Procrastinet

Amman, Jordan - 5/26/05: Art, Part III - "This Really Happened, I Swear"

filed under: Despatches

A continuing series of periodic Procrastinet Despatches from Amman, Jordan. By Nicholas Seeley.

[EDITOR'S NOTE: Nick sent this Despatch last week and it got lost in the holiday weekend shuffle. Apologies.]

I was in Blue Fig Café today, which is Jordan’s answer to the Art Bar. It’s a bit trendy for my taste, stuffed with overdressed Abdounis, but it has the overwhelming virtue of being one of the few public places that really goes to the effort to display and promote Jordanian art. They have a couple branches around the city that give space to local painters, potters and photographers, and have shows featuring local bands, and as things go, they at least make some effort to get the word out there. One problem I hear about again and again is that a lot of shows just slide under the radar because no one is promoting them, but that’s an issue for another day.

Anyway, I was having lunch with Hamad, a Jordanian visual artist, and between the sliced carrot salad and the black bean pizza I launched into one of my usual tirades about why so many Amman art galleries and cultural centers devote all their space and time to Iraqi and Syrian art, (mostly the fomer) while good local artists go without shoes.

In fact, the one gallery I know of (other than the Fig) that is actually devoted to Jordanian art isn’t open to the public, only to buyers. Fortunately, I know the owner, so I’ve been able to peek in occasionally at the treasures hidden inside.

Anyway, I’m in mid-rant and Hamad (not his real name) leans in and say, “you have to understand, Nick, artists here are shy.”

“Shy,” I shout with my usual wit and aplomb, “what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Artists can’t be SHY! They must be warriors for truth, running through the streets with paintbrushes in hand and blood running down their faces!” (Okay, I made up that last part – but I wish I’d said it, don’t you?)

So Hamad says, “you don’t get it. People here, they are very critical. If you do something, they don’t look at it, they just ask ‘Why would you do that.’ If there is something, they do not talk about the good things, they just look and say, ‘this is wrong, this is wrong, this is bad, why did you do this.’ They are very negative. So, why would an artist show his work, when this is all he will get from people?”

“Really?” I asked in wonderment, sitting back and sipping my Hi-caf mocha soy-latte explosion.

“Absolutely. Most artists here,” he continued sagely, “make art for their family and friends only, not for strangers. They won’t appreciate it anyway.”

Which just goes to show that the universe sometimes answers questions you didn’t know you were asking.

Of course, surly people with nothing to do but put down other’s work isn’t the only reason artists could have to be shy here. The ineluctable secret police are another – some of you may remember the earlier dispatch that described how Amman’s nascent garage-metal movement was put down because of accusations of Satanism. I know quite a few folks who sat in jail over that one.

So artists do have to be careful of what they say or do, which may be another factor in the silent spring effect. I also get the impression, though I can’t prove it, that the things that will get you in trouble here are kind of unpredictable, because of the balancing act between the different factions of society – it’s not as simple as, “don’t insult the rulers. Another bunch of folks reputedly got thrown in jail for wearing goth costumes in a bar.

And one thing I neglected to mention in that list of art projects I sent was the tattoo artists. Actually, I didn’t mention them because I don’t actually know them – you see, they keep disappearing. I’ve been trying for a month now to get some new ink; and twice friends who have gotten work done have offered to hook me up with their artists.

The first one we called just stopped answering his phone, and vanished. The second guy we tried lived with a roommate, who told my friend tersely over the phone that the guy had gotten thrown in jail a few days earlier. Hmmm. Couldn’t tell you if there was a tattoo connection to the disappearances, but it’s a slightly unnerving coincidence.

Now if you’ll pardon me, I’m going to go hide all my ripped-up jeans, and buy some long-sleeved shirts…

- Nicholas Seeley, 5/26/05

Posted by rjt at June 1, 2005 12:06 PM