‘you who has departed and is invisible, but is not far from us’, that is, Imam al-Mahdi in his occultation. The text expresses wishes for his reappearance to fill the earth with justice. The prayer ends with a petition, calling God to accept the prayer, forgive the sins and to fulfil the desires of the believer. The salavat referred to in the wall hanging is known to most viewers, for whom it is part of everyday pious liturgy. The prayer’s call for the soon reappearance of Imam al-Mahdi and its association with du’a nodbeh, is part of a well-known liturgy of which many viewers have first-hand experience, either through personal reading of the text or through listening to its public recitation. Above the reference to du’a nodbeh is written ‘Allah’ in white letters. In a frame below, Umm al-Banin (Fatemeh bint Hizam al-Kilabiyya), the mother of al-Abbas, is honoured by the words, Al-salam alayka ya Umm al-Banin, ‘Peace be

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upon you, Umm al-Banin.’ The mentioning of Umm al-Banin in wall hangings is not common but she is well known to the Shia, being one of the women Imam Ali married after the death of Fatemeh. Umm al-Banin bore four sons who were all martyred at Karbala. Umm al-Banin does not hold the same rank as Fatemeh in the Shia system of holy figures, who is mentioned among the Fourteen Infallibles. But as the mother of the courageous al-Abbas, Umm al-Banin was buried at the Baqi cemetery in Medina. The sacrifice made by Umm al-Banin, giving up four sons at Karbala, was communicated to visitors to the zaynabiyyeh in rowzeh and nowheh, and believers addressing al-Abbas would sometimes do so by vowing to his mother. In Shiraz, as well as in most parts of Iran, women organize a sufreh in the honour of Umm al-Banin, called Sufreh Umm al-Banin. The belief is that this ritual may help, among other things, to regain health, repay debts and provide safety in travel. Moreover, as noted by Faegheh Shirazi, women who have a child or husband in prison strongly believe in the liberating power of this sufreh.14 The connection between women and Umm al-Banin is the pain and sorrow they have endured. The central epigraphic plane in this wall hanging is surrounded by a series of cartouches adjoined to each other. Beginning from the lower right corner is listed the names of the Fourteen Infallibles. Like many other parchams, this wall hanging thus refers to Islamic dogmas, Shia sacred religious history, holy characters and ritual practice. Below to the right, was a smaller parcham with a green background, see Figures 31 and 58. Across the plane is written with green letters: Ya qamre bani Hashem, alayhu al-salam, ‘O Moon of Hashim’s Clan, peace be upon him’ thus greeting al-Abbas. The parcham is framed by a floral vine in pink, orange, blue and green. To the left, was a parcham in green fabric on which is written in gold letter the bismillah followed by a quotation from the Quran, Nasr min Allah va fathun qarib, ‘Help from God and victory is near at hand’ (Quran, 61:13). According to the Shia commentary in S. V. Mir Ahmed’ s edition, the verse may refer to the conquest of Mecca, but also to the ultimate triumph of Islam by the reappearance of the Twelfth Imam.15 A poster showing Husayn on horse with Ali Asghar in his arms was added a few days into the Muharram commemoration, see Figure 31. The poster was an offering from one of the visitors to the ceremony. The next parcham has a black background on which is printed the rowzeh of Ruqayyeh, see Figure 58. It recounts, briefly but emotionally, the faith of Ruqayyeh from the end of the battle at Karbala until she died as a hostage in Damascus. In the frame above the rowzeh is written, Vaqf zaynabiyyeh jam´iat banavan Bushehri maqim Shiraz, ‘Endowment for the association Zaynabiyyeh Ladies of Bushehr in Shiraz’. In the frame below the rowzeh is written, Vaqf Fatemeh Balawi (Futum), sabiyyeh marhum Ayatholla Agha Hajj Sayyid Abd Allah Balawi Bushehri. Tab terahe, ‘Endowment from Fatemeh Balawi (Futum), daughter of the late Ayatollah Aghaie Hajj Sayyid Abd Allah Balawi Bushehri. May his dust (grave) be fragrant.’ According to the inscriptions on the top and the bottom of the wall hanging, the image was a votive gift intended for a specific location,

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presented to a specific female association, offered by a certain named woman who identified herself in relation to her late father, for whom she in the last phrase asked God’s forgiveness. Immediately to the left of the rowzeh of Ruqayyeh was placed a beige parcham with inscriptions presenting the prayer ziyarat ashura, see Figure 58. Within the Shia ritual tradition, a ziyarat is a visit or a pilgrimage to the shrines of the Shia Imams and of their descendents. Elaborate rituals have been drawn up for the performance of visitations, including, the reading of pilgrims’ prayer, ziyarat-nameh.16 Ziyarat ashura is part of the liturgy developed for the ziyarat of Imam Husayn’s shrine at Karbala. At the shrine, the prayer is performed as a salutation offered to Imam Husayn and the martyrs of Karbala. To many Shias, a pilgrimage to the shrine at Karbala is as meritorious as the obligatory hajj to Mecca. Not every Shia does, however, have the opportunity to visit Karbala. Therefore, a pilgrimage to a shrine can be performed symbolically. The fifth Imam, Muhammad bin Ali al-Baqir, is reported to have told a certain al-Qamah ibn Muhammad how to perform a symbolic visit to Karbala. Among his recommendations were, on the day of Ashura, to recite ziyarat ashura while facing Karbala,17 and to hold a mourning session, matam, inviting family and friends to attend.18 The attitude while performing the ritual is advised to be that of a total immersion in the tragedy, as though the ritual participant had witnessed the battle. Whoever recites ziyarat ashura is said to enjoy the status of the martyrs at Karbala, and to be rewarded similarly to those believers who actually go to Karbala to perform the pilgrimage. Ziyarat ashura is also used as a supplication, du’a. It is considered to be particularly beneficial and is therefore a commonly recited prayer, to be found in Mafatih al-Jenan. The central theme of ziyarat ashura is the importance of the battle of Imam Husayn and his martyrdom for the realization of the true Islam and the true spiritual closeness between God and man. It begins with salutations of peace upon Imam Husayn, his family and his supporters. It describes Husayn as chosen by God, and suggests he was martyred while fighting in the cause of God. Husayn’s courage and suffering is illustrated by describing him as a fearless warrior who was attacked with vengeance, causing him sorrow and agony. The believer’s stance is confirmed through a series of pronouncements. God is asked to curse and condemn the enemies of Husayn and his family, and the believer proclaims his or her commitment to God by renouncing the enemies of Husayn. The believer declares his or her support to the friends of Husayn (by making peace with them) and confrontation with his enemies (by making war with them). Among the enemies is mentioned Shimr who beheaded Husayn at Karbala. The believer then states his or her willingness to follow in the footsteps of Husayn, both in this world and in the hereafter. It is declared that with the help and patronage of Husayn, the believer can become spiritually close to God and the ahl al-bayt. Salutations, curse and statements of intentions are repeated until, in the end, the text briefly comments upon the eschatological and redemptive implication of affiliation with Husayn. This part is crafted like

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a petition, in which the believer asks to be rewarded with safety when he stands before God (on the Day of Judgment).19 Ziyarat ashura was often recited at the zaynabiyyeh. The women read the whole prayer without a stop, according to custom, and their use of the prayer was consistent with the functions described above. Some had performed the prayer as a salutation to the martyrs at Husayn’s shrine at Karbala while on pilgrimage. To others, reciting ziyarat ashura represented a symbolic pilgrimage to the saint’s shrine. One woman explained, ‘It is like performing the pilgrimage. We do the ziyarat from the distance, but it looks like we went to Karbala.’20 In addition, the prayer was used as a supplication.21 A few days into Muharram a triangular parcham or flag with green background was added next to the ziyarat ashura, see Figure 58. The parcham shows the new but, by now conventional, sign representing one of the grave-mosques at Karbala; a dome in golden fabric with a red flag waving on top flanked by two minarets. Above the dome is written, ‘Allah’. There are also two inscriptions honouring and greeting Husayn, al-salam alayk, ‘Peace be upon you’, and Ya Aba Abd Allah al-Husayn. The flag is a souvenir from Karbala, labelled hadiyeh Karbala, ‘Gift from Karbala’. Next followed two colourful wall hangings depicting the Ka´ba at Mecca. The upper one of the two images shows a typical panorama of the inner courtyard of the mosque, in which the Ka´ba is circumambulated by a crowd of pilgrims filling the whole courtyard. In the wall hanging below, the Ka´ba is viewed from a position under one of the arcades running along the large square surrounding the Ka´ba. There is a crowd on the square, and four people rest under the arcade in the front. Behind the mosque is the town of Mecca, under a bright red sky. Moving anticlockwise, the entrance gates are on the next wall, which I call wall C. This wall was not decorated. The first wall hanging which I describe on wall D is to be found in the corner next to wall A, see Figure 59. The calligraphic wall hanging makes references to members of the Prophet’s family, as well as to the battle at Karbala. Inscriptions and designs are stitched in colourful tread onto a black fabric typically used for commemoration parchams. The visual field is divided into three panels separated by two columns, carrying cartouches naming the Imams by their epithet, such as al-Shahid (‘The Martyr’, the 3rd Imam), and al-Sajjad (‘The Prostrator’, the 4th Imam) and mentioning the names of the Imams. In addition, Fatemeh is honoured by the epithet al-zaki, ‘The Pure’ (The Pious). Between the columns is placed the bifurcated sword of Imam Ali. In cartouches distributed around the visual plane is stated the Shia profession of the Islamic faith. Two martyrs at Karbala, Husayn and al-Abbas, are honoured in captions reading: Ya Sayyid al-Shahid, Al-salam alayk ya Aba Abd Allah and Al-salam alayk ya Abu al-Fazl. Two panels on the flanks show mirror images of the grave-mosque sign, whereas the martyrs’ suffering at Karbala is referred to in the caption: Ya gharib Karbala, ‘O distant Karbala’. A text informs that the wall hanging is a gift from Karbala. The donors are mentioned in a frame reading: Ai taraf Hajj Ibrahim Genawi va hamsarash banu Nowruzi, ‘From Hajj Ibrahim Genawi and his wife Nowruzi’.

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According to Mrs. Nowruzi, she and her husband had purchased the parcham during the pilgrimage to Karbala and donated it to the zaynabiyyeh in 2002. Mrs. Nowruzi was a frequent visitor to the zaynabiyyeh. Next to this parcham was a large velour wall hanging depicting the panjtan (about 200 × 120cm). The Prophet is seated with his grandchildren Hassan and Husayn on each of his laps. On each side sits his daughter Fatemeh and her husband Imam Ali. Behind the group stands the angel Gibril. Although made in a predominantly red colour and not depicting scenes from Karbala, the host liked to use this wall hanging during Muharram because, she said, ‘All the figures represented in it had been informed about what would happen to Husayn at Karbala and mourned his martyrdom before it took place.’ The wall hanging was thus interpreted to point to the meta-historical character of the event at Karbala, although this was not an explicit theme of the image. The panjtan was a popular feature of decorative programmes in Shiraz. To the right of the panjtan were two wall hangings, see Figure 60. The upper one shows a collection of real and imaginary holy places (about 1.5m × 0.75m). One mosque is probably a depiction of the Prophet’s grave mosque in Medina. The second mosque resembles the Anatolian style, and the third representation shows the Ka´ba with the mosque complex in Mecca in the background. In all three panels the background colour is red. Below, was a smaller green parcham containing the inscription, Ya Husayn. A converged sword is placed horizontally under the inscription. To the right followed two wall hangings. The upper one is a small parcham with a green background. At the centre of the panel is written in red and yellow, Ya Husayn shahid, ‘O Husayn Martyr’. On each side of the inscription is a mosque-representation consisting of a golden dome flanked by two minarets imitating the shrines of Imam Husayn and Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas at Karbala. The two saints are honoured through the mentioning of their names. In addition, cartouches mention Allah, Muhammad, and Ali, Fatemeh al-Zahra, and the twelve Imams. Also this wall hanging is labelled as a gift from Karbala. Another gift from Karbala was presented below. This was again a triangular flag decorated by a grave-mosque sign fashioned in golden fabrics on a green background. Allah, Muhammad, Ali, Fatemeh, al-Hassan and al-Husayn were honoured in inscriptions. Continuing to the right was yet a third gift from Karbala. On the small green wall hanging, an Arabic inscription reads, al-salam ala batala Karbala, ‘Peace upon heroine Karbala’. Otherwise, the visual plane presents the bifurcated sword of Imam Ali and captions honour Allah, Muhammad and Ali. The next wall hanging was a mirror image of the previously mentioned wall hanging showing three real and imaginary holy places, but now reproduced with a black background, see Figure 59. Then followed a black parcham, on which was written in white large letters, ‘O Husayn Martyr’. At the very end of the wall was a silk cloth (about 150 × 50 cm) representing the Prophet Muhammad, see Figure 60. Muhammad is depicted in full size. He has a long black beard, and is dressed in a green turban, a green garment covered by a black drapery and sandals. In one

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hand he holds the Quran. The other arm is raised and a finger points upwards. The pointing finger of Muhammad was understood by several viewers to refer to the dogma of tawhid, while the Quran in his hand informed the viewer that Muhammad is the Messenger of God. The representation can thus be read as a visualization of the Islamic creed.22 This interpretation is supported by a text in Arabic written above the figure Muhammad, ‘In the name of God the Merciful and Compassionate. Muhammad is not your father. He is God’s prophet, the last prophet.’23 Silk cloths depicting this motif were used in many ritual assembly halls for Muharram commemoration and mowludi. The decorative programme created for commemoration ceremonies during Muharram consisted of epigraphic and figurative elements, of which the majority were epigraphic. The moderate use of colour posters in the zaynabiyyeh is surprising when considering the iconographic repertoire available on the market. However, the owner and host explained that she preferred parchams to posters because parchams were more robust and were not easily damaged. Moreover, in her opinion, the black background of the parchams helped produce and express the sad atmosphere which characterized the Muharram ceremonies. It should also be noted that the decorative design in the zaynabiyyeh was not entirely a result of the owner and host’s arrangement. Most wall hangings were gifts, and many were votive gifts. The zaynabiyyeh had a favourable reputation because many visitors were said to have their wishes fulfilled after presenting a supplication there. The owner therefore possessed a large number of images and when creating a decorative design for a ceremony, she used the material made available by the donors. The design described above should be considered a visual programme in its making. Probably it will never be concluded, and new images will continue to be added to the collection. The composition of the visual programme is therefore likely to change in the future.

Commemorating the Battle at Karbala The typical structure of a Muharram commemoration ceremony is the performance of the following liturgical elements: The ceremony opened with the pronunciation of a salavat, to be followed by a short Quran recitation, lecture, rowzeh, nowheh, du’a and is concluded with salavat. The performance of liturgy is, however, conditioned by the maddahs education, knowledge and political and spiritual orientation. In the zaynabiyyeh, a salavat opened and concluded a ceremony, and was repeatedly performed during a ceremony. It always included the praise of God, Muhammad and his descendants, and the request of God’s blessing on behalf of named visitors to the ceremony and their relatives. Longer Quran recitation was not very common during these gatherings, but among the popular verses were Surat Fatiha, 1 ‘The Opening’, and Surat al-Ikhlas, 112 ‘The Unity of God’. The rather short lectures were coloured by the maddahs’ political and spiritual orientation. Some maddahs discussed moral issues within

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the ideological framework of the Islamic state, such as challenges related to the public socialization of young men and women. Another approach was to draw attention to ethics and social awareness in the sense of caring for other people in society, in particular the poor. Many focused on the purpose of praying and its redemptive reward, and on the connection between prayer and personal well-being. Some maddahs used the opportunity to inform about the rules governing ritual observance, such as ablution. Another topic was the importance of understanding the Quran and the prayer formulas and to study the sacred texts in Persian. In 2002, the Iranian New Year celebration nowruz, which follows the Persian solar calendar, overlapped with the Muharram commemoration, which follows the Islamic lunar calendar. A recurring topic in the lectures was therefore whether it was appropriate to prepare the Persian New Year decoration, sufreh haft sin, and to celebrate nowruz. Maddahs tended to be careful not to criticize the nowruz celebration, particularly because of its social importance as an occasion for family reunion, but they did not explicitly encourage it. One maddah suggested, however, that the sufreh haft sin was not contrary to the spirit of Imam Husayn, because ‘he (Husayn) will be angry with those who break peoples’ heart.’ The maddah thus framed the pre-Islamic Persian sufreh haft sin in an Islamic context, and interpreted it to express God’s compassion. It was not uncommon for visitors to complain to maddahs about the length of their lectures, pointing out that the meetings were staged for the condolence of the martyrs at Karbala. The same perspective was reflected in a lecture given by a maddah on the eighth of Muharram. Her short lecture concentrated on mentally setting the scene for the rites to come. She spoke of the battle of Karbala as a war in which the holy people suffered horrendous pain and losses. To illustrate the injustice, she simply exclaimed the following phrases: ‘hejleh Qasem’, ‘Karbala with the cut-off hands of Abu al-Fazl’, and ‘Karbala with Zaynab, the hostage’. In one sense these phrases were indexical, pointing to and reminding the audience of phrases used in elegies about the sufferings of Qasem, al-Abbas and Zaynab. The phrases also pointed to the ritual object, hejleh Qasem, which was a representation of Qasem and Fatemeh’s bridal chamber, constructed by votive fabrics wrapped around a wooden frame in order to commemorate the tragic fate of the martyrs. Moreover, the verbal phrases corresponded to the visual vocabulary used in parchams and posters, depicting the cut off hands of al-Abbas. The iconographic and verbal phrases were also symbolic; in the sense that each sign could represent and express the sufferings of all the protagonists at Karbala. The maddah, furthermore, pointed to the connections between Karbala as the battleground where Imam Husayn was martyred, the importance of Karbala today as a shrine and pilgrimage site, and the ritual the congregation were about to carry out. She said: ‘Today, from the ceremony of Imam Husayn, we will take our heart to Karbala.’ By this statement she implied the power of the ritual to mentally move participants across time and space to emotionally and spiritually be present at Karbala and to share the experience with the ahl al-bayt. The many textual and iconographic references to Karbala in the decorative

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programme created a visual cognitive and emotional framework for the spiritual experience. Finally, the maddah indicted the remedial potential of ritual participation when she proclaimed, ‘For the fulfilment of your wishes, say salavat,’ upon which the congregation that filled the room responded with a salavat. During the short lectures, stories about the holy personage were offered as models to the believers in their daily conduct as social beings. For example, on the seventh of Muharram a maddah told the following Hadith: Husayn once entered a garden and saw there a servant sitting eating. The servant took one hand of food himself and gave another to a dog. Husayn was looking at them from behind a tree. He then went over and asked the servant why he gave the dog food while he himself was eating. The servant replied: I am the worker here and the dog is the watcher here, protecting the garden. Then the food they give me should be divided. Both of us work here. Husayn found out this was a very honest man and appointed him to arrange the help he gave to people. The Hadith cast the dog as worthy of a fair share of the resources, and the maddah offered an interpretation of the lesson to be learned from the Hadith, explaining, ‘I want to tell you that if you have a challenge, it is better to do it in a fair way.’ The issue of right conduct was also raised in a lecture on the ninth of Muharram, when a maddah encouraged the visitors to wage jihad against the nafs al-ammareh, that is, the baser self that incites to evil, which she explained as ‘the part of the soul that whispers in the ear to do something bad.’ Instead, the audience was encouraged to cultivate nafs al-mutma´inn, that is, the composed self that incites right conduct. By doing so, the maddah suggested, believers would follow the way of Imam Ali and Imam Husayn, and distance themselves from the bad manners of Caliph Yazid. The visitors were encouraged not to support injustice. However, neither were they encouraged to act against injustice, but to be patient. Zaynab’s patience after the battle at Karbala was used as a model, and it was suggested that her patience had been rewarded in the sense that ‘the flag of Husayn is now on the door of the Shias.’ This metaphor referred to the custom of announcing a commemoration by placing a black flag, sometimes complete with inscription and iconography referring to the protagonists at the battle at Karbala, outside the gate of the location. Du’a, supplication, was performed several times during a ceremony. The maddahs would ask God to bless the last prophet, the saints and the deceased, and ask for the soon coming of Imam Zaman (al-Mahdi). They also requested protection and help on behalf of contemporary believers, for example to protect travellers, to cure the sick, to support the youth to attend school, to get a job, help believers to know God, to give the faithful the courage of Imam Husayn, to assist people in making a ziyarat and to encourage those who do charity work. A du´a would be concluded by a salavat and often followed by a Quran recitation, for example the recitation of what is called Surat hamd va tawhid, that is Surat Fatiha, 1 ‘The Opening’: al-hamdu lillah rabb al-alamin, ‘Praise belongs to

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God, Lord of the worlds’and Surat al-Ikhlas, 112 ‘The Unity of God’: qul, hu Allahu ahad, ‘Say: He, God is one,’ which asserts the unicity of God. The prayer was typically performed on behalf of the dead to promote their soul’s salvation. It was believed to be sent from this world to the other, and to be equally effective of a prayer read by the deceased. The reading of Surat hamd va tawhid was otherwise typically performed when people visited graves, and when they accompanied the prayer by knocking on the gravestones. During Muharram ceremonies, some people would imitate this practice by knocking on the floor when reciting Surat hamd va tawhid. Another popular supplication was du´a faraj. It was often followed by a salavat for the sick. A supplication could also be presented in the form of a nowheh, performed by the maddah and the visitors together. Maddah: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer:

Sayyidi, O Sayyida Imam Husayn, Sayyidi O Sayyida Sayyidi, O Sayyida The father of orphans Sayyidi, O Sayyida Went to Karbala Sayyidi, O Sayyida Help us Sayyidi, O Sayyida Give us our wishes Sayyidi, O Sayyida Woe to your mother Zahra Sayyidi, O Sayyida Cure the sick Sayyidi, O Sayyida Cure the sick Sayyidi, O Sayyida Cure the sick Sayyidi, O Sayyida

This nowheh is a combination of salutation, lamentation and supplication. It greets Imam Husayn, highlights his suffering at Karbala, and appeals to him for help. Another popular du´a was ziyarat ashura, which was read almost everyday at the ceremonies in the zaynabiyyeh. The reading of ziyarat ashura had didactical functions, as it recounted the battle at Karbala, but it also allowed for the believer to perform a symbolic pilgrimage to Karbala, to renew the commitment to the faith, and to state the believer’s intention to follow the way of the Imams. The ziyarat ashura reproduced in one of the wall hangings thus connected to commonly known ritual practices among its viewers. During the nine days of Muharram commemoration, rowzeh was recited for the main protagonists at Karbala and their relatives and supporters. On the 5th of Muharram someone, however, asked for the rowzeh of Imam Reza. This was

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granted, although the commemoration of Imam Reza was usually not performed during Muharram. It is possible the rowzeh was requested as the fulfilment of a nazr, similarl to the sufreh Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas held on the same day. The rowzeh of Muslim, recounting his mission to Kufa and his martyrdom there, and the rowzeh for his two sons, were recited during the first days of the commemorations. The rowzeh of Fatemeh Zahra was also recited; this gave an account of the circumstances around her death, referring to the injury inflicted upon her when Umar sent a group of men to her home to request Ali’s support for Abu Bakr’s candidature to become the first Caliph.24 In the rowzeh, this event was connected to the battle at Karbala to illustrate the continuous suffering and injustice of the ahl al-bayt. It was pointed out that Zaynab cried twice, first when her mother died and second, when her brother Husayn died at Karbala. Zaynab’s suffering was interpreted as a test from God. The rowzeh of Ali Akbar appeared later, and told about the juvenile entering the battle, his martyrdom and the grief of his father Imam Husayn’s and his mother Umm Layla. The rowzeh of Qasem recounted how he asked Imam Husayn permission to join the battle after Ali Akbar. The rowzeh of al-Abbas told about his last farewell with his family before undertaking the mission to collect water, and elaborated on his courage, his combat with the enemy, his suffering and his martyrdom. The narrative recounted al-Abbas’ regrets for not collecting water, and elaborated on Husayn’s grief. The rowzeh of Ali Asghar drew attention to the suffering of the innocent child, and the grief of his close family member upon his martyrdom. The rowzeh of Imam Husayn recounted the sacrifice of Imam Husayn at various levels. First he experienced the loss of those dearest to him, and second he sacrificed his own life. While listening to rowzeh performed by the maddahs with great passion, the visitors sat on the floor performing flagellation called sineh ruye pa zadan. This involved hitting the thighs repeatedly three times, to be followed by a pause. While doing this, most women pulled the chador over their head to create some private space. Some wailed loudly, others mourned quietly, and the general atmosphere generated by the women’s behaviour was that of grief, sadness and despair. The atmosphere was the result of the staged manipulation of ritualized behaviour, and of personally felt sympathy for the victims at Karbala, combined with private grief related to personal difficulties and worries. Repeated participation of rowzeh provided a well-known structure or channel for expressions of these sentiments. A rowzeh was typically followed by the performance of a series of nowheh. The themes addressed in nowheh dealt with Husayn’s call to go towards Karbala, the arrival at Karbala, the battle of Karbala and its aftermath. The elegies were not necessarily presented according to the chronology of the events. Any nowheh could be performed at any time. The elegies did not elaborate the narrative, but used symbols and verbal images to hint to the narrative. The elegies were intended to appeal to the feelings of the listeners and engage them in the performance. The mentioning of the martyrs’ names gave the participants an opportunity to address the martyrs and to mourn them. The nowheh introduced below is related to the farewell, al-veda’, of Ali Akbar. In this dirge the maddah

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impersonated the voice of Umm Layla who urges her son not to go to the battle. Maddah: The dear of Layla, the flower of the garden of Zahra The dear of Layla, the flower of the garden of Zahra Don’t go to the battle; don’t leave Layla Answer: The dear of Layla, the flower of the garden of Zahra Maddah: See your sad mother who is so lonely Answer: The dear of Layla, the flower of the garden of Zahra Maddah: Don’t burn my heart; don’t go forward to the battle Answer: The dear of Layla, the flower of the garden of Zahra Maddah: After Ali I will die by his abundance Answer: The dear of Layla, the flower of the garden of Zahra Maddah: I became old but I made you young (meaning I suffered to take care of you) Answer: The dear of Layla, the flower of the garden of Zahra Maddah: Don’t go to the battle, don’t leave Layla alone Answer: The dear of Layla, the flower of the garden of Zahra Maddah: Karbala has damaged my house Answer: The dear of Layla, the flower of the garden of Zahra Maddah: We were the guests of injustice there Answer: The dear of Layla, the flower of the garden of Zahra Maddah: Karbala, my heart was made hopeful by Akbar. Karbala took him and made me disappointed By describing herself as being lonely, Umm Layla made a prolepsis, indirectly introducing the death of Ali Akbar that would take place later. I suggest Umm Layla’s anticipation of becoming lonely is comparable to the dressing of Ali Akbar in kafan before going into battle, a narrating technique adopted in ta´ziyeh productions and colour posters. Ali Akbar’s death is elaborated verbally and visually in ta´ziyeh and his death is a popular theme in contemporary colour posters, but his death is not explicitly mentioned in this dirge, nor is the young man’s combat. Instead, the text elaborates on a mother’s agony, a topic well suited for a nowheh applied to engage women in mourning ceremonies.25 The maddah presented this nowheh during several ceremonies during Muharram and once gave the following explanation to the audience about the purpose of the elegy: From the nowheh about Ali Akbar we can find out that Umm Layla felt very bad. Her head was burning because her son wanted to go to the battle. But morally it is about Ali Akbar’s courage, and about giving out of generosity like Husayn, who even sent his children in the way of God.26 According to the maddah’s interpretation, the elegy had didactical values; it might explain to the listeners the experiences of the protagonists at Karbala.

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It was also exegetic in that the protagonists’ combat and suffering was interpreted as a legitimate, sacred action in the name of God. The nowheh was, moreover, understood to teach a moral lesson about courage and sacrifice. Despite the preference for few and short lectures during Muharram commemoration in the zaynabiyyeh, poetry functioned as a means to preach, in addition to serving as prayer. Umm Layla was frequently mentioned in the elegy, but I never saw any references to her in colour posters or wall hangings. On the other hand, whereas there is a tradition of visually representing Ali Akbar as combatant and martyr, those images were not on display in the zaynabiyyeh, nor were there any inscriptions referring to Ali Akbar. Colour posters representing Ali Akbar were more typically on display in the takiyyeh set up along the streets of Shiraz, in which men gathered in the evenings to participate in the ritual parade, dasteh. One could speculate on gendered motivations underlining such practices, but one should also remember that there were in general few colour posters in the zaynabiyyeh, as the host preferred parchams in her decorative programme. The performance of nowheh was an important element of producing and expressing mourning and lament, and the following dirge was described as a condolence, aza´. The elegy honours Imam Husayn in particular, but was also intended to mourn the other martyrs at Karbala. Maddah: Tonight is the night of aza’. Tonight is disastrous Answer: Tonight is the night of aza’ Maddah: Sister, come and see my face Answer: Tonight is the night of aza’ Maddah: You can’t see my face any more Answer: Tonight is the night of aza’ Maddah: Great Husayn Answer: Tonight is the night of aza’ Maddah: Like flowers falling on the ground Answer: Tonight is the night of aza’ Verbal expressions similar to some of the lines read by the maddah can also be found in excerpts from other genres of Karbala devotional literature. In ta´ziyeh librettos, for example, Husayn speaks of his young male family members as flowers, for example, as roses and tulips.27 The technique of reproducing excerpts of texts in various media turn certain phrases into rhetorical signs that function to indexically point to protagonists, such as Imam Husayn and his sister Zaynab, and symbolically to signify the farewell. In this interpretive community some lines, such as ‘Sister, come and see my face,’ and ‘You can’t see my face any more,’ could also signify martyrdom. While singing together with the maddah, the participants performed a standing flagellation, sineh dowr, moving in a circle while beating the chest with one hand. The maddah then joined the

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crowd, and they performed the sineh aza sarpay, which involved moving in a circle beating the chest with one hand, and lat, slapping one’s cheeks with the hands. During the rite many participants wailed loudly. Some women slapped their faces so vigorously that their headscarf fell off, and they began shaking the head and waving the hair to embody the emotional distress caused by grief and loss. On the eighth of Muharram, the martyrdom of Qasem was commemorated by the performance of a pantomime representing the wedding of Qasem and Fatemeh, Imam Husayn’s daughter, and a funerary ceremony in the honour of Qasem. The hagiographic background was the wedding of Qasem and Fatemeh at Karbala and the martyrdom of Qasem on his wedding day. The following nowheh introduced the commemoration of Qasem. During the performance, the crowd was organized into a circle, and the participant gently hit the chest with one or two hands. Applying sineh aza sarpay, they sang an elegy about Qasem, calling him the ‘dear of Zaynab’, noteworthily, associating him with his famous aunt who in the tradition is cast as the primary witness to the event that unfolded at Karbala. Like Ali Akbar, Qasem was discouraged to enter the battle. Maddah: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah: Answer: Maddah:

Don’t go, dear of Zaynab, don’t go if you could be killed Qasem my dear Don’t go, dear of Zaynab, don’t go if you could be killed My martyred bridegroom Don’t go, dear of Zaynab, don’t go if you could be killed Don’t do the mourning for a moment Don’t go, dear of Zaynab, don’t go if you could be killed In the hejleh of Qasem Don’t go, dear of Zaynab, don’t go if you could be killed Don’t come with the mourning clothes Don’t go, dear of Zaynab, don’t go if you could be killed If you are kind, say some sorood 28 Don’t go, dear of Zaynab, don’t go if you could be killed His face is washed by his blood Don’t go, dear of Zaynab, don’t go if you could be killed (Umm Layla:) You are my Ali Akbar Don’t go, dear of Zaynab, don’t go if you could be killed You are my bright moon Don’t go, dear of Zaynab, don’t go if you could be killed Why don’t you answer me? Don’t go, dear of Zaynab, don’t go if you could be killed Don’t go my dear, to the battle

In the nowheh is presented a cacophony of voices expressing compassion, grief and strained joy, courage and heroism. The refrain expresses the agony of the women in the camp of Husayn, and Qasem is discouraged to enter the battle

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because he could be killed. The further development of the event is revealed by the phrases sung by the maddha, impersonating Qasem’s two aunts Zaynab and Umm Layla, and his newly wed wife, Fatemeh. In the form of exclamations like ‘My martyred bridegroom’, ‘In the hejleh of Qasem’ and ‘His face is washed by his blood’, they tell about Qasem’s wedding, combat and martyrdom. Their narrative is entangled with expressions of grief felt by his close female relatives, who are made to say, ‘You are my Ali Akbar’, ‘You are my bright moon’ and ‘Why don’t you answer me?’ The narrative is not presented in a chronological order according to the unfolding of the event, in which the hejleh should appear in connection with the wedding that took place before the martyrdom. More important is the elegy’s ability to communicate, condensed in a few core terms, an account of tragedy and sacrifice. Again, there is a rhetorical similarity with parchams, in which a wounded white horse or a cut-off hand function as a condensed symbolic language used to summarize the narrative of an event and its engendered emotions. Moreover, the lamenting character of the maddah’s voice corresponds emotionally to the sad atmosphere created by the black wall drapes and many wall hangings in the zaynabiyyeh. The above-cited nowheh was a popular dirge at matam ceremonies for women, but the theme does not belong exclusively to women-only-ceremonies. In the ta´ziyeh collection presented by Pelly, the scene of the death of the bridegroom Qasem opens with the lamentation by Umm Layla and Sakineh mourning the death of Ali Akbar. Eventually Imam Husayn tells his sister, Zaynab, that it is their fate to be killed at Karbala.29 While the crowd in the zaynabiyyeh moved from one nowheh to the other, the emotional intensity gradually increased. At some point the visitors would stand in circles and beat the chest with a hand, sineh aza sarpay, and slapping the cheeks, lat, while lamenting, va vayla yahe yave. At some point, a path was made through the crowd seated on the floor. This was to allow performers of a pantomime, representing the wedding of Qasem and Fatemeh and the martyrdom of Qasem at Karbala, to walk through the crowd. During the maddah’s recitation of the rowzeh of Qasem, the performers entered the ceremonial hall in a procession. The procession was led by a woman carrying a plate containing burning seeds from espand.30 The incense produced was believed to chase away the evil eye. Then followed a row of ten women carrying trays filled with sweets and fruits wrapped in green fabric and decorated with candles placed in henna paste. The trays were called khunche, and the procession of women imitated a practice related to traditional Iranian wedding customs, in which the bride and the bridegroom send each other gifts. The items used to make the khunche for the religious ceremony were thanksgivings, nazri. A woman impersonating Qasem was led into the room; she was dressed in bright green cloths and her face was veiled.31 The maddah sang a sorood, a cheerful wedding song. When ‘Qasem’ arrived at the menbar the women threw sweets at him, like in a real wedding party, and cheered in ululation. Maddah: Tonight is the night of happiness of the young, Tonight is the night of the henna bandun32

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Qasem would be the bridegroom, say congratulations Tonight, wearing nice cloths Tonight, making the hejleh of happiness Answer: Qasem would be the bridegroom, say congratulations Maddah: Tonight is the wedding of Qasem Qasem will be bridegroom, say congratulations Answer: Qasem would be the bridegroom, say congratulations Shortly after, ‘Qasem’ left the menbar and was covered by a black cloth. The black cloth symbolized his death. The wedding ceremony was transformed into a funeral, and the lamentation began with a nowheh in which the following verse is repeated several times while the participants beat their chest and slapped their faces to express grief and despair. Maddah: Va vayla ya Sayyidi Shia come and help Tonight is the night of mourning Answer: Va vayla ya Sayyidi Maddah: Tonight we do the mourning for Imam Husayn The salutary of this mourning is God Answer: Va vayla ya Sayyidi Maddah: Tonight is the night of the empty camps of Husayn ibn Ali Answer: Va vayla ya Sayyidi (repeated three times) The participants continued singing elegies that elaborated on how lonely Imam Husayn and his sons had felt at Karbala, the injustice they suffered, the beheading of Imam Husayn and the disrespect shown to Zaynab the daughter of Imam Ali, while they continued to beat the chest and slap the face. The rite was closed by an elegy lamenting Imam Husayn, in which the women repeatedly cried ‘Husayn’, and slapped their face. After the rite, the fruit and sweets from the trays were distributed to the participants to spread God’s grace among them.33 On the evening of the ninth of Muharram, beginning at 22.45, the host of the zaynabiyyeh organized a commemoration for Ali Asghar. For the occasion, someone had added a printed poster depicting Imam Husayn with Ali Asghar on his arm to the decorative programme; see the poster in Figure 31. The rite commemorating Ali Asghar involved the making of a cradle, makhtak, which represented the cradle of Ali Asghar. During Muharram commemorations in Shiraz, such cradles could be observed in ritual locations used by men and women, but to my knowledge, only women placed the cradle literally in the centre of the rite, see Figure 46. In the zaynabiyyeh, a cradle decorated with green fabrics was placed in the middle of the room, to allow the visitors to gather around it. Inside was a doll representing Ali Asghar, and the maddah took it out and held it up for all to see. The doll was wrapped in a bright green cloth and its features could not be identified. The women continued to sing nowheh commemorating the sufferings of the innocent child Ali Asghar and expressing the

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grief of his close family members, such as his mother, Umm Layla, and his father Imam Husayn (for examples of nowheh of Ali Asghar, see Chapter 7). Nowheh was accompanied by beating the chest, slapping the face, and waving the head. The rite was concluded by the women expressing their sympathy by repeatedly lamenting loudly ‘Husayn’, while slapping their face. When the rite was over, some approached the cradle to touch it and present their supplications. Shortly after midnight many visitors went home, but some spent the night in the zaynabiyyeh. The idea was to imitate being in the camp at Karbala and keeping Imam Husayn company during his last night. Some location hosting all-female ceremonies would organize a communal meal for women on ashura. In other locations the ceremonial sequence would end on the ninth, ta´sua, and on ashura women would be in the streets watching dasteh, the ritual parade, predominated by men and boys. Torab made the point that the choice as to how a ritual should be carried out is in effect a political choice.34 Women’s Muharram ceremonies presented in this study emphasized mourning and spiritual experience, education, ethical reflection and social engagement. In most lectures, maddahs discussed religion as a guide and inspiration to spirituality and social awareness. Most visitors seemed to prefer commentaries on ethical issues rather than moralistic judgements. These ceremonies differ in some respects from jalaseh, religious meetings, as discussed by Kamalkhani and Torab, in which ceremonies were sometimes politicized to rally support for the state.35 In those cases, tension could sometimes arise between host, who wanted to concentrate on celebration, and hired preachers who wanted to propagate.36 This kind of tension was not entirely absent in the zaynabiyyeh or in other female-gender ritual environments in Shiraz, but hosts seemed to exercise a great deal of autonomy.

Visualization and the Liturgy of Muharram Commemoration The event at Karbala is the dominant, although not the only theme presented in the wall hangings that form part of the commemorative decorative programme in the zaynabiyyeh. In some wall hangings the iconographic and textual messages express general Islamic vernacular and dogma. For example, calligraphic expressions include Quran verses, and the imaginary portrait of the Prophet represents a visualization of the Islamic dogma tawhid, stating the unicity of God, as well as pointing to Muhammad’s role as a messenger. Other wall hangings refer to specific Shia vernacular and dogma. The imaginary portrait of Imam Ali signifies the Shia perception of the Imam’s role as Muhammad’s rightful successor and defender of the true Islam, and underline his status as the spiritual guide for the faithful. The mentioning of the twelve Imams and the Fourteen Infallibles likewise emphasize the importance of the ahl al-bayt and the Imamate to the survival of Islam. In addition, the many textual quotations from the Shia prayer manual Mafatih al-Jenan and photographs of deceased

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members of the local community express the Shia belief in saints’ intercession. The protagonists at Karbala are honoured and commemorated in epigraphs and rowzeh, and in a visual narrative depicting Ali Asghar. Karbala is also honoured as holy site. From a didactical point of view, the decorative programme thus makes fragmented references to the Shia understanding of the role of the Imamate to the continuous survival of the right interpretations of Islam, as well as to its eschatological dimension, and frame the battle at Karbala within this world-view. However, to the informed viewer the content does not simply bring Shia dogmas to mind, but call to mind memories of devotional practices including prayer and pilgrimage, and personal experiences of the mediation of the saints. The elements in the decorative programme thus relate to familiar devotional experiences beyond the particular space of the zaynabiyyeh and the liturgical time of mourning. Moreover, the decorative programme symbolically and spiritually connects Karbala to Mecca, the most holy Muslim site, and generates a bond between the liturgical space of the zaynabiyyeh and to those highly sanctified sites. Turning to the specific context of commemoration ceremonies in the zaynabiyyeh, the decorative programme forms part of the general liturgical structure. Images are not subject to ritualized handling during the formal ritual, but often correspond to various forms of liturgical expression to function as declarations of faith, exegeses, and didactical tools, expressing praise, alliance, supplications and thanksgivings. The praise and glorification of holy personages are expressed in oral liturgy, visually in epigraphy and iconography, and physically in praying gestures. Supplications are offered through prayer, presented orally, textually in epigraphs on imageries, and embodied in ritual action such as religious, ritual dance, and pantomime. Moreover, images are offered a supplication. In this connection, images are sometimes subject to physical handling during private devotion in the non-formal liturgical sense. Wall hangings are touched by ritual participants before and after ritual proper while they silently pronounce a supplication, du’a. The concept hal, meaning ‘mood’ or ‘state of mind’ is evoked by hosts and organizers of rituals to discuss the atmosphere created by liturgical expressions. A good hal is expected to assist participants in focusing their attention on spiritual matters, and consequently, a good hal is in turn characterized by the participants’ focused attention. A good hal is thus held to be a necessary condition for a ‘successful’ ritual which offers the ritual participants the opportunity to receive grace, fayz mibare. In this context, the beneficial condition is created by the believers’ sincere condolence. Commemoration and mourning are stimulated by and articulated in a range of liturgical practices, such as, eulogy, flagellation, weeping, ritual dance, as well as visualization. Seeing the black siah pushi or ta´ziyeh function as a visual incentive for mentally facilitating a memorial and honouring state of mind, and serve as a framing device to define the ritual time as Muharram and the space as subject to commemoration. The many wall hangings carrying a black background support this notion, and colourful wall hangings are harmonized into the programme to permit the sense of sadness to

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dominate. The symbolic meaning of black as referring to memorial and mourning is likewise articulated in the ritual participants’ black clothing, or siah push, meaning ‘clothed in mourning’. The manipulative use of black colour in the decorative design presupposes the idea of there being a connection between visual stimuli and emotion. Sinding-Larsen has suggested that liturgy is intended to act as a regulating agency upon human behaviour.37 In this case, seeing the decorative programme is expected to create an atmosphere for instigating in ritual participants a sombre sensation and mentally assist them in expressing mourning and condolence, which are important aspects of Muharram ritual attitude and behaviour. Visualization and seeing thus serve the same purpose as other liturgical expressions. Being an aid to mental transformation is also an important purpose of the rhetorical style and content of oral storytelling. While narrating, maddahs impersonate Karbala protagonists to create the impression that listeners can ‘hear’ the protagonists’ lament. The sensual experience motivates sympathy from the listeners who express their sentiments in flagellation and weeping. A similar sensual and emotional manipulation can be found, for example, in the wall hanging presenting the rowzeh of Roqayyeh. The written text conveys the content of oral liturgy whereas the black background frames the content in a sad atmosphere. Written on black fabric, the textual narration visually and symbolically expressed lament not to be grasped by ear but by the eye.

The Visual Setting of Mowludi Mowludi is a religiously framed celebration of the birthdays of holy personages and considered to be an occasion for joyful celebration. Mowludi is practised by both men and women in private and public spaces. A mowludi may also be combined with other rituals, such as the khatm-e an´am (the reading of the Surat al-an´am, the sixth chapter of the Quran), sufreh and Quran lesson. Similar to participating in Muharram ceremonies, the celebration of mowludi offers the opportunity for guests to ask intercession and make a vow, and contribution to the organizing of mowludi is often offered as a nazri, a thanksgiving. Mowludi is thus also part of the reciprocal transaction characteristic of vow making, nazr kardan. The history of mowludi probably reaches back at least to the Qajar era.38 However, only a few thorough studies have yet been published on the ritual.39 The atmosphere at a mowludi is in general more relaxed and cheerful than at Muharram commemoration. The celebration typically involves the performance of mowludi-khani, birthday poems and the serving of refreshment, although the liturgy and atmosphere may vary from one occasion to the other. For example, in women-only celebration, clapping the hands, dancing and playing the drum are not uncommon, although these practices are controversial due to Post-Revolutionary decrees on singing, dance and music.40 In women-only celebrations, guests often dress in colourful clothing. In men-only celebrations,

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guests dress in everyday clothing. Another characteristic of mowludi is the colourful decoration of the ritual space, although this is not a formal liturgical requirement and is not always practised. The decorative programme described below was arranged in the zaynabiyyeh for Imam Ali’s birthday on the 13th of Rajab (the 1st of October 2001). It remained in place throughout the celebration of Id al-Maba’ta (the commemoration of the beginning of the Prophet’s mission on the 27th of Rajab, the 5th of October), and the celebrations of the birthday of Imam Husayn on the 3rd of Shaban (the 20th of October), Imam Zayn al-Abedin on the 5th of Shaban (the 22nd of October), until the birthday of Imam al-Mahdi on the 15th of Shaban (the 1st of November). During mowludi the interior white brick walls were draped in large fabrics in various shades of bright green, see Figure 61. Green fabrics used to decorate a ceremonial hall in this manner are called mowludi, similar to the celebration for which they are used. In the zaynabiyyeh, rectangular pieces of different green coloured fabrics had been sewn together to produce one mowludi. Each piece of cloth was an offering, nazri, from visitors to the hall, see Figure 62. Pillars supporting the roof construction were also draped in green fabrics. The floor was covered by red patterned manufactured carpets, and across the ceiling fluttered garlands made of small Iranian paper flags, and balloons in bright colours. The menbar was decorated by a bright green and gold patterned cloth. The use of a green mowludi was also practised in other popular ritual locations. It may thus be described as a convention, which increases its symbolic importance in the local interpretive community. Similar to the strategy applied for creating the visual setting for commemoration ceremonies, colour symbolism was being manipulated for birthday celebration. In the case of mowludi the intention was, however, to create a joyful atmosphere. It is therefore interesting to note that most wall hangings used for the birthday celebrations in 2001 were the same as those used for the commemoration ceremonies during Muharram in 2002. On wall A, the mowludi programme included the large green epigraphic parcham containing the first lines of the popular supplication du’a faraj, and the mentioning of Allah and the Fourteen Infallibles, see Figure 61. Above was located the conventional imaginary portrait of Imam Ali, and to the right, the portrait of the deceased male family member of the host. Immediately above the menbar, were the two wall hangings also presented for Muharram: a bright green fabric on which was written the bismillah and the quotation from Surat al-Fath, 48 ‘The Victory’, verse 1, and a black parcham stated to be an offering from the family Sabri in the honour of Imam Husayn. Next to the menbar on wall B was the representation of a mosque, fashioned in gold spangles on black background, also used during the Muharram commemoration (see Figures 43 and 63). Below this wall hanging was a large blue bowtie, one of several bowties used to decorate the mowludi in the zaynabiyyeh. The bowtie can be seen as a innovative way of using nazri to creating festivity which I did not observe anywhere else. Continuing to the left, was the parcham

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with colourful calligraphic embroidery on green background honouring Umm al-Banin and the Fourteen Infallible, see Figure 63, also used for Muharram commemoration. Then followed a parcham used for Muharram decoration made of bright green fabric and across the plane was written, ‘O Moon of the Hashemite Clan, peace be upon you.’ Below was a bowtie in green fabric decorated by silver prints. Continuing leftwards was a wall hanging in velvet, showing the conventional imaginary portrait of Imam Ali in which he is seated holding his two-pointed sword across his lap. Above the person was written the wellknown epithet: ‘There is no true hero like Ali, and no sword like Zu al-Feqar’. In general, this was a popular wall hanging in mowludi as well as for Muharram commemoration. Above was placed yet another green and golden bowtie. Next followed a parcham depicting a dome flanked by two minarets on a green background. The parcham also presented inscriptions honouring Allah, the martyred Husayn and al-Abbas, and the Fourteen Infallibles and was labelled a hadyeh, a gift. This wall hanging was also used for Muharram decoration. Below was placed a bowtie in green and gold. The first parcham on wall D, in the corner next to wall A, was made of green fabric and displayed the bismillah, followed by a Quranic quotation ‘Help from God and victory is near at hand’ (Quran, 61:13), see Figure 62. The wall hanging was used for the Muharram commemoration. Below the wall hanging was a bowtie in green and blue, and to the right followed a bowtie in green material. Next to the green parcham followed four velour wall hangings depicting unidentified mosques. In the first wall hanging, which was not used for Muharram commemoration, the plane was divided horizontally into two panels. The lower panel depicted an arch or a niche upheld by two columns. The space between was filled by a panel depicting a floral motif on a green background. The floral panel resembled in style patterns used to decorate tile panels and prayer rugs in many parts of the Muslim world. In this case, the floral motif was composed into an imaginary tree with large yellow and white leaves, and red and white flowers. Sergio Stocchi, and Pierre Centlivres and Micheline Centlivres-Demont give many examples of how the rose is used as the symbolic representation of the Prophet Muhammad and the ahl al-bayt in popular posters throughout the Muslim world.41 The tree is sometimes used to represent the Prophet’s genealogy. However, floral and organic motifs are also used as symbolic representations of Paradise, referred to in the Quran as firdaws and janna, both meaning ‘garden’.42 The symbolic meaning of the floral motif is thus polysemic. In the frame above the arch and floral motif, was a depiction of a mosque the Anatolian style on a green background. The second wall hanging depicted several mosque constructions, and was part of the decorative design of Muharram celebration. This was not the case with the third wall hanging in the group. The plane was divided horizontally in two halves. The lower panel showed an arch or a niche upheld by two columns, in which was hanging a lamp. The lamp resembles the typical mosque lamp, but may also refer symbolically to the Divine Light,

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mentioned, for example in Quranic verse, al-Nur, The Light, 24:35. In a Shia interpretive community, the Light emanates in the world through the Prophet Muhammad and the Imams to provide people with guidance according to the Divine will (see Chapter 3). In the upper plane of the wall hanging, a dome was flanked by two minarets. The fourth wall hanging in this group was a mirror image of the second, but reproduced with a red background. This wall hanging was used during Muharram commemoration.

Celebrating Mowludi About eighty women attended the mowludi of Imam Husayn in the zaynabiyyeh on the 2nd of Shaban, whereas the mowludi of Imam al-Mahdi, held on the afternoon of the 15th of Shaban was even more popular.43 The public and private preparations for the birthday of Imam al-Mahdi were more extensive than that of Imam Husayn’s. The reason is that as ‘al-Zaman’ (The Lord of the Ages) he is believed to still be among people. Moreover, the mowludi of Imam Zaman is the last joyful celebration before the fast in Ramadan. In the zaynabiyyeh, mowludi celebrations were framed in a jubilant atmosphere created by the performance of joyful songs, accompanied by hand-clapping, playing the daf (a framed drum), ululation and dance.44 Typically, visitors dressed in colourful clothes. Whereas some kept the head-scarf, coat, and sometimes chador on, only to discreetly display colourful clothing underneath, others removed the overcoat to display colourful dresses, skirts and blouses. Some women put on colourful head-scarves and pulled them back from the forehead to display their newly dyed hair. Many wore jewelleries and some wore make-up. The ceremony was arranged as a joint effort between the host, her friends and visitors in general. During the two-hour long celebration of the mowludi of Imam Husayn, five maddahs had been invited to perform. The celebration opened with a salavat, in which one maddah declared the zaynabiyyeh to be a holy place and a favourable place for asking God’s help. In particular, she addressed the current social and environmental problems due to failed rain, and performed a supplication in which she asked for rain to improve the conditions for people, animals and plants. Another maddah then held a short lecture focusing on social interaction and ethics, urging the audience to remember the sick and other people who need help, and to refrain from gossip and slander. She supported her argument with a Hadith about the compassionate Prophet. After the lecture, booklets were taken out from the shelf and handed out. The visitors participated in the collective reading of the popular du´a tavassul from Mafatih al-Jenan. Du´a tavassul was believed to call attention to the believer’s prayer and invite the saint’s intercession. It was said that there is no problem this du´a cannot solve. The du´a opens with beseeching God, through the Prophet, in order to seek intercession

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and advocacy before God. Throughout the prayer, the Fourteen Infallibles are addressed and their intercession is requested by repeatedly performing the following supplication after honouring each saint: O our chief, O our master We turn towards thee, seek thy intercession and advocacy before Allah, we put before you our open need. O intimate of Allah, Stand by us when Allah sits in judgment over us.45 Du´a tavassul is concluded by the believer asking the Imams to speak in his or her favour before God to obtain pardon and deliverance from sins. The believer calls God’s blessing on the Imams, and curses the enemies of God who have oppressed the Imams, and who will continue to oppress them. After the lecture and the supplication, followed a section characterized by happy celebration. A maddah performed a series of joyful songs in various rhythms, praising Imam Husayn. The language was poetic and symbolic, describing Husayn’s beauty by making allegorical references to the moon, the sun, fragrant flowers and the smell of spring. The city of Medina is full of flowers from the Flower of Ahmad [Fatemeh] Bring flowers because the Flower of Ahmad has come, The house of Mustafa [the Prophet Muhammad] is illuminated. Heaven and earth and the sky are full of light The whole universe, Heaven and the skies were dark, They became brilliant from the face of the Mother of Sayyids.46 The maddah was accompanied by a woman seated on the carpeted floor playing the daf, while most visitors engaged in the festivity by hand-clapping and ululation (helheleh). From time to time, women got up to dance freely to the lively rhythms created by the singing, drum playing and hand-clapping, in contrast to the communal ritualized dance of the commemoration ceremonies. A number of the maddah’s joyful songs addressed Imam Husayn’s early childhood. The lyrics elaborated on him being his mother’s favourite and confirmed his saintliness, stating he was holy already in his mother’s womb. In one chant, the child’s destiny was foretold by the Prophet Muhammad. It recounted that upon the birth of Husayn, the Prophet had declared that Husayn in the future would be courageous in a battle, but that the enemy would behead him. In another song, Husayn was praised for participating in a great war, fighting in the way of God, and causing Islam to stay alive during the centuries. Freedom was said to be achieved through Husayn and that the Shia were ready to give their life for Husayn. The typical Muharram topics of martyrdom, sacrifice and redemption, was thus not absent from the mowludi celebration, but eulogies were crafted to

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congratulate, not to mourn. The possibility for the guests to present vows was offered between the songs, when the maddah urged people to ask Imam Husayn their requests. He was said to be able to cure their problems. A communal performance of the Iranian ‘Happy birthday’ song, tavallud, concluded this section of festivity. The celebrations were followed by a lecture by a woman educated at the theological seminar. She spoke about rules that guides the prayer, gave instructions on how to pray in a correct manner and when to pray, and talked about the importance of right intention, niyat when praying. In particular, the lecturer brought up issues related to Ramadan, the month of fasting, which would take place the following month. She gave advice on how to break the fast at the end of the day, but also underlined the importance of feeding the poor so they could participate in the breaking of the fast and fulfil their ritual obligation. Moving from ritual guidelines to charity, the lecturer next discussed spiritual matters. She insisted that during the fast one should manage life so that one could draw closer to God. After the lecture, the visitors again turned to the performance of joyful songs, music and dance. Added to the songs praising Imam Husayn were a few chants addressing al-Abbas, whose birthday it had been the previous day. Below is an example of a responsorial song in the style of an invocation: Maddah: We love you al-Abbas We have many problems, help us. Reply: O Abu al-Fazl The ritual structure of the mowludi of Imam Husayn was repeated for the mowludi of Imam al-Mahdi. Songs and prayers were dedicated to Imam al-Mahdi, complemented by the responsorial invocation addressing al-Abbas, cited above.47 A maddah opened the celebration by sending congratulations to the Imam on behalf of everyone present. Moreover, she expressed her best wishes for the women present, as well as the Shia in general: ‘I hope this joyous day will bring happiness for your family, to all people, and in particular to all Shias in the world. Send salavat to al-Mahdi and Husayn!’ She encouraged guests to participate in the liturgy by singing with love and affection. She underlined the importance of this by explaining that, ‘he [Imam al-Mahdi] can hear us’, referring to the belief in his occultation. The mowludi of Imam al-Mahdi was presented as an occasion for asking intercession. The maddah emphasized the Divine assertion in this matter by stating: ‘God has said that: O people who do not proclaim their wish to me, the best people are those who ask their wishes from me.’ The maddah and the visitors then engaged in a communal performance of du’a faraj, calling for the soon reappearance of Imam al-Mahdi, and for freedom from sorrow and release from suffering. The supplication also expressed the profession of faith in the just rule of the twelfth Imam until the end of human history.

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Next, the maddah performed a supplication in the form of a chant, praising Imam al-Mahdi and requesting his help. The song was performed with a merry melody and a joyful spirit, each verse being followed by ululation from the visiting women. O Mahdi We have a wish, o Mahdi We sacrifice ourselves to you I offer you everything I have O Mahdi We have sickness, O Mahdi We have wishes, O Mahdi You give recovery, O Mahdi O Mahdi We have a wish, O Mahdi Heart disease, weak health We have young girls and boys, jobless youth I will be your servant In contrast to formal liturgical supplications, such as du´a faraj and du´a kumayl which are printed in Mafatih al-Jenan and are said to have been taught by Imam al-Mahdi and Imam Ali respectively, this supplication was improvised by the maddah to address specific needs in contemporary society. The lyrics in several songs honoured Imam al-Mahdi and expressed the wish for his reappearance in this world and the establishment of just rule. However, Imam al-Mahdi was also remembered as a child and a well-known lullaby was performed, accompanied by ululation. I am ready to give my life to you. Everything I have belongs to you. You are my dear son. I will give my life to you. You are my flower. Everybody join in congratulations! The eye of al-Mahdi is like a star. The face of him we like. His face is bright like the sun in the day and moon at night. Congratulations! This is the birthday of al- Mahdi. May the evil eye be blinded! Congratulations! In Paradise angels distribute sweets to the people of Paradise. Here is the rock [in this life], and there is the gold [in that life] Congratulations! Al-Mahdi is coming to our world. Congratulation! The lullaby did not speak about the child al-Mahdi in the style of the lullaby of Ali Asghar (see Chapter 7). Instead, the lyric was dedicational and panegyric,

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expressing alliance and support to the Imam, cursing the devil, and eulogizing the Imam’s uniqueness and exaltedness. A comparison was being made between the way the Imam’s birthday is celebrated in Paradise and in this world, expressing the far reaching popularity of the Imam. The lullaby also praises the reappearance of the Mahdi. During the mowludi of Imam al-Mahdi several women danced. They felt free to take off the black chador and head-scarves, and let the hair loose. There was not much space to move in the crowded room. Sometimes the women bumped into each other as they were dancing, breaking into laughter. Some women swayed the head to let the long hair move from one side to the other. Some waved small pieces of cloth in their hands. A Quran teacher made an attempt to give a talk, but was encouraged to give up the microphone to a maddah who continued to perform mowludi-khani, and people continued to sing and dance. At some point, a few women protested to the host, who refused to put an end to the dancing and the music. A heated discussion followed the mowludi. The host’s supporters argued that Fatemeh al-Zahra had dressed in nice clothes when attending a party. They referred to ´arus-e Quraysh, ‘The Bride of Quraysh’, often performed during the mowludi of Fatemeh al-Zahra. Like her husband Imam Ali, Fatemeh al-Zahra was known to have had a simple lifestyle, moderation being a sign of piety. But when invited to a wedding by the Quraysh, angels had appeared from heaven to clothe her in magnificent clothes, and she attended the joyful wedding celebration. Although the hagiography tells about Fatemeh’s reluctance to dress extravagantly, the women supporting the host of the zaynabiyyeh concluded that God in principle does not disapprove of joyful celebration. The host appreciated this support, as she intended creating an atmosphere of festivity that permitted visitors to enjoy themselves, and to take advantage of the beneficial atmosphere to honour the saints and present supplications.48

Visualization and the Liturgy of Celebration The various items in the decorative programme developed for the celebration of saints’ birthdays, mowludi, do not express a particular birthday iconography, but include more or less the same wall hangings and images used for Muharram commemoration. This is rather remarkable since, according to the host, a wall hanging should preferably refer to the theme of the ceremony. However, whereas the Shia in Iran have developed a figurative and verbal language that explicitly addresses the battle at Karbala in visual representations, it does not account for events connected to the birth of holy protagonists, with the exception of the miraculous birth of Imam Ali in the Ka´ba. Instead of presenting the available imaginary portraits of Imam al-Mahdi and Imam Husayn, there are two imaginary portraits of Imam Ali. These portraits are regarded by the host as particularly useful in a decorative programme. Imam Ali is the first Imam, and can stand to represent all the other Imams. Imam Husayn and Imam al-Mahdi

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are instead referred to in epigraphic wall hangings, and are orally praised in poetry, chant and prayer. During mourning ceremonies, passages from rowzehkhani and nowheh are matched in text passages in the parchams, but a similar correspondence does not exist between verbal liturgy developed for mowludikhani and parchams used in the mowludi programme. Thematically, the content and symbolic colour reference of wall hangings and images referred more often to Karbala and Muharram than to mowludi. The composition of the decorative programme thus represents a mental challenge since, for mowludi, measures should be taken to create a suitably joyful atmosphere. The solution is to manipulate colour symbolism to create the desired emotional atmosphere. According to the host, the green mowludi drape symbolizes happiness and is intended to make the visitors happy. In addition, she attributes to the drape the representative value of standing for the saints celebrated in mowludi. She explained that the Imams were Sayyids, descendents of the Prophet Muhammad who, according to her knowledge, used to dress in green coloured clothes.49 Carrying the quality of standing for the saints, the mowludi drape is capable of mentally evoking the saints in the minds of people, inspiring their recollection and influencing peoples’ state of mind. The colour green is, moreover, perceived to be the colour of Islam. The symbolic significance of the green wall drapes may thus have the power to re-situate Karbala references within a larger liturgical, hagiographic and dogmatic framework. Like the black siah pushi, the green mowludi function as visual stimuli to create an emotional condition or state of mind, hal, which prepare believers to engage in rituals in a desired manner and to get in touch with Holy Beings. In the celebration of mowludi, hal was also created through liturgical elements such as Quran recitation, invocations through salavat, prayer, poetry, drumplaying, dance, handclapping and ululation. The stimulation of the senses in order to get in touch with Holy Beings and attain spiritual experience is not uncommon in Islam. Music, for example, may function as audible stimuli. In a study on mowludi celebration, Kalinock discusses the role of the daf in creating hal, thereby touching ritual participants emotionally and facilitating their getting in touch with God.50 Several Sufi movements have developed liturgical use of music, sama´, which ideally involves the use of poems and music to focus the listener’s concentration on God.51 Sometimes sama´ induces a trance-like state of contemplative ecstasy, which to Sufis is known as hal. The state of mind understood as hal is not the same in every Muslim ritual setting. A few women in the zaynabiyyeh, following Twelver Shia world-view and ritual traditions, occasionally fell into a trance-like state as a result of commemorative practices like flagellation and ritualized dance. This was, however, not intended by the liturgy and the procedure did not follow that of a mystical method, although the personal experience might be profoundly spiritual. In the zaynabiyyeh, audiovisual stimuli were used to focus attention and, under the input of emotions, to create understanding and illumination. The audiovisual experience motivated cognitive processes directed to devotion, music and visualization thus becoming modes of worship.

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To achieve such results, hosts and visitors compared the liturgical arrangements offered in different ritual locations, and discussed the qualifications of the maddahs, the repertoire of songs and the aesthetical aspects of ritual dance and the visual setting, including symbols, colours and images. Through such discussions, opinions were formed on the spiritual quality of the ritual experience offered by the liturgical structure in a specific location. According to such reasoning, aesthetics in ritual space and ritual performance, and sincerity in ritual involvement were important aspects for creating a context favourable for mediation. In this context, the division between intention and reception was often blurred, as an individual may consciously be manipulating the cultic environment in which she participated in devotional practices.

Concluding Remarks In the zaynabiyyeh, commemoration and mowludi ceremonies have distinct liturgical orientations. Nevertheless, inscriptions, iconography and verbal liturgy address general Shia tenets. Liturgy includes the honouring of God and saints, the expression of alliance and sympathy, and the presentation of supplications and thanksgivings. The visitors are taught the sacred history of Shiism, ritual behaviour and ethics and morality, in order to make them religiously conscious and socially aware. As such, texts and images presented in the parchams are exegetic, didactic, honorific, dogmatic and eulogistic. Important conditions for the multivalent use of imageries is that iconography and epigraphy refer to ideas and sentiments generally held to be important, and can serve as meaningful entities within different liturgical structures. The content of the wall-decorations communicate with other elements in the liturgical structure in that they expressed fragments of speech, prayer and song, and advocate ritual behaviour taking place in this ritual setting, as well as in other ritual settings, such as pilgrimage. Most images in the decorative programmes also belong to the functional category of votive images used for invocations and thanksgiving. Such devotional practices are typical elements of mourning and celebratory ceremonies. Visualization and seeing are believed to have representative and transformative qualities. Images and decorative programmes are held to mentally evoke the saints in the minds of devotees and inspire their recollection. Such cognitive processes can transform emotions and generate cultic behaviour facilitating making contact with the saints. Visual experiences motivate cognitive processes directed to devotion, and visualization and seeing function as modes of worship.

Chapter 10

Decorative Programmes across Gendered Ritual Space

A comparison between men- and women-run ritual locations demonstrates that the use of iconographic language and decorative programmes transgress gender boundaries and relate to established conventions in the culture. Captions in votive wall hangings suggest, for example, that men donate votive images to women-run ritual spaces, and photographs of deceased male family members placed in women’s ritual spaces suggest that men may benefit from women pleading the saints’ mediation and God’s benediction. The most obvious difference between locations administered by men and women is that men-run locations typically dispose of a larger number of decorative items than womenrun locations, and that images and wall hangings in men-run localities tend to be more expensive. The reason is that localities run by men typically have more resources than those run by women. Nevertheless, during Muharram the interior space of women-run localities are sometimes more densely decorated than men-run spaces, a practice that can be explained by gender-specific liturgical structures. The imamzadeh of Sayyid Muhammad ibn Ali ibn Husayn (a descendent of Imam Husayn) is administered by the male-run Hay´at Mutahedeh Janesaran Abu al-Fazl, established in Shiraz 1327 ap /1948 ad. According to a memorial stone displayed on a wall in the courtyard of the imamzadeh, it was built in 1334 ah/1916 ad. The originally small shrine eventually deteriorated until people assembled to help reconstructing it. In the imamzadeh, the hay´at organizes Quran classes, the reading of du´a Kumayl on Thursday evenings, and communal ceremonies following the liturgical year. Classes and ceremonies are arranged for both men and women, but at separate hours. Ceremonies are organized with assistance from the lay public who offer anything needed to host ceremonies, such as, food, drinks, decorations, electricity and voluntary work. Most gifts are nazri, votive gifts. Contributions from lay people have made it possible to expand the imamzadeh, renovating the building, and constructing a walled courtyard in front of it. There were plans to expand the shrine in the future, and construction work was conducted during field research between 2001 and 2002. Since then, the shrine has been demolished in accordance with the city’s plans for developing the old centre of Shiraz. It remains to be seen what the new shrine of Sayyid Muhammad ibn Ali ibn Husayn will look like.

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Upon entering the main gate of the imamzadeh, as it still was in 2001 and 2002, one stepped into a large open courtyard surrounded by brick walls. The courtyard was shaped like an inverted L. In 2002, a small kitchen was built immediately to the right of the gate for preparing tea for guests on a daily basis. At the opposite end of the courtyard was an entrance leading into a larger kitchen in which one prepared meals at ceremonies hosting up to several hundred people. The exterior wall of the shrine facing the courtyard was decorated by bricks and tiled epigraphic panels containing quotations from the Quran and Mafatih al-Jenan, see Figure 64. Tiled epigraphic panels above the doors leading into the assembly hall announced the place to be the ‘Imamzadeh of Sayyid Muhammad ibn Ali ibn Husayn’, and named the hay´at associated with the shrine. Other walls in the courtyard appeared in crude, unembellished form, see Figure 65. The imamzadeh had two floors. The interior walls of the ground floor were decorated with bricks and tiled epigraphs with Quran quotations, for example, Surat al-Fatihah (The Opening) and Surat al-Nasr (The Help), see Figure 57. Several tiled panels also quoted popular du´a, for example, abstracts from ziyarat wareth, read before sunset on the day of ashura to share the sorrow with the ahl al-bayt. Behind the pulpit was a large tile-painting depicting the shrine of al-Abbas at Karbala. The tile-painting had been copied from a postcard and the work was completed around 1989. In addition, decorations included framed posters depicting imaginary portraits of al-Abbas. Epigraphic parchams greeted Imam Ali, quoted the Shia creed of faith, the first Surat of the Quran, al-Fatihah, and honoured the Imams. Framed photographs depicted important spiritual and political leaders endorsed by the hay´at. Sayyid Muhammad ibn Ali ibn Husayn’s sarcophagus was located in the basement. The coffin was placed inside a glass sarcophagus and draped in green cloth, partly covered by a black cloth, vertically placed across it. On the top was placed a vase containing a bouquet of red flowers. When entering the open-air courtyard during mowludi, the place was totally transformed to appear as an interior space. The courtyard was covered by drapes functioning as a ceiling and the ground was carpeted by red manufactured carpets, creating a comfortable seating for the visitors. The rough brick walls were draped in red manufactured carpets used as wall hangings, compare Figures 65 and 66. Above the carpets on the wall was a row of Iranian flags and a banner in white and red stripes. The banner was decorated with smaller parchams, most of which could also be seen in other ritual locations. In the imamzadeh there were, for example, several wall hangings identical or similar to those used in the zaynabiyyeh, such as, the imaginary portrait of the seated Imam Ali, Figure 63, the Prophet Muhammad, 60 and motifs combining a mosque representation and a lamp. Large wall hangings placed directly on the brick walls, depicted portraiture of Imam Ali, Imam Husayn and al-Abbas, in the technique of appliqué on black background, see Figures 28 and 67. In addition, the design of parchams combined shrine iconography with epigraphy, and epigraphic parchams mentioned important protagonists at the battle at Karbala, in addition to God and The Fourteen Infallibles. Conversely, there were no

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wall-drapes and only a few wall hangings in the ceremonial hall. The room was, as mentioned above, permanently decorated with tiled epigraphic panels and a large tile-painting depicting the shrine of al-Abbas. A large chandelier in the centre of the ceiling, in addition to many electric lamps in golden colours, generated a warm atmosphere in the room. The presence of several floral centrepieces enhanced the sensation of festivity. At the only-men mowludi ceremony in 2001, several male maddahs presented lectures and recited poems from the menbar in the ceremonial hall. Whereas loudspeakers transmitted their voice to the large audience seated in the various rooms, only the guests seated in the ceremonial hall could actually see the performing maddahs. Differently from the women’s mowludi in the zaynabiyyeh, the men’s ceremony did not include communal or responsorial singing, music, hand-clapping or dancing. Instead, the guests participated by sending salavat and greeting the saints. The atmosphere was relaxed, people took the opportunity to socialize, and many visitors had brought their small sons and daughters to the celebration. The sound from people talking filled the rooms while tea and cold beverages were served continuously. During Muharram commemorations in 2002, the visual setting of the imamzadeh expressed a different aesthetics and a changed atmosphere. The courtyard had retained its role as a yard and during day-time it was used as storage for ritual objects to be displayed during the hay´at’s dasteh parade in the streets of central Shiraz in the evenings. Brick walls in the courtyard and the exterior and interior walls of the ceremonial hall were decorated with parchams with black background, but they were few compared with the decorative programme displayed for mowludi. Wall hangings were placed directly on the walls without using walldrapes, see Figure 68. Motifs typically referred to the event at Karbala, for example, Abu al-Fazl on the horse carrying water-bag and standard, and Imam Husayn’s horse Zu al-Jenah. Other parchams depicted mosque emblems and presented epigraphic references to the battle. Black flags, on which were written in red or green ‘O Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas’ and ‘O Husayn Shahid’ were placed over the three double doors leading into the ceremonial hall. These wall hangings and flags had not been used for mowludi in 2001. Although several brick walls were permanently adorned with inserted blue tile-panels and geometrical designs, the presence of the many black parchams placed directly on the walls made the yard look gloomy. A similarly sombre atmosphere was expressed in the ceremonial hall which was decorated by several large iconographic and epigraphic parchams on black background thematically referring to Karbala, see Figure 28. The liturgical structure of the mowludi requires an interior space in which guests can sit listening to recitation and chanting, which are meriting acts, and participate in the transmittance of blessings through the serving of beverage, which are nazri. During the first ten days of Muharram, however, the members of the hay´at participate in dasteh, processions performed in the streets of Shiraz every evening between the first and the ninth of Muharram and on ashura.1 It is therefore not necessary to decorate the imamzadeh extensively during Muharram. Moreover, wall hangings and images are needed in the dasteh procession.

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The number of members in Hay´at Mutahedeh Janesaran Abu al-Fazl exceeds one thousand. The dasteh procession is divided into many subgroups performing sineh-zani, striking the chest with the palm of the hand, and zanjirzani, beating the back with a chain, each group introduced by a parcham. Members of the hay´at explained that they preferred to present images referring to al-Abbas, since they perceived themselves to be his supporters. One example is the mobile signboard depicting an imaginary portrait of al-Abbas which had been offered to the hay´at as an ex-voto (see Figure 68). During Muharram, the hay´at combine ambulatory rituals in the streets with stationary rituals in the imamzadeh and thus has to distribute images, banners and wall hangings between the two liturgical spaces. During mowludi rituals are, however, confined to the interior space of the imamzadeh and its courtyard. A large number of drapes and wall hangings are in need to decorate the space for stationary rituals oriented towards both spiritual and social ends. The above assessment suggests there are no differences between men- and women-run ritual locations regarding the compositions of iconography and epigraphy, and the functions of decorative programmes and images. Similar to women, men recognize the didactical and communicative values of images, and the connection between the aesthetics of decorative programmes, emotions and devotional experiences. The connection between verbal and visual expression was underlined by several organizers of male-run ritual locations. They suggested that mentioning the names of Holy Persons and representing them visually would assist in keeping their memory alive, similar to the poetry of, for example, Hafez (d. 1389 ad) and Sa´di (d. 1292 ad). It was acknowledged that epigraphic elements can please literate people but figurative iconography was given didactical functions, described as being helpful to older people among whom many were illiterate. Images are also used as a method for believers to express religious sentiments, such as love for the Prophet Muhammad and the Imams. In addition, members of the hay´at intentionally use decorative programmes to shape the mood, hal, of ritual participants. They use bright colours and parchams with the names of the persons they celebrated to create a cheerful atmosphere for the celebration of mowludi. To express mourning at Muharram rituals, they create a sad atmosphere by presenting parchams in black colour with verbal statements and figurative depictions of what happened at Karbala. Moreover, similar to female organizers in the zaynabiyyeh, male organizers at the imamzadeh sometimes use the same images for mowludi and Muharram commemoration, and have developed strategies to incorporate an item into different decorative programmes to suit its liturgical structure. For commemoration rituals, for example, a colourful wall hanging representing the Prophet Muhammad was placed on a black drape to anchor its reception in the theology of martyrology. Vice versa, parchams with black background were for mowludi placed on red drapes or decorated with light bulbs to create in the viewer a joyous spirit. The significance and reception of images may therefore be reformulated by modifying the immediate visual context surrounding the image, and by locating it in different liturgical structures.

Chapter 11

Transposing Iconography

The iconographic language in contemporary Iranian Shia images is conventional, drawing on a repertoire of long-established and well-known visual signs. Innovation is typically restricted to the modification of established models or sign combinations. The iconography is well suited to indexically and symbolically convey ideas and sentiments central to Twelver Shia belief and we may thus speak of a ‘Shia iconography’. The repetition of signs is an important premise for the communicative success of religious iconography, which relies on identification and recognition. Moreover, images’ ability to induce emotions in the viewer often rests on their significance as familiar and cherished representations. However, during the celebration of the mowludi in the imamzadeh of Sayyid Muhammad ibn Ali ibn Husayn in 2001, the decorative programme included a wall hanging with a representation of the Christian Catholic ‘Our Lady of Fátima’ (see Figure 69), and a wall hanging depicting a group of deer (see Figure 70). How is the unconventional iconography translated into a Shia world-view, and how may it serve Shia rituals, such as the mowludi? The iconography of ‘Our Lady of Fátima’ has evolved from a Christian Catholic recount of an apparition of The Virgin Mary. According to the story, an angel and a lady ‘more brilliant than the sun’ appeared several times to three shepherd children (one boy and two girls) near the village of Fátima in Portugal in 1917.1 The lady was later interpreted to be The Virgin Mary. In the wall hanging in the imamzadeh, The Virgin Mary is represented in a white dress covered by a white and blue shimmering cloak. There is a disk-halo around her head, and her body is encircled by a radiant white and blue light. Her hands are held together across her chest and her head slightly bent, as if praying. A boy and two girls kneel down in front of The Virgin. The scene is situated in a peasant landscape surrounded by fields, hills, sheep and small farmhouses. The iconography relies on conventional Catholic iconography depicting The Virgin praying while surrounded by a radiant light. The representation of the three children is based on their photograph in which they are dressed in traditional peasant children clothing, including black headscarf for the girls.2 The Sanctuary of Fátima has become a world-famous Catholic pilgrimage site. Catholic and Orthodox Christian traditions emphasize not only the suffering of Jesus, but also that of his mother. The idea is that The Virgin Mary brings consolation to

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those who suffer, and an individual who undergoes pain or suffering may make a vow, promessa, to The Virgin. If she offers help, the supplicant promises a counter-gift, an ex-voto.3 The Roman Catholic Church recognized the Fátima apparition as worthy of belief in 1930 and one of the main motives of those who undertake a pilgrimage to Fátima is to fulfil their contractual relationship with The Virgin. A male organizer of ceremonies in the imamzadeh identified the wall hanging depicting ‘Our Lady of Fátima’ as representing Mariam, as Mary is called in the Muslim tradition. He was not aware of the Christian origin of the iconography and the apparition it referred to. When I pointed it out to him, he did not find its Christian background to be of any importance. Instead, he declared that Mariam is an important figure in both Christianity and Islam, and an image of Christian origin might therefore serve well to represent Mariam. The organizer did not elaborate on the role of Mary/Mariam in the two religions, but Barbara Freyer Stowasser has noted that among Muslims, as among many Christians, Mariam is celebrated as an example for the believers because of her chastity, obedience and faith.4 Shia hagiography recognizes strong affinities between Jesus and Husayn, and close affinities are perceived between their holy mothers, Mariam and Fatemeh. Both women are perceived to have been poor and pious, pure of sin and favoured by God. The hagiography underlines their suffering. Fatemeh mourned the future martyrdom of her son, while Mariam lost her son Isa (Jesus) who according to the Islamic tradition was wronged and rejected by his people although, not martyred. Both mourning women were visited by angels who comforted them.5 The Shia tradition also gives an account of a Mariam apparition; Mariam is said to have appeared to nurse and console Fatemeh when she was dying.6 The organizer of the imamzadeh did not know who had donated the wall hanging, but suggested it was included in the decorative programme to demonstrate Muslims’ respect for Mariam. Among the Shia, Mariam is commemorated and honoured through Quran recitations (for example Surat 19 bears her name). She is, however, not a central figure in the Shia cult. One explanation offered by local social agents, is that she is not a member of the ahl al-bayt, the descendants of the Prophet Muhammad who most typically are addressed and honoured in Shia rituals. Mariam is, however, a respected and popular figure. In 2002, a two-hour-long Iranian produced film biography called Mariam al-Muqaddasah, ‘The Holy Mariam’ was released in Iran. The film narrative is based on hagiographic literature, recounting the story of Mariam’s life, including her birth, her childhood in the Temple, the annunciation, the pregnancy, the birth of Isa and Mariam’s return to her family, in whose care she was left by her child. Its screening attracted large audiences at movie theatres around the country and the following year the film was shown on Iranian National Television. In addition to anchoring the Mary/Mariam depictions in the Muslim tradition, one organizer connected it to the presence of Christians at Shia ceremonies.

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He explained there are many Christians living in the vicinity of the imamzadeh and some attend mowludi. He suggested that presenting a representation of Mary/Mariam was a way to show respect for other religions. He explained, ‘It signifies that we all (Christians and Muslims) think about religion, and that religions are in contact with each other.’ He pointed out that Christians attended celebrations at the imamzadeh to receive food offered as votive gifts, nazri. The Christians, like the Shia, believed the food to be holy and that it would bring them benediction. I did not have the opportunity to speak to any Christians in this matter. The attendance of non-Muslims at Shia rituals is, however, known from studies in India. Hyder recounts that despite tension between Hindus and Shias, some Hindus practise self-flagellation during Muharram, and prepare particular food as votive offerings and then distribute it in their neighbourhood as food blessed by the memory of the martyr of Karbala.7 The visual language of the ‘Our Lady of Fátima’ is designed to visually narrate the apparition at Fátima in 1917 and to represent the glory of Mary, as she was understood at the time. Transposed into an Islamic context, the Christian iconography is reread within a predominantly Shia world-view. Our Lady of Fátima is recognized as the Islamic Mariam, although there is no particular hagiographic narrative linking her to the visual narrative. Instead, the iconography is interpreted in a symbolic manner, corresponding to notions of Mariam as someone who may offer solace and comfort, although she is not commonly addressed as a mediator in Islam. The representation of the three children may also be reread into an Islamic or Shia world-view. The children are represented in an act of devotion. The iconographic formula can function as an Islamic devotional picture, a genre popular in both Sunni and Shia communities around the world. Often the genre depicts children reading the Quran or praying.8 The iconography of Our Lady of Fátima may, moreover, suit the ideological mindset and political regime of the Post-Revolutionary government, as the headdress of the two Portuguese girls from 1917 corresponds to the new ‘Islamic’ dress-code of the Post-Revolutionary school uniform, in particular the hood, maqna´eh. The second parcham in the mowludi decorative programme depicting an unconventional iconography shows a male deer with large antlers resting on a field together with a female deer. In the conventional Shia iconography deer are associated with Imam Reza, who is known to have protected them from a hunter (see Figure 32). The iconography in the wall hanging can therefore be read as a symbolic representation of Imam Reza, in the same way the horse is used to signify Imam Husayn and al-Abbas. When I introduced this interpretation to two male organizers at the imamzadeh, they were sympathetic to the reasoning but not supportive of its conclusion. Instead, they related the interpretation of the scene to the celebration of mowludi. The two organizers suggested the wall hanging depicted a family of deer living a peaceful life; at least the picture showed a peaceful situation. The scene was described as a ‘beautiful representation’. They pointed out that the intention behind inviting guests for mowludi was to give the guests a nice experience and bring them in a good mood.

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The purpose was twofold. Creating a pleasant environment for the ceremony would facilitate making contact with the saints. Moreover, the organizers hoped that the happy sentiments instigated in the visitors during the ceremony would create lasting peaceful and comfortable feelings that would affect the visitors’ private life in a positive manner. The iconography of Imam Ali and that of the Karbala narrative paintings has undergone changes during the last 200 hundred years, changes motivated by the development of new media, changing devotional practices and political circumstances, although many iconographic conventions have prevailed. The wall hangings depicting ‘Our Lady of Fátima’ and deer are examples of an unconventional iconography being transposed into a distinct Shia decorative programme. The iconography of ‘Our Lady of Fátima’ is accepted in a Shia decorative programme by ignoring the Christian narrative which anchors it theologically, geographically and historically, to be reread in an Islamic context. The scene with the two deer, a mundane motif depicting animals and nature, is given a symbolic significance pointing to moral values, beauty and piety. The motif is associated with the orientation of certain devotional practices and social aspects of ritual performance, similar to ideas expressed by female maddahs. The transposition of iconography between religious and cultural traditions to develop a religious visual language is not a novelty. In a study of the origin of Christian iconography, André Grabar calls attention to processes in which artists express themselves in the language used around them. One classic example is the transposition of features from Greco-Roman imagery into a Christian iconographic language. In the process, artists partly transformed the meaning of existing signs and partly created new signs.9 A similar process is also observed taking place between Muslim visual cultures. In a colour-poster circulating in Pakistan, depicting the famous saint Abul Qadir Jilani, the saint is seated on a white horse about to cross a river.10 The rider wears armour and carries a shield, and is shown holding a standard with a green flag in his right hand on which is written, ‘Help from God, and victory is near’ (Quran, Surat 61:13). This depiction of the saint is very unusual since Abul Qadir Jilani is typically shown in a seated position. In this case, Frembgen observes, the collage artist has transferred the saint’s characteristic white-bearded head with turban, and the shawl draping his body, from one poster design and inserted it into another poster design representing Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas.11 In fact, the pose, dress, attributes and scene correspond to popular representations of al-Abbas in Iran, see Chapter 7. Regarding Shia iconography in Iran, there are obvious transpositions between the secular and religious visual narratives of Shah-Nameh and the battle at Karbala by qahvehkhane painters. More recently, the visual rhetoric of the near sanctification of Ayatollah Khomeini following the Revolution in 1978–79, draw heavily on Christian Catholic iconography, despite the anti-Western rhetoric of the era. One example is a representation of Ayatollah Khomeini situated in a cloudy, yet illuminated sky, surrounded by cherubim, and crushing a serpent underfoot.12 The image is based on a painting by the Spanish artist Bartolomé Esteban

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Murillo (1617–82) of the Blessed Virgin Mary, representing ‘The Immaculate Conception’ (1655–60). 13 In the Iranian version, The Virgin Mary has been replaced by Ayatollah Khomeini and a few cherubim and a serpent have been added to the composition. Shia artists thus articulate themselves in the language, visual or verbal, which is used around them, but also transpose visual designs of signs from outside their immediate religious and cultural sphere. These processes underscore Peirce’s suggestion that meaning is open to interpretation rather than being embedded in the work of art, that meaning is interpreted in context and the meaning can vary and even change. But as the cases discussed here demonstrate, transpositions can take place as long as the iconography is symbolically connected to holy characters or resonance with moral values.

Concluding Remarks A comparison between the decorative programmes in different ritual locations in Shiraz between 2000 and 2001 demonstrate widespread consensus on the function of images and the visual setting of worship among large segments of the lay-population, male and female. Decorative programmes are adjusted to the specific liturgical structures of the rituals. Despite idealistic perceptions on what constitute the most favourable decorative design, the conventions directing the decorative designs are dealt with in a pragmatic manner, according to the recourses available, and attuned to the architectural structure of the location. The predominantly conventional Shia iconography may be expanded through the transposition of signs and motifs from less conventional sources, such as Christian popular imagery and romantic scenes with animals in nature, designs which in Western art-discourse is often labelled as kitsch. Apparently such transpositions may work well, as long as the iconography and the theme can be reread into a Shia world-view. The cases discussed here are not unique to the development of Islamic visual discourses, but it remains to be seen whether they will become popular among visitors and owners of ritual locations.

Figure 52 Wall hanging. Embroidery on synthetic fabric. Decorating private courtyard for Muharram commemoration. Presented as an endowment. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 53 Wall hanging. Embroidery on fabric. Presented as an endowment. On display in a private courtyard during commemoration rituals in Muharram. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2000.

Figure 54 Imaginary replica of the shrine of Ruqayyeh. Presented at a husayniyyeh for commemoration ceremonies in Safar. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 55 Women performing a pilgrimage to the replica of the shrine of Ruqayyeh. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 56 Ibrahim smashing the idols. From the ta’ziyeh production ‘Narnimruzi’ played by a group from Khurasan at the Nadir al-Mulk mosque. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 1999.

Figure 57 The interior or the ceremonial hall of the imamzadeh. Tiled wall painting of the shrine of Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas at Karbala. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 58 A zaynabiyyeh decorated for Muharram commemoration. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 59 A zaynabiyyeh decorated for Muharram commemoration. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 60 Wall hanging representing the Prophet Muhammad. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 61 A zaynabiyyeh decorated for the celebration of Imam Husayn’s birthday. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 62 Mowludi decoration in a zaynabiyyeh. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 63 Celebrating mowludi at a zaynabiyyeh. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 64 The courtyard of imamzadeh Sayyid Muhammad ibn Ali ibn Husayn, facing the entrance wall of the ceremonial hall. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 65 The courtyard of imamzadeh Sayyid Muhammad ibn Ali ibn Husayn, facing the entrance gate. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 66 The courtyard of imamzadeh Sayyid Muhammad ibn Ali ibn Husayn, next to the entrance gate. Compare with Figure 65. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 67 The courtyard of imamzadeh Sayyid Muhammad ibn Ali ibn Husayn, facing the main kitchen. Compare with Figure 64. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 68 The courtyard of the imamzadeh Sayyid Muhammad ibn Ali ibn Husayn, during Muharram commemoration. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2002.

Figure 69 Wall decorations at imamzadeh Sayyid Muhammad ibn Ali ibn Husayn. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Figure 70 Wall decorations at imamzadeh Sayyid Muhammad ibn Ali ibn Husayn. Photo: I. Flaskerud, Shiraz 2001.

Conclusion: Visualizing and Seeing in the Service of Islam

Muslims hold opposing views on the production and use of figurative imageries, particularly in the context of religious practice. Aniconic and iconoclastic stances prevail among Sunni theologians and Sunni popular practices, although exceptions to such attitudes are many. Twelver Shia theologians warn against the veneration of images, but argue that images might be used in the service of religion. In contemporary Iranian Shiism, images with religious motifs and references form part of private and communal devotional life. The location most typically discussed in studies on the visual appearance of Muslim ritual space has been the mosque. Attention is often given to architectural characteristics, contributing to the understanding of regional style, cultural influence and historical development. Some studies of epigraphy, arabesque and geometric and floral tile work, suggest that the design intrinsically express a universal theological dogma like, for example, tawhid.1 Such essentialist interpretations fail to notice the influence of cultural context and historical circumstance in the formation of aesthetic expression. This issue is addressed by Oleg Grabar who, when discussing the experience of the written form, suggests that investigation must be conducted within Muslim life rather than within the mechanisms of the Revelation or of esoteric interpretations.2 Instead, the meaning of mosque architecture can be analysed in relation to the development of ritual practice, and the social and administrative needs in Muslim society. Taking a similar approach, Robert Hillenbrand has demonstrated the close connection between form, function, and meaning in the architecture of medieval Islamic society, including the mosque,3 and in a study on the American mosque, Akel Ismail Kahera argues that the formative themes of Muslim aesthetics suggests a dialogue between architectural form and religious practice.4 In addition to the mosque, a Muslim community may utilize various types of ritual locations intended for different ritual performances. The Bektashi of Istanbul would frequent the lodge, tekke, tombs of saints, türbes, and communal liturgical meeting places, cem evi. Studies of the visual setting in these ritual locations refute the often maintained idea about Islamic iconoclasm and aniconism.5 Frederick DeJong observes that in the late Ottoman period (1826 to 1925) Bektashi ritual locations were decorated by images of various genres, such as calligraphy, portraiture and narratives.6 DeJong suggests that the images served multiple purposes as decorations, statements of religious identity and as

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visual representamen of the essentials of belief. In Muslim South Asia, Jürgen Wasim Frembgen has studied the lodge, durbar, of living saints, majzub, and describes how, after the death of the saint, the lodge is transformed into a shrine, dargah/mazar.7 Frembgen suggests that in the reconstruction of the cult the pictorial representations of the saint help to produce a stimulating atmosphere where the saint, whose life story is being told, becomes familiar and close. He points out that religious folk-art here serves as a formula of experience and emotion, creating a context in which devotees feel again the presence of their saint. Vernon James Schubel has noted that Shias in Canada use architecture, decorations and ritual to create an encounter between devotees and religious figures and events, in particular related to Karbala.8 According to Schubel, this encounter will challenge the community to live up to the standards set by the event at Karbala. Among Sunnis in Egypt, mural paintings known as ‘hajj paintings’ decorate the exterior front wall of peoples’ homes. Its iconography is thematically related to the Great Pilgrimage, and Ann Parker and Avon Neal suggest the paintings are made to celebrate a pilgrim’s homecoming, to commemorate the hajj and to pay homage to the sacred journey.9 These studies suggest there is a close relationship between the visual setting of worship, dogma and devotional practices, as it is expressed in various Islamic traditions. Some studies, moreover, point to the mediating and emotional role played by images and decorations in devotional space, and demonstrate that in popular religious environments lay-believers take active part in the shaping and reshaping of the visual setting of worship and its related devotional practices. Hyder does, however, point to tendencies of increased aniconic attitudes among the Shia. Figurative wall hangings in one of the Hyderabad shrines are now being criticized by Shia from the United Kingdom and the USA for being un-Islamic.10 The reaction from visiting migrants reflects processes in migrant communities in the West, where a new generation of Muslims embark on a course of purification that will presumably cleanse religion of cultural traces.11 Hyder, nevertheless, attributes the iconoclastic predispositions to an ‘Iranian-inflected purification impulse’, developing after the Islamic revolution and which generates an aniconic global aesthetic.12 The present study suggests that the use of figurative images in ritual spaces in Iran is widespread, and that critical voices have not been able to eliminate images, perhaps only to restrict the contexts in which they are used. Shias in contemporary Iran have developed a variety of ritual locations to serve the many aspects of their devotional practices. The mosque hosts larger congregations for Friday prayer. The imamzadeh is the focal point of pilgrimages, ziyarat, at which believers assemble to venerate a saint and present supplications, nazr. Ceremonial halls like husayniyyeh, fatemiyyeh and zaynabiyyeh, in addition to imamzadeh, are used for commemorating the battle at Karbala and celebrating the birthdays of the Prophet and the Imams. Homes are transformed to communal ritual locations for specific liturgical events. Historically there are in Iran many examples of imamzadeh and takiyyeh permanently decorated with

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murals and painted tile-panels, depicting scenes related to the sacred history of Islam. These images, Peterson has suggested, functioned to create splendour and dramatic settings for ta´ziyeh productions. In the religious meeting places I have mentioned, images and decorative programmes are employed to temporarily shape and define an otherwise multifunctional space used for various rituals and religious instruction into an environment specifically intended for certain devotional practices. The decorative programmes include visual narratives of the battle of Karbala, presented in colour posters and wall hangings, epigraphic wall hangings, and decorative programmes including black or green wall drapes. The use of epigraphy, colour symbolism, and drapes and banner found in Iran today, are associated with the first-recorded public mourning ceremony for Imam Husayn. In Baghdad, during the reign of the Buyids in the tenth century, the market was closed on ashura and ritual parades were organized. The parade included the use of banners of some kind, and men and women are said to have worn torn, black clothing.13 Much later, in 1786–87, William Franklin, travelling through Persia, noted that in Shiraz one would place black drapes on the plastered interior walls of the mosques, while the akhun or priest recited stories about Imam Ali and the battle at Karbala, and the listeners flagellated and lamented.14 In Tabriz, in the late 1890s, Wilson observed a ritual parade presenting a series of triangular flags on which was embroidered the names of Imam Husayn and the other martyrs at Karbala.15 Western visitors to Persia in the nineteenth century also report widespread veneration of the portrait of Imam Ali. During the reign of the two Pahlavi shahs (1925–1979), public expressions of Muharram commemoration were restricted. Instead, there was an increase in neighbourhood organizations’ use of temporary ritual sites that were located on private property or in large professional or communal buildings.16 Despite more than fifty years of constrained public display of ritual behaviour and symbolic objects, the use of banners, flags and colour symbolism have survived and continue to be shaped and reshaped in popular ritual expressions. The practice continues to be widespread in contemporary Iran, although after the 1979 Revolution, the emphasis in rituals shifted from sermons to lectures. Sermons, the primary vehicle of expression, were however, not completely displaced by lecture, and the ritual material culture prevailed.17 For example in Safar 1993, Azam Torab attended a jalaseh, commemoration of the events at Karbala, in a private home in Teheran. She describes the walls as being draped in black cloth banners bearing Ashura elegies.18 Popular images are portraits of the Prophet Muhammad, Imam Ali, Imam Hassan, Imam Husayn and al-Abbas, in addition to narratives referring to events known from the hagiography of the Prophet Ibrahim, Imam Ali, Imam Reza, Fatemeh al-Zahra and the battle at Karbala. Many images also present quotations from the Quran, the Shia prayer manual Mafatih al-Jenan, and extracts from ta´ziyeh librettos, religious storytelling and poetry, and mention God, the Fourteen Infallible, the martyrs at Karbala, and other mediators from the

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Holy family. The conventional Shia iconography can be expanded through the transposition of signs and motifs from less conventional sources, such as Christian popular imagery and romantic scenes with animals in the wilderness. Apparently such transpositions may work well, as long as the iconography and the theme can be reread into a Shia world-view. The most commonly used images among the motifs mentioned above are the portrait of Imam Ali and the Karbala narratives. The representation and reception of the images are grounded in cultural convention. During the second half of the nineteenth century, new modes of visual literacy developed when a new genre of portraying Imam Ali was introduced and the Karbala event became a popular theme in painting. Today, the visual language consists of a repertoire of signs and combinations of signs which have become accepted as adequate forms of representing the Imam and the protagonists at the battle at Karbala. The visual vocabulary includes physiognomics, attributes, gesture, dress, colour, surroundings and milieu. Drawing on the polysemic quality of visual signs the iconography appears as multi-layered, signs taking on iconic, indexical and symbolic meanings. Depending on the visual literacy of its viewers, a sign may refer to historical and hagiographic information, and theological dogma. The mode of representation may vary from detailed narration through a rich visual vocabulary, to symbolic illustration in which it depends on the viewer to develop a narrative that can anchor the sign in a religious discourse which is sometimes dogmatic and sometimes personal. Visual narratives are often presented in a non-linear fashion and the viewer must reorganize the chronological order and fill in the gaps in the story depicted. Such operations are possible due to the conventional character of the iconography, as innovations typically are confined to modifications of the established system. Local viewers’ recognition of the visual language from a denotative perspective is demonstrated in the monosemic interpretation of figurative signs. Viewers would to a large extent agree on who and what is represented, although they do not necessarily like those representations. The visual language is disseminated in the culture, through history, via different media, such as wall paintings and ta´ziyeh. Themes represented in iconographic form are also expressed verbally, written and orally, in ta´ziyeh, storytelling, rowzeh-khani, elegies, nowheh, and epigraphic references in wall hangings, parcham. The audience of Shia verbal and visual storytelling practices do not simply passively receive the message, but interact in the storytelling by responding to it. Such participation often activates feelings of personal pain, as well as sympathy with the suffering of others. Embodied emotions are thus part of the memory activated by many viewers when they engage in the interpreting of images. These emotions are personally inscribed and experienced, but also part of a collective devotional pattern related to the Shia dogma of redemption. The continuity of visual codes does not imply that the same story is being retold. From a connotative point of view, images are treated as polysemic. Individual viewers’ interpretive strategy of the portrait of Imam Ali is inspired

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by their knowledge of the Imam’s life history, his position in the Shia perception and personal sentiments and reverence for the Imam. The same strategies are used for the interpretation of Karbala narratives. Viewers bring to the images hagiographic knowledge of the protagonists at the battle, understanding of Shia martyrology and soteriology, and personal experiences of the Saints’ mediation. Viewers read out of the images personal characteristics they attribute to the Holy personages, such as kindness, courage, wisdom, patience, distress, suffering, love for God and being loved by God. They translate such characteristics into functional capacitates such as the intercession, protection and guidance, offered by the Saints. The memory of intervention is sustained through a system of devotional practices, including keeping images visible on the walls at home, in ritual locations, as well as in peoples’ workplace. Distributed in such locations, images are held to engage the viewers emotionally, and affect people to seek knowledge about the saints and about religion, thereby promoting personal piety. Imageries are introduced in ritual spaces in which they serve various functions. Texts and iconography presented in images can be exegetic, didactic, honorific, dogmatic and eulogistic. They are also included in votive process as votive gifts, nazri, presented as invocations and thanksgiving. The single portrait of the beneficiary is typically used as invocation, whereas the single portrait of the saint and visual narratives referring to the event in which the saint earned his power to act as mediator, are presented as ex-votos and invocations. Thanksgivings are held to be invested with barakat, blessing and good fortune. A votive image is approached and made into the service of religion by touching and by looking. Individual believers sometimes touch imageries spontaneously, before, during and after the ritual to receive benediction. The power is not held in the image itself, but in the holy person it represented. The votive image is a powerful testimony and public announcement of divine intervention and merciful grace, and it preserves the memory of mediators in the public space. Images are used to decorate communal ritual spaces in homes, husayniyyeh, zaynabiyyeh and imamzadeh. During Muharram commemoration and mowludi celebration, black wall-drapes, siah pushi and the green wall-drapes, mowludi, are instrumental in defining the liturgical orientation of the ceremony to create a mood, hal, to facilitate private and communal devotion. The desired mood, hal, is promoted by the overall visual impression, the content of the songs, and the character of the music, which stimulate condolence or celebration. The content of wall-decorations communicates with other elements in the liturgical structure. They express fragments of speech, prayer and song, thus advocating ritual behaviour taking place in these ritual settings, as well as other ritual settings, such as ziyarat and sufreh. Nevertheless, the same images can be used to define different liturgical seasons. Aesthetics is therefore an integral part of Shia belief and practice through which the devotees may express themselves, come to understand the meaning of religion and subsequently of life, to know God and communicate their supplications and thanksgivings. Moreover, aesthetic

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practices are an important arena for the construction and preservation of the religious community. In Iranian Shiism an image is perceived as a discursive field with which viewers can engage mentally and emotionally. Visualization and seeing are believed to have representative and transformative qualities. Images and decorative programmes are held to mentally evoke the saints in the minds of devotees and inspire their recollection. Such cognitive processes can transform emotions and generate cultic behaviour facilitating making contact with the Saints. Visual experiences motivate cognitive processes directed to devotion; visualization and seeing functioned as modes of worship. Images, whether figurative or epigraphic, narrative or symbolic, may serve to endorse religious dogma and teach hagiography, as well as assisting devotion by focusing attention and affecting the mind and the emotions in bringing the viewer closer to God and the saints. As such imageries were perceived as a way, tariqeh. It is precisely this notion that makes religious images acceptable to Shia scholars and lay people.

Notes

Introduction 1

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The ethnographic re-presentation is based on observation of mourning processions organized by a hay´at in Shiraz in Muharram 2002 and follow-up interviews with its members. A hay´at is an association organized on neighbourhood or occupational basis for the purpose of religious instruction and ritual celebration. It is typically a men-only association. See, for example, René A. Bravmann (1980), Islam and Tribal Art in West Africa. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press; Frank Willet (1981), African Art. London: Thames and Hudson; Anne-Marie Bouttiaux-Ndiaye (1994), Senegal behind Glass. Images of Religious and Daily Life. Munich and New York: Prestel; Ann Parker and Avon Neal (1995), Hajj Paintings. Folk Art of the Great Pilgrimage. Washington: Smithsonian Press; Jürgen Wasim Frembgen (1998b), ‘Saints in Modern Devotional PosterPortraits. Meanings and Uses of Popular Religious Folk Art in Pakistan’. RES. Peabody Museum. Harvard University Press, 185–191; (2006), The Friends of God. Sufi Saints in Islam. Popular Poster Art from Pakistan. Oxford: Oxford University Press. William L. Hanaway (1985), ‘The Symbolism of Persian Revolutionary Posters’. In Iran since the Revolution, ed. Barry M. Rosen. New York: Columbia University Press, 31–50; Michael M. J. Fischer and Abedi Mehdi (1990), Debating Muslims. Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press; Ervand Abrahamian (1993), Khomeinism. London: I.B. Tauris; Peter Chelkowski and Hamid Dabashi (1999), Staging a Revolution. New York: New York University Press; Ulrich Marzolph (2003), ‘The Martyr’s Way to Paradise. Shiite Mural Art in the Urban Context’. Ethnologia Europaea, Vol.33, No.2, 87–98; Christiane J. Gruber (2008), ‘The Message is on the Wall: Mural Arts in Post-Revolutionary Iran’. Persica, Vol.22, 15–46; Forthcoming. ‘The Martyrs’ Museum in Teheran: Visualizing Memory in Post-Revolutionary Iran’. Visual Anthropology. Philadelphia: Routledge, Forthcoming. For an analysis of the presence of these two characters in Islamic painting, see Samuel Peterson (1981), ‘Shi’ism and Late Iranian Arts’. Ph.D. dissertation, New York University, 15–17. Patricia L. Baker (2004), Islam and the Religions Arts. London and New York: Continuum. The spiritual and political emulative potential of Fatemeh and her daughter Zaynab have, however, made the two women particularly poplar with artists and publishers producing posters for the propagation of the Islamic Revolution, the patriotic engagement of Iran’s citizens during the war with Iraq, and in the ongoing acclamation for the values of the Islamic Republic. Peter Chelkowski (2005), ‘Iconography of the Women of Karbala’. In The Women of Karbala. The Gender Dynamics of Ritual Performances and Symbolic Discourses of Modern Shi’i Islam, ed. Kamran Scot Aghaie. Austin: The University of Texas Press; Chelkowski and Dabashi (1999), pp. 119–138.

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Stuart Hall and Paddy Whannel (1965), The Popular Arts. New York: Pantheon Books. Quoted in David Morgan (1998), Visual Piety. Berkeley: University of California Press, 32. Takiyyeh is used here for a temporary shelter put up at the side of the street to serve as a communal meeting place for the local hay´at during ritual performances during Muharram. Husayniyyeh, fatemiyyeh and zaynabiyyeh, are permanent religious meetings places hosting communal religious activities throughout the year. The khanegah hosts Sufi rituals, and zur-khaneh is a place for communal and personal devotion performed in the context of gymnastic exercises. Michael Baxandall ([1972]1988), Painting and Experience in Fifteenth Century Italy. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press; Sarah Pink (2003), ‘Interdisciplinary Agendas in Visual Research: Re-situating Visual Anthropology’. Visual Studies, Vol.18, No.2., 179–192. Mayel Baktash (1979), ‘Ta´ziyeh and its Philosophy’. In Tazieh. Ritual and Drama in Iran, ed. Peter J. Chelkowski. New York: New York University Press, 95–120. Ibid., 96. Jean Calmard (1996), ‘Shi’i Rituals and Power. The Consolidation of Safavid Shi’ism: Folklore and Popular Religion’. In Safavid Persia, ed. Charles Melville. London: I.B.Tauris, 139–190. For further discussions of the modern study of iconography, see Brendan Cassidy ed. (1993), Iconography at the Crossroads. New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 3–15. Sarah Pink (2001), Doing Visual Ethnography. Images, Media and Representation in Research. London: Sage Publication, 6. The explanation about a portrait representing Ali ibn Abi Talib is from an interview with a woman who works as an independent ritual leader and as a healer, Iran, 2000. This section of the interview can be viewed in the ethnographic film Standard-Bearers of Hussein Women Commemorating Karbala. Ingvild Flaskerud (2003). Richard Brilliant (1991), Portraiture. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 80. Ibid., 78. Umberto Eco used the concepts ‘closed’ to describe a work of art in which signs are arranged according to certain conventions, which will direct its interpretation in a particular direction. He uses the concept ‘open’ to describe a work of art which is susceptible to countless different interpretations. Umberto Eco (1989), The Open Work. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 3–4. For an extended discussion on the meaning of ‘visual literacy’, I refer to James Elkins (2003), Visual Studies. A Sceptical Introduction. New York and London: Routledge, 125–195. Raman Selden, Peter Widdowson and Peter Brooker eds (1997), A Reader’s Guide to Contemporary Literary Theory. London: Prentice Hall/Harvester Weatsheaf. Ibid., 50. Stanley Fish (1980), Is There a Text in This Class? The Authority of Interpretive Communities. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Selden, Widdowson, and Brooker, 60. Richard H. Davis (1997), Lives of Indian Images. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Ibid., 7.

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Ibid., 9–10. Davis refers to a ‘frame’ as an outlook on the cosmos on divinity, on human life and its possibilities, and on the role of images in a world so constituted. But he understands the epistemic frame as ordered and administrated by historically grounded and socially shared understandings, which he calls ‘dispensation’. Baxandall ([1972]1988). Ibid., 40. Mieke Bal and Norman Bryson (1991), ‘Semiotics and Art History’. Art Bulletin, Vol.73, No.2, 184. Norman Bryson (2001), ‘Semiology and Visual Interpretation’. In Reading Images, ed. Julia Thomas. New York: Palgrave, 99. Ibid., 98. Charles S. Peirce (1985), ‘Logic as Semiotic: The Theory of Signs’. In Semiotics. An Introductory Anthology, ed. Robert E. Innis. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 5. An ‘ideal’ understanding of the viewer is discussed in reception aesthetics, as applied by art historian Wolfgang Kemp, addresses communication and dialogue between a work of art (image) and a receiver (viewer). His approach is workoriented and focuses on an implicit beholder in the work of art, and how the beholder is prescribed in the work of art. See, Wolfgang Kemp (1998), ‘The Work of Art and Its Beholder. The Methodology of the Aesthetics of Reception’. In The Subjects of Art History. Historical Objects in Historical Perspectives. Mark A. Cheetham, Michael Ann Holly and Keith Moxey eds. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 180–196. The beholder is also discussed by Richard Wollheim. He, however, discusses the spectatorship of the artist and how it is related to the perceptual powers of the audience. See, Richard Wollheim (1991), ‘What the Spectator Sees’. In Visual Theory. Norman Bryson, Michael Ann Holly and Keith Moxey eds. Oxford: Polity Press, 101–152. Jørgen Dines Johansen and Svend Erik Larsen (2002), Signs in Use. An Introduction to Semiotics. London and New York: Routledge, 209–210. Ibid., 133. For a discussion on the semiotics of Saussure and Peirce, see Mieke Bal and Norman Bryson, 174–208. Peirce, 6–10. Johansen and Larsen, 51. Peirce, 8. A literate person is defined as somebody who can both read and write a short simple statement on his/her everyday life. The survey comprises persons of 15 years and above. Source: http://www.accu.or.jp/litdbase/policy/irn/. Roland Barthes (1985), ‘Rhetoric of the Image’. In Semiotics. An Introductory Anthology. ed. Robert E. Innis. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 193–195. Barthes here uses ‘iconic’ in a very different way from Peirce, referring to the pictorial, iconographical qualities of the image as opposed to the typographical qualities. Ibid., 197. Ibid., 198. Ibid. Priscilla Soucek (1988) ‘The Life of the Prophet: Illustrated Versions’. In Content and Context of Visual Arts in the Islamic World, ed. Priscilla Soucek. London: The Pennsylvania

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State University Press, 193–218; Hillenbrand, ‘Images of Muhammad in al-Biruni’s Chronology of Ancient Nations’, 129–146. Richard Brilliant (1986), Visual Narratives. Storytelling in Etruscan and Roman Art. London: Cornell University Press, 17. Ibid., 18.

Part I: Introduction 1

2

I should like to distinguish my use of the term ‘iconography’ from what is meant by the art historian methodological discipline called ‘iconography’. See Erwin Panofsky (1970), Meaning in the Visual Arts. London: Penguin Books. My application of the term is associated with ‘image writing’, derived from the Greek words eikon and graphein, which I approach from a semiotic inspired perspective. Stuart Hall (2002), Representation. Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices. London: Sage Publication, 16.

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The identification of a new genre of Ali portraiture developing in from 1856 has been pointed out by Stephen Vernoit, in Stephen Vernoit (1997), Occidentalism. Islamic Art in the 19th Century, 2nd ed. London: Nasser D. Khalili Collection of Islamic Art, vol. XXIII, 65. Hamid Algar (1980), Religion and State in Iran 1785–1906. The Role of the Ulema in the Qajar Period, 2nd ed. Berkeley: University of California Press, 157. Julian Raby (1999), Qajar Portraits. London, New York: I.B. Tauris Publishers, 15–16. The practice of wearing Imperial orders was instituted by the Qajar shah Fath Ali Shah (r. 1798–1834) in 1807. The first orders to be established were the Order of the Sun, and others followed subsequently. The various classes of Orders were distributed to dignitaries, ambassadors, princes, queens and monarchs, many of them Europeans, according to their rank. Scholars seem to disagree as to who painted the copied portrait on the medallion. Algar names Mirza Abu-lHassan Khan Naqqashbaashi, see Algar, 157, whereas Raby names Abu-l Hassan Ghaffari, see Raby, 16. Minister Mirza Aqa Khan is said to have brought in a bejewelled medallion, containing a copy of the imagery of Imam Ali, on the jewel-encrusted tray. Nasir al-Din Shah raised and greeted it and a certain Shaykh Rida hung the medallion around the Shah’s neck. Simultaneously, 120 cannon shots were fired, denoting the numerical value of the Arabic letters that formed Ali’s name. See, Algar, 157. From early in Nasir al-Din Shah’s rein a new approach in iconography and style was introduced from Europe. From now on court portraiture became more descriptive and less emblematic, see Raby, 17. The artistic protagonist in this movement was Abu’l Hassan Ghaffari, who is said to have painted the copy of the Indian portrait of Imam Ali, used for the Order of Ali in 1856. In 1848 he was appointed chief painter by Muhammad Shah and sent to Italy and France to study. He returned with a style that combined a new capacity of physical likeness and psychological characterization, see Raby, 56.

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Printed in Royal Persian Painting. The Qajar Epoch 1785–1925, Layla S. Diba and Mariam Ekhtiar eds. New York: Brooklyn Museum of Art and I.B. Tauris Publishers, 1998, No. 75. The size of the painting is 36 × 25.5 cm. The painting is singed by Bahram Kirmanshahi. Diba and Ekhtiar, No. 76. The size of the paining is 236 × 149 cm. This portrait of the Shah was probably sent as a gift to the Austrian emperor Franz Josef I (1830–1916). The painting is signed by Akop Ovnatanian. Wahid al-Awliya (1994), Anhar Jarieh (Flowing Rivers). Shiraz: Kitabfurushi Ahmadi Shiraz, 1373 ap, 20. The Kitabfurushi Ahmadi is a Dhahabi Sufi bookstore and publisher in Shiraz, and is well connected to the Dhahabi Khanegah in Shiraz. See also, Leonard Lewisohn (1999), ‘An Introduction to the History of Modern Persian Sufism, Part II: A Socio-cultural profile of Sufism, from the Dhahabi Revival to the Present Day’. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, Vol.62, No.1, 36–59. al-Awliya, 20. Ulrich Marzolph (2001), Narrative Illustrations in Persian Lithography Books. Leiden, Boston, Köln: Brill. Personal communication, October 2004. This iconographic pattern of representation is in concordance with the epic tradition of the time. Following in the tradition of Firdawsi’s Shah Namah, the epic tradition during the Safavid become Shi´i and the Imam takes the place of the chief hero, see Peterson, ‘Shi’ism and Late Iranian Arts’, 22–25. Ibid., 1–38. Diba, 42. Ibid., 43. The practice of placing portraits of saints and diseased members of the local community in shrines, imamzadeh, has continued throughout the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries The most recent addition to this commemorative visual cult in Iran are the portraits of fallen soldiers in the martyrs’ museums, commemorating their heroism in the war against Iraq. See, Gruber (Forthcoming). Vernoit, 65. Muhammad Shah would wear the miniature portrait of Fath Ali Shah as part of his European-style dress uniforms, as can be seen on his portraits from the 1840. See Raby, 12. Cat. 103, 117, 118. Diba, 42. For an account of the Shah’s lifelong devotion to Ali as his protector and patron saint, see Al-Abbas Amanat (1997), ‘Pivot of the Universe’. Nasir al-Din Shah Qajar and the Iranian Monarchy, 1831–1896. Berkeley: University of California Press, 60–67. See, Nahj al-Balaghah, Selected and compiled by Al-Sayyid Abu al-Hassan Muhammad ibn al-Husayn al-Razi al-Musawi (Qum: Ansariyan Publications, no year given), 432–470. In a footnote the compiler calls this text the ‘constitution of Islamic polity’. According to Amanat, this section of Nahj al-Balaghah has been reproduced with commentaries under the name Ahdnama ‘The book of Covenant’, probably for the first time in the Buyid court in the tenth century, and served as a guidance in statecraft, in particular for Shiite rulers like the Buyid, the Safavid and Qajar dynasties, see Amanat, 71. The Qajar Shahs’ use of Shi´i concepts and practices to legitimize their ruler on a broader popular level is also pointed out by Kamran Aghaie (2005), ‘Religious Rituals, Social Identities and Political Relationships in Teheran under Qajar rule,

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1850s-1920s’. In Religion and Society in Qajar Iran, ed. Robert Gleave. London and New York: Routledge Curzon, 373–392. The Safavid had claimed authority on the basis of being both the ‘Shadow of God on Earth’, claiming temporal authority, and being the representative of the Hidden Imam, thus claiming spiritual authority. However, by the end of Safavid rule there was a weakening of the state system of courts with governmentappointed judges (qadi), and religious scholars (mujtahid) replaced these with Sharia courts. People consulted these courts in increasing numbers, thus enabling the ulama to assert their judicial authority. Gradually they would take over former functions of the Hidden Imam, although they did not claim political power. See Mojan Momen (1985), An Introduction to Shiì Islam. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 137–195. Meir Litvak (1998), Shi´i Scholars of Nineteenth-Century Iraq. The Ulama of Najaf and Karbala. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 170–171. The Shah was asked to intercede on their behalf against the Ottomans attempt to impose military conscription on the ulama, their families and students and he did achieve agreements with the Ottomans. During the last year of his life Prophet Muhammad performed the pilgrimage to Mecca for the last time. On returning to Median, his caravan made a stop at a place called Ghadir Khumm. According to the Shia, it was in a speech on this occasion that the Prophet confirmed Ali’s position as his successor. In early November 1856 the Shah and a group of ulama attempted to raise public support for the defence of Herat. The public was called to jihad and the call was positively received by thirty of the highest ranking mujtahid from eleven provinces, who pledged to send men and encouraged the believers to defend the land of Islam against infidels. In general, however, the appeal had little support in the public, and the Shah’s Prime Minister, Nuri, was unwilling to endorse it, realizing the superiority of the British forces. See Amanat, 298. This was not ratified, but on December a treaty of friendship between the two nations was signed in Istanbul. See Amanat, 288. The Shah realized that his military power was weak, and on 5 April 1857 a peace agreement between Britain and Iran was drafted in Paris, and ratified by the Shah on 15th of April. See Amanat, 300. Frederick Shoberl (1828), Persia: Containing a Description of the Country. Philadelphia: John Grigg, 88. Algar, 157. Agnete Læssøe (1881), Fra Persien. Kjøbenhavn: Andr. Schous Forlag, 201. Heinrich Brugsch (1863), Reise der K. Peussischen Gesandtschaft nach Persien 1860 und 1861. Leibzig: J.C. Hinrichs’sche Buchhandling, Zweiter Band, 310. S. G. Wilson (1896), Persian Life and Customs, 2nd ed. Edinburgh and London, quoted in Vernoit, 65–66. Wilson quoted in Vernoit, 65–66. Reproduced in Diba and Ekhtiar, no 84, 257–258. Ali is portrayed surrounded by his two sons, Hassan and Hussein, and four other men (of whom one is probably his father, Abu Talib, and another the Abyssinian Bilal) in addition to a host of angels. In the catalogue entry Ekhtiar points to interesting compositional parallels with the style of European Christian altarpieces. See, Vernoit, figure 32, p. 64.

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The scene can be observed in a photograph taken by Antoine Sevrugin. Frederick N. Bohrer ed. (1999), Sevrugin and the Persian Image. Photographs of Iran, 1870–1930. Washington DC: The Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, and the University of Washington Press, London and Seattle. See, figure 13, p. 114. Ibid., 65–66. Textual sources support this impression. Ali is described as portrayed with a dark beard, wearing a green robe and a turban. There is a nimbus around his head, his hand holds his sword and he is usually depicted seated on an antelope’s skin. This quotation from Charles J. Wills, Persia As It Is (London, 1896) cited in Vernoit, 65, corresponds to Reverend Wilson’s report referred to by Vernoit. Vernoit, 65. Peterson, ‘Shi’ism and Late Iranian Arts’, 120. Aghaie, ‘Religious Rituals, Social Identities and Political Relationships in Teheran under Qajar Rule, 1850s-1920s’, 373–392.

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Brilliant, Portraiture, 14. Bernard Lewis (1988), The Political Language of Islam. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 44–46. Momen, 65. Ibid., 20. Ibid., 25. It is difficult to get a clear picture of the early concept of the Imamate and the life of the Imams, since apparently very little was written on these subjects before the ninth and the tenth centuries ad (between the late third and early forth centuries ah). Many of the early sources probably relate traditions going back to the 12 imams, and contain some authentic material, but the development of the doctrine of the imamate in the Twelver Tradition must be seen as a product of the theological and political challenges facing its followers. See, Mahmoud Ayoub (1978), Redemptive Suffering in Islam. A Study of Devotional Aspects of Ashura in Twelver Shiism. New York: Mouton Publishers, 19, and Momen, 38–39. The Holy Qur’an, S. V. Mir Ahmad Ali ed., 490–491. Ayoub, 57–58. As noted by Momen, it is a matter of opinion whether one chooses to believe that Ali claimed for himself the type of religious and political leadership implied in the Shia concept of Imamate, or to believe that this is a retrospective imposition by Shia historians. See, 62–63. Momen, 165–171. Annemarie Schimmel (1975), Mystical Dimensions of Islam. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 199. Ibid., 200. Momen, 209. Lewisohn, 42, note 59. Mary Elaine Hegland (1983), ‘Two Images of Husain: Accommodation and Revolution in an Iranian Village’. In Religion and Politics in Iran. Shi’ism from Quietism to Revolution, ed. Nikki R. Keddie. New Haven: Yale University Press, 218–236.

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Haggay Ram (1994), Myth and Mobilization in Revolutionary Iran. The Use of the Friday Congregational Sermon. Washington: The American University Press, 96. Michael Fischer and Mehdi Abedi, 71. Ram, 105–106. Ibid., 47. note 42. Ibid., 113. Ibid., 116. Ibid., 48. Momen, 25

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Yousuf N. Lalljee ed. (n.d.), Ali the Magnificent. Qum: Ansariyan Publications, 12. The Ansariyan Publication is located in Qum, the theological centre of religious training in Iran. The content of its publications must therefore be expected to be in concordance with the ideology of the Islamic Republic of Iran. A more sombre account of Ali’s physical traits, simply stating his physical appearance with no reference to character and qualities can be found in Ali ibn Ahmed ibn Sa’id Ibn Hazm, Kitab al-Milal wa’l Nihal, trans. Israel Friedlander (1908), ‘The Heterodoxies of the Shiites’. Journal of the American Oriental Society, XXVIII (1907), 1–80, XXIX, 1–183, quoted in John Norman Hollister (1953), The Shi’a of India. London: Luzac’s Oriental Religions Series 8, 13. The Andalusian Muslim Scholar Ibn Hazm (994–1064 ad) was an advocator of the Zahiri school of thought in Islamic Jurisprudence, which method was to rely on the manifest (zahir) or literal meaning of expressions in the Qur’an and the Sunnah. The importance of the face to the identification of a person is discussed in both art history and neurological studies. See, for example, Brilliant, Portraiture, 10, and Caroline F. Keating (2002), ‘Charismatic Faces.’ In, Facial Attractiveness. Evolutionary, Cognitive, and Social Perspectives. Gillan Rodhes and Leslie A. Zebrowitz eds. London: Ablex, 153–192. See also Norman Bryson (1983), Vision and Painting. The Logic of the Gaze. London: MacMillan, 62–64. Raby, 56. Within the context of social interaction of tribal groups in Iran the head and face might also be focal points in a system of body symbolism. See the study of the Shahsevan tribal group by Nancy Lindisfarne-Tapper (1997), ‘The Dress of the Shahsevan Tribespeople of Iranian Azerbaijan’. In Language of Dress in the Middle East. Nancy Lindisfarne-Tapper and Bruce Ingham eds. Surrey: Curzon, 69. Rhodes and Zebrowitz maintain that the old idea that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, with preferences varying idiosyncratically from person to person or culture to culture, has been challenged by recent evidence of close agreement about which faces are attractive, both across and within cultures, see vii. Instead of being arbitrary, standards of beauty appear to reflect the operation of basic perceptual and cognitive mechanisms. At the same time, they can be fine-tuned by individual learning histories and social goals. Gillan Rhodes and Leslie A. Zebrowitz eds (2002), Facial Attractiveness. Evolutionary, Cognitive, and Social Perspectives. London: Ablex, ix.

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Keating, 163. Ibid., 153. Emma Tarlo (1996), Clothing Matters. Dress and Identity in India. London: Hurst & Company; Hildi Hendrickson ed. (1996), Clothing and Difference. Embodied Identities in Colonial and Post-Colonial Africa. London: Duke University Press; LindisfarneTapper and Ingham (1997); El Guindi (1999), Fadwa El-Guindi. Veil. Modesty, Privacy and Resistance. Oxford, New York: Berg, 1999; Patrizia Calefato (2004), The Clothed Body. trans. Lisa Adams. Oxford: Berg. Shearer West (2004), Portraiture. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 71. For example, the halo was known as the attribute of the gods Mithras, Apollo and Helios. It seems to have appeared in Christian art about the fifth century. It has since then been used to honour the three persons of the trinity, the angles, the apostles, saints and others. See, James Hall (1995), Dictionary of Subjects and Symbols in Art. London: John Murray. The halo was sometimes applied for holy personage, although not necessarily, and it could be applied to humans and animals alike. Peterson, ‘Shi’ism and Late Iranian Arts’, 18. Ibid., 36. Annemarie Schimmel points out that there is a possible cross-relation between Sufi thought on the nur-Muhammadi and the Shia doctrine on the light of the Imams, but that the historical picture is still not completely clear. Nevertheless, Seyyed Hossein Nasr argues that the Shia idea of the manifestation of the nur al-Muhammadi in The Fourteen Infallibles, that is Muhammad, Fatemeh and the twelve Imams, has evolved out of Sufi reasoning, for example that of al-Farabi, Ibn Sina and Ibn Arabi. See, Annemarie Schimmel (1985), And Muhammad is His Messenger. The Veneration of the Prophet in Islamic Piety. Chapel Hill and London: The University of North Carolina Press, 130; Seyyed Hossein Nasr (1996), The Islamic Intellectual Tradition in Persia, ed. Mehdi Amin Razavi. Surrey: Curzon Press, 259. Schimmel, And Muhammad is His Messenger, 124–126. Ayoub, 57. Al-Saffar (1965), Basa’ir al-Darajat, quoted in Momen, 149, from Muhammad Khan Kirmani, Kitab al-Mubin, 1 Vol. Najaf: Matba´a al-Haydariyya (1385 ah), 283. The Holy Qur’an, ed. S. V. Mir Ahmad Ali, 1089–1092, note 1595. In the Twelver branch of Shi´ism the association between light and the fourteen Infallibles is also given a cosmogonic importance. Muhammad, Fatemeh and the twelve Imams are conceived in their mystical dimension as being a light that God created before the creation of the material world. This light then became the cause and instrument of all the rest of creation. The following tradition is attributed to the Prophet: ‘God created Ali and me from one light before the creation of Adam . . . then He split (the light) in two halves, then He created all things from my light and Ali’s light.’ The light, created by God, is the inner essence of the Imams, descending in turn upon Adam and then in turn upon each of the Prophets and Imams until it became embodied in Muhammad, Fatemeh and the twelve Imams, see, Momen, 148. Annemarie Schimmel (1994), Deciphering the Signs of God. A Phenomenological Approach to Islam. Albany: The State University of New York Press, 16. Baker, 222.

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Rachel Milstein (1990), Miniature Painting in Ottoman Baghdad. Costa Mesa, CA: Mazda. Priscilla P. Soucek (1993), ‘Color II. Use and Importance in Persian Art’. Encyclopædia Iranica, Vol.VI, 47–50. Compare, for example, the plates in Hadi Seif (1997), Persian Painted Tiles. Teheran: Soroush Press. A short, but informative general account of Sufi dress is given by Baker, 183–185. See also, Nurhan Atasoy (1992), ‘Dervish Dress and Ritual: The Mevlevi Tradition’. In The Dervish Lodge, ed. Raymond Lifchez Berkeley: University of California Press, 253–268; Nancy Micklewright, ‘Dervish Images in Photographs and Paintings’. In Raymond Lifchez ed. (1992), The Dervish Lodge. Berkeley: University of California Press, 269–283. The practice is linked to a legend that claims that a dervish frock and a turban were given to the Prophet Muhammad, the first link in the spiritual chain of Sufism, during his heavenly journey. Later, he supposedly handed the attire over to Ali, who is considered a transmitter of esoteric knowledge. Schimmel, Deciphering the Signs of God, 38. Lalljee, 248. Michel Pastoureau (2001), Blue. The History of a Color. Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 17. The colour blue used for painting had a different source than that used for dyes. The paint was produced by pulverizing and purifying the mineral lapis lazuli and thus transforming it into a pigment usable to painters. Although this was an elaborate and costly process, the resource was available to Persians’ patrons and painters, since one of the largest deposits of lapis lazuli is located in Iran. Ibid., 21–22. According to Dostal, the thob was introduced to the north Arabian pastoral society from Persia from the second century ad. See W. Dostal (1979), ‘The Development of Beduin Life in Arabia Seen from Archeological Material’. Sources for the History of Arabia, 1, Studies in the History of Arabia, vol 1. Riyadh: Riyadh University Press, 125–144. Cited in Bruce Ingham (1997), ‘Men’s Dress in the Arabian Peninsula: Historical and Present Perspectives’. In Languages of Dress in the Middle East, Nancy Lindisfarne-Tapper and Bruce Ingham eds. Surrey: Curzon, 41. The name Zu al-Feqar supposedly refers to notches, fuqra or groves engraved in it. E. Mittwoch (1983), ‘Dhu’l-faqar’. Encyclopaedia of Islam. 2nd. ed. Vol. II. Leiden: Brill, 233. For early illustrated book manuscripts depicting Ali with the sword, see Robert Hillenbrand (2000), ‘Images of Muhammad in al-Biruni’s Chronology of Ancient Nations’. In Persian Painting. From the Mongols to the Qajar, ed. Robert Hillenbrand. London/New York: I.B. Tauris, 129–146; Gray’s discussion of Khawa-Nameh, an epic narration of the life of Imam Ali composed by Ibn Husam in 1426 ad and illustrated in Shiraz ca. 1480 ad, Basil Gray (1995), Persian Painting. Geneva: Editions d’Art Albert Skira; reprint 1961, 105. See also illustration to the Mustafa Darir’s Siyar-i Nabi [Life of the Prophet] made in Istanbul ca.1594–5 ad, in Kjeld von Folsach (2001), Art from the World of Islam in The David Collection, trans. Martha Gaber Abrahamsen. Copenhagen: F. Hendriksens. Diba and Ekhtiar, 257, and Vernoit, 68. For example at the Takiye of Mo’avenol Molk in Kermanshahan in the first half of the twentieth century, see Seif, 86.

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Syed Mehdi Ayatullahi (no year given), The Second Infallible, Ameer ul Momineen hezrat Ali, trans. Javed Iqbal Qazilbash. Qum: Ansaiyan Publications. According to the conventional iconography, Zu al-Feqar is depicted with a bifurcated tip. David Nicolle argues that the bifurcated tip is most impractical, and suggests that Ali’s sword instead could have had a double edge. See, David Nicolle (1979), ‘An Introduction to Arms and Warfare in Classical Islam’. In Islamic Arms and Armour, ed. Robert Elgood. London: London Scholarly Press, 178. Mittwoch, 233. See, ‘Futuwwa’ (1974), Shorter Encyclopaedia of Islam. Brill: Leiden, 109. Tirmidhi, Sunan, Vol.2, 299, cited in Momen, 14. Other traditions state, however, it was called from heaven by an angel, or it was an exclamation by an unknown person at the battle of Uhud. See, ‘Futuwwa’, 109. Alfred Guillaume (1997), The Life of Muhammad. A Translation of Ibn Ishaq’s Sirat Rasul Allah. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 455. Lalljee, 39. Ibid., 41. Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 246. For a general historical survey of futuwwa, see Cl. Cahen (1983), ‘Futuwwa’, 961–965. E. Kohlberg (1985), ‘Ali ibn Abi Talib’. Encycloædia Iranica. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, Vol. I, 838–848. The Iranian zur-khaneh, ‘House of Strength’ is a traditional gymnasium in which gymnastic exercises, including traditional forms of martial arts, are practised exclusively by men. It is not uncommon for sword blades to be adorned with inscriptions. Mariar G. Parani relates that Middle Byzantine field armour could be inscribed by the name of the owner, with invocations of victory and good fortune, and supplications to God and holy personage for protection. They could also be embellished with inlaid figures of military saints, the natural protectors of a soldier in battle. Maria G. Parani (2003), Reconstructing the Reality of Images. Byzantine Material Culture and Religious Iconography (11th – 15th centuries). Leiden: Brill, 132. Sergio Stocchi (1988), L’Islam nelle Stampe. Milano: Be-Ma Editrice, 12–13. Pierre Centlivres and Micheline Centlivres-Demont (1997), Imageries populaires en Islam. Genève: George Editeur, 35. Imam Ali. Directed by Davoud Mirbagheri, produced by IRIB, Islamic Republic Iran Broadcast (1990s). This iconographic strategy is consistent with that adopted for representing the prophet in the visual biography of the Prophet Muhammad, The Message, produced and directed by Moustaph Akkad, 1976. See, Sadeq Humayuni (2001), Ta`zieh dar Iran, 2nd ed. Shiraz: Navid Publication (1380 ap), 437. The text is accompanied by an illustrative photograph showing a bust portrait of an actor whose head and torso is covered by a black cloth. According to DeJong, the Bektashi regard the sword a symbolic representation of Ali’s supreme power, as is made explicit in the formula la fata ila Ali, la sayf ila Dhu´l-fiqar. Frederick DeJong (1992), ‘Pictorial Art of the Bektashi Order’. In The Dervish Lodge. Architecture, Art, and Sufism in Ottoman Turkey, ed. Raymond Lifchez. Berkeley: University of California Press, 231–232. Schimmel, Deciphering the Signs of God, 23. Lalljee, 52. There is also a reference to this encounter in Tabari, see Fahmida Suleman (Forthcoming), ‘The Iconography of the Lion in Shi’i Arts’. In The Art

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and Material Culture of Iranian Shiism, ed. Pedram Khosronejad. London: I.B.Tauris. Ibn Ishaq does not, however, mention Ali calling himself Haydar. Ali is surrounded by numerous names that point to his leonine qualities, such as Ghadanfar ‘lion’, Asadullah ‘God’s lion’, or in Persian areas Alishir, and under Turqish influence Aslan Ali and Ali Arslan (both shir and arslan mean ‘lion).’ Suleman (Forthcoming). For a discussion on its authenticity, see M. Djebli (1993), ‘Nahdj al-Balagha’. Encyclopaedia of Islam. Leiden: Brill, Vol. VII, 903–904. Nahj al-Balaghah, 8. The style of Nahj al-Balaghah does, however, not resemble that of the Hadith literature. Al-Razi does not refer to his sources and the accounts and proclamations are not supported by an isnad. Scholars of Islam have tried to reconstruct his sources, and some suggest he used al-Tabari. Murata and Chittick consider its content and style an expression of kalam. They suggest the intellectual and theological debate in the eleventh century ad may have influenced what was included in the work, and what was left out. Sachiko Murata and William C. Chittick (1996), The Vision of Islam. London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 241–242. Jürgen Wasim Frembgen (1998a), ‘The Majzub Mama Ji Sarkar. A Friend of God Moves from One House to Another’. In Pnina Werbner and Helen Basu eds. Embodying Charisma. Modernity, Locality and the Performance of Emotion in Sufi Cults. London and New York: Routledge, 142. See Raby, 46–47, cat. 114. Baker, 180. West, 72. Momen, 14. Ayoub, 57. Nahj al-Balaghah, 50. According to Bernard Lewis, the moral and spiritual aspect of jihad has been forwarded particularly by classical Shi´i theologians and by modernizers and reformists in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. See, Lewis, 72. Momen, 138 and 247. Ram, 45. Ibid., 47–48. Fischer and Abedi, 360 and fig. 6.16. Ibid., 360. Chelkowski and Dabashi, 102. Ibid., 102. This information has been communicated by male informants and refers to lectures they have attended. Portraits of Ali are also on display in a khanegah in Shiraz. These include large oil on canvas. My data are, however, insufficient and suited for carrying out a consistent discussion on the topic. The discussion will therefore focus on images circulating in a Twelver Shi´i environment. Abu Isa Muhammad al-Tirmidhi, Sunan. Quoted in Momen, 15. Ayoub, 45. See also Azam Torab, who recounts that ‘women would refer to Holy beings as friends, considering them as part of the extended family, on whom one would rely for protection and resolution of problems.’ Azam Torab (1998), ‘Neighbourhoods

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of Piety. Gender and Ritual in South Teheran’. Unpublished Ph.D. Thesis: University of London, 318. Interview in Shiraz, 2003. Azam Torab, ‘Neighbourhoods of Piety. Gender and Ritual in South Teheran’, 90. Sadeq Humayuni (1979), ‘An Analysis of a Ta´ziyeh of Qasem’. In Ta´ziyeh, Ritual and Drama in Iran, ed. Peter Chelkowski. New York: New York University Press, 12–23; 1371 ap/1993, ad Hosseinieyyeh Moshir. Teheran: Soroush Press; (2001), Ta’zieh dar Iran. Personal communication in 2003.

Part II: Introduction 1

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For a discussion of different viewpoints of ta´ziyeh directors, see also Anayatullah Shahidi (1979), ‘Literary and Musical Developments in the Ta´ziyeh’. In Ta´ziyeh: Ritual and Drama in Iran, ed. Peter J. Chelkowski. New York: New York University Press, 40–63. Brilliant, Visual Narratives, 19. Schlomith Rimmon-Kenan (2003), Narrative Fiction, 2nd ed. London and New York: Routledge, 3. Ibid., 46. Brilliant, Narrative Painting, 15–20. Whereas the whole human field of vision amounts to about 210 degrees of visual angle, no more than 2 degrees of visual angle are within the high-resolution region of the human fovea. Robert L. Solso (1994), Cognition and the Visual Arts. London: MIT Press, 129–155. Ibid., 139. Rimmon-Kenan argues that neither the labelling of events, nor the abstraction of the story from text is free from interpretation. Different readers may label events differently, and may consequently abstract different or at least somewhat different stories from the same text. Rimmon-Kenan, 139. Michael Ann Holly (1996), Past Looking. Historical Imagination and the Rhetoric of the Image. Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 81. A similar perspective can be found within the discipline of literary studies, in which the reader is understood to participate in the production of the text’s meaning, and the text is held to shape the reader. See Rimmon-Kenan, 118–133. Mieke Bal (1991), Reading Rembrandt. Beyond the Word – Image Opposition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 188. Rimmon-Kenan, 121. For studies on images produced between 1200 and 1950, see Peterson (1981); Maria Vittoria Fontana (1994), Iconografia dell’ahl al-bayt. Immagini di arte persiana dal XII al XX secolo. Napoli, Supplemento n.78 agli Annali – Vol. 54. For studies focusing on art produced from late 1700 until mid-1900, see Peter J. Chelkowski (1989b), ‘Narrative Painting and Painting Recitation in Qajar Iran’, Muqarnas. An Annual on Islamic Art and Architecture; Ulrich Marzolph (2001); Micheline Centlivres-Demont (2003), ‘La bataille Kerbela (680/61 H.) dans l’imagerie populaire chiite: langage et symbols’. Istanbuler Texte und Studien. Band 2, 103–116.

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For studies on passion plays, see Davoud Monchi-Zadeh (1967), Taziya. Das Persische Passionsspiel. Stockholm: Almquist & Wiksell, 64–69; articles in Peter J. Chelkowski (1979); Jamshid Malekpour (2004), The Islamic Drama. London, Portland: Frank Cass; Ingvild Flaskerud (2000), ‘Tazia. Shia islamske pasjonspill over et martyrium’, Historie. Populærhistorisk magasin. No 1; Humayuni (2001). See, Rimmon-Kenan, 2003; Mieke Bal (1999), Narratology. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Bal, Narratology, 164. Jacques Aumont (1997), The Image, trans. Claire Pajackowska. London: The British Film Institute, 106–118.

Chapter 4 1

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From the eighth century, Shia historians began to compose works, known as maqatil, describing the event at Karbala. The authors of maqatil also bestowed holy attributes upon Husayn and examined themes such as miracles and Husayn’s character. Lynda Clarke (1986), ‘Some Examples of Elegy on Imam Husayn’, Al-Serat. XII, 13–28; Khalid Sindawi (2002–2003), ‘The Image of Husayn ibn Ali in Maqatil Literature’. Quaderni di Studi Arabi, 20–21, 79–104. Ayoub, 120. The historical records are not reliable regarding the number of soldiers in the Caliph’s army and the men supporting Husayn. According to the sacred history, Husayn and seventy-two men fought against an army of several thousand men. Ayoub, 15. Momen, 236. Ayoub, 152–154. Yitzhak Nakash (1993),’An Attempt to Trace the Origin of the Ritual of Ashura’. Die Welt des Islams. Leiden: Brill, Vol 33, Nr. 2, 164. Ayoub, 143. Baktash, 100; Gustav Thaiss (1972), ‘Religious Symbolism and Social Change: The Drama of Husain’. In Scholars, Saints and Sufis. Muslim Religious Institutions in the Middle East since 1500, ed. Nikki R. Keddie. Berkley: University of California Press, 357. With regard to the opposition against the regime of the Shah, a leading ulema told Gustav Thaiss, ‘We are crying because justice is gone,’ see page 359. Thaiss, 349. Sayyid Mahmud Taleghani (1910–1979) had for decades been combating what he saw as the despotic rule of the Pahlavi Shah through religious activism. Ibid., 359. Momen, 288; Chelkowski and Dabashi, 70–74. Individuals who engaged in acts of martyrdom are endorsed and glorified by the state in mega murals in Teheran and other large cities in Iran. See, Marzolph (2003). Mary Hegland, ‘Two Images of Husain: Accommodation and Revolution in an Iranian Village’, 218–235. Although, Hegland explained, villagers did not explicitly state that the expected behaviour towards the Imams taught them how they should behave towards the political superiors in real life, see 224.

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Ibid., 225. Ibid., 226. The lecture was written down in Persian by my assistant during the ceremony. In the translation we have tried to stay close to the Persian vernacular, as well as making it comprehensible in English. The same method applies to the following lectures recorded in this chapter. In fact, only a few Shia shrines are gilded, among them the domes of the shrines of Husayn and Al-Abbas in Karbala. Most domes are covered by elaborate tile painting. The maddah’s comment about gilded domes is perhaps meant as a metaphor for material exaggeration. David Thurfjell argues that among Islamists in Iran ritualized crying is encouraged and promoted by the regime and by mosque authorities. Within this paradigm, ritualized crying becomes a symbol of support for the present state of affairs. The ritual lead by the female maddah referred to in my study, did not engage in that rhetoric. David Thurfjell (2003), ‘Living Shi´ism. Instances of Ritualisation among Islamist Men in Contemporary Iran’. Ph.D. dissertation. University of Uppsala. Imam Mahdi will rule for a number of years and after him will come the return of Christ, the Imam Husayn and other imams, prophets and saints. Momen, 166. Ayoub, 213.

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Samuel R. Peterson (1979), ‘The Ta´zieh and Related Arts’. In Ta´ziyeh. Ritual and Drama in Iran, ed. Peter J. Chelkowski. New York: New York University Press and Soroush Press, 64–87. Peter J. Chelkowski (1989b); Seif (1997); Humayuni (1371 ap /1993 ad). Peterson, ‘The Ta´zieh and Related Arts’, 75; Chelkowski, ‘Narrative Painting and Painting Recitation in Qajar Iran’, 104. Chelkowski, ‘Narrative Painting and Painting Recitation in Qajar Iran’, 99. Ibid., 102. Peter Chelkowski (1986b), ‘Popular Sh´i Mourning Rituals’. al-Serat, Vol.12, 218. Chelkowski, ‘Narrative Painting and Painting Recitation in Qajar Iran’, 103. Ibid., 106. See Sir Lewis Pelly (1879), The Miracle Play of Hassan and Husain. London: Wm. H. Allen Co., Vol. 2. reprint 1970, Farnborough: Greg International Publishers; Davoud Monchi-Zadeh, Taziya, Das Persische Passionsspiel. 64–69; Malekpour, 162–171. Malekpour, 73. Seif, Figures 17, 5 and 30, depicting wall paintings from Takiyeh Mu´avenol Molk, Kermanshah, first half of the twentieth century. Ibid., Figures 3 and 47, depicting wall paintings from Takiyeh Mu´avenol Molk, Kermanshah, first half of the twentieth century. Ibid., Figure 39, depicting wall paintings from the Shrine of Agha Seyyed Hosain, Langarood, 1886. Ibid., Figure 32, from Takiyeh Mu´avenol Molk, Kermanshahan, first half of the twentieth century. See also Chelkowski (1989b). Reprints in Popular Paintings and

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the Persian Legend are also instructive. An Exhibition realized for the ‘Maison de l ´Iraniaen’ in Paris by Group 7. (Year and place of publishing not given). Chelkowski, ‘Narrative Painting and Painting Recitation in Qajar Iran’, 104. Ibid., 104–105. Ibid., 109. Ali Bulookbashi (1996), Qahveh Khanehaye Iran – Iran Coffee-Houses. Teheran: Cultural Research Bureau, 98. Peterson, ‘The Ta´zieh and Related Arts’, 75. Chelkowski, ‘Narrative Painting and Painting Recitation in Qajar Iran’, 109.

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Azam Torab (1998), Performing Islam. Gender and Ritual in Iran. Brill: Leiden, 31. David Pinault (2001), The Horse of Karbala. New York: Palgrave, 203. See figure 6 and 7. Syed Akbar Hyder (2006), Reliving Karbala. Martyrdom in South Asian Memory. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 66. The material is cotton. The techniques are a combination of appliqué (the horse) and embroidery. The wall hangings were observed in Shiraz in 2000 and 2002. Rowzeh of Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas, Recorded 7th of Muharram, 2002. For a discussion of the soul bird, see Schimmel, Deciphering the Signs of God, page 26 and 184. Malekpour, 52. Clarke, 16. There is reason to believe that the imams, and in particular the sixth Imam, Jafar al-Sadiq (d.765 ad), used to bring together their followers to remember the death of Husayn and invite a poet to recite verses of lamentation and grief. See Ayoub, 158. Since then Sunnis, Shia and Sufis have continued to write lamentation poems about Imam Husayn and Karbala. Today, small booklets with collections of elegies are available in bookstores in Shiraz and elsewhere in the country. Malekpour, 53. Zahra Eqbal (Namdar) (1979), ‘Elegy in the Qajar Period’. In Ta´ziyeh: Ritual and Drama in Iran, ed. Peter Chelkowski. New York: New York University Press, 198. Hassan Salehi Rad (2001), Majles Ta’ziyeh. Teheran: Soroush Press. Vol. 1, 417. Pelly, Vol. II, 35. Pelly’s collection is based on dictation from manuscripts, probably from the area of the Persian Gulf, for example, Bushehr and Shiraz. Monchi-Zadeh, 116. Litten had borrowed manuscripts from the leader of a theatre group and copied the texts. The Cerulli Collection is also mentioned as the Vatican Collection, since Cerulli later donated his collection to the Library of the Vatican. See, Malekpour, 167 Chelkowski (1989a), ‘From Maqatil Literature to Drama’, al-Serat, Vol. 12, 262. Ibid., 263. Andrzej Wirth (1979), ‘Semeiological Aspects of the Ta´ziyeh’. In Ta´ziyeh: Ritual and Drama in Iran. ed. Peter Chelkowski. New York: New York University Press, 35. In a Shia community in Ladakh, India, David Pinault has observed a similar motive. There, wall hangings are placed in matam-serai and shrines where Shias conduct mourning ceremonies, see p. 203.

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See, for example, Marzolph 2001 and Seif 1997. Marzolph, 2001. Pelly Vol. II, ‘The death of Al-Abbas’, 21. Wirth, 36. Eqbal, 193–194. Wirth, 36. The wall hangings in Figures 24 and 25 were observed Shiraz in 2000 and 2002. They decorated the walls of a courtyard in a private house during all-female commemoration ceremonies in Muharram. The wall hanging shown in Figure 27 was observed in 2002 in an imamzadeh, administered by a hay´at for men but visited by men and women. E. Honigmann (1978), ‘Karbala’, The Encyclopaedia of Islam. Leiden: Brill. Vol IV, 637–639. Yitzhak Nakash, ‘An Attempt to Trace the Origin of the Rituals of Ashura’, 167. The wall hanging in Figure 28 was used in an imamzadeh in Shiraz during Muharram 2002. In this location, commemoration ceremonies were held for an all-male audience. Mir Ahmad Ali, 1261.

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It has been suggested that the print is made in the Middle East in the twentieth century. The inscriptions are, however, Persian which more specifically locate its origin in Iran. For reprints, see Stocchi, 49; and Kjeld von. Folsach, Torben Lundbæk and Peder Mortensen (eds) (1996), Sultan, Shah, and Great Mughal. The History and Culture of the Islamic World. Copenhagen: The National Museum, 66. Karbala and Ashura (no author given) (2002), Qum: Ansariyan Publications, 103. Ibid., 101. Pelly, Vol. II, 12–13. Ibid., Vol. I, 296. Karbala and Ashura, 105. Ibid., 109. Pelly, Vol. II, 96–98. Ibid., Vol. II, 151. Ibid., Vol. II, 49. Ibid., Vol. II, 51. Ibid., Vol. II, 54–59. Karbala and Ashura, 114. Zakir (n.d.), Tears and Tributes. Qum: Ansariyan Publications, 75. Karbala and Ashura, 93. Pelly, Vol. II, 67. S. V. Mir Ahmed Ali (n.d.), Husain. The Saviour of Islam. Qum: Ansariyan Publications, 177. For an overview of the content of some ta´ziyeh collection, see Monchi-Zadeh, 64–67. The chronologies of the martyrdom of Ali Akbar, Qasem and al-Abbas, sometimes change places. Peterson, ‘Shi´ism and Late Iranian Arts’, 121.

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Marzolph (2001); Hadi (1997). Pelly, Vol. I, 290. Joseph is made to say the same on page 14. Ibid., Vol. I, 292–295. Pelly, Vol. I, 297. Chelkowski, ‘Narrative Paining and Recitation in Qajar Iran’, 109. Bulookbashi, 104. Takiyeh Dawlat was built in the 1870s under Nadir al-Din Shah and demolished in the 1950s. Chelkowski, ‘Narrative Paining and Recitation in Qajar Iran’, 109. For comments on the work of Muhammad Mudabber, see also Chelkowski, ‘Iconography of the Women of Karbala’, 126. Ibid., Vol. I, 298. Performed by a female maddah during an all-female ceremony on the 8th of Muharram, 2002. The rowzeh was accompanied by flagellation in the style of chest-beating. Robin Margaret Jensen (2000), Understanding Early Christian Art. London: Routledge, 7. Faegheh Shirazi (2005a), ‘Images of Women in Popular Shi´i Culture in Iran’. In The Women of Karbala. The Gender Dynamics of Ritual Performances and Symbolic Discourses of Modern Shi’i Islam, ed. Kamran Scot Aghaie. Austin: The University of Texas Press, 96. Peterson, ‘Shi´ism and Late Iranian Arts’, 121. West, 71. Mir Ahmed, 1673, note 2575 and 2576. Doris Behrens-Abouseif (2007), ‘Beyond the Secular and the Sacred: Quranic Inscriptions in Medieval Islamic Art and Material culture’. In Word of God, Art of Man, ed. Fahmida Suleman. The Quran and Its Creative Expressions. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 41–50. West, 77. Raby, 9–18. Pelly, Vol. II, 33. Interview in Shiraz 12 October, 24 Rajab, 2001. Pelly, Vol. II, 35–36. Chelkowski and Dabashi, 103. Chelkowski, ‘Popular Shii Mourning Rituals’, 213. Marzolph, Narrative Illustrations in Persian Lithography Books, 154; Seif, 1997, 98. The lyrics of this and the following nowheh have either been written down in Persian during ritual performance, and later translated, or transcribed from footage of ritual performance. This nowheh copies traditional lullaby lyrics. In order to preserve some of the original rhythm and feeling in this lullaby, the Persian term “lay” lay is kept instead of translating it into ‘la, la, la’. For additional examples of nowheh for Ali Asghar, see Flaskerud (2005) ‘Oh, My Heart is Sad. It is Moharram, the Month of Zaynab. Aesthetics and Women’s Mourning Ceremonies in Shiraz’. In The Women of Karbala. The Gender Dynamics of Ritual Performances and Symbolic Discourses of Modern Shi’i Islam, ed. Kamran Scot Aghaie. Austin: The University of Texas Press, 84. Standard-Bearers of Hussein: Women Commemorating Karbala. Flaskerud, DVD 2003; Flaskerud ‘Oh, My Heart is Sad. It is Moharram, the Month of Zaynab. Aesthetics and Women’s Mourning Ceremonies in Shiraz’, 76–79.

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The type emerged in Germany in the late fourteenth century, and was known as Schmerzenmutter, ‘Mother of Sorrow’. Melissa R. Katz and Robert A. Orsy (2001), Divine Mirrors. The Virgin Mary in the Visual Arts. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 80–81. Pelly, Vol. II, 83. Yasin T. al-Jibouri (1999), Karbala and Beyond. Qum: Ansariyan Publications, 24. The grandfather referred to is Prophet Muhammad who had died in 632 ad. See for example, Pinault. al-Jibouri, 60–61. For a discussion on revolutionary graffiti, see Chelkowski and Dabashi, 108–125. Sindawi, 79–104. Sindawi’s analysis concentrates on maqatil literature developed between the eighth and the thirteenth centuries. Ibid., 83. Ibid., 92. Ibid., 96. Brilliant, Portraiture, 80. Hadi, 88. Qaltegah means ‘The site of murder’ from Arabic, qatala ‘to kill’. For more examples on nowheh relating the situation of Zaynab at Karbala, see Flaskerud, ‘Oh, My Heart is Sad. It is Moharram, the Month of Zaynab. Aesthetics and Women’s Mourning ceremonies in Shiraz’, 65–92; Shirazi, ‘Images of Women in popular Shi´i Culture in Iran’, 93–118. Chelkowski and Dabashi, 214–229; Chelkowski, ‘Iconography of the Women of Karbala’, 119–138. Lara Z. Deeb (2005), ‘From Mourning to Activism: Sayyedeh Zaynab, Lebanese Shi’i Women, and the Transformation of Ashura’. In The Women of Karbala. The Gender Dynamics of Ritual Performances and Symbolic Discourses of Modern Shi’i Islam, ed. Kamran Scot Aghaie. Austen: The University of Texas Press 241–266; Mary Elaine Hegland (1997), ‘A Mixed Blessing. The Majales-Shi’a Women’s Rituals of Mourning in Northwest Pakistan’. In Judy Brink and Joan Mencher eds. Mixed Blessings. Gender and Religious Fundamentalism Cross Culturally. London and New York: Routledge, 179–196; Azam Torab (2002), ‘The Politization of Women’s Religious Circles in Post-Revolutionary Iran’. In Sahra Ansari and Vanessa Martin eds, Women, Religion and Culture in Iran. Surrey: Curzon, 143–168; Azam Torab (2007), Performing Islam. Leiden: Brill. Ziba Mir-Husseini (1999), Islam and Gender. The Religious Debate in Contemporary Iran. London: I. B. Tauris, 56. Jensen, 7.

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S. Haim (1984), Haim’s One-Volume Persian – English Dictionary. Teheran: Farhang Moaser. See, for example, Anne H. Betteridge (1985), ‘Ziarat: Pilgrimage to the Shrines of Shiraz’. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Chicago; Zahra Kamalkhani (1998), Women’s Islam. Religious Practice among Women in Today’s Iran. London and New York: Kegan Paul; Sabine Kalinock (2003b), ‘Supernatural Intercession to Earthly Problems: Sofre rituals among Shiite Muslims and Zoroastrian Women in Iran’.

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In Zoroastrian Rituals in Context, ed. M. Stausberg. Leiden: Brill, 173–187; Azam Torab (2005), ‘Vows, Mediumship and Gender: Women’s Votive Meals in Iran’. In Inger Marie Okkenhaug and Ingvild Flaskerud eds., Gender, Religion and Change in the Middle East. Two Hundred Years of History. Oxford: Berg Publisher, 207–222; Malekpour (2004). Hugo Van der Velden (2000), The Donor’s Image. Gerard Loyet and the Votive Portraits of Charles the Bold. Turnhout: Brepols, 247. Richard Andree, Votive und Weihegaben des katholischen Volks in Süddeutchland. Braunschweig, 1904, 1, quoted in van der Velden, 212. Ibid., 212. Lenz Kriss-Rettenbeck (1972), Ex voto. Zürich: Atlantis, 155, speaks about the votive image, Votivtafeln, as a solemn vow, Gelöbnisgabe, in contrast to the image presented for consecration and dedication, Weihe- und Votationsakt, 7. KrissRettenbeck (1972). Lenz Kriss-Rettenbeck suggests that the practice of making two-dimensional votive paintings and drawings started in the fifteenth century. By the seventeenth century it had become a habitual practice. See, 155. The classification corresponds to three significant elements in the votive images registered by Kriss-Rettenbeck: (a) The representation of the celestial power in the form of a miraculous image, the symbol of a divine being, a saint, a pieta or a holy place. (b) An illustration of a person who turns to the heavenly sphere, or of a person who recommends someone else to the celestial power. (c) The evidence of the condition or event which brought about the communication between the earthly person and the celestial power. Kriss-Rettenbeck, 156. The accumulation of votive images at a Catholic shrine site is often vast, resulting in the assignment of votive images to separate galleries where visitors to the shrine site can view them. Charles the Bold donated a statuette to St Lambert, patron saint of Liège, at the saint’s cathedral in Liège in 1471. Van der Velden, 3. For example, a painted wooden plate, made in Italy (1480–1490), shows a young man kneeling down to pray in front of the Virgin. Below is written, ‘I Zuane (the son) of the Master Francesco Marescualco being sick, pleaded the Virgin Mary and I was soon freed.’ Io Zuane (Fiolo) de maistro Francescho Marescualco a (sendo ma) lato me aricomandai ala vergine maria e subito fui liberato. Kriss-Rettenbeck (1972), figure 26. Kriss-Rettenbeck, 156. Ibid., 212. Hans Belting (1994), Likeness and Presence. A History of the Image before the Era of Art, trans. Edmund Jephcott. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 88. Whereas visitations to local imamzadeh might be frowned upon by those of a more orthodox inclination, elaborate rituals have been drawn up for the performance of the visitations to the shrine of Imam Ali, Imam Hosayn, al-Abbas and Imam Reza. See, for example, Anne H. Betteridge (1993), ‘Women and Shrines in Shiraz’. In Donna Lee Bowen and Evelyn A. Early eds., Everyday Life in the Middle East. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 239–247. See also Yitzhak Nakash (1995), ‘The Visitation of the Shrines of the Imams and the Shi´i Mujtahids in the Early Twentieth Century’. Studia Islamica, No. 81, 153–164. Another popular visual souvenir from a pilgrimage to Mashhad is a studio portrait of the pilgrim positioned in front of a canvas depicting Imam Reza, see Figure 32.

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Mashhad is a popular destination for newly weds on their honeymoon. Some couples prefer to have their portrait taken in front of a canvas depicting Imam Reza’s sarcophagus inside the holy sanctuary. For a study of how hajj are accounted for in drawings, see Barbara D. Metcalf (1990), ‘The Pilgrimage Remembered: South Asian accounts of the Hajj’. In Dale F. Eickelman and James Piscatori eds., Muslim Travellers. Berkeley: University of California Press, 85–110. For an introduction to souvenirs from pilgrimage sites in Pakistan, see Jürgen Frembgen, ‘Saints in Modern Devotional Poster-Portraits: Meanings and Uses of Popular religious Folk Art in Pakistan’, 185–191. Azam Torab has also noted posters and images brought back from pilgrimage are considered bearers of promise and hope. Performing Islam, 94. Afsaneh Najmabadi (2005), Women with Moustaches and Men without Beards. Gender and sexual anxieties of Iranian modernity. Berkeley: University of California Press, 64–67. Ibid., 70. For illustrations see, for example, Najmabadi, 71, and Raby, 23. This was not a complete innovative move on behalf of Muhammad Shah, since some combination of a lion and a sun had functioned as one of many Iranian state emblems since the early Safavid period (1501–1722), see Najmabadi, 65. The new emblem is composed of four crescents, a vertical bar and a short orthographic sign for a double consonant (the shadda) above the latter. For a discussion of the emblem’s multiple readings and visualizations, see, Fischer and Abedi (1990). Najmabadi, 65. This understanding is based on the interpretation of ten Persian couplets of poetry inscribed along the border of a mirror case made for Nasir al-Din Shah in 1871. The case also presents an image of Imam Ali, holding Zu al-Feqar in his lap. The third couplet, for example, states: ‘Ali’s beauty is the embodiment of God’s light and within him is found the mystery of God’s handiwork.’ Suleman (Forthcoming, ‘The Iconography of the Lion in Shi’i Arts’. In addition, a number of rituals are performed throughout the year to address various needs, for example, the serving of khegrat, meal and drinks publicly distributed for the sake of the dead, see, Kamalkhani, 38. See, Flaskerud, ‘Oh, My Heart is Sad. It is Moharram, the Month of Zaynab. Aesthetics and Women’s Mourning Ceremonies in Shiraz’, 65–91. Read at a widow’s house for a ceremony held in honour of Ruqayyeh on the 22nd of Safar 2002. The rowzeh for Ruqayyeh exists in several, slightly different versions. For a comparison of rowzeh Ruqayyeh circulating in Shiraz, see Betteridge, ‘Ziarat. Pilgrimage to the Shrines of Shiraz’, 230. In 1999 I watched a ta’ziyeh group from the province of Isfahan play ‘The Court of Yazid, Bazar Sham’. Her ‘death’ on stage was lamented by the weeping audience, who continued flagellating their chests and chanted elegies. Betteridge describes a sufreh Ruqayyeh presented at the shrine Sayyid Ala al-Din Husayn in Shiraz in the late 1970s, see, ‘Ziarat. Pilgrimage to the Shrines of Shiraz’, 230. I observed yet another version of the replica of Ruqayyeh’s shrine in Shiraz in 2002. Obviously, there is some personal freedom in deciding how to design the replica, but the symbolic significance of the items used to create the replica relates to the narrative presented in the rowzeh.

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For examples of elegies performed in honour of Ruqayyeh, see also Shirazi, ‘Images of Women in Popular Shi´i Culture in Iran’, 112–113. Betteridge, ‘Ziarat. Pilgrimage to the Shrines of Shiraz’, 231. Layla S. Diba informs us that from the mid-nineteenth century memorial portraits in the tomb became widespread among Qajar nobilities and the merchant class in Teheran and the provinces. See, Royal Persian Paintings, 43. Diba suggests that such practices may be partly explained by deep-seated beliefs that the images were invested with life. She refers to how a mid-seventeenth-century Persian source records how a ‘sorcerer’ fashioned mutton grease into a figural effigy and utilized pins, candles and incantations to dispose of his enemy. It is possible that such beliefs continue to prevail in Iran in the twenty-first century, but in my experience, people would be inclined to call this idolatry. Betteridge, ‘Ziarat. Pilgrimage to the Shrines of Shiraz’, 222–224. See Betteridge, ‘Ziarat. Pilgrimage to the Shrines of Shiraz’, 220. Her discussion is based on a pre-revolutionary study, conducted from the second half of the 1970s. I was once asked by a woman to perform a supplication on her behalf, when visiting an imamzadeh. I was supposed to present her request to the saint by offering a small sum of money, which she entrusted me with. Naively, I asked which request I should present, but she replied that God already knew. The performance of a vow can be a very emotional moment for the votary. See, for example, a scene in the ethnographic film ‘Standard bearers of Hussein. Women commemorating Karbala’. In the film, women have gathered around the cradle of Ali Asghar. Passing a doll representing Ali Asghar from one person to the other, they held it in their bosom, while performing their vow silently to Ali Asghar. Flaskerud DVD, 2003. Ibid., 222. Betteridge, ‘Ziarat. Pilgrimage to the Shrines of Shiraz’, 216. Ayoub, 1978. The only exception has to do with tea and sweets offered in booths established to celebrate the twelfth Imam’s birthday. Since he is believed to be still alive, he is also believed to perhaps attend the celebration and partake of the sweets, although he would go unrecognized. Personal observation of mowludi practices, Shiraz, Sha´aban/November, 2001. See also, Betteridge, ‘Ziarat. Pilgrimage to the Shrines of Shiraz’. Van der Velden, 213. The Shia material I work on does not match van der Velden’s system of classification, although some categorizations are relevant to the Shia context. I apply those categories accordingly. Jane Idelman Smith and Yvonne Yazbeck Haddad (2002), The Islamic Understanding of Death and Resurrection. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 76. Surat 17:14, ‘The Children of Israel’. The promise is repeated in Surat 17:23. Surat 107:1–7, ‘Alms.’ Kamalkhani, 36. By comparison, Pakistani (Punjab and Sind) Shia devotional pictures of saints are understood to have an immediate communicative effect. The portraits’ inherent barakat is transferred to the devotee, and the devotee can enter into direct face-to-face contact with his or her saint. This belief is probably influenced by the Hindu concept of darshan. See Frembgen, ‘Saints in modern devotional posterportraits. Meanings and uses of popular religious folk art in Pakistan’, 189.

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For discussions on Islamic iconoclasm and aniconism see, for example, Thomas Arnold (1928), Painting in Islam. A Study of the Place of Pictorial Art in Muslim Culture. Oxford: Oxford University Press, reprint 1965. New York: Dover Publication; Terry Allen (1988), Five Essays on Islamic Art. California: Solipsist Press; Oleg Grabar (1987), The Formation of Islamic Art. New Haven and London: Yale University Press; Oliver Leaman (2004), Islamic Aesthetics. An Introduction. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Scholarly discussions on representation of Islamic visual culture are sometimes censored by people of aniconic opinions. Compare, for example, the first and second edition of Malise Ruthven (1997), Islam. A Very Short Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 3, and (2000), 34. The first edition presented a miniature representing the Prophet Muhammad (from an illustrated manuscript of Rashid al-Din’s Universal History, Tabriz, 1307). In the second edition the illustration had been removed, due to protests from a number of readers who found the picture blasphemous. The same assertion is supported elsewhere, for example in Surat 7:10 and 64:2–3, which state that God created (khalaqu) and shaped (sawwaru) human beings. Bukhari Juynboll, ed. Vol IV, 104 and 106. Quoted in Thomas Arnold, 5. For a discussion on these verses, see also Grabar, The Formation of Islamic Art, 79. The performance took place in the courtyard of the Nadir al-Mulk mosque and ‘Narnimruzi’ was performed by a group from Khurasan. Rudi Paret (1968), ‘Das Islamische Bilderverbot und die Schia’. In Festschrift Werner Caskel, ed. Erwin Gräf. Leiden: Brill, 225–232. Arthur U. Pope ([1907] 1939), A Survey of Persian Art III. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Quoted in Paret, 232. Arnold, 12. In a commentary on Surat 26: 227, Mir Ahmed Ali says ‘Poetry and the fine arts which are to be commended are those which emanate from minds steeped in Faith which try to carry out in life the fine sentiments they express in their artistic work, aim at the glory of God, rather then at self-glorification or the fulsome praise of men with feet of clay, and do not attack anything except aggressive evil.’ See note 3238. Mir Ahmed Ali, note 1677, commentary by Aga Pooya. After having established contact with this scholar, I was asked to write down my questions and have them forwarded to him. He consulted his colleagues, and we met for a conversation on the issue, in which he presented their views. Shiraz (2001). When Imam Husayn was martyred, his blood is supposed to have run into the ground at Karbala. The Shia pay him respect by placing their heads on a piece of clay from this ground when they pray. Interview, 1999. The religious scholar sent a student to search the town for posters I could add to my collection. I came across one object that contradicts the opinion that images should not be associated with worship. In a ‘authorized’ religious book store I bought a mohr namaz inserted with a mirror carrying a portrait of Imam Husayn. This is an example of a ‘tolerant’ iconographic practice that may indicate an official confidence in people’s ability to distinguish between idolatry and worship. Otherwise, I observed some mohr namaz carrying inscriptions, but most items had a plain surface. For a comparison, see Helga Venslaff (1995), ‘Mohr-e namaz. Das Schittische Gebetssiegel’, Die Welt des Islams, Vol.35, No.2, 250–275. In her discussion of

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recently produced mohr namaz, Venslaff describes the depiction of Imam Husayn’s grave mosque in Karbala and Imam Ali’s grave mosque in Najaf, in addition to the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem, and a hand, which in this context may refer to the hand al-Abbas. See Diane D’Souza (1998), ‘In the Presence of the Martyrs: The Alam in Popular Shi’i Piety’. The Muslim World, Vol.LXXXVIII, No.1, 67–80. Kamalkhani, 36. Interview with female Quran teacher in Shiraz (2001). Betteridge, ‘Ziarat. Pilgrimage to the Shrines of Shiraz’, and The Controversial vows of Urban Muslim Women in Iran. In Nancy Auer Falk and Rita M. Gross (eds), Unspoken Worlds. Belmont: Wadsworth, 1989, pp. 102–111. Torab, ‘Vows, Mediumship and Gender: Women’s Votive Meals in Iran’, 207–222.

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I attended Muharram commemorations from the first to the ninth of Muharram in 2000 and 2002, and the mowludi of Imam Husayn (the 3rd of Shaban) and Imam al-Mahdi (the 15th of Shaban) in 2001. Staale Sinding-Larsen (1984), Iconography and Ritual. A Study of Analytical Perspectives. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 60. Sinding-Larsen’s perspectives are developed on the study of European Christian art and ritual. Sinding-Larsen, 20. Allahumma kun livaliyyka al-Hojjat ibn al-Hassan salavatuka alayyhi va ala abaihi fi hadhihi al-sa’ati va fi kulli sa’atin valiyyan va hafezan va qa’idan va naziran va daliyylan va’ayyunan hatta tuskinahu ardaka tav’an va tumatiyyahu fiha tavilan. For the text in Arabic, see for example, http://www.geocities.com/bestalma/ dua_farajzuhur.htm 10 June 2007. There exist several versions of du’a faraj to be found in various editions of Mafatih al-Jenan. For a demonstration of the performance of du’a faraj at the end of a commemorative meeting for Ali Asghar, see Flaskerud (2003). Du’a faraj is said to have been used or taught by Imam Mahdi. For example, a commentary to du’a faraj sited in the Mafatih al-Jenan compiled by Hajj Shaykh Al-Abbas Qummi, informs the reader that Imam Zaman taught this du’a to a man who later read it on behalf of a prisoner, and who was later released. See p. 946. Ayoub, 217. Ibid., 218. Alams are also carried in ritual parades dasteh, during Muharram and may be a symbol of fighting for the right and just cause, see, Chelkowski, ‘Popular Shi´i Mourning Rituals’, 212. For a historical review of standards and banners in Shiism, see Jean Calmard and J. W. Allan (1985), ‘Alam va Alamat’, Encyclopaedia Iranica, Vol. I, 785–791. The religious use of alams are common also in Shia devotional life in India and Pakistan, see D’ Souza (1998) and Jürgen Wasim Frembgen (1995), ‘Schiitische Standartenaufsätze’. Tribus, 194–207. S. V. Mir Ahmed, 1521–1524. Ibid., 1524. Du’a nodbeh is also recommended for Id al-Fitr and Id al-Qurban, commemorating the event at Ghadir Khumm.

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Patrizia Calefato (no year given), Call on Me I Answer you. Supplications, Prayers and Ziarats. Qum: Ansariyan Publications, 66–85. Faegheh Shirazi (2005b), ‘The Sofreh: Comfort and Community among Women in Iran’. Iranian Studies, Vol.38, Nr.2, 299. S. V. Mir Ahmed, note 2575, 2576, p.1673 Yitzhak Nakash, ‘The Visitation of the Shrines’, 153–164. Khalid Sindawi (2006), ‘Visit to the tomb of al-Husayn b. Ali in Shiite Poetry: First to Fifth Centuries AH (8th-11th Century CE.)’. Journal of Arabic Literature, Vol.37, Nr.2, 230–258. Calefato, Call on Me I Answer You, 207. Ayoub, 188–189. This is based on the version of ziyarat ashura to be found in Mafatih al-Jenan, ed., Hajj Shaykh Al-Abbas Qummi. Qum, 1380 ap/2001 ad and Call on Me I Answer You, published by Ansariyan, Qum. Ayoub does, however, refer to ziyarat ashura liturgy which ends with pointing to the eschatological implication of Karbala and the revenge of the victorious army of Imam al-Mahdi, 189. For a presentation and analysis of liturgy related to ziyarat, see Ayoub, 180–196. Interview with a visitor in 2002. The importance and popularity of ziyarat ashura might be illustrated by the existence of many websites offering text with commentary, and audio-visual presentation in which the prayer is recited in a video recording containing graphic illustrations.http://www.bettermuslim.com/2007/02/11/ziarat-e-ashura-a-touchingflash-video/http://www.ezsoftech.com/mazloom/ziyarat.asp;http://www.almujtaba. com/1/duas.html The symbolism resembles Christian iconography, where the Apostles and Christ are holding scriptures or books in their hands and the gesture of the fingers convey dogmatic messages. This is a near quotation from Quran, chapter 33, verse 40. A scene of Fatemeh by the gate of her house being attacked by someone from outside is represented in prints and posters and reproduced in several versions. The anxiety, sorrow and loneliness of Umm Layla was not a theme in contemporary colour posters, but has been elaborated in ta´ziyeh librettos, see for example Pelly, Vol. I, Scene XVII, ‘Death of Ali Akbar’, 287–303, and Vol. II, Scene XVIII, ‘Death of Kasim the Bridegroom’, 1–17. Performed on the ninth of Muharram, in a private courtyard, Shiraz 2002. See, for example, Pelly, II, 50. Sorood is a joyful song performed at wedding ceremonies. Pelly, Vol. II, 3. In Persian also known as esfand daneh. Latin: Peganum harmala. In the two other ritual locations for women I visited during Muharram commemoration in 2002, also Fatemeh was impersonated. She was similarly dressed in green clothes, and the face was covered. In those locations a hejleh was made for the ceremony. See, Flaskerud, ‘Oh, My Heart is Sad. It is Moharram, the Month of Zaynab. Aesthetics and Women’s Mourning Ceremonies in Shiraz’, 65–92; ‘Shia-Muslim Women as Ritual Performers in Iran’, 115–134. The henna bandun is a tradition related to marriage customs in many Middle Eastern communities. In Iran, the ceremony is performed one or two days before the wedding celebration and the bride and the bridegroom decorate each others’ inside of the palm with henna.

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Another pantomime performed at women-only ritual gatherings is ´arus-e Quraysh, ‘The Bride of Quraysh’, often performed in connection with the mowludi of Fatemeh al-Zahra. See Torab, Neighbourhoods of Piety. Gender and Ritual in South Teheran, 401–405. Torab, Performing Islam, 97. See, Kamalkhani, 1998, and Torab, ‘The Politization of Women’s Religious Circles in Post-revolutionary Iran’. For a comparison with similar tendencies among Shias in Lebanon, see Lara Deeb, who distinguishes between ‘traditional’ and ‘authenticated’ sermons. Deeb (2005). A study conducted by Rehana Ghadilly of Muharram rituals among the Bohras, an Isma´ili Sect of South Asian Islam, adds further information to the discussion on women and ritual discourse. In that community, the sermons focused on hagiographic narratives, cleanliness, personal hygiene, dietary habits, child upbringing etc., but did not address wider social and political issues. Rehana Ghadilly (2005), ‘Gender and Moharram Rituals in an Isma´ili Sect’. In Kamran Scot Aghaie, 190. See Torab, Performing Islam, 97–101. Sinding-Larsen, 20. Sabine Kalinock (2003a), ‘Between Party and Devotion: Mowludi of Teheran Women’, Critique: Critical Middle Eastern Studies, Vol.12, No.2, 174. See Torab, who provides an introduction to the celebration of mowludi among women, in which mowludi is incorporated into jalaseh, religious meetings. See Torab Neighbourhoods of Piety, 120–126, and Performing Islam, 97–102. A thorough study of a mowludi for Fatemeh al-Zahra is presented by Sabine Kalinock, ‘Between Party and Devotion: Mowludi of Teheran Women’, 173–187. These studies describe and discuss examples of mowludi in Teheran and Shiraz. See also, Torab, Neighbourhoods of Piety, 453–454. Stocchi (1988); Centlivres and Centlivres-Demont, 1997. Walter B. Denny (1991), ‘Reflections on Paradise in Islamic Art’. In Sheila S. Blair and Jonathan Bloom eds., Images of Paradise in Islamic Art. Hanover: Dartmouth, 33–42. In 2001, the hosts of the zaynabiyyeh organized the mowludi of Imam Husayn on the afternoon of the 3rd of Shaban, diverting from customary practice to celebrate the party on the 2nd, the evening before the actual birth date. The reason was that the 2nd of Shaban fell on a Friday, the Islamic weekend, and families preferred spending time together rather than attending gender-specific rituals. The daf is a medium-sized wooden-framed percussion instrument with goatskin drumhead and metal plates, jingles, attached to holes in the frame. The sound produced by hitting the membrane with either hand supports the rhythm of songs and dance. Calefato, Call on Me I Answer You, 980–988. The same song is noted by Sabine Kalinock to be used at mowludi in Teheran between 1998 and 2003. Kalinock, ‘Between Party and Devotion: Mowludi of Teheran Women’, 177. I am grateful to Ms Parvin Pourmirza for translating part of this ceremony. For a discussion of the politicization of mowludi, see, Kalinock, Between Party and Devotion, 182–183. Whether this is historically correct or not, this was also how contemporary posters represent Imam Ali, Imam Husayn and al-Abbas, typically depicting them dressed

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in green head cloth. Azam Torab has described how women claiming to be Sayyids, to announce their status, dress in green cloths at mowludi celebrations in Teheran. See, Performing Islam, 98–99. Kalinock, ‘Between Party and Devotion: Mowludi of Teheran Women’, 181. Franklin D. Lewis (2000), Rumi. Past and Present, East and West. Oxford: Oneworld, 309. According to Lewis, sama’ was a well known in eastern Iran for over two centuries before the birth of Rumi in Khorasan, 1207 ad.

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The processions are typically male specific, although in Shiraz and elsewhere, women may join the last section of the processions on ashura. Also in Teheran, women have been observed to follow the procession in neighbourhood rituals but not the mass rituals, due to the Post-revolutionary government’s sanction of women’s participation. Kamran Scot Aghaie, The Martyrs of Karbala. Shi’i Symbols and Rituals in Modern Iran. Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, 150.

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Ali Murat Yel (1999), ‘An Anthropological Interpretation of a Christian Pilgrimage: Promessa de Joelhos as an Expression of Religious Emotion of Fátima’. Journal of Economic and Social Research ,Vol. 1, No. 1, September 65–107. See photographs of the three child seers on The Fatima Network’s website, http://www.fatima.org/essentials/facts/story1.asp and http://www.fatima.org/ essentials/facts/seers.asp Ibid., 68. Pope John Paul II had a particular liking for and believed that Our Lady of Fátima saved his life when an attempt was made to assassinate him on 13 May 1981. The favour was met by a pilgrimage to Fátima in 1982. Barbara Freyer Stowasser (1994), Women in the Quran, Traditions, and Interpretation. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 71. See also, Jane I. Smith and Yvonne Haddad (1989), ‘The Virgin Mary in Islamic Tradition and Commentary’, The Muslim World, Vol. 79, 161–187. Ayoub, 72. Ibid., 57, 239. Hyder, 54–55.Hyder although points out, that these ritual expressions could be seen as honouring manifestations of the divine, rather than having any specific connections to Islam. See p. 172. Stocchi (1988), Centlivres and Centlivres-Demont 1997. André Grabar (1968), Christian Iconography. A Study of Its Origins. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Frembgen, 43. Ibid., 42. Chelkowski and Dabashi, 172–174. Oil on canvas. Meadows Museum, of Southern Methodist University, Dallas.

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—(1993), ‘Color II. Use and Importance in Persian Art’. Encyclopædia Iranica, Vol. VI, 47–50. Stocchi, Sergio. (1988), L´Islam nelle Stampe. Milano: Be-Ma Editrice. Stowasser, Barbara Freyer. (1994), Women in the Quran, Traditions, and Interpretation. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Suleman, Fahmida. (Forthcoming.), ‘The Iconography of the Lion in Shi’i Arts’, in Pedram Khosronejad (ed.), The Art and Material Culture of Iranian Shiism. London: I.B.Tauris. Tanman, M. Baha. (1992), ‘Settings for the Veneration of Saints’, in Raymond Lifchez (ed.), The Dervish Lodge. Berkeley: University of California Press, 130–171. Tarlo, Emma. (1996), Clothing Matters. Dress and Identity in India. London: Hurst & Company. Thaiss, Gustav. (1972), ‘Religious Symbolism and Social Change: The Drama of Hussein’, in Nikkie. R. Keddie (ed.), Scholars, Saints, and Sufies. Muslim Institutions in the Middle East since 1500. Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 349–366. Thurfjell, David. (2003), ‘Living Shi´ism. Instances of Ritualisation among Islamist Men in Contemporary Iran’. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Uppsala. al-Tirmidhi, Abu Isa Muhammad. (1292 ah/1875 ad), Sunan, Vol. 2, Cairo: Matba´at al-Madani, 299. Quoted in Mojan Momen, (1985), An Introduction to Shi´i Islam. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 15. Torab, Azam. (1998), ‘Neighbourhoods of Piety. Gender and Ritual in South Teheran’. Ph.D. dissertation, University of London. —(2002), ‘The Politization of Women’s Religious Circles in Post-revolutionary Iran’, in Sahra Ansari and Vanessa Martin (eds), Women, Religion and Culture in Iran. Surrey: Curzon, 143–168. —(2005), ‘Vows, Mediumship and Gender: Women’s Votive Meals in Iran’, in Inger Marie Okkenhaug and Ingvild Flaskerud (eds), Gender, Religion and Change in the Middle East. Two Hundred Years of History. Oxford: Berg Publisher, 207–222. —(2007), Performing Islam. Gender and Ritual in Iran. Brill: Leiden. Velden, Hugo van der. (2000), The Donor’s Image. Gerard Loyet and the Votive Portraits of Charles the Bold. Turnhout: Brepols. Venslaff, Helga. (1995), ‘Mohr-e namaz. Das Schittische Gebetssiegel’. Die Welt des Islams, Vol. 35, Nr. 2, 250–275. Vernoit, Stephen. (1997), Occidentialism. Islamic Art in the 19th Century. London: Nasser D. Khalili (2nd. Ed). Collection of Islamic Art, vol. XXIII. West, Shearer. (2004), Portraiture. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Willet, Frank. (1981), African Art. London: Thames and Hudson. Wills, Charles J. (1896), Persia As It Is. London. Quoted in Stephen Vernoit, (1997), Occidentialism. Islamic Art in the 19th Century. London: Nasser D. Khalili, 2nd ed. Collection of Islamic Art,vol. XXIII, 65. Wilson, S. G. (1896), Persian Life and Customs. Edinburgh and London, 2nd ed.. Quoted in Stephen Vernoit, (1997), Occidentialism. Islamic Art in the 19th Century. London: Nasser D. Khalili, 2nd ed. Collection of Islamic Art, vol. XXIII, 65–66. Wirth, Andrzej. (1979), ‘Semeiological Aspects of the Ta´ziyeh’, in Peter Chelkowski (ed.), Ta’ziyeh: Ritual and Drama in Iran. New York: New York University Press, 32–39.

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Websites http://www.accu.or.jp/litdbase/policy/irn/. 4 october 2003. http://www.almujtaba.com/1/duas.html 15 april 2007. http://www.geocities.com/bestalma/dua_farajzuhur.htm 10 june 2007. http://www.bettermuslim.com/2007/02/11/ziarat-e-ashura-a-touchingflash-video/ 11 november 2007. http://www.ezsoftech.com/mazloom/ziyarat.asp 11 november 2007. http://www.fatima.org/essentials/facts/story1.asp 14 may 2008. http://www.fatima.org/essentials/facts/seers.asp 14 may 2008.

Filmography The Message, directed by Moustaph Akkad, 1976. Imam Ali. Directed by Davoud Mirbagheri, produced by IRIB, Islamic Republic Iran Broadcast in Iran (1990s). Mariam al-Muqaddasah [The Holy Mariam]. Directed by Shahriar Bahrami, produced IRIB, Islamic Republic Iran Broadcast in Iran 2002. Standard-Bearers of Hussein: Women Commemorating Karbala. Ingvild Flaskerud. 2003. DVD.

Performances Ta’ziyeh productions at the Nadir al-Mulk mosque in Shiraz, Muharram 28th – Safar 5th, 1420 A.H. (1999A.D.) Ali Akbar, by Goroh ta´ziyeh Shiraz. Narnimruzi, by Goroh ta´ziyeh Astan Khurasan. Bargah Yazid - Bazar Sham, by Goroh ta´ziyeh Astan Esfahan.

Index

Abu al-Fazl al-Abbas 1, 3, 9, 75, 91, 92, 95–6, 97, 98, 101, 104, 107, 110, 177, 182, 207, 212, 237 in posters 123–34 saintly intervention in lives of humans 132–4 Abu al-Hassan Ali Ibn Musa al-Reza 92 Abu al-Hassan Ghaffari 39 Abu Bakr 32, 33, 55 Abul Qadir Jilani 237 action and intention, correlation between 187 activism 37, 82 actor-narrator 16, 77, 106, 127, 142 agents, in storytelling 15 ahl al-bayt 37, 43, 44, 57, 60, 79, 81, 84, 105, 106, 132, 188, 203, 205, 222, 231 Ahmad Tabrizi 23 Akel Ismail Kahera 249 Al-Allamah al-Sharif al-Razi 50 alams 196, 202 Ali see Imam Ali Ali Akbar 3, 75, 97, 111, 149, 212, 213, 214 martyrdom of 120–1 posters representing 116–23 Ali Asghar 3, 75, 104, 111, 189, 212, 217, 219 martyrdom of 134, 135, 137, 139 in posters 134–9 Ali Bulookbashi 119 Ali Hussain Jalali 110 Ali ibn Abi Talib 8, 9, 10 Ali Shariati 37, 82 Amr ibn Abdu Wudd 47 analepsis 76, 91 Andree, R. 176 Anhar Jarieh (‘Flowing Rivers’) 22

ansab (idols) 193 Ansariyan Publications 39 Arnold, T. 194 Asadullah 183 ashura 80, 102, 108, 142, 150, 197, 218 ashurkhanas 90 asnam (idols) 193 ´asr ashura 150 Aumont, J. 78 Aurelius, Marcus 126 Ayatollah Abd al-Karim Musavi Ardabili 37 Ayatollah Agha Haji Mirza Mahdi Pooya Yazdi 44, 195 Ayatollah Khomeini 37, 38, 57, 81, 122, 202, 237 Ayatollah Rafsanjani 37 Azam Torab 61, 90, 197, 218, 251 aza-sarpay see sineh-sarpay bab al-havaij 1 Bal, M. 77 barakat 186, 188, 191, 193, 198, 253 Barthes, R. 15 Baxandall, M. 12, 31 Belting, H. 177, 179 Betteridge, A. 186, 187, 189, 190 Brilliant, R. 9, 15, 32, 147 Brugsch, H. 29 Bryson, N. 12, 13, 31 Bukhari Juynboll 192 captions 40, 52, 53, 105, 107, 178–9, 181, 188, 230 Centlivres, P. 49 Centlivres-Demont, M. 49 Cerulli, E. 95 charity, significance of 190–1 Charles the Bold 178

294

Index

Chelkowski, P. 57, 85, 86, 119, 120, 134, 152 Christianity and Shiism 235–6 Christian votive genre 178–9 codification, of visual signs 23 colour posters, Karbala narratives in 109–16 Abu al-Fazl Al-Abbas 123–34 aftermath of Battle of Karbala 149–53 Ali Akbar 116–23 Ali Asghar 134–9 Imam Husayn 139–49 commemoration 82 commemoration rituals 180 conventional facial types 40, 41, 42, 52, 54, 60, 61, 64 daf 223, 224, 228 dakhil bastan 187 dasteh 214, 218, 232, 233 dast-kari tasvirein (hand-work pictures) 90 Davis, R. H. 11–12 Day of Judgement 190, 192 Day of Resurrection 84 decorative programmes and ritual locations 230 DeJong,F. 249 Dhahabi 36 Dhahabiyya Sufi order 22, 59, 60 D’Souza, D. 196 du’a (supplication) 192, 196, 210, 219 Du’a faraj 201, 211, 221, 225, 226 du´a kumayl 226, 230 du’a nodbeh 203 du´a tavassul 223–4 duplicated images 9–10 dynamical interpretation 13 effigy 51 ehdai (gift) 180 Ekhtiar, M. 29 elegies 6, 7, 94, 97, 99 see also nowheh (elegies) emotional engagement 156 equestrian portrait 125–6 eulogistic poetry 100

evil 83–4 ex-voto 179, 181, 182, 189, 198 facial types, of Imam Ali 39–42, 52, 54 Faegheh Shirazi 122, 204 Fahmida Suleman 50, 183 fata (youth) 47–8, 52 Fatemeh al-Zahra 3, 4, 33, 35, 43, 84, 106, 212, 215, 227, 235 Fatemeh Kharbarian 98 Fath Ali Shah 25, 26, 28, 51 al-Fatihah 231 Fatimids 50 favour and thanks giving, image for 190–7 fayz mibare 219 Ferdowsi 87 final interpretant 13 firdaws 222 Fish, S. 11 Fisher, M. 37, 57 focalization 78 Franklin, W. 251 Frembgen, J. W. 51, 250 futuwwa (chivalrous qualities) 48 Ghadir Khumm 27 Grabar, A. 237 Grabar, G. 249 green, in Islam 44–5, 53 habit 13–14, 96 Hadith 47, 54, 60, 102, 132, 155, 193, 210 hadyeh (gift) 180, 181, 222 hajj 205, 250 hal (mood) 219, 228 halo 42–4, 145, 234 hamd va tawhid 211 Hamid Dabashi 57 Hassan Salehi Rad 95 hay´at 1, 180, 181, 197, 231, 232, 233 Hay´at Mutahedeh Janesaran Abu al-Fazl 230, 233 hay´at’s dasteh 232 Haydar (Lion) 183 Hegland, M. E. 81 hejleh Qasem 209

Index Hermaleh 91, 95, 111, 138 Hillenbrand, R. 249 hilyah 29 Hindu religious images 11–12 Holly, M. A. 77 hukumat-e Islami 37 Husayn ibn Ali see Imam Husayn Ibn Ishaq 47 Ibn Sad 91 Ibn Ziyad 111 Ibrahim, Prophet 3, 193 iconic sign 14 iconography see individual entries Id al-Maba’ta 221 idolatry 192–4 image and text, relationship between 15 Imam Abu Jafar al-Baqir 145 Imam Ali 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 14, 16, 19, 27, 202, 203, 227 character in the face of 39–42 compassionate nature of 58–9 in contemporary portraiture 51–4 dress codes in portraits of 44–6 halo around portrait of 42–4 with lion in portrait 49–50, 53, 104 local receptions of, in imaginary portraiture 54–63 seating pose in the portrait of 50–1 in Shia memory 32–8 sword depiction in portrait of 46–50, 52, 53 visual narratives about 23, 24, 29–30 Imam al-Mahdi 3,35, 210, 221, 223 mowludi celebration of 225–7 see also twelfth Imam Imam Hassan 3, 33, 35, 79 Imam Husayn 1, 3, 4, 9, 27, 30, 33, 35, 43, 75, 132, 155, 207, 210 Battle of Karbala and 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84 Karbala narratives in posters 111, 112–14 martyrdom of 80, 94, 112–13, 115, 144, 145, 205 mowludi celebration of 223–5

295

parcham wall hanging and 91, 97, 101, 104–5, 107 in posters 119, 121, 122, 123, 127, 128, 130, 135, 136, 138, 139–49 prophecy about 224 visual Karbala narratives and 86, 87 Imam Reza 3, 92, 211, 236 Imams 33, 34, 35 in human salvation and judgement 36 light in Islam, and 43–4 see also individual Imams imamzadeh 230–1, 232, 235, 236, 250 of Shah Queys 189 Imam Zaman see Imam al-Mahdi Imam Zayn al-Abedin 221 immediate interpretant 13 Imperial Effigy 22, 63 indexical sign 14 inscriptions 48, 50, 94, 101, 104, 107, 118, 125, 206, 207 emotions and 154, 252 moral value of 102 intercession 35, 59, 64, 80, 82, 93, 107, 123, 132, 196, 219, 223–4 interpretive communities 11, 76 Iraq 27 Islamic Republican Party (IRP) 57 Jafar al-Sadeq 43 jahiliyya 37, 194 jalaseh 90, 218, 251 Jamshid Malekpour 86 jang (war) 56 janna 220 Javad Karmani 180 javanmard 48 Jensen, R. M. 122, 154 jihad 56, 57, 83 jinns 113 Johansen, J. D. 14 Kalinock, S. 228 Kamalkhani, Z. 191, 218 Karbala Battle of 79–84, 208–18 narratives in posters 111, 112–14 visual narratives 85–8

296

Index

Karbala (Cont’d) see also colour posters, Karbala narratives in; parcham wall hanging Karim Khan Zand 51 Keating, C. 41, 54 Khalid Sindawi 146, 147 Khariji 55, 56 Khatami, President 202 khatme Ali 62 Khatm-e An´am 105, 220 khirqa 45 Kriss-Rettenbeck, L. 177 Kufans 56 Læssøe, A. 28, 29 lamentation 85 Larsen, S. E. 14 Lewisohn, L. 36 libretto 95, 96, 100, 111, 119, 120, 128, 140 light, in Islamic iconography 43–4 lion-sun, in Iranian iconography 183 lithographed booklets, illustrated 23–4 Litten, W. 95 liturgy and images 199 Battle at Karbala and 208–18 mowludi celebration 223–9 mowludi, visual setting of 220–3 Muharram commemoration, visualization of 218–20 Muharram, visual setting of 200–8 see also ritual expressions maddah 6, 8, 56, 82, 83, 84, 103, 130, 131, 134, 137, 141, 150, 184, 195, 208–10, 211, 213, 216–17, 220, 223, 224, 225–6 Mafatih al-Jenan 205, 218, 223, 226, 231 Malik al-Ashtar al-Nakha’I 25 Ma´mun, Caliph 92–3 Mamun, Caliph 3 maqatil literature 146 maqtal literature 6–7 marasiyeh (elegies) 94 marathi 7 Mariam see Virgin Mary

Mariam al-Muqaddasah 235 martyrdom 1, 4, 93, 122, 125, 233 of al-Abbas 91, 95 of Ali Akbar 120–1 of Ali Asghar 134, 135, 137, 139 of Imam Husayn 80, 94, 112–13, 115, 144, 145, 205 of Imam Reza 92 of Qasem 215–16 poetry of 100 Marzolph, U. 23, 24 Mashhad 93, 181 Masjed Nasir al-Mulk 7 mazlumiyyat 80 mediation 2, 9, 54, 59, 107, 124, 178, 179, 181, 190, 219, 229 mediator 8, 36, 56, 59, 80, 132, 134, 198, 253 and votary, relationship between 180, 182, 184, 197 Mehdi Abedi 37, 57 menbar 149, 184, 188, 200, 202, 216, 221, 232 men-only celebrations 220–1, 232 Mian Zaqan 180 Mir Ahmad Ali, S. V. 34, 125, 202, 204 Mirza Husayn Khan 27 mohr namaz 195, 196 Mojan Momen 38, 80 mourning 1, 36, 81, 83, 92, 100, 102 107, 119, 139, 143, 184, 213, 217, 218, 219, 228, 235 see also Muharram mowludi 89, 199, 201, 208, 232, 233 celebration of 223–9, 236–7 visual setting of 220–3 mowludi-khani 220, 227 Mu´aviyyeh 33, 37, 45, 55, 57, 79 Muhammad, Prophet 3, 4, 24, 29, 32, 37, 47, 86, 104, 132, 146, 193, 203, 207–8, 223 Muhammad al-Baqir 43 Muhammad bin Ali al-Baqir 205 Muhammad Mudabber 121, 122 Muhammad Reza Shah 37 Muhammad Reza Sharifi 154 Muhammad Shah 25, 39, 183

Index Muharram 81, 83, 87, 91, 116, 180, 188 commemoration ceremony of 208–18 visualization and liturgy of commemoration of 218–20 visual setting of 200–8 Muhtasham Kashani 94 mujtahid 27 mullahs 187, 193 Muqatil 43 murals and tile-paintings 86, 87 Muslim ibn Aqil 79, 119 Nahj al-Balaghah (‘The Path of Eloquence’) 25, 33, 36, 50, 53, 55, 61 Naib al-Velaye 23 Napoleon III 27 narrative images 24 narrative paintings 85–6 Nasir, Caliph 48 Nasir al-Din Shah 21, 22, 23, 25, 51, 183 devotion to Imam Ali 28 imperial image of 26 relationship with Iranian Shia ulama 27 Nasir Khusraw 50 nazri (gift) 1, 177, 181, 220, 221, 230, 232, 253 nazr kardan (vow) 177, 178, 197 Neal, A. 250 neotonic facial types 40, 41 Nimatullahi 36 niyat 225 nowheh (elegies) 6, 7, 97, 100, 106, 137–8, 141, 150, 186, 211, 212, 213–14, 215, 217, 218, 228 nowruz 209 Nowruzi, Mrs. 207 Nurbakhshi 36 nur-Muhammadi 43, 52, 183 Order of Imam Ali 21, 63, 183 power of 25–8 Order of the Lion-and-Sun 183 Our Lady of Fátima 234, 235, 236, 237

297

Pahlavi Shahs 37 painter/artist 15–16 paintings see individual entries panjtan 202, 207 parcham wall hanging 89, 201, 202–3, 204–7, 231, 232, 233 Battle at Karbala 92–102 of Imam Husayn 91, 97, 101, 104–5, 107 Karbala 100–4 portraiture 104–6 visual setting of mowludi and 221–2 parcheh (dark cloth) 49 pardeh 85, 153 types of 86 pardeh-dari 3, 85, 87, 109 Paret, R. 193 Parker, A. 250 Peirce, C. S. 13, 14, 92, 199, 238 Pelly, L. 95, 111, 113 Peterson, S. 24, 85, 86, 96 physiognomics see facial types, of Imam Ali pilgrimage sites 181 Pinault, D. 90 Pope, A. U. 193 popular art 4–5 popular piety 82, 92 portraiture, iconography of 22–3 potential agency 53 prolepsis 76 prototypical model 21 iconographic designs, alternative 23–5 Karbala narrative painting 30 Order of Imam Ali, power of 25–8 religious devotion, popular 28–30 pseudo-portrait 9, 51, 61, 63, 147 qahveh-khane 87 Qajar Shahs 7, 21, 26, 30, 36, 51, 85, 183 Qaltegah 151 Qanbar 3 Qasem 3, 110 martyrdom of 215–16 Qum 194, 195

298

Index

Quran 34, 35, 43, 47, 50, 55, 60–1, 102, 105, 106, 128, 190–1, 192, 193, 223 on idolatry 192–4 Muharram commemoration ceremony and 208, 210–11 on poets 194–5 on truce 202 Ram, H. 37, 57 reader-response theory 11, 76 redemption 2, 84, 123, 124, 144, 154, 190, 205, 252 return-gift 181 reward 80, 119, 190, 205, 209 Rimmon-Kenan, S. 76 ritual expressions 7 and performance 184–9 see also liturgy and images rowzeh (stories about saints) 6, 7, 37, 81, 85, 100, 121, 122, 130, 137, 204, 211–12, 228 Ruqayyeh 177, 185, 186 sacrifice 4, 57, 80, 96, 119, 122, 123, 134, 139, 204, 212 self- 30, 47, 124 voluntary 117, 144 Sadeq Humayuni 49, 63 Safavid rule 24, 26, 181 sajjada-nishin (rug-sitter) 51 Sakineh 4, 96, 97, 98, 130, 136 salat 192, 196 salavat 202, 203, 208, 210, 211, 223, 232 Salman al-Parsi 3 salvation 36, 80, 81, 82, 83, 85, 113, 144, 211 sama´ 228 saqqa-khani 134 savab (meritorious work) 181 Sayyed al-Shuhada 80 Sayyed Mahmud Taleghani 81 Sayyid Jafar Kashfi 26 Sayyid Muhammad ibn Ali ibn Husayn 230, 231, 234 Sayyids 44 Schimmel, A. 35, 44 Schubel, V. J. 250

shabih 87, 90 Shah-Nameh 56, 87, 119, 120, 237 Shah Queys, imamzadeh of 189 Shiism 27, 50, 57, 59, 235, 250 Battle of Karbala and 79–84 iconographic and textual characteristics in Iranian 179–84 visual Karbala narratives and 85–8 see also individual entries Shimr 145, 151, 205 al-Shiqshiqiyyah 55 Shiraz 180, 194, 204, 217, 251 Shir-e Khoda (Lion of God) 183 shirk 192 Shiwa’I 182 Shoberl, F. 28 siah pushi 200, 219, 220, 253 sign 14 definition of 13 Sinding-Larsen 199, 200, 220 sineh aza sarpay 215, 216 sineh dowr 138, 186, 214 sineh dowr wahid 150 sineh ruye pa zadan 212 sineh-sarpay 138 sineh-zani 87, 233 Solso, R. L. 77 St Lambert of Liège 178 Stocchi, S. 48 story-event, narration of 76 storytelling 96, 97–8, 129, 153 agents in 15 see also individual entries Stowasser, B. F. 235 suffering 4, 7, 33, 96, 98, 100, 122, 136, 139, 147, 205, 209, 212, 235 patient 80, 83, 84 redemptive 190 Sufism 22, 35–6, 59, 60, 228 seated pose in 51 sufreh (votive meal) 133, 134, 177, 197, 201, 220, 253 sufreh haft sin 209 sufreh Umm al-Banin 202 Sunni Muslims 32 Sunnis 250

Index Syed Akbar Hyder 90 symbolic signs 14 Tabriz 251 takiyyeh 214, 250 tamathil (idols) 193 taqdimi (offering) 180, 181 tariqeh 195 Tashabbuh (imitation) 87 tavallud 225 tawhid 192, 194, 208, 218, 249 ta´ziyeh 7, 29, 30, 44, 49, 63, 75 79, 85, 86, 95, 96–7, 100, 111, 115, 117, 120, 155, 156, 177, 193, 214 Thaiss, G. 81 al-Tirmidhi 54, 60 touching, of images 196 transposition of iconography 234–8 twelfth Imam 26, 27, 35, 125, 201, 204, 225 see also al-Mahdi Twelver Shiism 191, 228, 234 Ubaydallah Ibn Ziyad 82 ulama 26, 27, 36, 37, 44–5, 57 Umar 4 Umar ibn al-Khattab 32 Umar Ibn Sa’ad 79, 114 Umayyad 37, 82 ummah 201 Umm al-Banin 130, 131, 203–4 Umm al-Mu´minin 91 Umm Layla 118, 121, 122, 136, 137, 212, 213, 218 Umm Salema 105 unconventional facial types 40, 41, 55, 64 Ustad Ali Reza 119 Uthman ibn Affan 32 valaya (spiritual guidance) 35 van der Velden, H. 178, 179, 190, 191 vaqf (endowment) 180, 181, 182 viewer-narrator 16, 76, 77, 78, 98–9, 102, 127, 142, 155, 156 Virgin Mary 234–5, 238 visualization, importance of 196–7

299

visual narratives 3, 6, 9, 14, 15, 76, 122 about Imam Ali 23, 24, 29–30 and interpretive strategies 76–8, 154 votive complex 179 votive gift, image as favour and thanks giving, image for 190–7 iconographic and textual characteristics in Iranian Shiism 179–84 and ritual performance 184–9 transactional dramaturgy 177–9 vow and gift, relationship between 189–91 Wahid al-Awliya 22 weeping 81, 83 see also mourning Wills, C. 30 Wilson, S. 29, 251 Wirth, Andrzej 96 women-only celebrations 220 Yazid, Caliph 30, 79, 80, 82, 124, 135, 142, 144, 152, 153, 185, 186 Yousuf, N. L. 49 zakat 190 Zakir 114 zanjirzani 233 Zayd Ibn Ruqad 110 Zaynab 4, 33, 96, 110, 114–15, 118, 128, 129, 140, 142, 150, 151, 210, 212 zaynabiyyeh 101, 138, 199, 200, 201, 202, 208, 214, 216, 217, 219, 221, 223, 228, 229 Zayn al-Abedin 35, 80, 91, 115, 129, 130, 150 ziyarat 181, 205, 210, 250, 253 ziyarat ashura 205, 206, 211 ziyarat nameh 201 ziyarat wareth 231 Zu al-Feqar 46, 47, 48, 49, 53 Zu al-Jenah 90, 92, 112, 135, 140, 143, 144, 149, 150 zur-khaneh 48, 61