Return of the Soul: The Nakbah Project
by Jane Frere
Artist's
Statement
From the Holocaust to An Nakbah: The Inspiration
I was first moved by several visits to a concentration camp
in Poland, which led me to explore the Jewish narrative and
examine the brutal consequences of the dreadful tragedy of
the Holocaust.
This line of research inevitably steered me towards An Nakbah,
a term used by Palestinians to describe their own terrifying
forced exodus from their land in 1948. Israel’s new
historians, such as Ilan Pappe, have exposed the ethnic cleansing
policy executed then to drive Palestinians into exile through
massacre, rape, and both violent and psychological warfare.
The Nakbah of ‘48 marked only the beginning, however,
of 60 years of displacement and occupation for the people
of Palestine. It is not a single event buried in the past,
but a continuing source of catastrophe for Palestinians, the
Middle East and, indeed, the wider world
Frustrated by the perpetual myths and ignorance that I found
surrounding the subject, I decided that if I was to delve
into the numerous questions that had arisen out of my initial
research I would have to embark on a journey of exploration,
to feel the daily rhythms of life under occupation and investigate
Palestinian history through dedicated field work living amongst
the local population.
After all, the idea of taking on another’s trauma based
on a second-hand experience of it, arrived at through reading
or watching films in the passive environment of my London
apartment, seemed almost absurd. Besides, I had never been
to Palestine. But, back then, even the thought of entering
a virtual war zone filled me with trepidation.
However relentless news stories of violence and misery on
TV were, prompting facile words from banal politicians and
from a media hell-bent on confusing issues, the desire to
do something about the forced exile of the Palestinians from
their land remained unremitting. What I would do or how I
would go about it, I was not sure of yet. Nonetheless, one
thing was for certain: if I was going to make an artwork,
it would have to be a monumental effort.
From Concept to Form: The Genesis
“Why are they doing that to the poor people”
the lady asks, “Because they are Palestinian”
says a voice in her head, “ that way they are kept in
a state of suspension, neither able to touch heaven or earth”
“That’s it!” I said to Neville coming out
of the cinema, “That is the project!”
We had just seen Soraida, a Woman of Palestine, a film directed
by Tahani Rached, in which a lady, Um Ali, sits over coffee
with her friends and recounts the dream she had the night
before. She describes how she saw hundreds of Palestinians
hanging from laundry lines, like cloths hung out to dry.
Um Ali’s dream struck an instant chord…
If land is pulled from under your feet, severing the roots
that have maintained you over centuries, your unbound spirit,
which, undoubtedly, has nowhere to go, remains trapped in
limbo. I began by brainstorming around this state of suspension.
In the way of an initial spark of inspiration, the idea of
using wax figures came to me equally by surprise. As a theatre
designer, I always have a supply of model figurines on-hand
from past productions. I had been experimenting with boiling
wax at that point in time, and, so, I began by dipping one
of these figurines into the wax. Gradually, after several
immersions, the figurine became no longer in my control –
it started to take on a form of its own. A visceral, sensuous,
material used since ancient times, wax gave the figure a uniquely
poignant and melancholy appearance, quite different from anything
I had ever seen before.
In the whimsical way of an artist’s fantasy, the figurine
spoke to me. “I am it!” she said. And I listened…
From then on, the figures started to multiply in number.
They would go on to symbolically represent a people in a state
of flight in a large-scale sculpture. Comprised of thousands
of small, hand-made wax figures suspended in mid air, ordered
in gradation from largest to smallest, the sculpture would
present a spectacular visual impression of a mass exodus approaching
- of an incoming wave of Palestinian refugees.
As the idea for the project began to solidify, I knew that
the next stage would have to take place in Palestine, for,
in the end, these figures did not represent my history; I
was, in spite of everything, merely an agent, carrying out
a set methodology and producing empty shells. The figurines
that were being made needed a breath of life; they had to
be given a soul. And if they were to be made as such, with
integrity and pathos, then they could only be produced by
Palestinian hands.
In this way, the primary aim of the resulting sculpture would
be to materialize the suffering of those it represents and
to create an awareness of the injustice of displacement in
a non-didactic, non-political way by means of an act of artistic
expression that is imbued with a humanitarian and spiritual
approach.
I soon realised, however, that what I was about to undertake
would be no ordinary work of art. The final creation would
surely pale in significance to the journey I was to embark
on as, no matter how much one thinks one knows about Palestine,
nothing can prepare you for the first visit and for the initial
shock. Occupation and displacement, to be truly understood,
I now know, have to be felt by all five senses.
My journey to Palestine and my residence alongside Palestinians
in refugee camps have been most humbling and rewarding experiences,
empowered and enriched by the indefatigable spirit of the
Palestinian people who, despite all the marginalization, denial
of basic human rights, and miserable living circumstances
they endure, still cling to the hope that, after more than
half a century, their right of return, once guaranteed under
international law, will be honoured.
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