atelhaddad

[atelhaddad]

Strolling through korba, a vibrant red grabbed my attention, it read Cairo Design Week. The emotions I feel when I see a movement turned into organized routing of talent and vocation are always very mixed. On the one hand I see the long lasting effect of a community of likeminded individuals being brought together, and on the other hand I see the gruesome hand of capitalism fingering and exploiting every inch of such talents for the sake of material.

My excitement suddenly plummeted after remembering the price of the ticket for an earlier event, which was 2k+ EGP (A tad short of 100$) but as a creative who feels strongly against monetizing art, I never made much from my photography and I have never "sold" any of my photographs.

I resist feeling negatively towards something that I cannot have because of money. I keep reminding myself that art and design are as vital to a people's wellbeing as biology and medicine.

Fast forward to a couple of days later, I met a friend who mentioned seeing the billboards and signs, and anticipated that its a fashion related event. I found out later through a reel that its everything design! Furniture, painting, sculpting, fashion, you name it!

I am thirsty for learning and inspiration, yet I find it reallyhard to stick to learning a skill or practicing it for an extended period. Sketching and designing have always felt like an embedded interest in my soul. Never had the true courage to show my real colors though. Not even to myself.

Today I visited every node of the CDW except for 2, both of which are fashion realted. It is something that I am yet to taste but not now. I was really interested in furniture design. Designing for people, for an experience, for an eternal moment of feeling safe, comforted and genuinely content.

One of the rather prominent places on the map is Cairo Design Center that's been standing since the early 90's as far as I know. I entered through the glass window, admiring the articulate typography and innate setup of the place that makes you feel timeless and in the presence of a very nurturing spirit. I glimpsed the furniture, but the posters were what really caught my attentions.

Is'haaq (Isaac) Azmy, RIP, was, from what I could tell, one of the most loving individuals towards his country. Between founding an arts lighthouse and internationally acclaimed furniture pieces, Azmy toured the world as an ambassador for the true Egyptian heritage through his work. My soul was ecstatic! I was interrupted by the entrance of a man who looked passionate but a bit short-tempered. He welcomed my in french and asked whether I came for CDW or a passer-by. I told him my intentions and we got the talk going for nearly an hour, by the time I was about to leave the shop, he turned my sight to the TV by the door, that was staged on an original piece of a beautifully cured and finished acasia wood cookie.

I took a look at the film that was playing while listening to Magued (who I later came to find out is the owner's son, who feels has been handed the baton to keep on watering the seeds of his late father's work)

M- Have given the gallery downstairs a look?

H- I wasn't aware that ....

M- Go have a look.

H- Don't mind if I do

Paintings, installations and plans. So much to grasp. And the best part is: I was all on my own. Just letting those colors tell me what they are and what they want me to feel. The frames guided me to a precious quote, one that I know I will hold on to dearly:

جلست على شاطئ بحر الابداع منذ اكثر من ٣٠ عاما أرقب الطرح الجميل. و اتصيد حروفا من أبجدية التشكيل، لأصيغها حلما يتجسد و يتحول الى مشروعات تتحقق رغما عني، قبل أن أفكر فيها، انها ارادة خالق بحر الابداع.

اليكم .. أهدي هذا الطرح، لعلي أسهم مع آخرون في البحث عن مفهوم جديد لشكل أدوات الحياة الانسانية.

Translation is at the end.

I knew at that point that my spirit needed to settle in this place for some time. I went back up to ask Magued about their plans for the design week ..

"We're setting up a space infront of the showroom, there will be a sketching and painting circle, bring your sketchbook and colours between 7 and 10pm and come join"

He really didn't need to say more. I shuffled my day's plan around and ran a few errands, I collected the tools from my place and was there at around 8pm.

I had my sketchbook under one arm and my messenger bag on the other shoulder. I could smell beauty and authenticity in the air. I am not sure what kind of sorcery helped CDW's organizers to have this vibe so prominent in Korba, but I love it.

I am walking in Baghdad street that was named after an Arab capital, enjoying the sight of buildings that were designed by the brits and built by Egyptians. Next to a french bakery and a swiss restaurant. Across the street was a Canadian coffee place accommodating citizens from 3-4 countries at least. Such diversity, such humanity, such is the picture I always drew of Cairo in my head. A place for everyone to be truly alive.

I am approaching the showroom ... but wait, I gawked, There's nobody there! ..

Scheiße.

Did I hear something wrong?

Was I mistaken?

Am I that late? He said 7-10. I kept on walking till I entered the showroom and saw Magued from behind, he sensed my footsteps and turned around with such a bright smile and squinting eyes while saying "آدي اول فنان جه عشان يرسم اهو" .. I wanted to correct him, simply because I realized that there's a mother and her daughter waiting to be joined in the painting circle BUT they were hiding inside because they were too shy to sit outside alone on the sidewalk.

So wait, are you waiting for ME to encourage you? I feel really uncomfortable sharing my experiments with someone, let alone doing it on the street! I need someone to encourage me , lady!

Luckily there was no turning back, I went outside, sat down and took out my graphite set, the two ladies sat to my left and we exchanged tools and were supposed to start.

I froze, was too self councious, tried to distract myself and act busy while playing with my phone. Magued came and went with the passerbys, people stopped to look at the sketches and left among finding them empty. Yustina and her mom were quarrelling about what she should start with. I felt bad for Yustina because her mom was really pushy and was trying so hard to make sure Yustina is doing what she is telling her to do.

Let her express herself woman. Why are you like that?

I dropped the self-propelled judge in me to think about what I should draw on that canvas. Then I realized that I could try and get inspired by the surroundings. EURIKA! I'M DRAWING A باكية!

YALLA, I let my pencil touch the canvas and started moving. Trying to perfect every curve and kink, every pillar and accent. And people started stopping to watch.

My hand was shaky, I felt really stupid and I couldn't help but let anyone who initiated a conversation know that I had no idea what I was doing.

The more comfortable I got, the more I saw the true message of art prevail. People just stopping by to cheer, wonder or even just share a smile felt really nice. You know, we conversed as people and shared some laughs without the need for a background story or a string.

My spirit mingled with many other spirits that came and went without sharing a single word. But Mahrous stopped with 2 of his friends to ask whether he could take an extra sheet and join. 5 minutes later he had the full façade of the building sketched and ready to be etched. Literally 5 minutes later. I don't know his background. But you could tell that they are all an art major and in Cairo for vacation from some European country. The group had 2 Egyptians and a lebanese.

Mahrous had such a vibrant halo that attracted some homeless kids around him. My self-propelled judge instantly concluded that Mahrous will break down at some point and push the kids away from the amount of questions they were asking. To my surprise, he just answered all the questions while looking at what he was drawing as if he was playing word ping pong with the boys. Ibrahim was the most curious, and I couldn't help but give him a sheet and a pencil to start drawing.

I- What should I draw?

H- Anything you want

I- How?

H- Have you tried drawing before?

I- No, like what should I do? Just move it around on the paper?

M- Actually yes, don't look at anything, don't copy anything, just scribble

I- I want to draw a circle

M- Go ahead

Ibrahim starts sketching, draws a face, then a square, then a line. And everytime he takes the pencil off the paper to look at what came out of it, he cheers himself with a happy "YES!" accompanied with this arm gestures footballers do when scoring a goal.

Mahrous left, and Ibrahim brought his paper and took Mahrous' seat. Then Mustafa stopped by to add a couple of drawings to Ibrahim's paper that depicted a clown and AlAhly Club's flag. He informed everyone that he's a graffiti artist and gave them the thumbs up and went on his way.

Yustina and her mom had a painting behind me the whole time and I only saw it before leaving. It was a collage of Baron Empain, his palace in heliopolis and the car he drove. And I only saw it after a passer-by asked Yustina about it and she told him "my brother painted this, he's coming in a bit if you'd like to meet him"

I turned around to look at the painting and admire it, then left my sketchbook, graphite set and eraser while thinking to myself

لعلي أسهم مع آخرون في البحث عن مفهوم جديد لشكل أدوات الحياة الانسانية.

[atelhaddad]

A repetitive pattern of phases I've noticed recently, it goes too deep into your guts and brains. I've experienced something similar before, recently found people labeling it as psychosis, schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. I am no psychologist to determine whether the three share the same symptoms, if the person experiencing such extreme and sudden alteration of feelings could fall unto the 3 spectrums simultaneously, or if they even share a spectrum. But it is becoming too recurring that it's alarming. A believer voluntarily gives into a truth without argumentation or reasoning. A delusional believer tailors a chain of reasons to fit his beliefs. A realist -to me- is the highest form of a believer. He sees what is, names it for what it is to his attainable understanding, and accepts its existence, non existence, or even its existence on a metaphysical level. The pattern I speak of occurs when someone spends too much time inside one's head. "Recreational drugs" could be a very dangerous catalyst to the surfacing of such pattern. It starts with an immature, hyper-yea approach to loving life in all its ways, shapes and forms. What one usually overseas in such phase is the "serpent" that lies beneath. The hate that could very dangerously be the root for the immature, superficial love, the love that is very personal, selfish, and self-rewarding. Which makes such love void of its true value. Acceptance. I accept because I love, making this love unjustified. However, if I love because I accept, makes it justified, and that's no way for true love. What inspired me to write this piece is what I've come across recently on social media. Namely, the account of someone who was at a certain point a personal-favorite satirist, Hesham Mansour. A very bright person, from what I've noticed during the very brief, cyber insights I've had on his personality through his show (Al3elm wal Emaw). His facebook posts, his instagram captions, they always showed me how this person's wit and social-intelligence gave him a passport to all classes. His accounts had pictures with celebrities, blue collars, academics and even diplomats. Recently, Hesham has been raiding his accounts with posts that contained a lot of symbolism. And that was the first sign to me, however significant these symbols are, believing that they're timeless or divine throws your sanity off-course.

"Horus is here" 

"They allowed the devil to be in human form.Plenty. That's basically what Jews did, the root of their deal with the devil" "All the negativity in the world, caused by Jews, All terrorism in the world, caused by jews, All depression, darkness, also jews. They stole all the positive energy! And as of 2019, it has begun returning to its rightful owners" And finally: "Now let's kill some jews" Needless to say, Mansour's twitter account that had nearly 900k followers got suspended, sending a torrent of angry people to his instagram account's comment section, calling him an antisemite and a nazi (oh, he later posted a photo of Hitler dabbing by the way, while wearing a ribbon with a Swastika on it).

Finally, the end to put an end to all endings for me was his reply to one of the comments his earlier posted golden cross picture .. "The people posting the Israeli flag are Jews, I am the Messiah, and Doomsday is happening" 

- Hesham rode a rather quick path to fame, starting on YouTube, then Television then most recently, with politicians and diplomats. A path very few people could handle without experiencing Megalomania. He -from what appears- indulged in substance abuse as well. From his abundant use of hash or alcohol-related jokes, it was very obvious how lightly he took their input to his state of mind. He admitted in his TED talk that he consumed alcohol and drugs. His over-reading into symbolism and ancient figures, shows that his belief system was getting disrupted. Some of his tweets reflected an absurd belief that Jews have control over the universe, from the space-time continuum to the human spirit, to fate even! I doubt that the most radical of athiests would believe that man can possess such a power, let alone a believer. 

The pattern goes as follows; An average human leading an average life, gets surrounded by a different kind of people than those he's habitual to, ego inflation starts with a very toxic loop of mutual gratification between him and such a people in the circle, the circle gets bigger and suddenly one becomes more concerned with his reflection in the people's eyes than in his own mirror, more substance abuse, a sudden feeling of exclusion, a hard fall for a significant other. That fall, that very fall, is the sole reason why someone would start looking into their own mirror. All of a sudden the flaws start to appear, they become more agonizing, one thinks to oneself "the very flaws that I've been pointing my fingers at are deeply rooted within me". A shock, traumatic even to some extent. I like to refer to this fall as the first taste of true love, because it shows you who you really are and reflects how much your actions weigh against your opinions, beliefs and claims. It hits you like lightning, cannot be compared to any other feeling or emotion, and I would even go as far as calling it an awakening. At which point, one starts to feel perplexed, "How did I, of all people, lose track of my actions like that. How did I drift so far off the path I'd had drawn for myself to the point where I'm that appalling, to ME!" An episode of self-loathing, followed by another of denial take over one's brain, and their only remedy is accusation and blame. In Hesham's case, he blamed the jews for everything negative, literally.  He showed respect for Hitler's actions. The only logical explanation I can think of is that he was trying to blame someone else for everything that's going wrong with his life -I am guessing because his love wasnt reconciled by Nadine, whom he had mentioned in an earlier post on instagram- and couldn't and wouldn't accept that he's not as perfect as he thought he was when swimming in the toxic micro-reality of gratification he was living in.

A faux sense of -exaggerated- self worth starts to manifest itself, little by little, till it reaches the point of a sense of holiness, divinity or of one being a saint, simply because one is too scared to admit they've done mistakes, however small they might be. I feel for Hesham, I feel sorry for the Jews who had to read his tweets, no one should ever face this amount of hatred. I wonder if He was born in a different country, who would he direct this hate upon? If you're reading this, Hesham, I want you to know that I have never felt more empathy towards someone I've never met than I do towards you now. I will pray that this phase goes away as quickly and as smoothly as possible. Because you've just crossed the starting line of the path to true love. What's coming next is only better. You'll regain control over yourself, you'll call yourself out on the mistakes that you've made and you'll own them. You'll feel like they're beneath you and your heart will grow to unprecedented levels because -even though we never met- it shows how much love you have in you man. I will very boldly even say that you'll love the very jews you called evil and rapists and all that ugly noise. Why? Because you'll see the doing of the higher consciousness, that your claim of "Control over the spirit" is well beyond man. And that the existence of the gorgeous dance of what we all subjectively label as good and evil within ourselves and ultimately across this whole universe presents itself as a mind blowingly brilliant composotion of life, so our whole existence would evolve as one. 

Love. 

[atelhaddad]

Hurdling through the unwanted

Somtimes I feel like nobody can relate to what or how I'm feeling. Like a certain emotion I'm having is exclusively abnormal. It makes me feel alone. I feel like it's very quiet around me when I am at that place but at the same time it makes me sad to an extent. I am not sure if my sad is the average to others. If the scale from sad to happy is even a thing and it depends on how much time you spend at each interval that dictates your emotions once that interval is changed. Moving up makes you feel happier, moving down makes you feel sadder. Staying at a certain domain, that's your normal. Some people's normal could be more inclined towards the happier end. And if they moved down to a less happy domain on that scale they feel neutral or normal. A bliss and a curse it is then, to be habitual to the happier end of the scale because that means that you're more susceptible to feeling sadness with the slightest shake. I'm very privileged, I have a free place to stay at, a few jobs that pay well altogether, a safe neighborhood, a short commute to work and a certain freedom to do whatever I want whenever I want to. Some might even call this a luxurious life. But it always feels like something is missing. And I'm not sure whether this has something to do with being brought up in a way that holds my actions and attitude accountable to everything that is wrong with my life, and immersing this deep sense of guilt whenever something negative happens, but that feeling of missing out on something always makes me wonder if I'm doing something wrong. Or if I'm not diligent enough. On a good day, I tell myself no one's ever going to have it all, I condole myself by trying to accept that maybe I'm not that much of a "winner"  or "go-getter". Which works the same way painkillers do. I feel okay for a while, disregarding every negative feeling and being content with where I'm already at. While the effect of the pill slowly tapers out, I feel this hungry monster growing inside of me, rising to scream and eat anything to push me to grow, saying stuff like "you're capable" or "you deserve" or "you're entitled" and as vicious as this voice sounds, I can't help but get excited and motivated to let it help me conquer something else, buy something else, push myself to do something new, but all of this comes with unwanted disregard to how others feel towards what I'm doing even if they're not involved.   Actually, it's a bit more complicated. It's like I disregard how they'd feel about me stepping on some toes on the way, but I regard how I'd have their attention or admiration.  It's like I would want them to think high of me, but have nothing to do with me, like I want to distance myself from them, but in a way that makes me superior to them. And it sickens me to my guts. Because at some point, after having what I now understand could have been my first episode of being bipolar, I came back to feeling very free, very liberated from this rat race by genuinely not wanting anything material or anyone's attention. I was satisfied with being at that place I mentioned in the beginning. The secluded place, the place where my voice echoes back to only me and I could feel that my vision has never been sharper.   Maybe we're meant to revisit this place every once in a while to align our visions, intentions and morals. Maybe this place is supposed to be temporary but if we force ourselves to stay in it, it stinks of stagnant ideas and still thoughts. Like food in a pot, where it is meant to be cooked and eaten but if left there would rot. I just hope to god that when I visit this place and go out of it to willingly re-engage in the rat race to feel like a human that I wouldn't be defecating my visions and morals on fellow humans. Because it hurts me to think that I have a negative effect on anyone. To the point where I would avoid affecting anyone altogether. It's like I want to be an inert gas. I'm there, but I do not react or engage with anyone in any way, shape or form. And the sacrifice that comes with it always feels infitecimal when weighted against the negative consequences my actions would have on anyone. The sacrifice being bearing this self-imposed isolation, missing out on chances and yielding so little to none of what could be meant to be yielded material or otherwise. I'm not a psychologist to attest that such a state is a mental health issue or an abnormality. But from a human perspective, and by comparing such attitude with that of whom I perceive as healthy beings, it is definitely odd and different. I don't want to force it, but I feel compelled to entertain it oftentimes. My constant drive to feel happy, excited or achieved makes me feel like I'm a decadent sometimes. Like I need above average occurrence of gratification. And in a voyage to get rid of that I've forced myself to give up some dreams and aspirations that once were the very reason I woke up. At some point I doubted my choices and hopes because of the emotional roller coaster they've put me through. And when I think about it in retrospect, maybe that's what it's like to be human and ever-evolving. What it's like to be alive and seizing the moment. But at the same time it's hard to endure a life void of patterns and familiarity. I keep bouncing back and forth between seclusion, tranquility and utter chaos. I long for the first and second, yet find myself pulled back to the latter. It's like part of me can't wait to die and take off, and the other part can't help but admit that it's not a choice just yet.

[atelhaddad]

Why

The quest of mankind to find purpose in life is a challenge that killed people, reasoned the killing of others, and is used as a catalyst for -even humanly unacceptable- decisions. It all started with the question of “Why are we here?” ... A question that can have limitless subjective answers. Some of which are only and exclusively good for a domain of like-minded, socially harmonious, clan of people. You can file it all under trial and error, or under stupidity and backwards thinking. Up to you.

I am not going to claim that the answer to world peace is a binary switch. I don’t understand politics, but I understand the importance of its existence. I don’t necessarily like the methods adopted by politicians, but I might understand them. Killing in the name of Eugenics didn’t come out of the blue, hence, it can’t be suddenly non-existent. What drives me insane, is the blessings the governments pass on to unnatural rights. Which is not subjective, I’ll back my claims up with philosophical arguments. Hopefully I’ll find the right words for my topics. Maybe it will help me reach my purpose.