How do we refine ourselves as we stand in the fire?
Right now, the weight of the world feels especially heavy. The fight for justice—against racism, sexism, classism—feels like an unending battle, and for many, the longing for freedom is as deep as it has ever been. In times like these, art has the power to express that longing, to turn pain into something meaningful, to remind us that struggle itself is part of the path. This isn't new. Throughout history, artists, poets, and mystics have tried for centuries to capture Ishq—the all-consuming love that pulls the soul toward the Divine. Unlike earthly love, which seeks presence and fulfillment, Ishq thrives in longing (firaq). It refines through fire, elevates through yearning, and reveals truth through sorrow. This divine love has shaped artistic traditions, often showing isolated figures in deep contemplation, lost in their longing for the Beloved.
Sufism, the mystical dimension of Islam, sees love as the ultimate path to unity with God. Poets like Rumi, Attar, and Hafiz wrote about love’s consuming intensity, linking human passion with the soul’s separation from its Source. Their work influenced visual art, where symbols, figures, and compositions tried to express the inexpressible (Schimmel, 1975).
In 12th–16th century Persian miniatures, Ishq often appears through the story of Layla and Majnun—a metaphor for the lover’s longing for God. Majnun, driven mad by love, is often painted wandering alone in the wilderness, ragged and lost in thought. The barren landscape around him, the unreachable world of Layla in the background—these images speak to the deep ache of separation that fuels the mystic’s journey (Grabar & Blair, 1992).
Mughal-era illuminated manuscripts and frescoes explored divine love through Sufi saints, often depicted in deep contemplation, glowing with divine light (noor). In Ottoman art, whirling dervishes of the Mevlevi Sufi order became symbols of Ishq. The spinning movement of their robes captures the soul’s ecstatic surrender, the dissolving of the ego in the presence of the Divine (Lewis, 2000).
Art centered on Ishq often plays with light and shadow, presence and absence. Many Persian and Indian artists painted solitary figures bathed in moonlight, symbolizing divine guidance amid separation.
The rose and the nightingale: The nightingale sings for the rose but can never possess it—just as the lover seeks God but remains apart.
Candles, fire, and stars: Common motifs that symbolize both the consuming pain of love and the guiding light of divine presence (Nasr, 1987).
By the 18th–19th centuries, Ishq took on a more romanticized look in Qajar art, showing melancholic lovers staring into the distance, lost in thought. In South Asia, devotional paintings depicted Sufi saints and poets absorbed in divine communion, eyes lifted toward the heavens, serving as bridges between the human and the divine (Eaton, 1993).
In the 20th and 21st centuries, Ishq continues to shape art across different mediums:
Calligraphy and Abstract Art: Islamic calligraphers turn divine names and poetry into fluid, rhythmic compositions that reflect love’s movement (Safadi, 1978).
Cinema and Photography: Filmmakers and photographers use solitary figures, barren landscapes, and intimate close-ups to evoke spiritual longing (Dabashi, 2007).
Mystical Realism in Painting: Artists like Sadequain (Pakistan) and modern Iranian painters use surrealism and symbolism to reinterpret Ishq in new ways (Ali, 2011).
The themes of Ishq—longing, struggle, and transformation—connect deeply to modern fights for freedom from racism, sexism, and classism in America and beyond. Just like the mystic seeks divine union, marginalized communities long for justice, dignity, and equality. The isolation of the oppressed mirrors Majnun’s wandering in the desert, where systemic injustice isolates individuals and communities, making freedom seem distant. Ishq does not allow stagnation—it forces change through longing and pain. The fight for justice demands endurance, passion, and a relentless pursuit of truth (Freire, 1970).
Just as Sufi poetry and art have channeled divine longing, modern artists use their work to express the deep ache of inequality and the demand for change. Protest murals, resistance poetry, and socially conscious films all echo Ishq, transforming love into a revolutionary force.
Just as the mystic’s longing fuels their journey, an artist’s solitude fuels their work. The best art, like the deepest love, often emerges from struggle. Candles, nightingales, distant lovers—these images aren’t just history; they are timeless tools for telling stories of longing, loss, and transformation.
References:
Schimmel, Annemarie. Mystical Dimensions of Islam. 1975.
Grabar, Oleg & Sheila Blair. Islamic Art and Architecture: 650-1250. 1992.
Lewis, Franklin. Rumi: Past and Present, East and West. 2000.
Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. Islamic Art and Spirituality. 1987.
Eaton, Richard Maxwell. Sufis of Bijapur, 1300-1700. 1993.
Safadi, Yasin Hamid. Islamic Calligraphy. 1978.
Dabashi, Hamid. Masters & Masterpieces of Iranian Cinema. 2007.
Ali, Wijdan. Modern Islamic Art: Development and Continuity. 2011.
hooks, bell. Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. 1994.
Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. 1970.
