Baghdad Journal
Day Seven
I went to a Baghdad art gallery yesterday. My translator is also
a sculptor and he's been distraught over the looting of galleries
that has taken place in Baghdad. He asked if we wanted to visit
a couple of galleries and I knew that he was more interested in
seeing if they'd survived the looting, but it seemed like a great
idea.
It was. One gallery was closed, but another was open. (The owner
also lives there and had held the looters at bay…) He had
a sign on the bulletin board outside asking artists to gather
there on Monday….so naturally….we were back there again
today.
It was like stepping from the dust and the suspicion and smoke
that envelops so much of Baghdad, into a breeze of clean air.
(Despite the clouds of cigarette smoke…) Maybe 50 artists
were there. Painters, poets, sculptors and others. Our translator,
Ahmed, spent some time looking for friends and catching up on
news and gossip that he hasn't been able to share for nearly a
month. It was great to see him hugging and kissing people. He
finds so much of what is going on these days so depressing.
One interesting sidelight of the visit was that we had wanted
to talk to some of the painters who had made their living (or
part of their living) painting those ubiquitous portraits of Saddam
Hussein. It was a big business. Several of those painters were
there, but they didn't want to talk to us. I guess its either
something you don't want on your resume, or more likely, that
they are among the many we have met who still aren't entirely
convinced that "he's gone." Can't say I blame them.
Anyway the artists were there to talk about how they can establish
some sort of new union, one that is not political, but professional.
The gallery owner had a 6' x 6' canvas stretched for the occasion,
and pots of paint and brushes. He invited all the artists to take
a turn painting on the canvas. They painted doves, and red snarling
faces and snakes and words. It was fascinating to see it take
shape. Marc Allard took some photos and you
can click here to see the piece take shape. At one point,
an artist came up to me and asked:
"What's the word for all unity?"
I conferred with Ahmed. "Unified?" I suggested.
"Yes" he agreed. "Unified"
Then the artist asked me to write out the words "Unified
Iraq" in English so he could copy them onto the canvas as
part of his contribution.
So much of what we do as reporters is watch and report, just
observe. I confess I found it quite moving to be able to contribute
even such a tiny shred of a contribution to this painting. It
may end up in someone's basement or garage. (Unlikely as only
the wealthiest people have basements and garages) and it may be
painted over, and it may mean nothing in the long and painful
history of Iraq. But earlier today, in that sunlit courtyard,
surrounded by the creative energy of all those artists, it seemed
to be something profound. And if I am accused or convicted of
a loss of "objectivity" for that, then let it be so.
FIELD REPORTS
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