Clouds on a Canvas

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I captured this beautiful image early morning, standing behind the glass window of my hotel room at the Eolo (a Relais & Chateaux hotel) in Patagonia, Argentina. The poem I wrote below is inspired by the marvelous clouds I witnessed in Patagonia and by an Artist friend.

I love clouds.

I like their whiteness
Their vastness
Their freedom in the sky.

I like how they appear
and disappear
How fragile they seem
How big they dream.

I like how they can hide the sun
How they are above everyone
I like how they dance to nature’s song
How they sway all night long.

I like how they transform themselves
into a labyrinth of shapes and forms
into a myriad of shades and hues
How they are the sky’s white canvas
and the earth’s eternal muse.

I like how they float through the air
I like how they swim everywhere
I like how freely they roam the sky
and how very high they fly.

I love clouds.

I like their bubbliness and puffiness
Their unthreatening candidness
Their charming abstractedness.

I like how they remind me
Of purity
Of white cotton candy
Of a baby’s chubby cheeks
Of snowy mountain peaks
Of children running free
Of my artist friend Nelle
She paints clouds you see
As brilliantly as can be.

They make me happy.

A Depiction

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A Palestine-inspired painting that I painted and gifted to my father.

News channels, newspapers, Twitter and other social media platforms have been busy. Nothing unusual. Media is always busy with the usual stuff – feeds of similar story lines and repetitive political gossip, or an overload of one specific story over another – depending on what draws the most human attention (or hopefully conscience) and ignites the curiosity of certain media-addicted sedentary masses. Some is undoubtedly interesting, some heartbreaking, and others sheer comedy. Most of it is (controversially-speaking) clever and entertaining, not necessarily worth following.

However, a particular media feed this week caught my attention. It is of great importance to me – firstly as a human being, and secondly as an Arab.  As most of you are aware, this week – 2nd of November to be exact – marks 100 years since The Balfour Declaration in 1917. The Declaration that had impacted millions of Palestinian lives, determining the destiny of my father’s generation, my generation, and my nieces’ generation and probably the unborn generations yet to come.

A few years after The Balfour Declaration, my father was born. Not long after that, Palestinian families were forced to leave Palestine and live in exile (most left by force and others by choice – justified by fear, by desperation and in pursuit of life preservation). They left not knowing it would be their last sacred glimpse of their holy land – the land which generously gave to their ancestors. Not knowing it would be their last traditional meal together around their generous Palestinian table in their Palestinian home, where their childhood spirit came into being, and (I guarantee) still lurks, undefeated. Not knowing their house key would never again find its keyhole. Not knowing they would be robbed of their lawful right ‘The Right of Return’. And somewhere in the midst of the ‘Not Knowing’, Palestinian homes were destroyed. Lives were stolen.  Thousands became refugees, the thousands doubled and tripled until millions became displaced. All in a span of 100 years.

I painted this simple yet special painting eight years ago and gifted it to my father. It depicts the hardship of Palestinian life through the eyes of an old worn-out Palestinian man, broken by tragedies yet strong and living. His white and black كوفية (a traditional gender-neutral scarf pronounced Koofiyyeh) represents his Palestinian pride. The Palestinian flag colours in the background including the Koofiyyeh’s white (which also happen to be the UAE’s flag colours) represent his determination and hope. I hung the painting on my father’s office wall in his Dubai home (he had no choice in the matter!) and said to him, ‘I painted this for you baba so you will always remember Palestine, and me’. The look he returned with his eyes revealed all.

Altamira Love

August 10, 2017 (Santillana del Mar, Spain)

Where I stayed in Santillana Del Mar – Altamira hotel. One of tradition and history. The one with the tiny room and window and slanted ceiling yet it warmed my heart. Small but spacious. Simple but stylish. Cosy not showy. Spanish and serene. Satisfied.

Guggenheim Museum Bilbao

August 3, 2017 – Bilbao, Spain 

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Inside the Guggenheim Museum Bilbao

Some words for the astonishing Guggenheim Museum Bilbao: the genius Frank Gehry. Swirls and audacious curves. Seamless. Inspired by childhood memories of fish. A masterpiece of contemporary architecture. The building that changed the world. Pushing boundaries. Bourgeois’ spider ‘Maman’, an ode to her mother. A work of art. Titanium, limestone and glass. A building resembling a boat, evoking the past industrial life of the port of Bilbao. Simply magnificent.

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Magnificent Architecture

 

Epa Bilbao

August 3, 2017 – Bilbao, Spain

Epa (hello in Basque) from buzzing Bilbao! Northern Spain’s industrial port city. Its buildings are taller than the norm in Basque standards and it is a city famed for the Frank Gehry–designed Guggenheim Museum (1997). Its opening paved way for a New Bilbao and that’s exactly where I’m heading to next! Can’t wait!

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Beautiful Buildings of Bilbao