top of page
Writer's pictureZoha Khan
Sep 4

Creative Intifada: If life imitates art, then a revolution’s underway!

Updated: 7 days ago


‘’It all started on October 7th’’… is what they want you to believe. For the last 75 years, since the devastating Nakba of 1948 and the establishment of the state of Israel after forced evacuation of Palestinians from their homes, Palestine has been under occupation. By now, we all know, regardless of whether you consider yourself political or not, about the ever worsening situation not just in Gaza but all over Palestine, being broadcast despite media censorship by heroic journalists- Motaz, Plestia, Bisan, Wael, to name but a few-  in what is truly a dystopia brought to life. I myself have been deeply grieved at what is now being termed the ‘Nakba of ‘23’ as I wake up every day feeling an unshakeable sense of survivor’s guilt, while across the world it feels as though my own loved ones are being massacred relentlessly.


However, it’s important to remember amidst the tears and heartache that where there is pain, there is almost always hope. The Palestinians are opening our eyes to what our world truly is, and teaching us things we could never have learnt so quickly within our concrete jungles and expansive lecture halls, nor behind a desk nestled in the shrine of lukewarm Monday coffee and an overflowing inbox- they have shown us what humanity looks like. One of the many lessons I intend to take with me throughout life is how to hope, and how this hope manifests itself in art. 


Malak Mattar: You and I You are beautiful like a liberated homeland I am exhausted like a colonized homeland (Copyright © Malak Mattar / GQ Middle East, 2021)

Between the infamous concept that ‘art imitates life’ and Oscar Wilde’s brazen rebuttal ‘Life imitates art far more than art imitates life’ I’d like to believe we walk the line, gliding in that middle space between creation and imitation, being equally inspired by art as we inspire it. Throughout the occupation, Palestinian artists have shown that even when they have been forced from their homeland, have had everything taken from them, they won’t submit their relentless spirit and bold patriotism, which they display proudly through rhythmic lyricism and multi hued paint strokes alike. As the resistance inspires art, so the art inspires resistance. 


And in the wake of the new hunger games movie, if we can’t all find ourselves with as much courage as the mockingjay, we can at least protest through amplifying Palestinian voices. They say the old will die and the young will forget, let’s show them how the young honour the legacy of the old, and spark harmonious rebellion not through violence but through the one language we’re universally fluent in: beauty.


Malak Mattar is a Palestinian artist who took to the easel at just 13, channelling her sorrow and anxiety into bold colours reminiscent of the bounty of hope that can outshine even the cruellest of bombardments. Her paintings, which reflect the female experience, depict vibrantly clothed women with often sombre expressions, but underlying each one of these cathartic displays is a sense of untouchable strength, a clairvoyant promise of liberation seeping through the folds of wide eyes and engraved in the fingerprints of embracing figures. Her art can be found on her instagram, where she remains active despite censorship attempts (her recent story was reportedly taken down). The poignancy of her work is particularly palpable in her homage to martyred journalist Shireen Abuh Akleh, who was sadly killed by an Israeli sniper while on duty reporting the truth to the world.




Malak Mattar tribute to journalist Shireen Abu Akleh ©malakmattarart


Another patriotic artist, who was actually born back when Palestine was as it should be, free, in 1947, a year before the Nakba, Sliman Mansour, similarly evokes heartbreak and compassion in the eyes of the beholder through his nostalgic depictions of Palestinian men and women holding images of Jerusalem-formerly known as ‘Al Quds’- within the frame of their bodies as a reflection of the immense burden of homesickness when the indigenous are refugees in their own land.  During his lifetime he has been awarded several prestigious prizes for his work, including the UNESCO-Sharjah Prize for Arab Culture in 2019, the Palestine Prize for Visual in 1998 and the Grand Nile Prize at the Seventh Cairo Biennial the same year.


Sliman Mansour, Woman carrying Jerusalem , 1979, © Sliman Mansour.



Whilst undoubtedly a notable conduit for the portrayal of the human condition, paint isn’t the only art form to spark deliberate non-conformity. Yes, actions speak louder than words, but words can certainly spur action, which is why I’d like to focus the next section of this article on Palestinian poets. As somebody who’s written poetry from a young age, I’ve always harboured a particular proclivity toward the charm of verse, but it was only after I’d begun to explore Palestinian poetry that I realised how peaceful yet fearless a form of resilience it could be.


A household name not just in Palestine but across the globe, Mahmoud Darwish, born in 1941 in Galilee, a Palestinian village which was later overtaken by the Israeli Army, touches hearts through his words even after he passed away in 2008. Like most true poets, Darwish experienced a tragic romance, made more unfortunate as it was  with Israeli singer and dancer, Tamar Ben Ami, who’s often referenced under the pseudonym ‘Rita’. The ill fated pair met at a Communist Party of Israel rally in 1962, where he read poetry while she performed music. The tumultuous relationship was chronicled in the 2014 documentary ‘I am an Arab’ directed by Ibtisam Mara’ana and based on interviews with Ben Ami herself. The clandestine whirlwind teetered to a stop following Darwish’ house arrest and being titled ‘resistance poet’ by the occupation out of fear of his inducing an uprising since he began travelling between villages spreading his poetry, and shortly after Tamar joined the Israel Naval forces to sing patriotic songs. Darwish responded “I thought of her: ‘What is she doing now? ’She may be in Nablus, or another city, carrying a light rifle as one of the conquerors, and perhaps at this moment giving orders to some men to raise their arms or kneel on the ground. Or perhaps she is in charge of the interrogation and torture of an Arab girl her age, and as beautiful as she used to be.”


From the 1970s Darwish lived in exile, between Russia, Egypt,  Lebanon and Paris

With an impressive 30 published books and multiple awards in his repertoire, it would be hard to choose just a few poems to share the genius of Darwish. However, I’ve selected two for this article which I personally enjoyed immensely, and am sure the reader will share this sentiment.


  • ‘They asked, ‘Do you love her to death?” and I said, “Speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.”

  • “The war will end. The leaders will shake hands. The old woman will keep waiting for her martyred son. The girl will wait for her beloved husband. And those children will wait for their heroic father. I don’t know who sold our homeland. But I know who paid the price.”



Likewise, Fadwa Tuqan, born in Nablus, 1917, has also since become a symbol of resistance and revolution for Palestinian freedom. She was taught poetry by her brother Ibrahim and even took private English lessons in order to further her craft and allow it to reach a wider audience. She used to send poems to magazines in Cairo and Beirut, published under pseudonyms. After a haphazard start to her career, being driven to politics following the 1948 Nakba, Fadwa spent two years at Oxford learning English Language and Literature in the early 60s, and was subsequently labelled the ‘Poetess of Palestine’ bestowing the world with eight poetry collections from 1952-2000. As revered in passing as she was in life, her death was announced by the Palestinian Authority with utmost respect and awe ‘“We announce the death of the great poetess of Palestine, an innovative and original talent, a daughter of Nablus, the mountain of fire; daughter of Palestine, educator, fighter for justice, cultural icon, exceptional literary figure, winner of the Palestine medal: the poetess Fadwa Tuqan.” 


What seems to perfectly encapsulate the vast resilience of the Palestinian spirit is one point in her poem ‘Hamza’ where the figure ‘Hamza’ comforts the speaker over the fear instilled in her by the Israeli occupation, he says:


'My sister, our land has a throbbing heart,

it doesn't cease to beat, and it endures

the unendurable. It keeps the secrets

of hills and wombs. This land sprouting

with spikes and palms is also the land

that gives birth to a freedom-fighter.

This land, my sister, is a woman.'


On that note, if you’ve made it thus far, I’d like us all to channel even a fragment of the admirable faith and patience of the people of Palestine, not just for them, but for ourselves. In a world that seems ridden with pollution and corruption, ransacked by tone deaf politicians and barricaded by borders and enmity amongst various groups of people, sometimes our greatest victory comes in harnessing the very thing they wish to remove from us: hope. And for that we look toward the heart of humanity, toward Gaza, toward the West Bank, toward Palestine. 


Because even with their land snatched from them, their houses reduced to rubble,  don’t forget that an artist’s soul is indestructible, it flies like a flock of doves serenading peace unto a sky wrecked with smoke. Just as Van Gogh’s brush never faltered, even within the walls of a mental asylum, and Frida Kahlo’s endless inspiration never ceased, even when bedridden with chronic illness, so the creative intifada of countless Palestinians will live on, their voices will travel from the river to the sea, and their message will be imprinted on our hearts, thick as olive oil, fragrant as ripe oranges and fresh water.




Sliman Mansour, From the river to the sea (من النهر الى البحر), oil on canvas, 2021, © Sliman Mansour.


Bibliography




[Accessed May 2024].


[Accessed May 2024].


[Accessed May 2024].


[Accessed May 2024].


[Accessed May 2024].


[Accessed May 2024].


[Accessed May 2024].


[Accessed May 2024].


[Accessed May 2024].


[Accessed May 2024].







Comments

  • Instagram
bottom of page