Shady El-Noshokaty »Stammer – A Lecture in Theory«
»Stammer – A Lecture in Theory« ist die erste Einzelausstellung des in Kairo lebenden Künstlers Shady El-Noshokaty (*1971) im deutschsprachigen Raum. Sie konzentriert sich auf die Auseinandersetzung El-Noshokatys mit dem Medium der Zeichnung. Diese Auseinandersetzung reflektiert den Zusammenhang von Theorie und einer durch persönliche Erfahrungen und Emotionen geprägten (künstlerischen) Praxis.
Die Zeichnungen fungieren in ihrer fantastischen, aber auch beklemmenden Motivik als ein »Archiv der Emotionen« – Tagebucheinträgen vergleichbar. Sie verbinden Elemente mythologischer und anatomisch-pathologischer Illustrationen zu einer unaussprechlichen Traumwelt. Eingebunden in die Präsentation dieser postsurrealistischen Zeichnungen ist El-Noshokatys Videoarbeit »Stammer – A Lecture in Theory«, die den performativen und physischen Akt des Zeichnens aufgreift. Ein Vortragender bemüht sich, mithilfe eines Lehrbuches über eine bestimmte Lesart des Dualismus von Mentalem und Körperlichem zu referieren. Immer wieder wendet er sich einer Schultafel zu, um die abstrakte Theorie in eine ebenso abstrakte Zeichnung zu überführen. Beidhändig und weit ausholend scheint der Zeichnende eine naturwissenschaftliche Darstellung oder ein Diagramm überpersönlicher und universaler Art geben zu wollen. Jedoch dringen im Versuch einer Vermittlung theoretischer Gehalte ständig Störsignale des Psychischen an die Oberfläche und beginnen, die Kontrolle über den physischen Akt des Zeichnens zu übernehmen. Am Ende okkupieren diese die Form der Vermittlung der theoretischen Gehalte selbst und führen genau jene Konsequenzen der dualistischen Theorie vor Augen, die das Lehrbuch in seiner objektivierenden Sprache nicht vermitteln kann. Shady El-Noshokaty vertrat Ägypten auf der 48. Biennale di Venezia. Als Teilnehmer in der Gruppenausstellung »Africa Remix – Zeitgenössische Kunst aus Afrika« war er in einigen der bedeutendsten Museen der Welt vertreten. El-Noshokaty lehrt als Professor an der Heluan Universität in Kairo Malerei und Grafik. (C) PARROTTA CONTEMPORARY ART STUTTGART BERLIN
Shady El-Noshokaty »Stammer – A Lecture in Theory« (Engl.)
"Stammer - A Lecture in Theory" is the first solo exhibition in German speaking countries by the artist living in Cairo, El-Shady Noshokaty (* 1971). It focuses on the fight between El-Noshokaty and the medium of drawing. This struggle reflects the connection of theory and one of personal experience and emotions shaped (artistically) into practice. The drawings work in their fantastic, but also oppressive subject matter as in "Archive of Emotions", which is comparable to a journal entry. They connect elements of mythological and anatomic-pathological illustrations to an unspeakable dream world. Embedded in the presentation of these post-surrealist drawings is El-Noshokaty's video work called, "Stammer (A Lecture in Theory)", which entails a performance of the physical act of drawing. With the assistance of a text book, a lecturer attempts to speak on a particular interpretation of mental and physical dualism. Repeatedly he turns around to a blackboard in order to transfer the abstract theory to an equally abstract drawing. The drawing seems ambidextrous with large gestures wanting to show an out-of-person and universal type of scientific construction or diagram. While attempting to relay this theoretical content, a constant interference of the Psyche comes to the surface and begins to take control of the physical act of drawing. In the end, the occupation of the form of relaying the theoretical content itself shows, right before your eyes, the exact consequences of the dualistic theory, which the text book in its objectified form cannot relay.
Shady El-Noshokaty represented Egypt at the 48th Biennale di Venezia. As a participant in the group exhibition called "Africa Remix - Contemporary art from Africa" he was already in some of the most important museums of the world. El-Noshokaty teach as a professor of painting and graphics at the University of Cairo Heluan. (C) PARROTTA CONTEMPORARY ART STUTTGART BERLIN
Alternative zur offiziösen Stillleben-Malerei: die Workshops von Shady El-Noshokaty. Das Video „u, me, us“ von Hosam Hodhod (2004) zeigt die Ohnmacht der Studenten
Ein Bündel Mensch.
Von Sonja Zekri, Feuilleton, Süddeutsche Zeitung, 24. Januar 2008.
Natürlich geht es gleich wieder um die Nackten. Um menschliche Körper, ein Motiv in der Kunst seit den Höhlenzeichnungen. An der Akademie der Schönen Künste in Kairo dürfen keine nackten Körper gemalt oder aus Stein gehauen werden. Präsident Anwar Al-Sadat hat es 1975 verboten, und Mourad Darwisch – dünn und blass, mit flusigem schwarzen Vollbart und Jeansjacke – findet das völlig in Ordnung. Vielleicht war es ein wenig übertrieben, dass der neue Direktor Yazia Abou die antiken Figuren aus dem Vorgarten der Hochschule hat räumen lassen, aber im Prinzip, ja, sei er für das Akt-Verbot. Man habe von Ausschweifungen in den damaligen Klassen gehört, und überhaupt: „Nacktheit in der Malerei ist überholt. Das kann die Photographie besser“. Vor allem aber sei die Haltung des Islam in dieser Frage eindeutig. Und damit ist für Mourad Darwisch die Sache klar.
Natürlich ist sie das nicht, natürlich gibt es auch Werke muslimischer Künstler, auf denen Haut zu sehen ist, außerdem ist das ganze Land besessen von der Spannung zwischen Enthülltem und Verborgenem. Aber die Akademie der Schönen Künste fördert diese Auseinandersetzung nicht. Auf den Gängen des maroden Betonriegels im Villenviertel Samalek drängen sich über 1000 Studenten. Die Akademie der Schönen Künste ist eine von drei Kunsthochschulen der Universtät Heluan. In den 100 Jahren ihres Bestehens hat sie ein Menge politischer Strömungen erlebt – nun dominieren eben die Frommen die Agenda, Studenten wie Mourad Darwisch.
Freitags besucht er einen Mal- und Gebetskreis, anschließend zieht die Gruppe in Waisenhäuser. Er ist keiner von den Randalierern, von den religiösen Pressure Groups, die ganze Kurse schikanieren und die Darstellung alles Lebendigen überhaupt verbieten wollen. Mit schüchternem Stolz präsen-tiert er den Entwurf für eine Auftragsarbeit, ein Mosaik: Wellen, Fahnen, Mädchen, Schwalben – patriotische Dutzendware. Was ihn inspiriert? „Ich mag van Gogh, van Meer, Rembrandt.“ – Aber Rembrandt malt unbekleidete Körper ... – „Mir gefällt sein Stil seiner Bilder, nicht der Inhalt.“
Vielleicht würde Mourad Darwisch auch Hopper mögen, aber den kennt er nicht, ebenso wenig wie Pollock, Twombly oder Warhol. Der Horizont des Lehrplanes reicht von den Pharaonen bis zum Impressionismus, und sein Englisch ist zu schlecht für das Internet. Mit den Mosaiken verdient er 250 Pfund (30 Euro) Studiengebühren pro Jahr. Er würde gerne mal Florenz sehen, aber bis jetzt hat er es nie aus Ägypten herausgeschafft. Sein Kunstsinn ist so begrenzt wie seine Welt, und dass er Frauen zum Abschied nicht die Hand schüttelt, ist fast schon nicht mehr erstaunlich: die Religion.
Lina Osama mach das rasend. Lina Osama, 21 Jahre alt, Kunststudentin im dritten Semester, stammt aus einer Familie, in der gemalt und geschrieben wurde, sie hat zwei Jahre in England studiert, mag Baselitz, Schiele, Kokoschka und hasst orientalistischen Kitsch: „Eine riesige Landschaft mit einer kleinen nubischen Hütte davor – was für ein trivialer Schund!“ Natürlich trägt sie kein Kopftuch, überhaupt verkörpert sie in fast allem das Gegenteil des stillen, verkniffenen Mourad. Es ist das Ende einer Porträt-Stunde, raschelnd huschen bis zu den Augen verschleierte Kommilitoninnen zwischen den Staffeleien umher. Lina sieht nicht mal hin. „Wenn ich anfange, die Hochschule zu verändern, kann ich gleich das ganze Land umkrempeln.“
Es ist ja nicht die Religion. Die Klassen sind überfüllt. Das Lehrangebot kreist um Malerei, Skulptur, Graphik, Porträts in Öl und jede Menge Stillleben, als sei die Würdigung angebissener Äpfel gerade der Gipfel künstlerischen Ausdrucks. Eigeninitiative gilt als Aufsässigkeit. „Einmal sollten wir eine helle Leindwand mitbringen“, erzählt Lina: „Alle kamen mit weißen Flächen, nur ich hatte eine hellgelbe. Da keifte die Lehrerin: Musst du immer anders sein als die anderen?“ Seitdem ist sie pragmatischer geworden. An der Universität pinselt sie Gefälliges in Öl, ästhetische Experimente hebt sie sich für zu Hause auf. Mit 15 Jahren hatte sie als erste Künstlerin eine Ausstellung im staatlichen Jugend-Salon. „Wenn ich irgendwann mal Akte malen will, zeige ich sie eben zuerst im Ausland – und dann in Ägypten.“
Wenn Lina Osama eines Tages Künstlerin wird, dann nicht wegen, sondern trotz dieser staatlichen, bis zur Strangulation verschulten Kunstausbildung. „Wir haben keine Freiheit des Denkens, des Ausdrucks, der Darstellung“, sagt selbst der Graphik-Dozent Ahmed Hanno, „es ist unendlich frustrierend.“
Hanno hat an der Kunsthochschule in Kassel studiert, heute versucht er, in Kairo Klassen von 70, 80 Studenten den Zauber des Zeichentricks beizubringen. Das ägyptische Kunststudium ist eine Negativauslese; nicht die Neigung oder eine künstlerische Prüfung entscheiden über die Aufnahme, sondern allein die Schulnote. Wer für Medizin oder Ingenieurswissenschaften zu schlecht ist, der muss in Öl malen. Vom Boom nahöstlicher Kunst weiß man an der Akademie nichts.
Doch nicht alle lassen sich durch Ignoranz und Frömmlertum lähmen – einer vibriert vor Energie, er unterrichtet gleich nebenan in der Akademie für Kunsterziehung, dem Schwester-Institut der Heluan-Universität, wo im ausgedörrten Vorgarten dieselben Chipstüten über das Gelände wehen. Shady El-Noshokaty rauscht in orangefarbener Baseballjacke und Dreitagebart ein. Er hat nach Meinung mancher mehr für den Kunstverstand junger Ägypter getan als beide Hochschulen zusammen, und dass man ihm die Verachtung über die Stillleben-Seligkeit der Kollegen auf 100 Meter ansieht, hat viel damit zu tun.
Heute inspiziert er die Gemälde einer fortgeschrittenen Klasse. Küchen-Szenen sollten die Studen-ten malen, in Öl, wie sie es ein Jahr lang geübt haben. Die Ergebnisse sind niederschmetternd: Das Holz sieht aus wie Beton, die Fenster sind nicht durchsichtig. Licht, Perspektive, Komposition – ein Trauerspiel. „Ich unterrichte lieber jüngere Klassen, da ist noch nicht so viel Schaden angerichtet“, raunt El-Noshokaty leise. Dann erklärt er noch mal, was ein Fluchtpunkt ist.
„Um etwas zu verändern, sind Lehrer das Wichtigste. Wenn die Menschen kreativ wären, wäre dies ein anderes Land“, sagt er. Aber noch ist es dasselbe Land, und deshalb sind seine Workshops für Lina Osama von der Akademie nebenan Oasen, für die meisten Kollegen aber eine Kampfansage. Jeden Sommer lädt Shady El-Noshokaty Künstler ein, aus Ägypten, aber auch aus Europa und Amerika und zeigt einer Handvoll Studenten, was ihm die Augen öffnete, als er sein Land 1999 auf der Biennale in Venedig vertrat und später in Chicago studierte: Videos, Comics, Installationen, Performances.
Das Ergebnis ist explosiv. In den Arbeiten entlädt sich die Wut über die eigene Ohnmacht als Studierende, als Bürger, als Menschen. Ein Student filmte sich am Boden, während schwere Stiefel über ihn hinwegtrampeln. Ein anderer schwingt in einem Sack von der Decke hin und her: Ein Bündel Mensch, abgepackt, ausgeliefert. Von Stillleben sind diese Ausbrüche so weit entfernt wie Falafel von Haute Cuisine, und so ist es nicht erstaunlich, dass ein paar von El-Noshokatys Kollegen geiferten, elektronische Kunst sei ein Angriff auf die Menschlichkeit. „Manchmal werfen sie mir vor, ich zerstöre die Zukunft meiner Studenten“, sagt El-Noshokaty lakonisch, „oder die behaupten, ich sei ein Büttel Amerikas“. Gott, ja.
So entstehen in Kairo seit ein paar Jahren aufregende Alternativen zum staatlichen Lehrbetrieb. Unabhängige Galerien bieten Räume für Experimente. Und alles begann in einer stillen Seiten-straße in Downtown. Vor zehn Jahren hat der Amerikaner William Wells hier die Townhouse Gallery gegründet und seidem eine Generation ägyptischer Künstler entdeckt, die heute in Washington oder Paris ausstellen. El-Noshokaty war einer von ihnen, ein anderer war Ayman Ramadan. Geboren im armen Oberägypten, hat er nie eine Hochschule besucht, schlug sich als Minibusfahrer und Kellner durch, bis er zum Sicherheitsdienst in der Townhouse Gallery kam. „Als Security war er eine Niete, aber dann hat er angefangen, sich für die Kunst zu interessieren, „erinnert sich Wells. In Ramadans Video „Iftar“ gruppierte er zum Fastenbrechen im Ramadan zwölf Männer um einen Tisch. „Der Skandal war nicht die Anspielung auf das christliche Abendmahl – die hat keiner verstanden“, sagt Wells, „sondern die Tatsache, dass er einfache Ägypter zeigte, die schmutzig sind und mit den Händen essen.“ Nichts ist provozierender als die Wirklichkeit.
Kairo bewegt sich, wenn auch so langsam wie der Feldendom in einem Video des Künstlers Wael Shawky, das gerade in der Galerie läuft. Schwerfällig, aber riesengroß dreht sich darauf das Heiligtum. Irgendwann kippt es, auf der Unterseite erkennt man Lichter wie bei einem Karussell oder bei einem Raumschiff, aber nie löst es sich vollständig vom Boden. Es ist eine Szene von träger Grazie, aber auch von einem unverschämten Witz. Ebenso behäbig dreht sich auch die Kunstszene um sich selbst; niemand weiß ob sie je abhebt, aber manchmal ahnt man ein Leuchten. In der Halle der Townhouse Gallery malen Nachbarkinder wie jeden Nachmittag, draußen reparieren Männer Autos, als ein junge Frau auftaucht. Sie trägt Cargohosen und einen MP3-Player im Ohr, aber was sie zu einem Ereignis macht, wie nur Trinkwasser im Nil es wäre, ist etwas anderes: Sie fährt Fahrrad.
"Der Baum im Hause meiner Grossmutter"
Jenseits des Mainstreams –
zeitgenössische Kunst aus Ägypten
Basler Zeitung, 5. Dezember 2007, von Jasmina el Sombati
In Ägypten hat sich eine lebendige Kunstszene etabliert. Kritik an der Gesellschaft ist
sichtbar, den Hauptfokus richten Kunstschaffende jedoch auf die Suche nach der eigenen Identität. Ein Augenschein am Nil.
Wust el Balad – Kairos Stadtmitte. In einer winkligen Handwerkerstrasse, wo Automechaniker maroden Autowracks noch Leben einzuhauchen wissen, liegt die Town House Gallery. Der Kanadier William Weels hat 1998 aus dem Jugendstilhaus mithilfe ausländischer Stiftungen ein Zentrum für zeitgenössische Kunst gemacht. Für Weels ist Kairo eine schier unerschöpfliche Quelle der Inspiration, eine Meinung, die auch Stefania Angarano von der Mashrabia-Galerie an der Champollionstrasse, einen Steinwurf entfernt vom Ägyptischen Museum, teilt. Eine Szene für zeitgenössische Kunst gibt es in Ägypten seit den 90er-Jahren. Stefania Angarano weist auf die rasante technische Entwicklung der letzten 15 Jahre hin. Die neuen Medien wie Video und Internet hätten jüngere Künstler angeregt, mit Installationen, Videokunst und Fotografie zu experimentieren und damit auf den internationalen Kunstmarkt zu drängen. In ihren Arbeiten geht es diesen Künstlern einerseits darum, sich im Global Village zurechtzufinden und zu behaupten, andererseits sich den Tabubereichen, wie Sexualität, Geschlechterrollen, Religion und Zensur zu stellen. Dazu kommt die permanente Konfrontation mit der eigenen Geschichte. Ausschliesslich darauf wollen einheimische Künstler aber auf keinen Fall reduziert werden, selbst wenn sie gewisse Elemente des kollektiven historischen Erbes aktualisieren.
TRADITION UND MODERNE. In einer originellen Dachwohnung der Kairoer Innenstadt mit Blick auf das architektonische Potpourri der Megacity lebt und arbeitet Amr Fekry. Der Fotokünstler verbindet Tradition und Moderne. Sein aktuellstes Werk resultiert aus einer intensiven Auseinandersetzung mit dem Sufismus, einer spirituellen Bewegung innerhalb des Islam. Fekry setzt die Idee des Kreisens um ein und denselben Mittelpunkt fotografisch um. Sinnigerweise habe ihn, sagt Fekry, ein von Pro Helvetia gesponserter Aufenthalt in Zürich mit dem Thema der Abgeschiedenheit in Berührung gebracht. Das wenig kommunikative Schweizer Umfeld warf ihn auf sich selber und auf die eigene Kultur zurück.
DER KUNST IHRE FREIHEIT. Tatsächlich bemühen sich europäische Kulturstiftungen vor Ort um die Promotion von zeitgenössischer ägyptischer Kunst jenseits der Landesgrenze. Auch die Schweizerische Kulturstiftung Pro Helvetia. In einem schmucken Stadtpalais aus dem frühen 19. Jahrhundert, unweit von Fekrys Dachparadies, residiert, diskret helvetisch schlicht, die Schweizer Diplomatische Vertretung. Hebba Sherif, Direktorin von Pro Helvetia Kairo, betont den dialogischen Auftrag der Schweizer Kulturstiftung: Ägyptische Kunst in der Schweiz bekannt machen und umgekehrt. Das Interesse des Westens an Kunst aus dem arabischen Raum sei seit dem 11. September merklich gestiegen, so die promovierte Germanistin, wobei Pro Helvetia schon immer die Begegnung zwischen Orient und Okzident gefördert habe. Szenenwechsel. Ard-El-Lewa ist ein von ärmeren Landflüchtlingen unbewilligt bebauter und bewohnter Landstrich im Nordwesten Kairos. Durch die bräunlich-graue Betonwüste dringt fast kein Tageslicht. Shady Nokoshaty, einer der engagiertesten Künstler, wohnt hier, weil er billigen Wohnraum gesucht hat. Der vielseitige Künstler setzt sich in «Personal Icons» mit der eigenen Biografie auseinander. Die Installation «Der Baum im Hause meiner Grossmutter» ist voll von Bezügen zur altägyptischen Mythologie. Er fügt Innenansichten des abbruchreifen Hauses seiner Grossmutter mit Aussagen noch lebender Familienmitglieder über die Verstorbene zusammen, dadurch werden Tod und Weiterleben durch kollektives Erinnern visualisiert. Nokoshatys dichte, hoch intellektualisierte Botschaften wollen das Chaos zwischen der inneren und der äußeren Welt ordnen. Der Freigeist ist auch an internationalen Kunstanlässen, wie der Biennale von Venedig, gefragt. Seine Devise lautet: kreativ sein, ohne zu provozieren, denn schliesslich lebe er in dieser Gesellschaft. «Ich bin gegen Fundamentalismus und zur Schau getragener Religiosität», sagt Nokoshaty. Ebenfalls in Ard-El-Lewa wirkt der Fotograf Hamdy Reda. Er ist mit Verena Liebel zusammen Initiator von artellewa, einem multifunktionalen Kunstraum inmitten dieses trostlosen Quartiers. Reda findet, in Ägypten sei eine Art «alternative Freiheit» abseits der Konvention ohne Weiteres lebbar. Kairo hat viele Gesichter: Auf der Nilinsel Gezireth al Dahab wohnt Mohamed Ablas, einer der bestdotierten Künstler des Landes. In Sachen Zensur nimmt Abla kein Blatt vor den Mund. «Natürlich bin ich», so Abla, «als Künstler nicht frei. Ägypten hat den Anschluss an die freie Welt noch nicht gefunden.» Das politische Establishment prangert Abla in cartoonähnlichen Bildern an: Signalwörter wie «Demokratie» demontiert er zeichnerisch durch kontrastierende Alltagsszenen, wie etwa einem Polizisten mit Schlagstock.
KUNST UND ISLAM. Die im Westen verbreitete These vom «Kunstverbot» des Islam hat sich auf unserem Rundgang durch Kairo nicht bestätigt. Huda Lotfi, Dozentin für islamische Kulturgeschich-te an der Amerikanischen Universität Kairo und selbst Künstlerin, macht eine puritanische Ausle-gung des Islam für dessen Darstellungsfeindlichkeit verantwortlich. «Der Islam kennt sehr wohl Formen der Kunst», sagt sie. Natürlich seien gewisse Dinge verpönt, räumt sie ein, der Umgang mit Nacktheit beispielsweise. Schockiere Kunst, dann sei dies kontraproduktiv, denn die Gesellschaft sei dazu nicht, oder noch nicht, bereit. Wie erlebt Lotfi die Zensur? Sie, die vor dem Staatsanwalt die Verwendungen von Sufitexten in einer ihrer Installationen rechtfertigen musste? Ihre Antwort ist erstaunlich gelassen und pragmatisch: «Beschränkungen können Künstler auch herausfordern, eine Sprache zu finden, die kritisiert und aufdeckt, ohne vor den Kopf zu stoßen. » Im Gespräch mit Lotfi wird die diffizile Gratwanderung zwischen Einschränkung und künstlerischer Freiheit deutlich. Obwohl sie sich zur Selbstzensur bekennt, klagen ihre Arbeiten über den weiblichen Körper unmissverständlich an: Frauen mit aufgeschnittenen Händen und eingeschnürten Köpfen zeugen von erlittenen Einschränkungen.
STRUKTUREN WANKEN. Ihre Kunst verkaufe Lotfi in Dubai, das kosmopolitischer ist als Ägypten. «Bei uns muss Kunst gefällig sein», sagt sie. Die wenigen reichen ägyptischen Sammler setzen eher auf bewährte europäische oder ägyptische Maler. Komplexität und intellektueller Anspruch zeitgenössischer Kunst wirken auf potenzielle einheimische Kunden zu enigmatisch. Der derzeit international herrschende Kunstboom hat Ägypten nicht erfasst. Noch nicht. Denn trotz einer mit Gewalt aufrecht erhaltenen Stabilität im Inneren, dem harten Alltag vieler Ägypter, dem religiösen Konservatismus geraten festgefügte Strukturen ins Wanken – auch dank den Impulsen ägyptischer Kunstschaffender.
> Town House Gallery. Hussein El Me’mar Pasha street, off Mahmoud Basyouni street, Downtown, Cairo-Egypt. www.thetownhousegallery.com
> Mashrabia Gallery of Contemporary Art. 8, Champollion Street, Downtown, Cairo-Egypt
www.mashrabiagallery.com
> artellewa, space for contemporary arts. 19, Mohamed Ali Al Eseary, Ard-El-Lewa, Giza, Egypt. www.artellewa.com
On Being an Artist - Interview with Hossam El Kholy
One of the most famous artworks of Shady El Noshokaty is his series of figurative paintings; however, thought the last years he started to develop different series of artworks that involve not only drawings or paintings, but also include installations and videos. He is now teaching art at Terbeya Faneya and AUC. We met at the gate of Terbya Faneya University; he was in Austria the day before the interview giving a seminar. We sat in the teachers’ room and we discuss his perspective on how to be an artist who naturally creates art.
HK: I am familiar with most of your art and it is interesting that each times your art is becoming different, but first I need to know about your journey of becoming an artist, how did it start?
SN: Which period are you talking about? Do you mean from the very beginning?
HK: If possible, yes.
SN: It is hard to tell about the whole journey, but it started by The Salon of Youth. The Salon of Youth takes place every year, and when we just graduated in 1994 there were no art exhibitions that allowed a young artist who was not popular enough to exhibit his work except The Salon of Youth. The Salon of Youth was during that time in the Opera at Qa’et Al-Fonoun which was called during that time Qa’et Al-Nile and it was not the same as it is today, it was only one building and it was used for Souq El Qaheyra Al Dawli. The building was with a flat roof, and we were students when the Salon was established in 1989, and that was my first year in college. We went to see the exhibition and everyone was older then us, but there was also a motivation to go because of the prizes that were offered, of course the Salon itself did not yet establish its popularity. It was mainly for experimental work, and the new generation that was trying to do something new based on the experience of the previous generations but there is nothing clear yet. However, when I graduated in 1994 The Salon of Youth became the place that guides artists and establishes their positions as artists within the whole Egyptian movement. So we had to places to go at that time, first we had the atelier and of course you had to have some connections so that you could use a place inside the atelier, or the other option which was to create something special that could be exhibited in the Salon of Youth. I consider the Salon of Youth the starting point to me and others like Wael Shawkey, Khaled Hafez and Moataz Nasr, Amal Kenawy came later…
HK: Amal Kenawy is from your generation, right?
SN: Same generation yes but she came later, I am talking about the beginning of 1990’s she started around 1997. I don’t recall her first work, but I remember that there were no private exhibitions except Karim Francis and Stephania and they were dealing with their own groups of artists and they couldn’t take the risk of exhibiting the work of a new artist. Thus I believe that The Salon of Youth was a very important event that helped my generation.
HK: Do you think it was the Salon itself or the generation that led this movement?
SN: Of course it was the generation. The Salon was just a cause… an exhibition. Unfortunately, it became an event controlled by the ministry of culture, sort of like an agenda and the freedom to work in the Salon was not available to us. That was the reason why we considered that our existence in the Salon was over and we should create a space for the following generation. It was such a huge move to us, it was great to imagine that a young artist could exhibit his work in the Salon besides there were international prizes. Until today all young artists have the same desire to exhibit at the Salon.
HK: Let’s now talk about the time you spent at the military. How did it affect your career as an artist?
SN: I remember that there was a competition that was launched by Gazebia Serrey, she is one of our teachers, and she used to teach at AUC and AUC Press published a book for her. So when I was starting to graduate there was this competition that I won. Anyways, after 6 months of my graduation I went to the military service, during that time I used to teach to students in schools and I believe that at that time my understanding towards art had shifted to a new level, I became involved more in ideas about freedom, power, the lights and shades in a painting, and how the senses are used in art because it is not only the eye and the mind that create art. I lacked these concepts in my art. At that time, I was depending on what I had learned, but not on what I feel. My work with children was a study that made me realize some creativity; however, when I went to join the military service, I had some kind of different response and understanding. I needed to feel the freedom again, the military makes a person feel that he has no existence and he is not to be considering a human anymore. That was the reason why I started to do drawings to express my screams. Most people just remember that series of work to me; although, I exhibited many other work later.
HK: Do you consider this experience affected you positively or negatively?
SN: Of course it affected my positively because until today people remember my work that I exhibited in the Salon. The series of drawings were done during the time I spent serving in the army. And then I exhibited the same work at Town House Gallery’s first exhibition during 1999. So without this experience I could have been someone else and my work is always depending on my experience as human being. So when my experience changes my work also changes. People always used to criticize me and say that I am adjusting my style all the time, and that belief came because Egyptian artists used to include a theme in their work. In other words, in order for the people to distinguish the artist he had to do the same thing all the time. This theme notion has been existed since Mahmoud Mokhtar and it still exists today as well. For instance Mahmoud abdel Atti, God bless his soul, used to work with the same method all the time. Repetition always exists in all Egyptian artists’ work. However, artists including me do not use the same way of thinking. We believe that the idea is the mother of change, and the human experience is the mother change as well. That was also exists during the Avant Garde movement; for example, Marcel Duchamp was in Futurism Movement and at the same time he was helping Dali and Picabia to make a surreal movie. Hence the idea started at Europe but we developed it more because we are dealing with a wide variety of knowledge, sometime we are accused of jumping form one style to another, but that is not the truth. Our movement had been built on the idea of Modernism, indeed it is not Modernism because in Europe Modernism is something different than that. It is all about the idea not the theme.
HK: I personally believe that your work is distinguishable; however, Personal Icon seems a different expression of work but at the same time it still carries some underlying concepts related to hate, anger, or pain.
SN: Drawings that I did in 2004 are related to like; for instance, rates eating the brain, the heart, the idea is related to the concept of sneaking on thoughts. The pain here is conveyed through the image but not the idea. An image could have a painful meaning but it is all related to the effect of this visual image.
HK: You said that artists often like their work to be criticize by them or by other people. Do you recall critics that really influenced you as an artist?
SN: criticizing the work appears at the end. When I exhibit my work I see it as if it is not my work, then I start to qualify it. I have doubt about 70% of my work. I think that if I had done it in another manner, another time, or even another chance, it would have been completely different. I ask myself question and based on my qualifications I begin to evaluate my work. I am the first person to criticize my work before anyone else. However, when someone criticizes my work and views it with my same perspective, I respect the person because it is evident the person does really feel the work and he/she doesn’t judge it by superficial looks, and not so many people do that.
HK: And of course that leads to a new perspective in your work.
SN: Yes, of course. Sometimes when I don’t exhibit a work, I never know whether it is successful or not. And sometimes I doubt my use of a certain medium in my work, and the medium is related to the idea I want to convey. The artist should try different perspective to see if he/she fails or succeeds. An artist can use his imagination with painting and/or drawing, but it is difficult to imagine the effect of certain sounds on the viewer, the sound could be high or low, it doesn’t matter, the artist has to try to understand and get the result. For example, when dealing with media installation, it is very hard to imagine that two screens, for instance, one is bigger than the other will unless the idea is shown in front of the eyes. That’s why in video installation the artists are doing a trial to judge it, and later if he/she wants to adjust something, he/she tries a different way and so on.
HK: I once read that when you are trying to communicate more directly to people you use video. How do you manage to do that?
SN: Well… drawing to me is a way that enables me to talk to myself like El Seriir and Pain series of drawings, but video to me something different and all that is related to the use of medium and its relation to the message I want to convey. Medium in drawing is the narration, when I talk to myself, and it is not important to deliver a message but there should be a process that the artist himself understands. But using video is different because I am dealing with “Popular Culture”, and the media has a big role in the developing of the concept of “Popular Culture”. When I use video I want to deliver a message to the middle class people that I consider myself one of them. The message could be conceptual, or it could be a metaphor, but it doesn’t have to be something political. Artists used to film themselves performing something or saying something in front of a camera, but the problem with that is that the message becomes something between the artist and himself, and he/she doesn’t communicate with people anymore. But if the video is about other individuals from the society the relation is here between the audience and the video, but in drawing, the relation between the artist and his drawing remains constant because the audiences don’t exist.
HK: What can you say to young artists in order to keep them motivated? How can you guide them?
SN: Well… I am trying to do that with AUC students in Painting I class; however, art to them seems to be a way to make something enjoyable, and have fun all the time. This kind of education system is very dangerous because when dealing with education the student has to deal with the basics and that will allow him/her to reach the desired goal in the end. It is a very big problem at AUC, and here (at Tarbeya Faneya) the problem is the mirror opposite. Students here don’t learn the basics instead they learn what the teacher wants them to learn, they are forced to accept that and if they don’t then they fail. At AUC students are used to learn what they want to learn and if they don’t have that option they get frustrated.
HK: I talked with some student about that issue; for example, someone came to me and told that you didn’t allow that person to sit on the floor, while this student insists that painting on the ground is more comfortable, and I said that whatever the teacher is teaching you is the right way to do it because the teacher knows what he is doing and he is trying to deliver the right materials.
SN: Exactly, and my method of teaching there at AUC is the same method I am using here at Terbeya Faneya. Students here are more focused on their work because all day they are engaged with art whether they are sculpting, painting, or drawing. And I am used to work with this type of students who appreciate the hard work. The problem faces me when I deal with students who are used to be more relaxed and more flexible in art class. To me Painting I should be about the basics and basics needs a lot of training because students will never learn from one painting instead they will learn from 10 paintings because mistakes of the first painting will be corrected in the second painting and mistakes of the second one will be corrected on the third one and so on. Education should not deal with the student comfort level, but the crucial thing is to learn.
The poetics of offal
Sonali Pahwa speaks with Shady El-Noshokaty, who has turned to human organs in his recent work.
Dull organs sunk in formaldehyde vats are resurrected in a glowing afterlife in Shady El-Noshokaty's drawings and paintings currently showing at the Townhouse. The artist's early training was as a figurative painter but in this series a focus on the aesthetics of the human figure gives way to a fascination with the more grotesque forms of organs. The idea that the body contains no end of shapes feeds El-Noshokaty's ruminations on matter in eternal transformation as well as his search for new material for his art.
"Natural studies are a style of art that I like," he begins, "but there is a metaphor in each of my studies. The idea of death is central to them and is placed alongside its supposed opposite of birth, with its sense of hope and newborn purity. The juxtaposition lets me suggest the human being as organic matter in the mode of destruction and fana', and the material of the body in all its physical states and expressions. In Egyptian culture life and death are parallel and are often at the same level of being. Resurrection and immortality are basic elements of our heritage."
In drawings of disembodied brains and fused animal- human forms one senses the ebullience of El-Noshokaty's discovery of disregarded matter as well as its more subtle spiritual dimensions. As an instance of the premise that human beings are "like any living creature but for their spirit and their ideas" he sketches similarities between the shape of the brain and that of a pomegranate. You may spin out the suggestion of an absent illuminating spirit, or just enjoy the way the artist generates uncannily familiar forms through his exploration of organic matter.
El-Noshokaty is unpossessive about this series of his artwork. "I do drawings for myself," he confides. "They are like talk -- I don't think about them too much. In the same way that I might re-word a sentence that doesn't come out quite right the first time, I draw certain images over and over. They form a kind of diary of my thoughts. Drawing is a very personal language and I use it to talk to myself. When I want to communicate more directly with people I use video."
This is an unexpected transition -- though perhaps less so for those who have seen El-Noshokaty's recent installations. He elaborates: "There is a strong relationship to the moving image in my drawings and paintings. They develop, and you can see time moving through them." His shift in media is motivated by El-Noshokaty's current preoccupations. The PhD thesis he is preparing is on changes in Egyptian middle class identity in the past decade as a result of new media such as satellite television and the Internet. Video works better, he believes, as a way of addressing identity in this newly mediated social world.
"If I had used a video in this exhibit many of these people" -- gesturing at the random patrons of the café next to the Townhouse -- "would probably have come in to see it," he asserts. "They know about the video image. The language of the medium is familiar to them. So when I bring something from my personal history into video I have to think about how the viewer can come to feel a part of the work. Video is communicative, in this way. Through my drawings I can only ever really learn about myself."
The conceptual distinctions take shape in El- Noshokaty's newer work in mixed media. An installation at the Nitaq festival of 2001, The tree in my grandmother's house, incorporated video, photography and wax sculpture. "Each medium had a specific role," he explains. "To represent the house of a dead person I chose photography, because it is about fixed images, frozen and dead. The details are all visible and you can sense that the place is empty of spirit. The video added an element of live performance which was interactive. It allowed a dialogue between the viewer and the live image."
El-Noshokaty acknowledges that this was "a very private, personal piece", though its aim of elaborating upon middle-class identity is an extension of the artist's larger interest in this changing social milieu. "The question of identity is clearer in my multi- media work. When I use media that can record reality in the form of vital moments, in which you can see the details of a character, it enables a clearer expression of society and its personality. I take ideas for art from people at large and then I reveal to them what I have made of them. This is easier done in a popular, present medium like the moving image."
It is not common to find an artist seeking cutting-edge forms while at the same time being engaged with the question of identity. But El-Noshokaty is part of a generation of Egyptian artists who feel their new social position needs to be theorised.
"My generation -- which includes Wael Shawky, Moataz Nasr and Amal El-Kenawy -- felt dissatisfied with the available forms of art and the direction of the art movement in Egypt. We were trained in conventional genres such as painting and sculpture, and when we travelled abroad we realised that the movement here was absolutely out of touch with contemporary artistic languages. We had to learn multi-media forms. And we have begun to build a new language with clear features of identity."
Other learning experiences for El- Noshokaty came during the Venice Biennale and a sojourn at the Art Institute of Chicago.
"There was a real feeling of missed contact between us artists and the outside world. No one knew about Egyptian art. It isn't surprising, when you consider that there are very few curators and critics who give us publicity. Things are now improving. Earlier, a collective exhibit or a biennale would go through the government, which would send its stock artists. Now festival organisers send over curators who look around. They meet with government artists, private gallery personnel, and conduct a thorough search. That is why people like myself have a chance now. "
El-Noshokaty has himself been engaged in training next-generation artists through university teaching jobs and, more recently, workshops. The latter approach is a compromise in face of the fact that "we don't have professional ways of teaching media in Egypt." Visiting artists are brought in to teach young students to use media that are ubiquitous and yet rarely incorporated into their education. "The new generation already has a lot of experience with media," El-Noshokaty states, "they just need a vocabulary for expressing themselves through this media."
Regeneration seems an apt trope for his experiments with art and artists. The metaphors of rebirth in these strangely vital drawings of sub-human life forms multiply. The widening circle of echoes underlines the spiritual side of El-Noshokaty's art.
Made in Cairo: Time and Time Again
Shady El Noshokaty
By Fiona Fox
Shady El Noshokaty is a leading exponent of video and new media art in Egypt. As an artist and teacher he is constantly exploring new means of personal expression and encouraging his students to look within and beyond themselves for inspiration, echoing his own artistic development.
El Noshokaty studied at Helwan University’s Faculty of Art in Cairo and graduated in 1994. He was part of a new wave of young artists in Egypt, whose ideas, energy and aesthetics aimed to shake the arts establishment out of their modernist slumber. The annual Salon of Youth exhibition was at the time their principal platform, and the competitive nature of the show was a powerful means of driving artists to interrogate new forms of expression. Many names that are familiar on the Egyptian contemporary arts scene today – Wael Shawky, Amal Kenawy, Mona Marzouk, Rehab el Sadek - had their first public outing at the Salon.
Up until 1994, El Noshokaty’s work was principally concerned with figurative painting. His first major art project, a series called “The Bed”, drew on his experiences as a conscript in the military. He describes the series as a kind of angry soap opera in which the central protagonist embodies emotions, fears and traumas that he had experienced during his national service. The series was conceived on a week’s leave from the military when in a creative frenzy he produced some two hundred drawings and then twelve large paintings. Four were subsequently submitted to the Salon of Youth and awarded first prize in painting, effectively launching El Noshokaty’s career. Many opportunities opened up and over the following years he was frequently selected by the Ministry of Culture to represent Egypt at exhibitions and art fairs abroad.
1999 was a watershed year: El Noshokaty had his first solo exhibition, showing the whole series of his critically acclaimed “The Bed” at The Townhouse Gallery in Cairo, also the gallery’s inaugural exhibition. A few months later he was chosen to represent Egypt at the 48th International Venice Biennale. This built-up El Noshokaty’s international renown and was also crucial on a personal level, opening his eyes to the wider contemporary art world. He resolved to escape the label of “Egyptian artist”, solely pre-occupied with the Egyptian condition, and sought to widen his horizons: “After Venice, I felt I had to re-learn and start studying again.”
On returning to Egypt, El Noshokaty presented papers and proposals to numerous international institutions and in 2001 was awarded a Fulbright Scholarship to spend six months studying at the Art Institute of Chicago. He had visited a few years previously and been impressed by the scope and open-minded nature of the faculty. It was here that he gained skills that were to deeply influence his future output – digital editing, contemporary art animation and media art practices. He had already experimented in video media in his work “The Tree of my Grandmother’s House” (March 2001), a psychological study of death, grief and mortality, but in Chicago he reached a new level of sophistication technically, and creatively felt a sense of liberation. These experiences and his exposure to innovative and excellent tutelage instilled in him a strong desire to be a teacher as well as practitioner: “It made me understand how much could be achieved in advancing the arts in Egypt with good education whereby every student is treated as an individual with his or her unique creative perspective.”
El Noshokaty’s experiences in Chicago increased his self-awareness as an artist and he began to fully understand the power of looking inside and drawing on his own life, memories and desires for inspiration. Similarly, although his work had always begun with drawing and would continue to do so - he describes drawing as a way of talking to himself - after Chicago the language in which his final works were realised diversified and El Noshokaty became known for working in video installation, sound, graphic and digital technologies. He strongly believes that every subject demands a particular medium and up to this day continually shuffles between more traditional practice – painting and drawing - and new media.
Soon after returning to Cairo, El Noshokaty was invited by The Townhouse Gallery to take part in their 2002 Open Studios project that offered the public an insight into artistic practice through studio visits and seeing artists at work. Influenced by his experiences in Chicago, El Noshokaty took the idea to another level and over ten days invited students to come and curate a space with him. Together they offered ideas and worked to create an interactive artistic environment, complete with video lab and photographic studio. This was the first experiment of its kind in Egypt and combined El Noshokaty’s skills as teacher, practitioner and collaborator. The resulting project was subsequently exhibited at The Townhouse.
As a teacher El Noshokaty is known for advancing new media, video and installation practice, the only teacher in Egypt working in this capacity. He encourages his students to experiment and use the language that they feel most comfortable with and in today’s world with ever-expanding digital networks, for many young students this is new media. On a personal level El Noshokaty says he gains great satisfaction from his dual role as teacher/artist and believes that the disciplines enrich one another. He also strives to advance and promote contemporary arts practice in Egypt, giving a new generation the opportunity to flourish under the same circumstances as he did in Chicago.
El Noshokaty’s work has been exhibited all over the world from Frankfurt and London to Beirut and Tokyo. He was one of the most prominent Egyptian representatives in the high-profile exhibition Africa Re-mix, a show that continues to tour the world, and is currently showing work at an exhibition in Bonn, Germany called A Gift from The Last Millennium, alongside fourteen Egyptian contemporaries. He continues to work as Adjunct Instructor in the PVA Department, teaching courses in contemporary issues and as Assistant Professor in the Faculty of Art Education at Helwan University in Cairo. El Noshokaty recently completed his PhD in “Media art and New Egyptian Identity”
State of the Arts Education
By Clare Davies
Egypt’s arts and arts education system dates from before the Nasserist Revolution and has since evolved into a wide-reaching and exclusively state-run national system. The College of Fine Arts was originally established for the benefit of expatriates in the first decade of the nineteenth–century; the Applied Arts College was developed in the thirties to train creative professionals outside of the fine arts; the Faculty of Arts Education, founded in the early fifties, began with a year-long degree program for students from the other two arts colleges. All three institutions currently hold a central position in the country’s advanced arts studies system and operate under the umbrella of Helwan University in Cairo. Alexandria University opened an arts faculty in the sixties and the universities of Minya and Luxor launched their own programs in the eighties. The American University in Cairo offers one of the only private fine arts programs in the country. Smaller arts colleges are common in mid-sized towns throughout the country. Graduates of the Faculty of Arts Education frequently lead local primary and secondary schools arts programs. The following notes on the state of contemporary arts education in Egypt are based on a conversation with arts educator and artist, Shady El Noshokaty.
An intensive, phased exam taken during the last two years of high school determines the program and field of study for which students may qualify. The arts track is relatively non-competitive, although each educational institution within the arts system differs in terms of academic prerequisites. Art school graduates go on to work in a variety of fields, including graphic design, primary and secondary arts education and skilled crafts; their education seems to provide an adequate preparation for work in a local market. Other students aspire to become professional artists. However, its difficult to claim that these faculties offer students the opportunity to develop the independence of thought and the critical and creative skills often sought in an artistic practice. As in earlier stages of the educational process, the potential for imparting a valuable fine arts education is restricted by a semi-official policy of marginalization reflected in a significant lack of support for teachers and its limited resonance in surrounding social contexts. What this system does offer is a common sphere within which those with a real commitment to their own work and artistic autonomy can attain some visibility with other like-minded students and artists, as well as define a realm of artistic activity outside the institution.
The general crisis in arts education stems from a wide-scale stagnation of creativity within (or at least fostered by) state institutional systems, inadequate preparation and a general lack of incentive for young arts educators, as well as a co-option of “artistic authority” by an aging generation of arts professionals. The state-run status of arts institutions has tended to translate into a particular symmetry with contemporary national rhetorics and their impact on the succession of artists’ movements that have managed to claim a presence in art department faculties or alternatively, have found themselves inconvenient to these same departments. Mobility and educational experience outside of Egypt also have their impact on artists who returned with different artistic priorities and educational agendas.
Rigid curricula inherited from the fifties, limited exposure to a diversity of practices and artistic traditions, restricted arts materials and facilities, little incentive for independent initiative and in many cases, little to no choice in the selection of professors, unsurprisingly combine to create a situation of creative despondency. Students who take their artistic ambitions seriously must go to great lengths to explore the opportunities outside those they’re offered at school to develop skills, obtain material resources and pursue an independent practice.(1) However, departing from a professor’s self-referential standard of artistic merit often entails relinquishing the limited recognition and opportunities that stand to be gained from high academic standing. What does it mean to work as an artist within a framework that champions uncritical reproduction?
Some alternative points of reference do exist. El Noshokaty points to the private secondary-school educational institutions popping up at a great pace around Egypt’s urban centers in terms of providing an alternative to the state-run approach to arts education at the primary and secondary levels. These institutions follow a relatively less centralized model than government schools, making strong electives part of their selling point. However, it remains to be seen to what extent these institutions will invest in innovative teachers and non-conventional approaches to arts education. These benefits are also limited to those students who can pay for the privilege.
At the university level, El Noshokaty is enthusiastic about the growing wave of independent initiatives lead by a younger generation of arts educators. These independent initiatives are driven by student interest and facilitated by teachers who are often themselves practicing artists. They are conducted within the context of the educational system in a manner that parallels, but also departs from, established courses, representing an important indication of the possibility for change from “within”.
El Noshokaty’s recent workshop in video art at the Faculty of Arts Education is an example of this trend. A screening of the students’ work was held at the newly established Contemporary Image Collective (CiC), an artist-run initiative dedicated to the visual image. The event was packed and students stayed on afterwards to discuss their work with established artists and each other. The screening offered an interesting example of the promise held by innovative teacher-led initiatives within the educational system, as well as the promise offered by the growth of the independent arts sphere (in this case, the recent launching of CiC) in offering a widening field of opportunities and support for young artists willing to define their own practice.
The increasing relevance of an arts field committed to critical awareness and independent thought can only occur with the support of teachers, students, artists and arts managers. This in turn, depends on inserting a condition of mutuality into a series of relationships too often defined by mutual exclusivity. Strengthening ties between these groups outside of the sphere of state-sponsored activity represents the possibility for a truly sustainable independent arts sector in Egypt.
(1) Shady tells me stories of students going to the traditional potters’ quarter of Fustat to circumnavigate bans on student-use of kilns and an absence of training in throwing and glazing. Another story involves students organizing figure drawing sessions outside of those provided in class that feature the same models their professors used in the seventies, now considerably older and covered from head-to-toe.
SHADY EL NOSHOKATY
interviewed by Predrag Pajdic, February 2007
When we met recently in Cairo I had the pleasure to visit your home/studio, which was full of drawings. You told me you use them as a storyboard, your way to develop an idea and to see it through to your final work. Why drawing?
As we talked when we met in Cairo, for me drawing is a medium of thinking process and emotional expression. It is like talking in the form of one's diary, very personal yet direct. I draw all the time and anywhere I happen to be. I think of it as my original language with which I could express myself fully and understand the process of my ideas developing. This is the real function of drawing for me, it is like a sequential mirror of one's world identity.
Cairo's art scene fascinates me. Your generation of artists is making their mark on the international scene already.
What is the driving force behind this success?
What is your driving force?
My generation grew in totally different environments, socially and politically, but we also have this awareness of our own diversities. Egypt has a real, strong unique character that looks like a transparent layer of old cultures mixed with popular and modern, and the contemporary. Actually this mixture is visible in our features, in our lives. Most of us are simply focusing on our work and our daily life with its fine details.
You mentioned your new idea for work 'The Breath'. Could you please tell me more about it?
'The Breath' is an audio video installation where the image, one shot in a slow motion of a drowning mosque (in water), is not used as an Islamic symbol since one could hardly even recognize the defined character of its kind. But what is visible, I hope, is its unique spiritual effect, as one can be aware of the environment that has a kind of religious history or spiritual activity. So the image was used purposely to evoke a multi religious metaphor, the same as the spoken word AMEN (heard in the background), which also has the same allegorical union and meaning, I believe.
Almost all prayers in world religions use it as the final word of a prayer. When pronounced or heard by many people at the same time, this word almost connects/unifies in the same spiritual moment, all lives as one. In this instant, with this breath, one could arrive at a higher spot from which to detach oneself from this endless drowning spiritual space (the world we live in). In the work, the word AMEN is repeated in an endless loop.
'The Breath' aims to unify all deferent religious perspectives in one. It is about finding a way to communicate through our social and cultural differences, which has become a universal misunderstanding, an immense conflict between the Middle East and the West; the reason for raising hate and wars.
http://www.infocusdialogue.com/interviews/shady-el-noshokaty/