-
ONE: Among the Jasmine Trees
- Wesleyan University Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
22 AmongtheJasmineTrees ⁄Maœtla⁄: Among the Jasmine Trees Soon after arriving in Damascus, I met Fateh Moudarres (1924–1999), one of modern Syria’s—indeed, the Arab world’s—greatest artists. “UstÂaz Fateh,” as he was known to his students and friends, was famous for his powerful paintings that evoke the Syrian countryside with their rich colors and characters drawn from rural life.1 A native of Aleppo and graduate of academies in Rome and Paris in the 1950s and 1960s, Moudarres advocated both modernism and authenticity in his art, arguing that authentic Syrian art in any medium should evoke a strong sense of place, of local geography, the smells and sounds of the countryside, the animals and plants, the very soil. His works convey geographical specificity through the use of strong colors, natural pigments, abstractions of simple themes from folk life and mythology, and an acute awareness of temporality— that is, of timelessness. His paintings, which have hung beside the works of Miro and Picasso, won several international prizes. Yet, he claimed that Syrian artists had not yet managed to achieve an authentic modern vision despite a few individual efforts, his own included. In addition to his painting, Moudarres also published several collections of stories and poetry and recorded some of his own compositions on the piano. Indeed, he claimed to me to be a musician at heart but to prefer painting because , as he put it, music is “too noisy” for his tastes. Yet, he playfully suggested that one could experience what he called “silent music”in his canvases. Some of his works include portraits of peasants playing on simple reed instruments or carry titles that suggest a relationship to music. 1. Among the Jasmine Trees 23 Entering his studio for the first time, I find it dark, almost cave-like, its rooms cluttered with canvases, paint supplies, and shelf after shelf of books in several languages. Ustaz Fateh is seated in the main room at a table cluttered with small tea glasses, ashtrays, books, pens, and various papers. He is conversing with a young artist, who gives up the seat of honor across from Moudarres when I arrive so that I can sit and speak with him. Small of stature and frail with illness, Moudarres nonetheless is a powerfully charming and charismatic man—his bushy eyebrows arch as his eyes gleam with brilliance and mischief. His voice, soft and grave, commands attention, like that of an ancient sage: No matter what he says, you simply must listen. He has just finished another of his aphorisms, written on a blank sheet of paper and signed, “Fateh.” I look around me and find them hanging here and there around the main room of the studio like so many manifestos or Confucian analects. Some are obscure—“That brigand paints the mountains with his voice”—others profound—“with one painting a man is able to found an entire nation.” After I introduce myself, we begin to speak about my research on Arab music and I ask him his opinion of the music today. Leaning back in his chair, Fateh Moudarres in his studio, Damascus, 1981. Katrina Thomas/Saudi Aramco World/PADIA. [3.227.239.160] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 15:46 GMT) 24 he replies, “The music today is mostly rubbish . . . there’s a lot of rubbish out there. It is the music of the ‘mob,’ not serious. Oriental music (mÂusµıqÂa sharqiyya ) is serious, thoughtful, meditative. But today it is mostly lost. If you want to study it you must go and search for it. You must go to Aleppo, to the old buildings and neighborhoods, to the orange and lemon trees. You must hear the birds. . . . Go to the old quarters of Damascus, listen in the courtyards of the old Arab homes. There, among the jasmine trees, you may find it. . . .”Then, sounding like an old Sufi master—his bushy brows raised and a wry smile traced on his mouth—he proclaims: “You must choose between them.”Pausing to roll a cigarette, he turns to another artist friend who has just joined us and asks him, “How was your exhibition?”leaving me to ponder his remarks. What choice must I make? Fateh Moudarres was challenging me to make a choice, I believe, between two worlds, the first the world of the older music—in his view associated with authenticity and deeply seated geographical and cultural truths and memories— the second the world of the...