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Visceral canvasses (Artist in Dubai)
Submitted by newscaster on Mon, 05/19/2008 - 07:34.
Jeffar Khaldi, at his studio in Al Quoz Industrial Area. Jeffrey E. Biteng / The National This is Jeffar Khaldi’s sanctuary from Dubai, where the 44-year-old Palestinian-Lebanese artist, the founder of B21 Gallery and a pivotal figure on the local art scene, has been based for the past 10 years. Today, two days before his new exhibition Wish You Were Here opens a couple of doors down at B21, we’re standing in this studio, a large, sky lit warehouse. Inside, the air is rich with sunshine pouring through the skylights and the tangy odour of oil paints oozes up from the clutter of pots and brushes scattered about the place. Stacks of gigantic canvasses are stacked against the walls, between scrawled graffiti and colourful spatters. In between are mounds of junk, random pieces of furniture, including an incongruous Louis XIV replica chair and a pair of gigantic, state-of-the-art speakers. “I used to love staying here,” says Khaldi proudly, ushering me through into the rear rather like a gruffly hospitable estate agent. This is where Khaldi lived, for three years, after he took over the studio in 1997. In the rear, a camp bed and sofa sit silently. “I have everything I need,” he continues, attempting to swing a small door open with a flourish, which eventually creaks half open to reveal a washing machine. There are paintings in varied states of completion everywhere. “It’s a nice place to get away from everything, like Dubai,” he grimaces. A small cat winds about our ankles, mewling piteously. Returning to the main studio, we find ourselves staring at a giant canvas, onto which Khaldi has painted two vertical Palestinian flags side by side, bespattered with detail – a fragment of a sura from the Quran, a couple of ghoulish skulls and, oddly, a bunch of bananas. This is one of the key pieces of his new show at B21 and vividly pinpoints exactly where this tempestuous, talented and unpredictable artist’s mind is at right now. “This, for me is probably the best piece [of the show] – it’s called Banana,” he explains. “For me, this flag, with colours that are so bold, black, white, green – it looks really cool. This is part of that sura there, that people read when someone dies, so placing it here, is saying to us, like, ‘It’s finished. Forget about it’. But the banana is a sign of hope, for many poor countries, it is a symbol of hope, of food. And for my dad, who was once saved from starvation by bananas, it is important for me. “Maybe I am little pessimistic, but you open a paper in this country and you see headlines like ‘Dubai Bank Quarter Annual Profit 10 billion’ or whatever, and then next page you see four kids starving to death in Iraq – I don’t understand this, I don’t get it. I look beyond all these things.” This worldview is partly borne of a distinctly cosmopolitan background and assimilation of wildly disparate lifestyles and cultures. Khaldi was born to Palestinian parents in Saida, Lebanon, 44 years ago, and at the age of 16 moved to stay with relatives in Dallas, Texas. Attending the University of North Texas, studying interior architecture by day, cruising the streets of the city by night, he developed his early technique by indulging his penchant for graffiti art. Upon graduating, he stuck around Dallas, painting and immersing himself in the local music and graffiti scene. But following a series of misfortunes – his studio burnt down one night, and shortly after, he was attacked by a gang of local kids wielding knives – Khaldi decided to head to the UAE, to be closer to his family and enjoy some peace, in which he could develop his burgeoning painting career. Finding his initial choice, Sharjah, too quiet, he relocated to Al Quoz in Dubai in 1997, where he established his studio, and in 2004, the B21 Gallery, which he co-owned until selling out last year. Today, he continues to work at furious rate, often attacking several canvasses simultaneously, leaping from one to another. With age has come maturity – it is fair to say that earlier pieces could cause significant distress for those of a gentle disposition – great cathartic outbursts of rage and bitterness in twisted figurative forms, violent, bloody and raw, to the point where viewing them becomes less a passive activity, more an extreme spectator sport. “I am definitely more calm now,” he admits, picking his way through the studio, a paint-bespattered warehouse. His work from 2006, which shocked and alarmed so many in Dubai, is here somewhere, hidden under the stacks of canvasses that teeter against every available space. He is unrepentant about the visceral nature of these pieces, two years later. “Listen, it [the Lebanese bombing and aftermath] was so hard-core, I could not avoid it. I watched the whole thing, you would see children dying. I am an emotional artist. You should have seen the works before – I toned them down after.” He may have toned things down, but where Khaldi previously almost physically assaulted the viewer through his work, now he merely grabs the spectator by the scruff of the neck and menacingly asks for a quiet word. Form and composition are conspicuous in this new series, the scattershot aspect of earlier pieces superseded by a more considered, balanced approach. Whether it’s through the warped sensuality of Missed or the bitter scorn of Disgusted, the emphasis on a carefully-constructed dynamic, rendered in realist, expressionist or exaggerated cartoon style, charges the work with authority. While a ruthless self-editor, Khaldi confesses he finds it difficult to know when to end a piece, but has taken time with his new collection, slowing down, considering results for days, and concentrating on honing his technique. “I am focusing more now, it is important. Still, once in a while I do a painting that is more spontaneous, but now, I study and think things through more. With this series, I’m trying to show that my work is well thought through.” The subject matter of the work in Wish You Were Here (the exhibition’s working title, Bananas, sadly didn’t make the cut) – veers from the ardently direct to frequently surreal and occasionally completely misanthropic. In one canvas, a giant mutant beetle-type creature lours ominously in the foreground, its otherworldliness contrasting with depictions of what appear to be camouflage-draped warehouses in the background. “I don’t want to paint figures any more,” he explains, as we consider the painting. “I have been buying my son lots of these [toy action] figures and I think they’re really cool – children are so attracted to them and I can see why! I’m trying to stay away from figurative paintings, so I figured that this would replace that and it makes an interesting looking character. It shows how humans can be monstrous.” Another key piece takes a sura from the Quran and using stencils, layers it repeatedly over and over, creating a dense, rhythmic pattern in dank colours. Calligraphy is not something one usually associates with Khaldi’s neo-Expressionist, figurative style. “I’m so sick of all this calligraphy to be honest – in this Arab world, in the art scene, it’s just calligraphy, calligraphy. There’s more to Arab art than calligraphy. Every artist is doing calligraphy now and selling so much – well, this is my calligraphy and I do it in my own way!” Palestine, Arab politics, Beirut, harsh machinery, spooky landscapes, twisted rabbits, warped calligraphy and giant mutant beetles – it’s a heady, intoxicating brew. He may have matured stylistically, but there’s the heart of a truly iconoclastic talent beating insistently throughout these works. “I have been painting for a long time, and I have finally developed a good technical ability. I am a contemporary artist, I want to try and create something new and different. I don’t paint flowers.” Jeffar Khaldi’s exhibition Wish You Were Here is at B21 Gallery until June 12. For more information, contact B21 Gallery (04) 3403965 www.b21gallery.com Arsalan Mohammad Last Updated: May 18. 2008 4:48PM UAE / May 18. 2008 12:48PM GMT To understand references to Beirut, Israel and Palestine relationship, click here How does Jeffar Khaldi's culture and life in Dubai show in his art (i.e. "Bananas")? How does Khaldi's life make up his view of the world? What do you think of graffiti as an art form? *************************************************************************************************** |
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