Me he acordado de una pintora que conocí en el Cairo: Dina El Gharib. Primero vi una exhibición de suya en Townhouse, un centro donde viven y exponen artisitas obras muy vanguardistas en un antiguo almacen en el centro de un popular barrio de El Cairo. Es a un sitio que yo jamás esperaba encontrar en Egipto...un sitio que sería normal en Berlín, pero que en El Cairo tenía algo de oasis de dignidad y coraje, teniendo en cuenta el conservadurismo que sopla por los países árabes.
A continuación sigue una entrevista a Dina, en el Al Ahram Weekly, el suplemento del periodico oficial en inglés, The Egyptian Gazette, establecido en 1880 y que tiene algo más de libertad que los periódicos que se publican en árabe, pero también debe cumplir una función de propaganda e imagen ante el exterior.
Perspective on life (Al Ahram Weekly, 2004)
In an underground gallery sheltered from light, Yasmine El-Rashidi sits with Dina El-Gharib at her latest exhibit
It seems apt that Dina El-Gharib's exhibit should be in the last gallery hall at the end of the underground maze of the Gezira Art Center. The Cairo-born artist, not to put too fine a point on it, is as low profile as her work. She sits in a dark spot round the corner from the hall showcasing her work, and takes her time to make a diminutive appearance.
"It's not important who I am or how I introduce myself," she says by way of oblique explanation. "But I like to see how people respond to my work, their interaction with the paintings, their critiques."
This is El-Gharib's first exhibit in Egypt since last year. Among other functions, it serves as a prelude to her 21 March show, in which the collection showcased in Switzerland last month will be on show. The present, Zamalek display comprises paintings and collages with a range of bases from paper and recycled paper to canvas and wood.
"One of the first things people ask me when they come to an exhibit is 'what's the theme'," she says, "What's this about? They always want to know." El- Gharib sways from foot-to-foot. She stops repeatedly to indicate her inability to talk, the unimportance of her words. "My work never has a theme, never has a title. It's not about anything specific," she explains. "And that's why when I am asked to talk about my work, I never have anything to say. I want to know what you have to say," she offers. "I want to see how you interact with my work. Some people come in, turn 360 degree scanning each painting on the walls and leave. Others stand in front of one painting for a long time, their expression changing gradually, whether pleasantly or otherwise. There are always some interesting reactions."
And interesting the reactions may well be: the current exhibit reflects the latest trends in her latest work -- some of it more experimental, more daring, than El-Gharib is generally comfortable displaying.
Two larger collages -- over one metre wide -- employ the use of rectangles and squares in various earth tones to give a layered feeling of depth. Within the layers, sporadically placed painted bottles emerge alongside the stereotypical image of the African woman.
"They are not typical given the size." El-Gharib turns round and points to two other pieces on the adjacent wall. "Those are almost as large space-wise, but they are not one continuous medium."
The two pieces she points to are comprised of three parallel pieces of wood each. One concentrates on the vibrancy of colour within an angular shape; the other is a more intimate exploration of the fundamental elements of nature and creation -- the male and female figures and their reproductive organs. To the right, for example, the penis of a black figure merges into the head of another figure and into a toilet bowl.
"This work in particular received an interesting reaction," El- Gharib says of the latter. "I've watched people come in, look at the piece from a distance, unsure of what it is," she says. "And then you see their reaction change as the shapes and colours register on their minds, and you see their eyes flit around and the discomfort in their body language. Others identify the various elements of the painting quickly, and you see them wanting to stare at it uneasily -- looking around to check if people are watching."
To El-Gharib, that is what art is about.
"Why do I paint? Because what is there more enjoyable in life than to get colours and play like a child?" she says. "As we grow up we forget that pleasure, we lose the ability to let go and express and explore. By the time we are adults we have become too used to being directed to think, accustomed to looking at things in a certain light and way. You don't have to look at the man's body and penis and toilet as such, but we automatically label rather than appreciating a shape and colour."
By staying away from concepts of theme and meaning, El-Gharib hopes to share the process of her work and life.
"What is art? Art at the end of the day is about my culture, my upbringing, my experiences, and how they have shaped me into the person I am, and how they have made me perceive life in certain ways and not others. My interaction with people, with the streets and the city -- all this I pour into my work. Some people will relate, like what they see, identify. Others -- given who they are as individuals -- will find the pieces aesthetically unpleasant. It's all a matter of personal perspective."
As we speak my eye catches the silhouette of a person, a shadow behind them which I perceive as their soul, and a window -- a small painting on recycled paper. Perhaps the portrayal of death?
"That's what you see. A woman came in the other day and said it was beautiful how I captured two people sitting on a balcony through the use of just two colours and few lines."
Another small collage layers an etched, faded Egyptian passport, a tattered corner of a German visa application, the printed word "politics" torn in half, all amid hazy, grey, dreary surroundings.
El-Gharib has often been reproached for the splattering of English words in her work, the public asking why she does not address herself more directly to the society in which she lives, to the Arab.
"This is a reflection of my surroundings," she says. "And there is more than one way to read into the words -- whether their meaning or the choice of English." Yet hers is not a calculated business, she insists. "People that do what I do," she says, refusing to use the word "artist", "don't calculate. This is our reaction to the world. It's free-flowing."
And it is this flow that the exhibit captures. Some collages are plastered on the remains of kitchen cabinets, some encompass old papers from El-Gharib's father's study. Some are defined in their shapes and the objects which they recreate, while others comprise the indistinct merging and intertwining of colours, lines, and shapes. Some reflect, to my eye, chaos and disorder -- the menagerie of Cairo life, or the moment that made up her mind. Others are more serene, softer in their lines, calmer in their colours. One piece more than any of the rest is the embodiment of life to its fullest -- vibrancy, colour, joy. It is not uncharacteristic, simply outstanding."When someone comes in here, my hope is that they can let go of stereotypes and preconceived ideas. That they can let their eyes fall into the paintings and with their senses explore," El-Gharib offers. "And I care to hear everyone's opinion, because their eye is as valid and worthy as mine. In fact, if there is a value to an exhibit, it is that chance to see."
A continuación sigue una entrevista a Dina, en el Al Ahram Weekly, el suplemento del periodico oficial en inglés, The Egyptian Gazette, establecido en 1880 y que tiene algo más de libertad que los periódicos que se publican en árabe, pero también debe cumplir una función de propaganda e imagen ante el exterior.
Perspective on life (Al Ahram Weekly, 2004)
In an underground gallery sheltered from light, Yasmine El-Rashidi sits with Dina El-Gharib at her latest exhibit
It seems apt that Dina El-Gharib's exhibit should be in the last gallery hall at the end of the underground maze of the Gezira Art Center. The Cairo-born artist, not to put too fine a point on it, is as low profile as her work. She sits in a dark spot round the corner from the hall showcasing her work, and takes her time to make a diminutive appearance.
"It's not important who I am or how I introduce myself," she says by way of oblique explanation. "But I like to see how people respond to my work, their interaction with the paintings, their critiques."
This is El-Gharib's first exhibit in Egypt since last year. Among other functions, it serves as a prelude to her 21 March show, in which the collection showcased in Switzerland last month will be on show. The present, Zamalek display comprises paintings and collages with a range of bases from paper and recycled paper to canvas and wood.
"One of the first things people ask me when they come to an exhibit is 'what's the theme'," she says, "What's this about? They always want to know." El- Gharib sways from foot-to-foot. She stops repeatedly to indicate her inability to talk, the unimportance of her words. "My work never has a theme, never has a title. It's not about anything specific," she explains. "And that's why when I am asked to talk about my work, I never have anything to say. I want to know what you have to say," she offers. "I want to see how you interact with my work. Some people come in, turn 360 degree scanning each painting on the walls and leave. Others stand in front of one painting for a long time, their expression changing gradually, whether pleasantly or otherwise. There are always some interesting reactions."
And interesting the reactions may well be: the current exhibit reflects the latest trends in her latest work -- some of it more experimental, more daring, than El-Gharib is generally comfortable displaying.
Two larger collages -- over one metre wide -- employ the use of rectangles and squares in various earth tones to give a layered feeling of depth. Within the layers, sporadically placed painted bottles emerge alongside the stereotypical image of the African woman.
"They are not typical given the size." El-Gharib turns round and points to two other pieces on the adjacent wall. "Those are almost as large space-wise, but they are not one continuous medium."
The two pieces she points to are comprised of three parallel pieces of wood each. One concentrates on the vibrancy of colour within an angular shape; the other is a more intimate exploration of the fundamental elements of nature and creation -- the male and female figures and their reproductive organs. To the right, for example, the penis of a black figure merges into the head of another figure and into a toilet bowl.
"This work in particular received an interesting reaction," El- Gharib says of the latter. "I've watched people come in, look at the piece from a distance, unsure of what it is," she says. "And then you see their reaction change as the shapes and colours register on their minds, and you see their eyes flit around and the discomfort in their body language. Others identify the various elements of the painting quickly, and you see them wanting to stare at it uneasily -- looking around to check if people are watching."
To El-Gharib, that is what art is about.
"Why do I paint? Because what is there more enjoyable in life than to get colours and play like a child?" she says. "As we grow up we forget that pleasure, we lose the ability to let go and express and explore. By the time we are adults we have become too used to being directed to think, accustomed to looking at things in a certain light and way. You don't have to look at the man's body and penis and toilet as such, but we automatically label rather than appreciating a shape and colour."
By staying away from concepts of theme and meaning, El-Gharib hopes to share the process of her work and life.
"What is art? Art at the end of the day is about my culture, my upbringing, my experiences, and how they have shaped me into the person I am, and how they have made me perceive life in certain ways and not others. My interaction with people, with the streets and the city -- all this I pour into my work. Some people will relate, like what they see, identify. Others -- given who they are as individuals -- will find the pieces aesthetically unpleasant. It's all a matter of personal perspective."
As we speak my eye catches the silhouette of a person, a shadow behind them which I perceive as their soul, and a window -- a small painting on recycled paper. Perhaps the portrayal of death?
"That's what you see. A woman came in the other day and said it was beautiful how I captured two people sitting on a balcony through the use of just two colours and few lines."
Another small collage layers an etched, faded Egyptian passport, a tattered corner of a German visa application, the printed word "politics" torn in half, all amid hazy, grey, dreary surroundings.
El-Gharib has often been reproached for the splattering of English words in her work, the public asking why she does not address herself more directly to the society in which she lives, to the Arab.
"This is a reflection of my surroundings," she says. "And there is more than one way to read into the words -- whether their meaning or the choice of English." Yet hers is not a calculated business, she insists. "People that do what I do," she says, refusing to use the word "artist", "don't calculate. This is our reaction to the world. It's free-flowing."
And it is this flow that the exhibit captures. Some collages are plastered on the remains of kitchen cabinets, some encompass old papers from El-Gharib's father's study. Some are defined in their shapes and the objects which they recreate, while others comprise the indistinct merging and intertwining of colours, lines, and shapes. Some reflect, to my eye, chaos and disorder -- the menagerie of Cairo life, or the moment that made up her mind. Others are more serene, softer in their lines, calmer in their colours. One piece more than any of the rest is the embodiment of life to its fullest -- vibrancy, colour, joy. It is not uncharacteristic, simply outstanding."When someone comes in here, my hope is that they can let go of stereotypes and preconceived ideas. That they can let their eyes fall into the paintings and with their senses explore," El-Gharib offers. "And I care to hear everyone's opinion, because their eye is as valid and worthy as mine. In fact, if there is a value to an exhibit, it is that chance to see."
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