About the project by David Francis

Martyrs

This artwork caught my attention as it had a mixture of emotions in one piece. I was left wondering was it a funeral for one person or few people? Do they burry the martyrs with fresh fruits? Why are all the men bald? Is it to show they are sad? The one lady without a “hijiab” looking at the viewer makes you think of her look, her eyes telling you she is thinking of the future and what is hidden for all Iraqi people. The whole group in the artwork, the men and women walking together represents the strong relationship between the Iraqi community.

Looking back at 1978, Iraq was undergoing so many political events. One year later, Saddam Hussein took over from President Al-Bakr. Two years after 1978, Iraq & Iran began a war which lasted for 8 years. These events made me imagine how our families would want to hear the updates from the radio stations. It made me imagine my father sitting with his little kids (they were 5 at that time) anxiously listening to the radio with the latest news. How important is it for us to attend these exhibitions and go through the artwork and try to dig into the history of the MENA region. –

Internet

We were scared and uncertain of the Covid-19 situation. I was always saying when am I going to wake up from this bad dream. Slowly new rules and regulations were set into place to control the situation. I felt the only thing that made me connected to everything in this world is the internet. I always loved cooking and baking. During the quarantine period, a lot of well-known restaurants started sharing their recipes online. Most of them also made amazing short videos. I used this time to improve my skills. The best feeling was when a cake turns out delicious and my family likes it. I came to a conclusion that internet should be a basic right for everyone. Looking back at the history in 1918 with the Spanish flu where tens of millions were dead and people back then followed the social distancing. Schools and restaurants were closed, I wondered how people lived their life, how they endured being away from everything they enjoy in this life! I think we now have the connectivity in a way that people couldn’t even dream about in the form of the Internet. –

I have been hearing this term everywhere nowadays. So what do these two words mean? While searching the internet I found this definition: “A previously unfamiliar or atypical situation that has become standard, usual, or expected.” * Looking at Faisal’s work, it was back then a normal funeral that people would gather and say goodbye to their loved ones. It is a form of unity and being together in sad times. People would gather and stay together for three days in the Muslims community. One of the traditions is that the family would help preparing food for the mourners.

Relatives would then be always around to help endure the pain and loss. While with the Covid-19 crisis, the new normal for any funeral is to video call your loved ones and send your condolences through the internet. This is how you show you love them because you want to keep them safe. I think while this is the safest way to show your love and care, it deprived people from a caring touch or a hug. In my opinion human contacts affect our bodies and brains. We humans are social creatures and during sad times you would want your loved ones all around you! –

Gallery Suction

I was immediately struck by Marwan’s head painting. The expressive close up face shot, with the eye in the centre of the piece looking right at me, created a suction that I couldn’t resist. The painting transmitted a unique aura that cannot be depicted in this photographic reproduction. What can be observed in this photograph though is a component that altered my encounter with Marwan’s piece. When Khawla and Khawla sat in front of the work an interposition has been created that shifted my focus from the painting to the interaction that was happening in front of me. By letting his protagonist captivate the spectator’s gaze, Marwan provokes a dialogue that can be conducted from different perspectives. The wild brush stroke combined with vivid colours stands in sharp contrast to Khawla’s and Khawla’s black silhouettes. Not being able to see their faces leaves me curious about their reactions to the work. –

Me, Myself and I

Following up the first object I chose from the time in Sharjah, I decided to in a way reenact the scene and refer it to my state of mind during the virtual SAWA. I chose to photograph myself in front of a photograph that functioned as a kind of icon for me during times of lockdown as it embodies a specific attitude towards life that I’ve been missing then. This photo was taken in India a few years ago by a friend of mine. Looking at it brings my longing for new adventures to awareness which increased immensely when I was trapped in my own four walls. Not being able to meet my SAWA colleagues in person for the second part of our common journey made me reflect on how important these personal encounters are for me. Sitting there by myself can be read as a metaphor for this desire. –

My encounter with Marwan’s work made me reflect on the art canon which has been present for me ever since I started exploring art history. With little exceptions my art appreciation was Eurocentric what suddenly became clear to me when I entered the exhibition ‘A Century in Flux’ at Sharjah Art Museum. I was thrown into an emotional roller coaster. I felt excitement and sadness at the same time as I was amazed by all the astonishing artworks that were new to me while feeling blue about having missed out on such an important part of art history. My experience entering the exhibition space with my European identity and encountering a variety of MENA identities, manifests itself in my photographic coverage of the situation.

Marwan embodies the encounter of the two identities as he was born in Syria and later lived and worked in Berlin. Meeting Khawla and Khawla in front of Marwan’s painting can be read as another layer of the different identities encountering whereby the museum space functions as a contact zone. While the first picture represents my exploration of multifaceted encounters in Sharjah, the second photograph embodies my encounter with myself and my desires during the time of virtual SAWA. –

Ring made by Tank Man

Displaying a wedding ring surrounded by WW1 tanks made me curious to know its story. At this point of my tour, I was overwhelmed by the rare tank collection and their technical development so I needed an emotional story to refresh my soul. The bloody battlefield of the Somme was the first battlefield outing of the Mark I tank and Lieutenant Basil Henriques was one of the men to command one. He was looking through the periscope when his tank came under artillery fire. A glass prism in the periscope was shattered an Henriques suffered severe facial wounds. Despite his injuries, he was fortunately not blinded. He kept the largest splinter and had it mounted in a gold ring which he presented to his new bride, Rose Loewe. The story made me think how Henriques was able to think of his new wife after a day of terror, confusion and loss. He made a present to her out of something that had nearly blinded him. –

A Jordanian Wedding During Lockdown

A Jordanian couple who lives abroad intended to marry in March. But as covid-19 outbreaks swept through Jordan, the government imposed a curfew, banned everyone from leaving home, except for medical cadres. They closed the kingdom’s land and air borders, and took over 34 hotels to convert the passengers into quarantine centers. To go along with the restrictions, the couple were faced with having either postpone or cancel the wedding. Instead, they decided to bring forward their marriage without a banquet or any guests and wearing face masks as a precaution. When the video spread on social media platforms and went viral, I closely related their story to Henriques’. The couple turned moments of fear and isolation into hope, solidarity and spread happiness across the local community. Although it can be very hard to find hope in their cases, they managed to stay strong and positive and find it. Hope encouraged them to look forward confidently and get what they desired. –

Visiting the Tank Museum Bovington, the home of tanks has been always on my bucket list. In November, 2019 I had the chance to cross it off my list. The museum halls took me on a journey back in time to the 1920s. The First World War hall was very captivating due to how the museum designers succeeded in putting the visitors in the atmosphere of the war. At the same time, they were very creative in showing how we humans are always wishful and seek to find the light at the end of the tunnel. This concept was clearly told through a romantic story of a “Wedding ring made from smashed periscope glass of WW1 tank”. The ring was made from a shard of periscope glass that took a direct hit and struck a First World War tank commander in his face.

During the pandemic in Jordan, a video went viral on social media platforms showing a wedding party taking place in a hotel used as a quarantine center. The video shows the groom and the bride celebrating their wedding party in their hotel balcony with no attendees, wearing face masks as a precaution after their planned wedding party was cancelled. Another thread of hope we humans strive to catch in times of struggles and difficulties.
Both situations highlight the fact that going through tough times makes us stronger and always encourage us to stay positive. People in difficult times always seek survival, happiness, and hope. Happiness aids our survival in several ways, it makes us optimistic, more confident and fearless.

When visiting the Sharjah Art Museum for the first time and strolling through the different exhibition rooms this painting caught my eye. The colorful orange background of the wall had a great attraction for me. The pictured woman seemed strong and proud and I was immediately captivated by her whole appearance. The painting really stood out not just because of the bright colors but mostly because of the depicted figures themselves. At first it reminded me of a Christian picture of the Madonna and Jesus but this impression and perception obviously did not fit into the environment. I was kind of surprised to see something like that in an exhibition about modern Arab Art. I stood in front of the picture and started to think about what exactly this woman was feeling and also what she embodied.

The artist, Ismail Shammout, is Palestinian and uses this intended transformation to embody optimism and positivity by depicting a young woman, referring to his own life and difficult fate during the Nakba. The founder of the Barjeel Art Foundation, Sultan Sooud Al Qassemi, was personally touched by the work of the artist the first time he saw it, which is why Shammout plays a major role in the collection. I studied art history but I was never really attracted to Christian art. That is why I liked the new interpretation of a classic composition which was also placed in a context entirely new to me. –

This is a vinyl record by the “Queen of Soul” Aretha Franklin which collects together her greatest hits. I only got the record two years ago but I grew up with her music and was always surrounded by it. Aretha Franklin as an Afro-American female singer is a symbol of my childhood and stands for empowerment, female power and strength. This is also visually reflected on the cover with its bold orange, red colors and with her gaze turned directly at the camera. She is descending the stairs in a red dress with a black pattern while she is framed by two escalators.

The picture was already used as a cover in 1971 for the single “Rock Steady“. At that time Aretha was at the height of her career. My mother immersed me in the music of black women at a very early age. Now, when Black Lives Matter is in the public focus, black music and culture gains even more importance and is more current than ever. For me this object is closely linked to the current events in the world while also giving me peace and security. –

This year everything is about connection – losing connection, avoiding connection and also gain connection through new ways and methods. For me there is definitely a connection between these two objects: they are both a representation of female empowerment and grace. This can be seen above all in the similarity of the pictorial quality and colour. Both objects represent and depict women in a strong way, either as a Madonna who stands for an optimistic, revolutionary future or as a female singer who symbolizes the civil rights movement through her music and soul.

Both objects and symbols embody femininity, which is however strong and detached in every respect. Feminist thinking and the idea that as a woman you can be everything and have power are topics that have interested and influenced me a lot in the last few months. Not only in the context of Black Lives Matter, but in general. In this context, the connection through social media and different communication channels has always been crucial. The topic of connection has also played an important role for me within SAWA and has shown that no matter where you are in the world, connections are possible if you stand up for them. –

A Different Angle

This painting is normally not the type that would capture my attention. I’m usually attracted to paintings depicting people, emotions, sunsets, or bright colors. It was when a security personnel I met in the gallery told me about what he sees in this artwork that made me look at it from a completely different angle. “Look closely and you’ll be able to read something”, he said. After carefully observing it, I noticed that what I first saw to be random numbers or symbols were actually words and letters, and I was able to read a few words in Arabic including the artist’s name in the bottom right corner. This inspired me to look into the artwork and its creator, Maliheh Afnan, whom it seems was fond of incorporating texts in her works. It’s fascinating how two people can look at exactly the same thing yet read it so differently. –

A New Ritual

It was in March 2020 that Covid-19 cases in the UAE started increasing and the Emirates went on lockdown. Everything from dining in to social gatherings was not only banned but seemed frightening to people. Before the pandemic, one of the very normal things most people enjoyed and did often was having coffee with others in shared spaces. Personally, it was a ritual to have my evening coffee at or from a café with a friend or family member every other day. During lockdown I’ve discovered many hidden talents and personal interests, one of them was coffee making. Due to the generous amount of free time I had specifically around the time of virtual SAWA, I started stacking up on various coffee beans and machines, and endlessly reading and watching videos on how to make good coffee. The new ritual has now become having my family (household) gathered in the living room and serving them home-made coffee. –

Heat. Pressing sultriness.
I strolled through the city of Sharjah in the United Arab Emirates. The sea was near, but its breeze wasn‘t reaching me. In front of me lay al-Hisn square with its historic fort in the midst of a multi-lane road, between modernist housing blocks. How did this clash of historic and modern happen?

As I later found out, the building from early 19th century had to give way to the new urban structures, but was rebuilt at around 2000. My mind was occupied with the weather conditions and I stopped wondering, as my habitual unease about reconstructed buildings kicked in.

Some ten days later, we had a chance of getting a tour through the fort, the former seat of the emirate’s ruling family al-Qasimi. We were told about the huge importance assigned to this building as a place to experience the Emirate’s history in a nutshell. I started thinking anew, as I listened to the excited explanations our guide gave to us. What really caught my attention

was the method that had been used for reconstruction, as memories, scattered images and tales were considered in an approach of oral history. Whereas my main understanding of authenticity focuses on historical, in this case material, traces, I recognised that today’s fort owns another layer of authenticity that is personal memories of this place.

Rambling the fort, I caught sight of another work of art I had seen and photographed in my first time at the place, a calligraffiti by eL Seed on one of the facades of a housing block. In a contemporary aesthetic that fuses graffiti and street art with calligraphy, eL Seed interpreted a 19th century poem by Ahmed Abu Sneeda. I looked over there standing in a building that took up another 19th century story, of the seat of Sharjah’s ruling family. In contrast, although reaching back to roughly the same period in time, the calligraffiti didn’t make me uneasy, as I recognised it as an authentically contemporary take on cultural legacy—a discrepancy that kept me thinking, once I realised.

“The situation”

Its cause is invisible. We cannot see a virus, but we transmit it unknowingly. This disease spreads rapidly through our global networks of exchange, from one person to another, uncannily. I guess the uncanniness of this pandemic led many people to call these months “the situation,” still ongoing.

This “situation,” intruded our public sphere and seems to be the first really global momentum in which the whole world is affected directly, personally—sadly with feelings of anxiety, insecurities, and helplessness—and at the same time watching the rest of the world reacting to it. Curfews closed public spaces worldwide, or at least narrowed down possibilities to exchange and discuss in person, to experience the world outside our own flats and houses, circles of friends, our nearest environments.

In this scale, we were lucky that our plans to have the second part of SAWA in Berlin were rearranged to virtual meetings: Lucky, again, because we have the internet at hand to at least use the digital realm. As all of us work in public insitutions—museums of all sorts—, so each and everyone was affected personally and professionally by the pandemic. Given the opportunity through SAWA, we could hear from many dear people how “the situation” affected their lives: although our living conditions differ from one to another, the pandemic effected similar and familiar responses in everyone, regardless of which groups we belong to. Anyone has to cope with uncertainties, navigate unknown territories, and differing emotional states within the “situation.”

As SAWA regrouped in a virtual space, public spaces witnessed protests against the cuts in basic rights that were soon overshadowed by conspiracy ideologies. Usual habits and customary liberties had been shaken by virus containment measures, but critical manifestations instead centred on discourses of segregation, on a dangerous outside or certain “scapegoat”-groups that were blamed for “the situation.” The contrast could have hardly been harsher.

Communities need to have stories, certain narratives that bring them together as collectives. Those narratives can build up commonalities and reassure the group members in sharing their history. As with al-Hisn, those stories crystallise, for example, in buildings and monuments that then embody these communities. But intangible practices form commonalities and feelings of familiarity as well, be them cultural habits, societal decorum, or protests that effect an immediate feeling of being a collective. Both buildings and practices form spaces of belonging, public spaces of a community.

For sure, spaces of belonging differentiate between those that are embodied by them and those who are (momentarily?) not. Eventually, they possess the potential to be claimed exclusively for one collective, hence to be turned against other groups via exclusion. I think of this as a dormant potential that may or may not be awakened over time.

As histories go along, at least in my understanding, there is rarely, or never, a single interpretation or view to anything. I resort to buildings to get a clearer picture: they get changed over time, annexed with other parts, its usage varies, … in short, there is not one stable identity to it, but various historical traces layered one

above the other. I assume this holds true for what I understand as authenticity, too, and may be the reason why I feel unease, when faced with reconstructed spaces of belonging. What layer do you hold on to reconstruct? Which materialised period and interpretation do you focus when reviving a setting? How will you mark the gap between destruction and reinstallation? For sure, as stated, memories and stories may pave the way for another authentic form – but can you substitute historical layers by layers of memory? And how would you give form to these?

And then we witnessed (and still witness) what happens in time of disquiet, when certainties crumble. In this perspective, one may think of the pandemic as an accelerator to change processes, where we can observe in an unusual short amount of time how people reconfigure their stances. The uncanniness of “the situation” concentrated many a person’s ideas on familiarity and effected a retreat into the limited space of what is known and what belongs to one’s community, something you could hold on to in times of disorientation. Ultimately, this may as well alter our approaches and engagements with the past, something that will touch upon communities, authenticity, and our spaces of belonging.