Mural
West Bank Luxor, Egypt
An artist friend, Mahmoud Hawary from Qena, invited me to paint a huge wall in his garden in Luxor. It was a very spontaneous action, we hardly knew each other. After having been to Egypt several times and having traveled through the desert and the ancient sites on the Nile, I wanted to start leaving a few traces in this special city of Luxor, perhaps to get involved, to give what I can give. The result was a wall painting inspired by a series of abstract drawings that I had made in the desert.
It was a kind of utopian moment, impressively pleasant. The collaboration was playful and free. Money, envy and resentment played no role, there were no permits or restrictions as I know them from my other artistic work. Now and then someone came by, a horse was my best audience. Once the wind threw a painted canvas into the sand, a catastrophe in artistic circles where the ego is bursting at the seams due to the system, but not so bad here. I was delighted.
What I liked most was that you had to physically enter the room and experience an atmosphere staged by artists. That you stayed there and looked at the light and shadows that connected with the wall painting. That you came back in the afternoon when the light was best. That you took the time to sit down at night, watch the stars and listen to the sounds of nature, talk to people and drink tea. Very simple things that are worth the time and energy.
Can you be all fired up and at the same time expect that the dream will burst like a soap bubble in no time at all? The wall, the paint, the work, they cost money and time, which we invested anyway, the neighbors, they didn't like us, the businessmen, they were lurking around the next corner to get their hands on this prime piece of land on the Nile.
So it happened and what you see here in the photos no longer exists, has fallen victim to incomprehension. Never mind, other places in Luxor and elsewhere will open up, for me, for others. I am working on a project for a large mural in Luxor, sowing art. And this time it will be different.
An artist friend, Mahmoud Hawary from Qena, invited me to paint a huge wall in his garden in Luxor. It was a very spontaneous action, we hardly knew each other. After having been to Egypt several times and having traveled through the desert and the ancient sites on the Nile, I wanted to start leaving a few traces in this special city of Luxor, perhaps to get involved, to give what I can give. The result was a wall painting inspired by a series of abstract drawings that I had made in the desert.
It was a kind of utopian moment, impressively pleasant. The collaboration was playful and free. Money, envy and resentment played no role, there were no permits or restrictions as I know them from my other artistic work. Now and then someone came by, a horse was my best audience. Once the wind threw a painted canvas into the sand, a catastrophe in artistic circles where the ego is bursting at the seams due to the system, but not so bad here. I was delighted.
What I liked most was that you had to physically enter the room and experience an atmosphere staged by artists. That you stayed there and looked at the light and shadows that connected with the wall painting. That you came back in the afternoon when the light was best. That you took the time to sit down at night, watch the stars and listen to the sounds of nature, talk to people and drink tea. Very simple things that are worth the time and energy.
Can you be all fired up and at the same time expect that the dream will burst like a soap bubble in no time at all? The wall, the paint, the work, they cost money and time, which we invested anyway, the neighbors, they didn't like us, the businessmen, they were lurking around the next corner to get their hands on this prime piece of land on the Nile.
So it happened and what you see here in the photos no longer exists, has fallen victim to incomprehension. Never mind, other places in Luxor and elsewhere will open up, for me, for others. I am working on a project for a large mural in Luxor, sowing art. And this time it will be different.