Saree is proving himself to be a match to our little tsunami Sidra. He was only five months old when he started, to our total amazement, crawling.
Not content at merely crawling, the little devil is desperately attempting to stand up. He has not managed yet, but he is very earnest on it.
Sidra, was so impressed by her brother’s accomplishments that she reverted to crawling alongside him.
Some of my favourite works by distinguished artists from Syria.
Despite the time, effort and resources I have invested throughout the years attempting to correlate the art scene in Syria with the global trends of the world art market, I have not yet succeeded in finding a convincing answer to the following fundamental question: why have the aesthetics in our region (the so called Middle East) remained firmly rooted in what may be considered a universal human pathos (pleasing, soothing, intoxicating, disturbing or shocking as they may be), while those of the West have moved to the realm of the idiosyncratic and singular? Why are legendary sums of money being paid right now in the West for art that I might never consider purchasing (unless, of course, for the sake of reselling and making a small fortune)?
Being as curious as I am, I couldn’t simply shrug off phenomena like Andy Warhol or Damien Hirst contending that the unimaginably rich have their own sets of standards for spending their money that go far beyond my comprehension. I humbly believe that there might be something I am missing. Hence, I really need to work harder on ‘educating’ myself and exploring new territories that I have not yet erred into.
This is why I earnestly and diligently try to read every book I find about the contemporary art market. Collecting Contemporary by Adam Lindemann is one good example, and Seven Days in the Art World by Sarah Thornton is another example.
The book is a joy to read. It is laden with information and insight. It is even gossipy and funny.
Seven Days attempts to tell the story of the contemporary world art scene from seven vantage points: the artist at his studio, the arts critic, the arts magazine, the world of arts competitions and prizes, the international arts fairs, the Venice Biennale, and the auction houses.
On doing this,
However, the book, as compelling a read as it is, fails to address the fundamental questions of how great art is defined in today’s world, and what distinguishes a great artist from a successful one. It is more a work of a social anthropologist (the society being restricted in this case to the world of art) documenting a social strata than that of a serious art writer providing us with an erudite analysis of the driving forces of the contemporary world art scene.
Notwithstanding my unanswered questions, I still enjoyed reading the book.
P.S. If readers of my blog cannot empathize with my discombobulation vis-à-vis Warhol and Hirst, here is an example of a Hirs’t work of art that was rumored to be sold for 85 million US dollars.
(For the Love of God by Damien Hirst)
If this does not suffice to shock you, then read what the art critic of the British Daily Telegraph, Richard Dorment, wrote (and forgive the racist connotations about Arabs, Africans and South Americans):
"If anyone but Hirst had made this curious object, we would be struck by its vulgarity. It looks like the kind of thing Asprey or Harrods might sell to credulous visitors from the oil states with unlimited amounts of money to spend, little taste, and no knowledge of art. I can imagine it gracing the drawing room of some African dictator or Colombian drug baron. But not just anyone made it - Hirst did. Knowing this, we look at it in a different way and realise that in the most brutal, direct way possible, For the Love of God questions something about the morality of art and money."
With this comment, I rest my case.
Some of my favourite works by distinguished artists from Syria.
Resuming writing in my blog on returning from the summer vacation is usually a formidable challenge for three main reasons. First: I have too many things to write about that I simply don’t know where to start, what to include and what to leave out. Second: On coming back to DC after a long absence I am overwhelmed by a large backload of work, meetings, reports, memos and a variety of issues that I need to address, which leave me very little time or energy to come back to my blog. Third: I could not have resumed blogging before I first sorted out and organized the large amount of photos I have taken during this vacation. Being a photography aficionado, I usually end up with loads of pictures that need an earnest effort in archiving and filing. If I procrastinate, the effort to catch up with the photo organizing chore at a later stage becomes Herculean.
This summer vacation included
As usual, the highlight of the whole visit was the family. All four grandparents were delighted to meet their new grandson and enchanted by the charms of Sidra. We were keen on spending as much time as possible with the family despite the enormous pressure on our time by the numerous friends who will not take no for an answer when they insist that we must accept their invitations for lunches, dinners, iftars and souhurs.
An escape to the sea shore was the only exception from the rituals of social life in
While there, every body told us that we should go for lunch or dinner to a newly opened mountainous resort up on the coastal mountains, which we did. Fifty minutes drive from Lattakia, we reached ‘Mountain Breez’ amidst a breathtaking mountainous landscape near the village of al-Kulaila. The trip there was a unique experience that reminded us of our excursion in the Spanish mountainous regions between Andalusia and the
When in
Some of my favourite works by distinguished artists from Syria.
Yesterday, we had a visitor to our home in Kalorama Rd that will always be cherished and remembered with pride and joy. He was none other than the legendary archbishop of Jerusalem Hilarion Capucci.
Archbishop Capucci entered history as the catholic bishop who was imprisoned by Israel in 1974 for four years, then exiled away from his adoptive country Palestine. He has been roaming the world ever since, just like the flying Dutchman, hoping to be able to make it back to his beloved Jerusalem before he leaves this unjust world.
His personal tragedy notwithstanding, Archbishop Capucci is a gregarious, witty, charming and charismatic person. He captivated us with his vignettes, jokes, history and politics. He recounted to us his latest act of defiance when he tried to bring food and medicine to Gaza in February 2009 aboard a small ship that challenged the Israeli naval blockade, but was eventually caught by the Israelis, insulted, shackled, deprived from food, prevented from taking his medicine (he is a man of 87 years), and deported to al-Qunaitra in Syria.
He also reminisced about his childhood in Aleppo. He recounted how he mediated on behalf of President Carter to free six US soldiers captured in Iran. When he went to Iran for this mission, he ended up staying as the house guest of the Grand Ayatollah al-Khomeini in Qum for three days - a privilege many Iranians would envy him for.
To add icing to the cake, Archbishop Capucci blessed our new born baby and his big sister and prayed for them as well.
Some of my favorite works by distinguished Syrian artists.
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?
Some of my favorite works by distinguished Syrian Artists.
