My Friend, Sami Moubayed, has asked me to write for his magazine, Forward, about my life interest in Art and how I became an ardent promoter of Syrian art. Here is what I wrote in Forward:
In the stiflingly hot afternoons of Damascene summers, when the TV broadcast would not start before early evenings, the only choice I had for spending my time while my parents were having their siesta was to lie on the sitting-room sofa and read novels from my dad’s library. The books were mainly abridged world literature from the Egyptian monthly series kitabee that was edited by Hilmi Murad. At that very young age, I used to consider Murad as one of the greatest scholars in the world.
In that same sitting room, a few paintings hung. Their small size and unassuming position notwithstanding, they have created a lasting impact on me that led to a lifelong of curiosity and interest. One of them, my mother’s portrait, was painted by a famous portraitist from Aleppo, Rollan Khouri; the second, a still life, was painted by my father himself, a skilled painter – but of no exceptional talent; and the third by a French architect who lived, worked and taught in Aleppo -a certain monsieur Kaplan who, I am ashamed to admit, I have completely forgotten his first name.
(my father, Zuheir Moustapha, reading in front of one of his paintings, 1967)
Whereas the first two paintings were straightforwardly beautiful and easy to appreciate by an adolescent in his early teens, the Kaplan painting disturbed me. While it was not difficult for me to apprehend that he was depicting a building and people in front of it, I was nonplussed by the total lack of accuracy or clarity. I thought he was an awful painter. When I would ask my dad why was this painting hanging on our wall, he would patiently explain to me that this was a cubic painting. Objects are not illustrated as they are seen or perceived, but analyzed and reconstructed. I would nod my head feigning apprehension, but deep inside I was not convinced that Kaplan was a good artist.
Yet, while reading one novel after another, my eyes would roam and my sight would settle on this perplexing painting. I still did not like it, but I would catch myself gazing at it - actually spending more time wondering about cubism and what seemed to me as a twisted artistic representation of life. Little did I know then that this cubist painting has implanted deep in my tabula rasa an appreciation for what is different and complex in art.
Years later, I became a student at Ibn-Khaldoun’s secondary school in Damascus. Al-Sha’ab gallery, the only art gallery in Damascus then was only a couple of blocks away. After school hours I would head there and spend time perusing the works of prominent Syrian masters: Fateh Moudaress, Louay Kayali, Nassir Shura and many others. By the time I became a student at the University of Damascus, my interest in Syrian art had become part and parcel of my inner world. I was doing this in an unassuming manner. It was simply integrated in my subconscious, with very little actual understanding of why certain works were considered great works of art while others were merely ersatz European schools of painting.
(my mother, Aida Kayali, as portrayed by Louay Kayali in 1953)
Then, in the late seventies, the Syrian Ministry of culture started publishing a new periodical, al-Hayat al-Tashkeeliya, edited by Tarek al-Shareef. Despite its bad paper quality and horrendous color reproductions, I found it to be educational and informative. It was mainly thanks to this splendidly written, terribly produced art magazine that I started for the first time in my life to fathom the mysteries of the world of art and to learn the lingo that used to discombobulate me heretofore. Yet at that green age, art was not my passion. It was music. In those years I would spend hours after hours listening to the major works of the classical Western repertoire, and voraciously read whatever articles and books I could lay my hands on, in an attempt to unravel the fascinating complexity of the musical realm. Art came second. In fact, my writings on music were my first published works – mainly in the culture section of al-Thawra daily. My first book, The Echoes of Orpheus, which was published by Dar Tlass in 1982 was about four great composers.
However, in the summer of 1980, I managed to fulfill one of my youth dreams. Saving money obtained through odd jobs here and there for a long time, and with an additional small subsidy by my parents, I undertook my first journey as a young adult abroad heading to London to spend a whole month there, alone, and with very little money. There, I realized that indulging my first passion, music, was very expensive for my scanty means; however, art was available to enjoy for free. Thus, I spent my time between the National Gallery and the Tate. I would go there almost daily, sometimes spending a couple of hours, often to visit one single hall, sitting opposite one painting, reading the notes offered on a panel next to the painting then leave, only to come back the following day. The internet had not been invented yet. Information was difficult to obtain, and for a young university student from Damascus, buying expensive art catalogues was beyond my means. So I took my notebook and pen and started writing meticulous descriptions of every painting I liked. I would describe its theme, the colors used, and the impact it created on me. I would also add some data and information about the work taken from the museum’s panels. I still have these two notebooks full with my artistic explorations of the London art galleries. They were neither intended for publication nor to be read by anyone else. Just notes to help me remember what I saw and enjoyed. Yet they constituted my first attempt at writing about art .
Later in 1986, I went to Paris to follow a training course in computer aided design. Since my program consisted mainly of hands-on training from 9 to 5 at a computer company with no courses or after-hours study requirements, it left me ample time to explore the treasures of the art capital of the world.
When I became the Secretary General of the Arab School of Science and Technology in 1998, I had my first chance to move on from my private interest in art to a more serious attempt at promoting the interest in art on the public scene. Having for the first time a budget to spend on public relations, I ordered 25 large posters of reproductions of some major works by prominent Syrian artists, framed them, and distributed them among the buildings and corridors of the Higher Institute of Applied Sciences and Technology where the Arab School had its headquarters. With these large posters, and the frequent performances by the National Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Solhi al-Wadi at the Institute, this purely technical institute acquired a distinctive aura as a venue for high culture and serious art.
On becoming the envoy of Syria to the United States, I was aware from the very beginning that cultural diplomacy is an essential component of an effective and successful campaign of public diplomacy. Syrian cinema, music and art would serve as ambassadors presenting the finest that Syria has to offer to the American people.
My wife, Rafif, and I started by transforming both the embassy’s chancery and the residence into a show venue for the superb collection of outstanding Syrian works of art. Originally, I had a small, but magnificent, number of paintings to start with. They were all brought to the embassy in 1975 by my predecessor and refined intellectual, Ambassador Sabah Kabbani. Then I managed to add a larger collection of paintings that were sent to the embassy from the Ministry of Culture. Today, whenever guests visit the chancery or the residence they never fail to notice and comment on the resplendent examples of what they deem world class art.
Our next step was to help in organizing two different exhibitions for Syrian artists living and working in the United States. The success of these two small events convinced us that the American scene was ripe for a major Syrian art retrospective. Naturally, we realized that such an ambitious undertaking would need the combined efforts of the embassy and the Syrian expatriate community. We decided from the outset that this event should be en par with the very best of what the world of art was offering in America. We decided to go for one of the most prestigious art venues in Washington, The Katzen Center at The American University. We printed a high quality booklet to accompany the exhibition, threw a major reception with a musical performance at the opening night, and invited art critics and the art loving-community of Washington to this major event. But most importantly, we were keen to exhibit the best works of Syrian artists. There was no room for compromise or patronizing attitudes.
Eventually, “Art from Syria: A journey through Half a century of Creativity” was not only a huge artistic success that introduced a very sophisticated face of Syria to the American public, but also a major exercise in collaboration between the Embassy and the Syrian community across the United States. Families removed their most esteemed paintings from the walls of their living rooms, packaged, insured and sent them to the Embassy in Washington. For years their treasured works of art were only on display for the few, now they were exhibited to the many. Moreover, they truly felt that the exhibition was theirs.
From that point forward, those in the community who were not initially interested in Syrian art started to show interest in this beautiful and effective means of cultural representation of their country of descent. Gradually, Rafif and I found ourselves becoming artistic advisors to those who have no previous experience in collecting Syrian art. Before leaving for a visit to Syria, they would call and ask us for advice on what to purchase? Who is hot? What sort of a price they should pay? And where to find works of this or that artist? A rather strange task for an Ambassador, but equally pleasant as well.
During those years of visiting art galleries and museums, reading about art, and discussing art with my friends, I moved from a mere observer and absorber into a more active participator. I started writing and publishing art comments and reviews. This included articles published in al-Hayat al-Tashkeelyia, and commentaries published as introductions in some artist’s catalogues.
When Rafif worked with the ladies from BASMA, a Syrian charity for children with cancer, to raise money for these unfortunate children, she organized a grand benefit Gala and, as expected, the Syrian community from across America participated in this philanthropic endeavor. We thought that funds would be primarily raised through purchase of tickets and other donations; however, two major art galleries from Syria, Ayyam and Art House, heard of what Rafif was doing, and contacted her offering paintings to be sold at an auction and use revenues to support the project. Thus, the grand Gala became another major artistic event. And Syrian art served this time not only as a cultural ambassador, but also as a catalyst for community work and charity.
Meanwhile, throughout the past three years, I have collected and posted hundreds of examples of Syrian art on the internet. Site statistics indicate an average of 3100 visitors per month to my personal site, mostly Americans. To the unaware visitor, the quality and beauty of these artworks come as an absolute surprise. I presume that the only reason my site continues to attract returning visitors is their insatiable desire to look at more examples of Syrian art that I post regularly. Thus, while my original intention was to use my site to promote Syrian art, the opposite happened, and Syrian art actually promoted and sustained my site. After all, who said that interest in art was not rewarding?
