Karl Ohiri and Sayed Sattar Hasan

My Granddad's Car

(first published on Africanah on 7 May 2017)

The longing for completing a familiar tradition that carries notions of migration and movement across countries made Karl Ohiri and Sayed Sattar Hasan set out their long-term project My Granddad's Car. 

The two-phase project began in 2011, when Sayed and Karl resolved to bring to the UK their grandfathers' cars and park them side-by-side. They aimed to explore their own families’ backgrounds and identities, alongside opening a space for reflecting on the dynamism of the British identity nowadays. However, a combination of corruption, bureaucracy and lack of information, frustrated their quest. A shift in circumstances in 2016 inspired the artists to reinvent the project, and this time, the cars were transformed from vehicles and scrap to to artworks and relics.

On the days running up to exhibiting ‘My Granddad's Car’ at the Alchemy Festival in London, I meet Karl and Sayed to converse about notions of migration, cultural heritage, cultural intersections, art, and cars. 

Raquel: What were the physical but most importantly the emotional challenges you faced over the course of the project?

Sayed: A great extent of the physical challenges revolved around how to move the cars from Pakistan and Nigeria, to England. Both cars were unusable and there was a lot of pushing, lifting and deconstructing throughout the project. We also had to document our trips, which often involved taking photographs and shooting video while we were negotiating live situations. To try and capture the essence of experience while being in the frame was challenging. We didn’t have any extra technical help so creating a coherent visual narrative while negotiating the project was tricky.

One of the biggest emotional challenges was dealing with the sense of failure and uncertainty after our initial attempt to bring the cars’ to the UK. It was a shame that we had gone to such lengths only for the project to remain unresolved.

For myself, emotional and creative challenges overlapped, I realised that even if the car had made it to England it would be an inconvenience. That’s why I decided to take a ‘part’ of the car and let the rest go, when we embarked on part two. This echoed the simple maxim ‘things change’. It was a psychologically liberating decision. I could take something with me, while letting go of aspects of my heritage that were incongruous to my present life.

Melting parts of our cars together in a Sheffield Steel foundry, and the joint sculpture we created from the process, made all of the physical and emotional challenges we faces completely worthwhile. 

Karl: I think My Granddad’s car posed a lot of physical and emotional challenges for the both of us. The physical aspect came when trying to attempt to transport the cars to locations. Although the conditions of our cars were very different from one another (mine being the shell of a Volkswagen beetle and Sayed’s a bulky old Toyota Corolla) they both were physically awkward objects to move and ended up shaping how we chose to resolve the project, by freeing ourselves from the heavy material matter and looking into different ways the car could be symbolised. 

The emotional challenges were equally as difficult and started for me early on when I started to introduce the idea to my family in Nigeria. Nobody could understand why I wanted to take my grandfather’s rusty old car back to London. Many struggled to see the historical value or artistic expression of what we were trying to achieve. It was a difficult state to be in, because as artists, you often doubt yourself and your ideas, so when the project became a source of ridicule for many in the village it was very hard to deal with at times. 

When it came to shipping the car back to the UK I was told I could not ship it. Although I had all the necessary paper work for clearance, the port controller said that the exportation of scrap metal was contraband and demanded I pay him £2,000 to sign the release papers. I declined his offer so the car was held at ransom and impounded at Onne port in 2011. I had to leave Nigeria having failed in my objective of transporting the car back to the UK. I had to ask myself a lot of questions – Is this the end of the project? I wonder what will happen to the car now.

The car stayed in the port for years forcing me to call the port officer and ask if the car was still there. He would reply ‘yes’ before promptly asking me if I was ready to make a payment. Years went by and with each one I felt more and more guilty knowing that my grandfather’s car was left vulnerable at the port. In 2016, whilst visiting family in Nigeria I decided randomly to call the port. The news they told me was bittersweet: the port controller had died that year. I decided to travel back to the port and plead with the new controller hoping that he would sympathise with my situation. Against all odds, the car was still there at the port, and after lengthy talks and persuasion he decided to release the car. I returned it to the village delighted in the knowledge that my granddad’s car would finally have a sequel.

R: For what I can remember from the videos when I watched them in the exhibition held at Stephen Lawrence Gallery, it seems to me that Karl's video-piece focuses in documenting the deconstruction process of his granddad's car and rebirth into something else –art; somehow, a celebration of renewal. Yet, Sayed's video-work is, in a way more intimate; it alludes to Islamic rituals of death and mourning processes and remembrance of someone. How did you conceptualize the short-films? How has it been to collaborate in developing a project, which is highly intimate to each of you?

S: When Karl and I travelled to Pakistan, my aim was to take a piece of the car and say farewell to the rest. It was important for Karl to join me, as it gave greater meaning to the experience. I thought to myself, ‘I would be content, if I could capture, on camera, a degree of this process in a sincere way’.

I’m drawn to the usage and aesthetic of ritual in Islamic and South-Asian culture. I created an unorthodox ritual that used motifs from varying forms of ceremony. My family in Pakistan knew I was doing something unusual, but it was also recognisable to them. I wanted to deal with the ‘letting go’ of the car in a manner respectful to the spirit of my grandfather, yet also in a non-conformist way.

In terms of our collaboration, our approach has been to listen to and support each other. It’s about figuring out what works best for us as individuals and a team. We talk a lot, so we’re not afraid to bounce ideas and get a sense of what feels right. We’re more like family than friends, so sharing such an intimate experience seemed natural to us. 

K: The videos were conceptualised to what we artistically thought would work with the footage that we managed to capture in our respective countries. When I got to the editing table first time round I thought I would take a documentary approach as I had loads of small clips that documented a very intimate side of the journey - from me and Sayed eating together, to Sayed meeting all of my family. I even have some rare footage of Sayed dancing Naija-style in a local bar. However it was really hard to edit all of the fragmented moments together and still have a clear narrative. So I decided to focus on the making of ‘What Remains – 2016’ a sculptural artwork made out of the fragments of my Grandfather’s car. I decided to concentrate on the making of the sculpture knowing that the sculpture would be exhibited. I wanted to create a video that would convey a sense of time and the struggle of its creation to the audience. 

The collaboration process within a project that was so intimate was not difficult for us as we are very close friends. I think that as artists and friends what attracts us to each other is a level of sensitivity mixed with a genuine desire to explore other cultures. A project like this could only work with such attributes.

R: Whereas Karl includes in all his photographs the human figure, either himself or both of you, the most of Sayed’s photographs display objects. Can you explain what were your interests when approaching the project?

S: I was interested in showing a sense of historical time in my photographic works and saw myself as a passenger. The landscapes and objects tell stories of their own, they allude to human presence, yet no single individual dominates.

K: My approach towards the photography was really set out in part one. In part one I did some documentary shots and some portraits. I really liked how the portraits turned out so I knew I was going to concentrate more on making portraits. Applying an approach that incorporates more stage portraiture allowed me to stop time and express a moment without the pressure of capturing it in real time. 

I wanted to capture images that I could look back on and smile at and remember the memories from the project. I think this is achieved in images like ‘Centrepiece’ where a really special moment is captured. A moment that I never thought I would see Sayed and myself eating native Nigerian soup on my Grandfather’s land on Sayed’s birthday, while my Grandfather’s car becomes a centrepiece we talk about over dinner.

R: There is this recurring piece of cloth that can be seen throughout the project, particularly in Karl’s photographs. What's the meaning/importance of it?

S: Fabric has been a central motif of the project; both of us are drawn to fabric and use them for different reasons. Covering the car removed the brand identity of the car and allowed it be regarded as something more individual. Bodies are covered in cloth for many reasons from fashion to Islamic burial rituals, using my grandfather’s favourite, silk, fabric to dress the car, was a way of giving the object a sense of importance.

K: The piece of fabric I feature in the project is a native piece of fabric my mother gave to me to use for the first part of the project in 2011. I told my mother that I wanted to wrap her father’s car as a mark of respect and she gave me fabric to do so with. Like me, she never got the chance to say goodbye to my grandfather.

I used the fabric to create the portrait ‘Patchwork – 2011’ an image which was about symbolic fragments of the past being intertwined together thus creating a bond between generations. In 2012 my mother passed away due to cancer as a tribute I decided to take the fabric back to Nigeria and reuse it represent her presence throughout the project drawing strength from it and creating new memories and narratives that merge the past with the present.