Art and Politics II

     Of course, not all artists from the Middle East paint about politics.  At least, not directly.  With the exception of those I described in my previous post, most of the artists I met in Jordan did not seem, on the surface, to be obviously engaged with political issues  – either in the content of their work or in their social lives.  A recent gallery opening I attended featured multiple artists with as many as 100 different works on display – and not a hint of “politics” to be seen anywhere, at least initially.

Works by Issam Tantawi (top), Ghassan Abu Laban (bottom right), and Mohammad Al Ameri (bottom left), on display at the Nov. 2011 of the Nov. 2011 opening of the new location of the Orient Gallery 

 

 

 

 

 

However, this impression of art as an “apolitical” realm usually disappeared as soon as I asked a question about an artist’s biography.  Countless times I heard answers like “He studied in Baghdad…before the war,” “My family is Palestinian, you know, but we had to leave there in the sixties…” or “I just came here from Syria, because the military wanted to conscript me after I finished my university degree…”.  It quickly became clear that the influence of nearly every major political shift and conflict in the Middle East can be felt in some way in the Jordanian art community.  Whether or not artists choose to incorporate such themes into their work, political shifts and conflicts often play major roles in why many artists are in Jordan in the first place, as well as the development of their artistic educations and careers.

Iraqi artist Mahdi Alasadi, from the exhibit “Baghdad Nights” by the Darbounah Gallery at Beit Shocair

     For example, one of the most active sectors of the art community in Jordan now is that of Iraqi artists.  Iraqi artists began coming to Amman in the midst of the first Persian Gulf war, when many Iraqis relocated to their more stable, but less artistically sophisticated, neighbor.  This influx of well-trained artists and teachers from the University of Baghdad invigorated the university art programs at two of the major schools, Yarmouk University and the University of Jordan.   The second Persian Gulf war brought a second wave of both artists as well as new Iraqi art patrons, and it is quite common to see exhibits and galleries that focus specifically on Iraqi artists.  I visited several exhibits of this nature, at venues including the Darbounah Gallery and the Jordanian Plastic Artists’ Association.

Iraqi artist Nada Younis, from an Nov 2011 exhibit of Iraqi artists at the Jordanian Plastic Artists’ Association

Artists from Syria have also been quite influential in Jordan, especially because Damascus, historically a major cultural center, is still only a bus ride away from Amman. Larger Syrian galleries such as Ayyam have given artists based in Jordan more options for displaying their work and meeting other artists and possible patrons.  It is therefore quite significant for artists and art dealers when there is conflict or issues with crossing the Syrian border, as there has been in recent months.

Work by Syrian artist and architect Omar Al-Akhras

Escalating conflict in Syria is also starting to result in the first artistic “refugees” to Jordan, such as Omar Al-Akhras, a graduate of the faculty of architecture at the University of Damascus and native of the conflict-torn city of Homs.  Syria’s uncertain future and the immediate danger of forced military conscription both brought Omar to Amman, where he is seeking work as an architect and continuing to paint.

     Artists fleeing conflict in Iraq and Syria are only two examples of the political change and conflict which is an inescapable part of life in Jordan.  It is quite remarkable that so many artists have not only survived such turmoil but found ways to keep working as artists and foster new growth in the Jordanian art community where they have found themselves.

Work by Omar Al Akhras

Art and Politics I

It’s hard to come to the Middle East and not eventually have a conversation about politics.  “So, you want to know about the Arab Spring?” was a question that often followed when I was introduced as an American conducting research in the region.  And, in some instances, the influence of political events on art is quite obvious – the first exhibit opening which I attended in September at Amman’s Zara Gallery included several pieces almost in the style of political cartoons, such as large canvases of Gaddafi with bombs reflected in his sunglasses or young freedom fighters making the peace sign.  For me, such works raised the question of the relationship of political symbolism with art.

 Image by Ahmad Sabbagh, exhibition at Zara Gallery

    Political symbolism is highly visible in daily life here—whether in the portraits of the king of Jordan in public spaces and buildings, the frequent incorporation of the red, white, green, and black colors used in both the Jordanian and the Palestinian flags, or the black and white keffiyeh scarf often associated with Yasser Arafat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Typical poster image of King Abdullah II of Jordan; Ramallah street scene replete with political posters and flags (photo by author)

In the modern era, this is nothing new — countries and political movements world-wide use various colors, symbols, and the “face of the leader” to visually make political claims or enforce political norms.  Once symbols such as a national flag have gained real power to make political statements, however, how should an artist, who is also concerned with visual communication, interact with them?

In some cases, images which are already highly symbolic may be incorporated into a work with little further interpretation on the part of the artist, as in many paintings I have seen related to Palestine.   Even the simple image of the geographic shape of the Gaza Strip is enough to heavily invest a work such as that of Syrian artist Ammar Al Beik with a pretty specific political message despite the almost abstract style of simple shape and color.

   Ammar Al Beik, “Gaza Fist” 

     However, one of the difficulties of incorporating political symbolism into any artwork is its tendency to monopolize meaning.  For many audiences, for example, the use of red, white, and blue always references the U.S.A., no matter where you see this color combination. This monopolistic quality, of course, is what makes such symbolism so valuable as a communication tool for political groups in the first place – it quickly conveys a clear and specific message.   For artists, however, this can be problematic – one glance, and the viewer may think she knows immediately what an work is “about” and pay little attention to its other elements:   “This painting is clearly pro-Palestinian…clearly anti-war…clearly part of the youth movement…etc.”

A few artists from the region have questioned the ubiquity and seeming clarity of such political symbolism itself, as in a recent series of works by Syrian artist Oussama Diab, which raises a multitude of questions about what both the political objects and the art “means”.   What does it mean when the Mona Lisa, an image which itself is a symbol of Renaissance art and “Western civilization” at its apex, is surrounded by and even wearing symbols of resistance, violence, and political struggle in the Middle East?

   Oussama Diab, Mona Lisa series (2009)

    Several artists I spoke to distanced themselves from political symbolism completely, and were often frustrated when their audiences seemed to expect to see political elements in their work – why should an Arab artist , one person asked, “have” to make a painting about Palestine?   Or, one could ask now, about the Arab Spring?  As I was to find out, however, this question of symbolism and political referencing in art is only one aspect of the art/politics equation…

Art, Text and Meaning: Farouk Lambaz

     One of the first artists I met as I began to explore the art galleries of Amman was Farouk Lambaz.  His work has been displayed in a number of locales, both in Jordan and internationally, and he is also an art teacher working out of the Nabad Gallery.  Mr. Lambaz shared with me about the development of his own technique and his views regarding the purpose of artistic expression.  For me, his work raised many interesting questions about the relationship of art, text, and meaning.

Image courtesy of Farouk Lambaz

     While he has significant experience in areas like figure and landscape painting, Mr. Lambaz’s recent work focuses on the incorporation of Arabic calligraphy into painting (although he is careful to point out that he is a painter, not a calligrapher, by trade).    His compositions are striking for their vivid color and dimension, achieved through Mr. Lambaz’s own technique of paper layering so that the Arabic lettering actually stands out slightly from the background rather than laying flat.   His works are usually based upon one calligraphic figure that is repeated, layered, and arranged along various design schemes that seem to stretch infinitely into the distance.  Lambaz’s compositions draw attention to the beauty and drama of the Arabic script itself with its curves, dots, and balanced proportions.  His favorite textual figures include phrases from the Qur’an or traditional “wisdom” sayings, and sometimes only one word such as “peace” (salaam) or “earth” (ard).

Image courtesy of Farouk Lambaz

     His style, however, also means that it doesn’t always matter exactly what the text says, as it can become indecipherable in the midst of all the layering, as Mr. Lambaz himself pointed out.  However, he believes that this still serves the purpose of both art and Arabic calligraphy, which is to teach people to recognize the good and beautiful, not just the strictly “religious.”  He has found that this technique also helps to make his work accessible even to those who cannot read Arabic or do not hold the Qur’an as their primary religious text.   This was, in fact, my experience in seeing his work – I was able to pick out and understand the Arabic text with a little effort, but it was not the meaning of the words that grabbed me as much as the color and design of the compositions, much like an abstract painting.

Image courtesy of Farouk Lambaz

     The somewhat complicated relationship between “text” and “art” in Mr. Lambaz’s work raises a question essential to the visual history of the Middle East.  What happens when the purpose of a written text is no longer solely that of transmitting a particular meaning such as “cat” or “peace” or “God”?  By nature, most text is not clearly “figurative” – i.e., a written word does not clearly look like the person, object, idea, etc, which it represents.   If you can’t read the script, or perhaps can’t decipher it in the midst of a complex design, do you miss some of the “meaning” of the artistic work?  Or does the precise “meaning” of the text fade in significance, as Mr. Lambaz suggests, in view of the general beauty of the script itself and its unique arrangement in these compositions?  Can a written text, which is usually understandable only to those who read that particular language, still communicate to those who don’t?

     These questions, and the memorable experience of viewing Mr. Lambaz’s works, have stayed with me as I have continued to investigate art in Jordan.   It would not be the last time that such issues, which stand at the intersection of art, religion, and history, were raised during my time here.

Why Middle East Art?

Some interesting facts:  did you know that the old pattern of royal patrons of the arts is alive and well in many areas of the Middle East, where princesses and sultans are now among the most important governmental supporters of art, builders of museums and galleries, and are sometimes even artists themselves?  That movements of people in the Middle East due to political conflict or instability have been reflected in the arts, as when the displacement of large numbers of Iraqis to Jordan following the first Gulf war also brought many established artists and university professors from Baghdad who began to drive forward Jordan’s own art scene?  Or that, in much of the Middle East, the line between “craft” and “art” remains comfortably blurred, and artisans often blend their training in classical techniques of calligraphy, textiles, and ceramics with contemporary taste, product design, and advertising on Facebook?    The purpose of this blog is to share these stories and more which I have discovered as I have met artists, gallery owners, students, and teachers of the arts, and visited galleries, workshops, museums, and even tourist shops in search of Middle East “contemporary art.”

Image: Kamel Abuhalaweh

     Like a lot of people, my only contact with art and architecture from the Middle East until quite recently was from a great distance of both time and space.  As a child, I remember well the first time I saw ancient Egyptian sculptures and hierglyphics at the local art museum and saw “Indiana Jones”-type Arabian adventure movies featuring backdrops of domes, minarets, and Ottoman palaces. Even my first actual trip to the Middle East back in 2006 focused on visiting ancient sites, museums stuffed with artifacts, and workshops reproducing ancient technology like papyrus parchment.  For me, the “art” of the Middle East, while amazing, was hundreds and even thousands of years old, created by people whose names have been long forgotten and who were separated from me by spans of time that are hard to comprehend.

     As I continued to pursue study of this area, particularly in graduate school, academic wisdom often seemed to confirm this sense.  When researching a topic such as “Islamic art,” for example, I found an abundance of material related to calligraphy, ceramics, and architectures from various empires dominating the Middle East region between 600 and 1800 AD.  But I rarely came across discussions of anything more recent than the Ottoman empire, and almost nothing from the “modern” period of art beginning around the start of the twentieth century.  This tendency to equate the “culture” of the contemporary Middle East with the symbols and artifacts of its famous ancient empires usually implied that little to nothing had been created of note in recent times from the area.

Image: Wijdan Ali, Jordan National Gallery of Fine Arts

     After more in-depth research, however, I began to learn about a whole world of contemporary art and artists in the Middle East that simply does not get much attention outside of the region.  With the help of generous funding from the Council of American Overseas Research Centers, I have been able to return to the Middle East this fall specifically to investigate the arts scene of the region in person.  During these months, I have found a great deal that is surprising, delightful, and challenging for my own understanding of “art,” its purpose in the world, and the complicated web of relationships which exists among those who create, purchase, and market art both within the region and across international borders.

As I have spent this fall primarily in Amman, my posts will begin by focusing on Jordan, but also incorporate research and experiences I have had in Syria, Egypt, Israel/Palestine, Turkey, and hopefully more countries in the region as I continue my research into the spring.  My hope is that I can not only share what I found, but also gather multiple online resources together into one place for those others who are interested in learning more about this fascinating subject.