ARTS-STYLE-CULTURE FROM THE ARAB WORLD AND BEYOND
#64 BEING ABDUL RAHMAN KATANANI
SUMMER 2023USD 20/EUR 18/AED 74
PERSONAL ENCOUNTERS WITH
KEY FIGURES IN ABDUL RAHMAN KATANANI’S LIFE: DR BASEL
DALLOUL, BARBARA POLLA, ROSE ISSA,
SALEH BARAKAT, AYMAN BAALBAKI, SERWAN BARANTHE ARTIST REFLECTS ON FRIENDS, FAMILY AND INFLUENCES
In the world of art, there are those rare individuals who possess the ability to create masterpieces that not only captivate our senses but also touch our hearts. Abdul Rahman Katanani, a Palestinian artist living in Lebanon, is one such exceptional talent whose art resonates deeply with audiences worldwide. As we dedicate a special edition of our art and culture magazine to Katanani, we delve into the life and works of this remarkable artist, inviting readers to explore the intimate moments that have shaped his artistry and character.
Reflecting on my personal encounter with Katanani a few years ago, a visit to his studio in Sabra stands out as a vivid memory. Sabra, a vibrant neighbourhood with its bustling streets and lively balconies, set the stage for our journey into the artist’s world. As we ascended the stairs of a towering building, we were immediately enveloped in a microcosm of life, where neighbours socialised and children played. It was a vibrant hub of human connection, a testament to the resilience and spirit of the community.
Entering Katanani’s studio, we were greeted by a sight that would forever leave an imprint on our souls. In that modest room, we discovered a stock of barbed wire, symbolising the struggles and resilience of a people burdened by conflict. Adjacent to it, a weaving loom, a testament to the artist’s ingenuity and his collaboration with his brothers. It was in this humble space that Katanani poured his heart and soul into his art, creating profound pieces that encapsulated the Palestinian experience.
Sitting on oil barrels, the artist himself brewed coffee for us, teasing us about the natural colour of the water resembling the rich hue of the coffee. With warmth and humour, Katanani shared anecdotes from his youth, offering glimpses into the trials and triumphs that shaped his artistic journey. His passion for his craft was palpable, as he eagerly described his ambitious projects, which he dreamed of realising in his new sanctuary in Debbiyeh, where he now resides with his family.
In this special edition of our magazine, we strive to delve into the very essence of Abdul Rahman Katanani. Through interviews, photographs, and in-depth analyses of his artworks, we hope to provide readers with a comprehensive understanding of his artistic vision and the narratives he seeks to convey. By exploring Katanani’s personal moments, we shed light on the intricate tapestry of emotions that form the foundation of his art.
FRUITS OF LABOUR
Abdul Rahman Katanani in His Own Words
An Astronomical Talent by Dr Basel Dalloul
The Ideal Peacemaker by Barbara Polla
A Tale of Transformation and Inspiration by Saleh Barakat
Of Children, Joy and Freedom by Rose Issa
Pride in Humility by Ayman Baalbaki
The Great Art of Adventure by Serwan Baran
Founder
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Editor-in-Chief
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Aslı Habyan
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DR BASEL DALLOUL is the founder of the Ramzi and Saeda Dalloul Art Foundation (DAF), which was launched to manage and promote his late father's and mother’s vast collection of modern and contemporary Arab art. At over 4,000 pieces it is the largest, museum-quality collection of its kind in the world. It includes, but is not limited to, paintings, photography, sculpture, conceptual, video and mixed media art. While he caught the art bug early in life due to both his parents’ love and passion for the arts, Dr. Basel Dalloul's professional background has always been and remains in technology. He has founded and run several tech enterprises in the U.S. and the Arab region. In 1999, he returned to the Arab world
from the U.S. to develop Internet infrastructure in Egypt. There, his company, NOOR, built one of the most advanced data and internet networks in the world and then began using that as a hub to extend its reach internationally. Today, NOOR has diversified into advanced managed data services, including data centre services, app development and advanced R&D in the field of data communications.
BARBARA POLLA is passionate about art, peace and freedom. She is a Doctor of Medicine from the University of Geneva (1982) and the Habilitation to Direct Research (HDR) was awarded to her by the University of Paris Descartes (Paris-V – René Descartes) in 1994. Fellow of Harvard, visiting professor at the University of Modena (Italy), hired for six years by the Japanese Department of Education and Research as a consultant in the field of stress proteins, she was also Research Director at the INSERM from 1993 to 2000. She has published around a hundred scientific articles. At the same time, while a mother of four daughters, she led a political career (elected from 1991 to 2003, including four years as an MP), and opened her gallery, Analix Forever, in 1991.
Currently, she mainly devotes herself to her activity as a writer, an exhibition curator and gallery owner, in Switzerland and elsewhere. Her interest in the body links her scientific and artistic activities. Her attachment to the transmission of knowledge
has led her to collaborate actively with specialists in contemporary art and to teach critical and creative writing at HEAD, Geneva. Her commitment to freedom, which dictates many of her positions, is materialised today by numerous exhibitions as well as conferences and texts devoted to the theme "Art and prison, art in prison". As part of a long-lasting collaboration with Paul Ardenne, she created “VIDEO FOREVER” in 2011, an academic series of themed video projections/conferences, which aimed to promote video art. In 2017, she initiated the “SHARING PERAMA” project, a cultural, artistic, ecological and social project in the city of Perama, in the suburbs of Athens.
Both a writer and poet, she publishes on art as well as novels and stories. She is frequently called upon as a speaker on her areas of expertise, in Europe and elsewhere. She also regularly publishes opinion articles on her blog https://barbarapolla. wordpress.com/ and on various other media including art-critique.com.
SALEH BARAKAT is a Beirut-based gallerist who specialises in modern and contemporary art from the Arab world. He founded Agial Art Gallery in 1991 and Saleh Barakat Gallery in 2016, where he hosts an extensive programme of exhibitions and events. He has also co-curated exhibitions elsewhere, including “The Road to Peace” (2009) at the Beirut Art Centre, retrospectives of Saloua Raouda Choucair (2013), Shafic Abboud (2013), and Michel Basbous (2014) at the Beirut Exhibition Centre, and he co-curated the first national pavilion for Lebanon at the 52nd Venice Biennale with Sandra Dagher, as well as the itinerant exhibition “Mediterranean Crossroads” in collaboration with Martina Corgnati and the Italian Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He recently curated “Lebanon: The Art Scene 1920-1943” at NABU Museum. He also
ROSE ISSA is a curator, writer and producer who has championed visual art and film from the Middle East and North Africa in the UK for more than 30 years. She has lived in London since the 1980s, showcasing upcoming and established artists, producing exhibitions with public and private institutions worldwide, and running a publishing programme. Through curating numerous exhibitions and film festivals, she introduced Western audiences to many artists who have since become stars of the international scene. As well as holding exhibitions at Rose Issa Projects in London, she frequently co-curates exhibitions with international private and public institutions. Rose also lends work to and advises on collections for public and private institutions and organisations around the world. Rose
AYMAN BAALBAKI was born in Adeisseh in 1975, the same year the Lebanese civil war began. A lot of his work tackles this conflict and its aftermath. It looks at destruction, displacement, loss, identity, and collective memory. Baalbaki is best-known for his large-scale paintings, executed primarily in thick acrylic paint, distinct for their sense of organised chaos. The paintings depict Beirut’s urban environment, the city’s demolished structures, bombed suburbs and iconic buildings. His work is recognisable by the distinctive Baalbaki brushwork and the colossal scale of the paintings. The intent to
SERWAN BARAN was born in Baghdad in 1968, Serwan Baran is a graduate of Fine Arts from Babel University, a member of AIAP, the Iraqi Fine Art Association, and the National Art Association. The artist’s style is recognisable for its impressionistic realism; the subject matter: portraiture, depictions of military figures, local "common folk", scenes of individuals in uniform. As of 2003, while preserving his signature brushstroke, the artist shifted his style into abstraction, which led him to turn his attention inward, allowing the subject matter to be more driven by impulse than premeditated
participated in the launching of Parachute magazine’s 108th issue on the Beirut contemporary art scene. He has lectured at Princeton University, the Metropolitan Museum of New York, British Museum and Christie’s Education in Dubai. He currently lectures at ALBA and USJ in Beirut and EHESS/ARVIIM in Paris. In 2014, he participated as part of an Abu Dhabi Art panel titled: “Forged and Stolen Art in the Middle Eastern Art Market”. He served on the steering committee of the Arts Centre at the American University of Beirut, and on the founding committee of the Saradar Collection. He has been a board member of the National UNESCO since 2015, and currently serves on the advisory board of the School of Architecture and Design at the Lebanese American University. In 2006, he was nominated as a Yale World Fellow.
was also a jury member for the National Pavilions at the 50th Venice Biennale (2003) and sat on the jury for the Arab British Centre (2013). Since 2015, after the closure of the Rose Issa Projects space in London, she has been focusing mainly on co-publishing, co-curating exhibitions for institutions worldwide and giving talks and lectures at different events. Founder of the publishing units Rose Issa Projects and Beyond Art Production, Rose publishes monographs and comprehensive catalogues addressing the current concerns and trends of contemporary visual arts from the Arab world. In 1982 Rose Issa launched the first-ever Arab Film Festival in Paris and worked with the Délégations Etrangères at the Cannes Film Festival (1983–1986). For a further 26 years until 2008, she curated film seasons in Britain and abroad.
capture the destabilising effects of war extends to his installation work, often incorporating neon signs into the pieces. The artist remains a prominent force in the contemporary Lebanese art scene. He studied at the Lebanese University in Beirut and at the Ecole nationale supérieure des art décoratifs in Paris. The installation “Janus Gate” presented at the Lebanese pavilion for the 59th Venice Biennale was the piece chosen as the artistic representation of Lebanese arts in 2022. The artist currently lives and works in Beirut.
composition. Baran was chosen to represent Iraq at the 58th International Venice Biennale in 2019. Baran’s awards for art include the first prize for youth, Baghdad, 1990, the second prize at the Iraqi Contemporary Art Exhibition, 1994, the golden prize at the Iraqi Contemporary Art Exhibition, 1995, an honorary medal at the Cairo 7th Biennial, 2002 and a discretionary award at Baghdad Pinal 2002. He has lived in Iraq, Jordan and Beirut.
"I started asking myself what my goal was, and I figured out that I wanted us to be free."
5-15/08/2023 - BELGIUM
Yayoi Kusama
The Sea, 1952
Ink on paper, 47x36,5cm
courtesy: Galerie Von Vertes - Zürich
In an exclusive interview, Abdul Rahman Katanani looks back on his inspiring journey from a childhood growing up in Lebanon’s Sabra refugee camp to becoming the acclaimed artist he is today.
I was born on September 25, 1983, in the Sabra Palestinian refugee camp in Lebanon. This was one year after the Sabra and Shatila massacre. I am the eldest of six children: two girls and four boys.
My paternal grandparents left Jaffa, Palestine in 1948 and moved to the Sabra camp. They lived there until 1952, when they moved to Tel al-Zaatar, where my father was born. He was one of 10 children. One of my uncles used to work as a carpenter in the nearby Dekwaneh area, where there were many skilled and experienced carpenters. When the civil war broke out in 1975, it started in Tel al-Zaatar with the camp siege and bombing. My uncle was among the people who were able to escape and make their way towards the mountains, but that was the last time we heard from him. That year, my grandparents moved back to Sabra, but due to events – their home was destroyed several times - they moved on and off.
When we were young, due to the events happening in the camps, we would constantly move and each time my parents would have to start their lives all over again. One time when my parents returned to Shatila, they found their house had been ransacked and destroyed after the camp was invaded. Later, we stayed in the old Gaza hospital in Sabra, which we transformed into our home. The streets in those times were a warzone. We were always warned not to go out. I clearly remember seeing "Amal" written on the walls. This was in the late 1980s, when I was around five or six years old. As children, we would find guns and grenades on the ground while playing or digging. We would also play in abandoned or destroyed buildings and my father would get mad.
We would work from a very young age, play, or go to the mosque. After school, I would help my father, who was a carpenter, with work and I would also do some metal work and mechanics,
as well as butchery and many other things. Life has always been like this: we work multiple jobs. My grandfather had an iron barrel manufacturing business and I have also worked with barrels, so my father would always tell me that I took after my grandfather. I also used to volunteer to prepare meals in the mosque in Ramadan and we would get free food as a result. It was a very dark time back then.
As a Palestinian, other than the UNRWA public schools in the camps, which were not great, we only had the right to attend private schools. Since I’m the eldest, my father decided to enrol me in the highest ranked school in Lebanon at that time, which was Al Makassed, a private school in Ard Jalloul. It wasn’t far from our house, and I completed my elementary education in English there.
In all honesty, it wasn’t the best experience. I experienced so much racism because of my darker skin and the fact I am Palestinian. Then, when we could no longer afford a private school, my father sent me to UNRWA schools. This was a drastic change for me. At the age of 10, I went from a very disciplined environment to a very chaotic one. I still know some people from those days, but most didn’t do anything with their lives. The ones that emigrated were geniuses and got scholarships as soon as they finished high school. I was a rebellious child. I would skip middle school almost every day because I used to hate my school. My parents still have no idea about this. I attended a UNRWA high school in Bir Hassan, where I studied sociology and economics. I love the subjects of economics, physics and biology. In fact, I never intended to go into the arts because I love physics so much.
I held my first solo exhibition in the camp when I was young. I made three mirrors that had black iron bars for Naji al-Ali, the Palestinian cartoonist. I used to draw when I was at Al Makassed, but I discovered caricature in middle school. In grade 9, I started focusing on caricature a lot more and since then so many things have changed in my life as a result. I also found my signature through my caricature drawings, as within my name there’s a key. In those days, I used to draw for 12 hours every night, as I didn’t have time in the day. In grade 10, I exhibited my drawings in many schools and universities, but they were not for sale. NGOs would approach me to exhibit my work abroad in places like Japan, for example, and they would send the drawings abroad. That’s how I managed to exhibit in many countries without actually being there myself.
In 2000, when I was 17 years old, the revolution started. After that, I started discovering Arab caricature artists and caricature art from around the world. I was also really into politics. I knew I wanted to do something for the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I thought that change should start from within the camps. I used to be active with many NGOs and work with them on a voluntary basis. Together, we formed a dabke dance group and I also put together a magazine, featuring articles and my own caricatures. It was titled “Wall Magazine”, as I would display the issues on the camp walls. From the late 1990s until 2005, it was dangerous to show anything on the walls, but this was official. Unofficially, we would form secret movements in the camps and write statements about boycotting American merchandise at a time when no one would even talk about this. Four of us formed a secret movement called "AMANASHA", which was an acronym of our initials. It was short-lived since it created many problems. Shops either closed or stopped selling certain things because they knew there was a secret youth movement in action. We would stick posters and drawings up in the camp at night and we would come back the next day to watch people’s reactions. What we saw was shocking. They wanted to stop the movement and get revenge. Nobody knew that I was the one who did the drawings or that one of us was the son of the camp’s chief. Actually, it was a cross-eyed man who made us stop. He plastered the drawings over posters of camp leader Abo Ali Mostafa’s face, the day after Abo Ali Mostafa had died. It was very disrespectful and stirred up problems. During that time, I would also exhibit in Borj El Barajneh, Sabra, Shatila and Mar Elias, but my father received threats about this. I continued in Shatila camp, and made a lot of great statements about the corrupt leadership in the camps that were published to the world.
In 2004, when there was a project in the camp to draw on walls, my caricatures were featured, including some for Naji al-Ali. At that time, I wasn’t on good terms with all the
NGOs because I felt they acted duplicitously. They would refuse grassroots initiatives and were against any type of development that might encourage anyone’s independence. I received many offers to draw, but I would turn them down unless it was related to the Palestinian cause. I would address taboo subjects, such as Tel al-Zaatar, which had been bombed by the Syrians. The caricatures I made angered people to the extent that they would send people to attack me. My father’s friend was with the Fatah movement, and I received an offer to join them and draw for their magazine, and in return they would provide me with my university education. I turned it down, even though money was tight at that time. In my first year of university studying fine art, I was a courier, and I couldn’t even afford the university fees. So, my Palestinian friend, who was a painter and decorator, gave me $300 so that I could
enrol. Looking back, I didn’t even know what fine art was supposed to be at that time.
Visitors from France came in 2005 and after seeing my works, they invited me to go to France to make art on walls. I went there expecting to work with brushes but instead it was with spray cans for graffiti. It was the first time I had ever worked like that, but it turned out well. I wrote the word Palestine in Arabic, which could also be read in English from both left and right. They invited me back in 2006 and I went to a workshop in La Rochelle and stayed for one month. My relationship with French people goes back a long way and my visits became more frequent over time, for tourism as well as work.
Once, while participating in an exhibition at the Institut du Monde Arabe in Paris, I had a
"The caricatures I made angered people to the extent that they would send people to attack me."
meeting with the director, Jack Lang. During our conversation, he asked me about an exhibition I had done in Qatar and the fact that I had not been able to attend it in person. I explained to him that I didn’t have a passport, only Palestinian refugee travel documents, which can’t be used in the same
way as a passport – they are simply papers that state that I exist in Lebanon. I already had residential status in France as an artist at this time, but he proposed that it would be nice for me to have French nationality. He arranged for this to happen, and I received my French nationality and passport.
YOUR WEBSITE GIVES THE IMPRESSION THAT YOU BASE YOUR WORKS ON THEMES RATHER THAN DATES OR YEARS. CAN YOU EXPLAIN HOW YOU WORK?
At first, I looked for materials I could work with as I was trying to make an identity for myself given the circumstances of where I lived. It was hard for me to find acrylic or oil paint to work with in the camp. Between 2007 and 2008, I was still finishing my diploma but I was also experimenting with art across many genres. These were merely technical experiments. In my sketchbook from that time, I wrote down the principles of creation as well as brainstorming ideas about the camp that would become my themes. I also wrote down techniques and materials, such as socks, fabric, electric poles, wood, barbed wire. I would then sketch my work on wood. I exhibited some of these works at the Sursock Museum in 2008. In the first work, I was trying to embody what life at the camp was like using materials that were all from the camp. I started intensively collecting and using these materials. However, I started asking myself what my goal was, and I figured out that I wanted us to be free. The camp is like a prison, yet we couldn’t take a stand against it back then. As refugees, we shouldn’t be living in a camp in the first place because the conditions we were living in could spark a conspiracy. So, I wanted people to get out of this environment and kids were the way out of this. When I was young, we would play hide and seek in the maze of alleyways, and it felt like an adventure. In a child’s mind, life’s struggles can be forgotten. We would make up our own games just so we could play and have fun. In reality, my art started like this: picking up trash and doing something with it. I also started having a wider perspective about borders and what would happen if we crossed them. It’s terrifying as an adult, but kids can play near borders without any worry. That’s how the concept of barbed wire came up, which represents the abstract borders that are present in all of us. Everything was related to borders, like the sea and olive trees because they reminded me of the occupation and mandate. However, the story of olive trees is something else. In Palestine, there would be a lot of fights between some
villages and tribes, but there were certain lines no one could cross: burning an olive tree, for example, was forbidden. If a tribe burned an olive tree, it would mean that they would kill the other tribe, or it would be a sign for them to evacuate and the Israelis understood that very well. An olive tree is a generation’s heritage since one tree could be 2,000 years old. I integrated this into my themes.
I don’t think that there’s much difference between techniques and themes. I always wonder if I’m a technical or thematic artist or if it’s just conceptual or technical. However, technical things are not so distant from our culture because we, as Palestinians, have a heritage of weaving, for example.
When I thought about making a woven carpet, I thought about making a machine because I love them. This was the first experiment I did with my siblings. Together, we decided how to make the loom. In the end, we used architectural wires and table wheels with brakes to lace and tighten. It took a lot of work. I used this method to make my first carpet and it felt more of a performance than actual work. The machine could have been exhibited with the carpet hanging from it as well.
It was very difficult making the first carpet. At first, I made a small olive tree, but it was problematic to tie the wires. That’s when I decided to use barbed wire to weave with. I went to a car upholsterer to help with that, and he took me to get specific industrial pliers that are used in his work relating to springs. Then, I got another tool from France after I discovered that when they stake barbed wire around farms, they use the same technique as they do here for car upholstery. I also found that the tool I needed existed in China and then things started to
"In reality, my art started like this: picking up trash and doing something with it."
"An olive tree is a generation’s heritage since one tree could be 2,000 years old. I integrated this into my themes."
get easier. There, they use it for building wire chicken coops. When they knew that we were using it for barbed wire, they liked the idea and asked us to send photos that they could use to promote it. We refused as it could have been copied and used without giving us any credit. It’s true that such tools can make work easier but manual work itself can never be replaced because of the work required for the details. Even when I worked in zinc, at the beginning I used regular metal scissors, but then I discovered that there’s a zinc-cutting machine called a nibbler. In the end, regular scissors cannot be replaced because it is hard to capture the details when using a machine. I’m still discovering new things from a technical perspective as I progress. I’m working on something now and it will be a very interesting exhibition.
IN 2017, YOU HAD THE “HARD CORE” EXHIBITION, WHICH WAS RELATED TO THE THEME OF THE CAMP. CAN YOU TELL US MORE?
This was for Magda Danysz Gallery in Paris. This was the first one where I made the camp alleyways with mirrors. The works were sold to Accor Hotels in Paris. The “Brainstorm” exhibition at Saleh Barakat Gallery in 2019 also featured mirrors in the camp’s alleyways and is a continuation of “Hard Core”.
There was always talk about getting out of the camp in order to be free, but these were idealistic expressions and hopes. I faced this issue with my father as well. When I first told him that I wanted to build a house outside of the camp, he said that nowhere else could protect us. I built a house in a beautiful rural area where there are plantations and farms, but my father would always go back to the camp. People of his generation are still stuck in the civil war mentality from a time when they would always run to the camp for refuge and there would always be people there to protect us. For me, the camp is a mental maze that is hard to get out of. That is why I wanted to let others experience a small maze in which they would get stuck at some point. Ever since
the Nakba, for more than 70 years, people have been stuck in a camp. That’s why I did the “Brainstorm” exhibition. It’s about a maze, but the only escape route is through the sea and so people drowned. I included that in my exhibition: a giant wave made out of barbed wire. Our whole heritage carries this pressure. On that note, I started working more on the psychological aspect, which reflects the people stuck in the camp. My father is still stuck there to this day. I moved to Debbiyeh in 2018 and my family came in 2019, but they go back to the camp every two days. I visit them there as well, but only for a few hours. However, I worked on myself to get out of this lifestyle because I used to be like this too in 2007.
There’s a lot of delinquency since the unemployment rate is very high. People can work in the camp, but it is still difficult to live, learn, survive and work. When the population was purely Palestinian, people wouldn’t steal from their neighbours or do anything to hurt them, as everyone knew one another and there was a tightknit atmosphere. They like this feeling of closeness, as when there’s a problem, they like to be near one other. In the Gaza hospital building, doors were essentially curtains, so in effect all the rooms were open. In those days, we were the only ones who could protect ourselves because there was no government. Even when I first started my work with fabric, my neighbours were the ones who would bring me their own clothes and belongings. This place holds a lot of memories and still inspires me to this day. I always try to analyse these memories engraved in my mind from a different perspective because it’s a long time since I’ve been there. I have this personal dilemma: I think that I love the camp but if this is true then why didn’t I just stay there? However, it would be better if the camps didn’t exist in the first place because it’s not helping anyone and creates a lot of stress in this society.
"There was always talk about getting out of the camp in order to be free, but these were idealistic expressions and hopes."
IN 2022 YOUR SOLO EXHIBITION “LA VIE ” TOOK PLACE AT ANALIX FOREVER GALLERY IN GENEVA. CAN YOU TELL US MORE ABOUT IT?
I originally suggested that the exhibition be titled “Untitled” because I feel my works don’t need any explanation and can be understood simply by looking at them. I also love personal perspectives and knowing that a work can represent so many other things to other people. For example, I recently exhibited “Chrysalide” in Malbuisson, near the French-Swiss border. The cocoon was made from barbed wire and exhibited on a tree. We had children come to view the exhibition and discuss it. When I think of barbed wire, I think of its use in farms. But, when I asked the children what they thought it was, they told me that it is used to construct borders. In fact, it is used to form borders, but for animals rather than humans, so this caught my attention. For “La Vie” I was searching for a title with a meaning that humans are not sacred. This exhibition touched on the philosophical, cultural and economic dynamics of petroleum as a resource, as well as the occupation of religion and capitalism in our daily lives. It covered subjects that are taboo to talk about in countries in the Middle East: religion and sexuality. I used oil barrels to create flowers. The barrels are a symbol of capitalism and consumerism at the same time; the product of an economic system created in the 1940s, in my opinion. The flowers, however, symbolise our connection to our origins: the Earth. For me, virgin land is not land that hasn’t been cultivated, it is land that hasn’t been occupied. When you plant or sow on land, there is love and attention. Meanwhile, a land struggling with mass production becomes occupied by capitalism or by a physical Israeli occupation.
YOU,
in May, for Analix Forever Gallery, in Geneva. The gallery was founded by Barbara Polla, who gave us the entire gallery with its residence for this workshop. The works produced in this workshop were included in an exhibition that we titled “Fous moi la paix”. Usually, every time we get bored of Beirut, we travel somewhere together and rent a studio. We don’t have a theme or anything and we start from scratch. Our work is more based on research as we’re trying to move beyond the things we usually do and see where this takes us. One time we went to Greece, which was great fun as we would work all day but also go to the beach. We also regularly collaborate together in some way or another in Beirut.
Whenever Barbara and I would go to an exhibition together by train, it would take us hours to get there, so along the way she would ask me questions and take notes. The topics are mostly my perspective on women, men, children, love, the future and the Israeli occupation. Starting from there, we would get into deep philosophical discussions with no limits. This book is more about an artist’s thoughts than their art, although there are also black and white sketches included.
I wouldn’t change a thing. I would relive this whole experience all over again because it was fruitful.
Yes, we do. We’re very close and involved in each other’s artistic and private lives. We just participated in our latest workshop together
AYMAN AND SAID BAALBAKI AND SERWAN BARAN HAVE A STRONG RELATIONSHIP. DO YOU OFTEN WORK TOGETHER?
I first met Abdul Rahman Katanani, late in the autumn of 2015, at a dinner party my late father hosted, at our home in Beirut. I was so looking forward to meeting him because we already had a work by him called “In Six Days And We Will Be Back Inshallah”. It’s an iconic piece, by my now dear friend, made of corrugated steel and various other objects, depicting a Palestinian family fleeing what became known as the Palestinian Nakba of 1948, just as his own grandfather had, when he took his family out of Jaffa, Palestine and headed for Lebanon, ending up in the Shatila refugee camp in Beirut.
Abdul Rahman is quite a character, one you couldn’t but instantly like, always smiling and constantly finding ways to make those around him laugh. He’s the kind of person you feel happy around, or in whose company any unhappy mood can never last long. We became fast friends. Abed, as most of his good friends call him, comes with quite a fascinating story. He was born in Beirut, in the Palestinian refugee camp of Sabra, where after receiving several degrees in fine arts, he returned to work, teach and inspire in the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps, giving hope and inspiration to the children and
Girl running with a tile - Beirut blast, 2020 Zinc and metal, mixed media
"He’s the kind of person you feel happy around, or in whose company any unhappy mood can never last long."
Untitled, 2018
youth of the two sprawling camps that he calls home.
I visited Abed at his studio in the Sabra camp a couple of times. The building was a decommissioned, dilapidated hospital which was converted into homes after the Israeli invasion of 1982, one family to a room. Abed and his family lived there, so acquired a room when one became available, and converted it into his studio until he moved out of the camp, with his family, to a larger home and studio he had built on a plot of land he had acquired south of Beirut. Going through the Sabra and Shatila camps with Abed to visit his then humble studio was quite an experience. My dear friend has to be one of the most popular guys in the
camps. People there admire, respect and genuinely love him, just like any of us who are privileged to know him do.
Abed cleverly resorts to using materials in his works that are easily found in the camps, like metal from oil barrels, corrugated steel, used for roofs in the camps, wood, and barbed wire. My dear friend is a genius at taking these difficult materials, like barbed wire for example, and weaving it into anything he wants, from a wave to a carpet, or even a tornado! This ability of his to take basic materials and turn them into stunning art is what sets him apart from others, but don’t take my humble word for it: in 2019, the French government saw something quite special in Abed, special enough to bestow on him French citizenship.
"This ability of his to take basic materials and turn them into stunning art works is what sets him apart from others."
As an artist, Abdul Rahman Katanani enjoys a deep friendship with the Dalloul Art Foundation, built on mutual trust and respect. The foundation features and celebrates his unique and impactful work and maintains an extensive digital archive on him. As a friend, I’ve recommended him to fellow collectors and fans of his work, some of whom have given him commissions. As a big fan and collector of his work myself, I’ve also commissioned Abed to produce specific works for me. As chairman of the Dalloul Art Foundation, I commissioned him to produce a piece to be sold at a Christie’s auction in London in October 2020, in aid of the victims of the August 2020 Beirut Port explosion, which I ended up acquiring for the foundation. I also recently commissioned Abed to work
on a piece, inspired by something very much tied to Palestinian culture (I don’t want to ruin the surprise by disclosing it now), which then turned into a new series he’s currently working on, and which the foundation is looking forward to promoting and perhaps touring.
At this point in time, Abed is no longer a rising star, but a shooting star! We have yet to see his full impact as an artist in the works he has yet to conceive and create. I personally am looking forward to an art future, with my dear friend Abdul Rahman Katanani prominently in it!
"At this point in time, Abed is no longer a rising star, but a shooting star!"
"My dear friend has to be one of the most popular guys in the camps. People there admire, respect and genuinely love him, just like any of us who are privileged to know him do. "
I initially encountered Abdul Rahman Katanani through his work. In 2015, I was visiting Beirut, looking at art. In the rather small – at the time – gallery of Saleh Barakat, in the basement office, I saw a tree: an olive tree with no roots. The small trunk was tightly surrounded with barbed wire, and I experienced an incredibly strong sensation of imprisonment and entanglement. Like an oxymoron though, the barbed wire then flourished in freely growing, joyful branches. I immediately felt in love – art love.
At that time, I was preparing a group exhibition in Nanterre, a suburb of Paris, on the theme of art and prison with the title “Le sens de la peine”. I immediately knew that this work would become the keynote of this exhibition, and it did. I was able to have Abdul Rahman invited by the City of Nanterre for a one-month residency during which he produced eight olive trees, like a forest, for a huge window that opened onto the Place Nelson Mandela, a location that was a sign of the importance of the work. I saw people in tears, looking at his "forest". After the exhibition, some
of the trees went to the Anglet Biennial in South-West France, one went to the Institut du Monde Arabe in Paris, and there was a huge interest in his work. I felt there had to be an exhibition in Paris, where I mostly work with the excellent art dealer Magda Danysz, so we presented together a completely original exhibition in her gallery, “Hard Core”. Abdul Rahman worked on this for months and it remains a milestone in his career. Paris is Paris is Paris…
Comment continuer? Abdul Rahman Katanani, au-delà de son art, élabore des propositions qui, basées sur une critique informée des jeux de violence, d’argent et de pouvoir qui agitent le monde, ouvrent la voie vers des lendemains vivables. Dans la joie, car c’est de joie dont l’artiste parle dans ce livre. Et de liberté.
Barbara Polla travaille avec Abdul Rahman Katanani depuis 2015. Fascinée par les idées et les visions de l’artiste autant que par ses œuvres et sa personnalité, elle a passé de longues heures, pendant près de deux ans, à l’écouter et à transcrire ses paroles: la meilleure manière, pour l’écrivaine, de pénétrer son monde et de le faire sien. Elle «devient» Abdul Rahman Katanani.
I believe he already has a wide audience, but I carry the responsibility to develop it even further, to interact with institutions and museums in and beyond the Middle East and central Europe and open new territories for his work to be seen and known. Besides organising exhibitions, I am also responsible for having the latest book we recently published together, (Barbara Polla, Abdul Rahman Katanani, “Paroles d’artiste”, Slatkine Ed., 2023), translated into different languages – and in another year or two to publish another one, as the work and the projects evolve, as well as an exhaustive monograph including all his work from the beginning.
"I experienced an incredibly strong sensation of imprisonment and entanglement. Like an oxymoron though, the barbed wire then flourished in freely growing, joyful branches. I immediately felt in love – art love."Abdul Rahman Katanani est un artiste franco-palestinien né en 1983 dans le camp de Sabra, de parents réfugiés palestiniens. Devenir artiste lui est très tôt apparu comme une nécessité vitale: créer pour crier, créer pour sortir, créer pour vivre. Mais comment vivre?
Olive Tree, 2016
290 x 180 x 50 cm
Barbed wire
Hard Core, 2017 Installation view
His art is embedded in history and in his constantly evolving vision of the world. The artist is also a thinker, a contemporary philosopher, who adapts both his art and everyday behaviour to his philosophical concepts and social ideals. In my writing and publications about him, I try to be as faithful as possible to his thinking. To approach analysis and interpretation of his work, I spend many long hours listening to him and watching him work –then also, listening to art historians and what they have to say about his art.
Most importantly, his art not only pertains to an acute analysis, a clever critique and a beautiful transformation of today’s reality, but it also paves novel paths towards future realities. These novel paths are needed everywhere, in all current sociopolitical situations. There is no obvious future, and we definitively have to construct it. Abdul Rahman is an efficient contributor to this construction. He has become a key actor in both the West
"His open perspectives, his multilingualism, his unheard ability to mediate, and the universal subjects of his art – imprisonment and movement, despair and joy, entanglement and simplicity, the beauty of nature and the respect it needs – make him a universal interlocutor in all and every artistic and intellectual milieu."
and the Middle East. His work is a model for the bridges that art may generate between cultures. His open perspectives, his multilingualism, his unheard ability to mediate, and the universal subjects of his art – imprisonment and movement, despair and joy, entanglement and simplicity, the beauty of nature and the respect it needs – make him a universal interlocutor in all and every artistic and
intellectual milieu. His authenticity and ability to communicate with everyone, the beauty and accessibility of his art will make him grow even further in the coming decades. One specific aspect of his potential is that he is both a leader and a mediator. With his unmatched kindness and aura, and his ability to convey, he is the kind of person that could change the world.
We are just opening this incredible exhibition, “Fous moi la paix” (Leave me in peace), featuring Ayman Baalbaki, Said Baalbaki and Serwan Baran, together with Abdul Rahman. I invited these four artists because they have lived through war for decades, and in camps, and their experiences have grounded most of their artworks as essential memorial elements related to armed conflicts and their aftermath – such as the ruins of Ayman Baalbaki, the Missing Arm sculpture by Said Baalbaki, the prisoners by Serwan Baran. This experience of war was fundamental in engaging these four artists in a different perspective, i.e., peace. It seemed to us that there are no contemporary artists exploring the possibilities of representing peace –probably because there is currently no recognised point of view from which to do so.
The curatorial concept took its roots in our shared thinking, as nourished by reality and by philosophical and psychoanalytic concepts of peace. In the recently published book, “Abdul Rahman Katanani, Paroles d’artiste”, there is already a chapter about peace, entitled “Peace, a micropolitics”. Abdul Rahman has abundantly developed the concept that any meaningful peace process has to start with inner peace – as any state of freedom has to begin with inner freedom. My curatorial concept thus started by listening to the artist.
Despite the fact that our lives and experiences are so fundamentally different, I feel that we somehow share a similar point of view. When you live through a war, you know what death means. You see it every day. As a medical doctor, I also know about death; it has always been close. I think that the day-to-day vision of death generates a different perspective towards the value of life, hence of peace. Life and peace are tightly linked. If in doubt, rewatch the 1971 film "Johnny Got His Gun”. Hence, I feel that rather than challenging the previous perspective of the four artists, our
common project about peace benefits from our common perspective on life –and peace – allowing the project to unfold.
Our project’s concept of peace was based on an unwritten but clear "contract of trust", which is the necessary basis for all peace treaties. Our contract was as follows:
1) The artists trust me and will come to live and work together at Analix Forever, leaving behind their lives and other commitments for a given time;
2) I trust them and therefore renounce any demand or command. Full freedom is a prerequisite for peace – hence the title of the exhibition: “Fous moi la paix”;
3) They trust each other, and as they explained to me: "We will leave our ego at the door of Analix Forever, and this is already a gesture of peace."
During this experiment, we lived in anarchy –"an-archos", literally, an absence of power. There were no rules, except to create and take care of each other. It seems to me that anarchy is probably the only political system (or political non-system) that allows for peace. The philosopher Emmanuel Levinas also suggested tight links between peace and anarchy. In fact, peace goes against many of the major "systems" in which we live: against the nations and their will for greater power; against the economic system and the flow of money generated by the arms’ trade; against the trade of war-specific drugs such as captagon. Somehow peace is similar to love: true love often goes against established social rules. And so does peace. At a time when the West tends to support war (under the guise of upholding values), supporting and practising peace seems quite subversive. We resist global thinking and engage in counteracting war and the death instinct by the creative instinct – the Eros in Sigmund Freud’s theory.
In fact, when Albert Einstein asked Freud if there was a way of freeing humankind from the threat of war, Freud’s reply includes the statement that "whatever
"With his unmatched kindness and aura, and his ability to convey, he is the kind of person that could change the world."
makes for cultural development is working also against war." This was in 1932. I am not sure that this is always the case, because sometimes culture is used to enforce nationalism. But when seeing over and over again that totalitarians and dictators burn books, then I say yes, we have to work relentlessly for the development of culture. But what we did at Analix Forever, or what the artists did, is rather based on my paraphrasing of Freud’s statement: "Every effort towards encouraging free creation is also an effort towards peace."
From the perspective of this exhibition, these statements are true. The incredible amount of free creation that has taken place in a dedicated timeframe has placed our project in a kind of "magic bubble" from which any kind of conflict was naturally excluded. The artists were not specifically representing peace. Rather, they worked in peace. In a broader sense, the exhibition provides a rather exceptional opening towards the artistic culture of the Middle East in Switzerland – the so-called land of peace, where however the culture of that region often remains unknown, or little known, and hence not appreciated well enough.
Another statement - "To try to think peace is to refuse the game of terror" - leads us to Hannah Arendt, who suggested that the opposite of violence is not kindness but thinking. The war/terror systems/ strategies work at annihilating thinking through fear; the fear, for example, that if we do not fight, we will all get invaded and killed. So, we abandon thinking and just tend to protect ourselves. Thinking peace is not an easy task, but any effort in that direction estranges us from war.
Furthermore, unlike war, peace cannot be decreed; it has to be built, as Immanuel Kant said. Peace cannot be built on terror. There is no trust in terror. Peace has to be built on thought and trust. Thinking together may generate trust, a prerequisite for peace. Thinking is our
major instrument on the paths towards peace. The best use of this human instrument, i.e., thinking, requires major effort.
So, we lived our own "peace experiment" based on trust, watching and adapting to each other, so that each of us felt his space and needs were respected. Creativity was synergised by the conviction that what the four artists could achieve by working together would be better than what each could create alone – even if the artworks still belong to each individual artist. There was something magical going on that I am still working on formulating precisely.
One specific representation emerged in all of their works: they created and painted tents – khayma. Abdul Rahman created two tents in metal from oil barrels. Then, he went to Decathlon with Ayman Baalbaki and they bought the biggest tent they could find. For a long time, Ayman had been thinking of painting on a tent. He cut it up, hung it on the wall and painted over it. This piece is a major artwork in the upcoming exhibition, and both a masterpiece and a "rupture" piece, extraordinarily balanced between fabric and painting, including and radiating light. By "rupture" piece I mean that his masterpiece will lead, I believe, to new ways of creation. For Said Baalbaki, painting is an ancient and long-lasting love, but this was the first time that he painted with acrylic. He has created more than 30 paintings, and many of them are tents: floating tents, floating towards abstraction, symbols of the past and the future. Tents are where we get together, smoke the pipe of peace, make love, give birth, talk and listen, share food… like an antique definition of peace. I then asked Serwan Baran: and what about your tent? He did an abstract painting. Abstraction may be one way to represent peace.
The installation of the exhibition reflects the group’s idea: all their creations are unique, while the entire process is shared. Hence, there is no one single space for each one
artist, but the works echo each other in the different spaces. And while I admire the exhibition, it seems to me that someone is whispering in my ear: “Leave me in peace…”
I am looking forward to Abdul Rahman’s next exhibition in Paris, but most of all his art deserves to be shown in museums in the Arab world and beyond – all around the world. We are working on this.
My first meeting with Abdul Rahman Katanani was at the recommendation of a friend, Mrs Malak Nimer, who ran an NGO in the Shatila refugee camp in Lebanon. She told me about an artist who drew caricatures and used recycled materials to create narratives of his life in the camp. Abdul Rahman immediately impressed me with his way of thinking, how he was determined to become an artist, and his belief that it was possible. Although his environment was extremely challenging, and the options available might have seemed limited, he continued to work, to learn, develop and create his own voice, becoming a model for the next generation, a person who managed to achieve the impossible. All of his positivity, energy, vision and determination were evident to me when I met him, and they
continue to shine forth from him and his works as his career has progressed.
When we met, I saw that the art materials available to him were of poor quality and so I made some small suggestions, most usefully perhaps that he might work with the materials of the camp more directly. He took this advice and made it his own, leaving paint behind in favour of any and all materials that were available to him, including denim, corrugated iron, barbed wire and plastic bottle tops. While Abdul Rahman’s work has continued to develop in so many ways, what I find so deeply inspiring about it is what remains the same: the way that he transforms his experience, despite his roots in an extremely challenging environment, and the way his materials reflect this
"Abdul Rahman immediately impressed me with his way of thinking, how he was determined to become an artist, and his belief that it was possible."
"While Abdul Rahman’s work has continued to develop in so many ways, what I find so deeply inspiring about it is what remains the same: the way that he transforms his experience, despite his roots in an extremely challenging environment, and the way his materials reflect this experience, and that his interest seems to be in telling stories that give the viewer a sense of joy."
experience, and that his interest seems to be in telling stories that give the viewer a sense of joy. For me, what is unique about his work is the lightness of touch that emanates from his works, despite the complexity of the subjects and emotions that they contain.
As part of Abdul Rahman’s 2019 exhibition “Brainstorm”, at my gallery, a replica camp was made to convey the oppressive feeling of its narrow streets, as well as a nine-metre barbed wire wave that we constructed in the gallery. With his art constantly unfolding in new and unexpected ways, I’m delighted to announce that his next show with me, scheduled for 2024, represents a fascinating tangent that will be a wonderful surprise.
Abdul Rahman’s experience as a Palestinian is embedded within his work, when he talks about himself or the children of the camps, as well as in the subjects and
materials of his artworks. The barbed wire waves that represent the Gaza Sea or the tornado of violence sweeping through the Middle East are clear examples of this, as are his sensitive juxtapositions of materials. Although the complexity and conflict of the Palestinian experience is apparent, Abdul Rahman’s work holds the remarkable ability to retain a rare and delicate sensitivity, to create objects from hard materials that are imbued with positivity and beauty.
As a gallerist I think that Abdul Rahman’s uniqueness lies most powerfully in his use of materials, in particular the way he has developed innovative ways to transform the materials around him, by shaping, weaving and gathering, to develop a uniquely sensitive and intelligent language and voice. If you have the chance to spend time with one of his pieces at different times of the day and night you will see how his particular handling of hard, metallic materials creates an array of shifting
colours and reflections that will always surprise. His work has a presence that is completely unique and is continually evolving. Recently, he has been working more towards abstraction, leaving behind the early characters, human and natural forms that populated his works to leave room for the emergence of more spatial compositions.
Perhaps my most memorable experience with Abdul Rahman, though there have been many, was during the time the documentary on his life, “Le Lanceur de Pierres” (2012) by Christophe Donner, a French film director, was being made. At this time, the French ambassador
met Abdul Rahman and saw his work, becoming so inspired and impressed by his story that he wanted to help him to gain French citizenship. This long, seemingly impossible process, ended successfully, and Abdul Rahman now lives between Beirut and France. As you can see, Abdul Rahman’s story has the quality of a fairy tale, and shows, for me, how a person with great willingness, vision and personality, as well as being serious and perseverant, can transform his life and inspire generations, tipping the odds that seemed stacked against him, to move forwards from extremely hard beginnings, to become the superstar that he is today.
How do you meet, as a curator, a fascinating artist?
Through another one.
It was an exceptionally talented Lebanese artist, Ayman Baalbaki, who one day introduced me to his Palestinian friend, spiritual brother and artistic mate. Abdul Rahman Katanani was then, and is still now, working in the refugee camp of Sabra and Shatila, where he was born in 1983 – a year after the Israeli invasion of Lebanon and the notorious massacre that killed over two thousand Palestinians, including women and children, in that camp. His grandparents came to Lebanon from Jaffa, in 1948. So, he was born out of, and with, a strong desire to live, to love and to create.
Of course, I had already seen the works of Abdul Rahman Katanani exhibited at the French Institute in Beirut, and later in several shows in Saleh Barakat’s gallery, and Dar El-Nimer foundation in Beirut. But he was already an artist even before 2008, when he received the young artist prize during the Salon d’Automne held at the Sursock Museum. His first works of art were products of his teen years, cartoons and graffiti murals, executed in collaboration with friends in the camps, encouraging communal art. They were inspired by the late Palestinian cartoonist Naji al-Ali, who was killed in London in 1987, when I was the artistic director of Kufa Gallery. I remember clearly that dramatic
event, since we organised, with the help of Iraqi artist Dia al-Azzawi, an exhibition in al-Ali’s memory with his original works, lent by his family.
So, I was very keen to see Katanani in his studio, in the camp. The most striking impression upon meeting him for the first time is his refined beauty, inherent elegance, his great sense of humour,
"The most striking impression upon meeting him for the first time is his refined beauty, inherent elegance, his great sense of humour, his laughter, his lightness, his openness, despite the surroundings: a camp, and a host country, in political, moral and financial bankruptcy.
his laughter, his lightness, his openness, despite the surroundings: a camp, and a host country, in political, moral and financial bankruptcy.
I could not believe that – despite his having so much talent, success, and enjoying the admiration of other artists and the public –he was still living and working in a disused and derelict hospital, destroyed during the 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon, where later each room was occupied by a family. Yet life and laughter were buzzing in the stairwells, with children playing all around, shouting with joy, playing with improvised kites, used car tyres… Joy, serenity and beauty, this is the combination of feelings that hits you when you meet the artist and get introduced to his mother. They both
stand straight, tall, strong, slim, sharing the most attractive and welcoming smile. Neither of them is bitter, nor feels like a victim. They look proud and free. Could it be that he inherited from his beautiful mother his survival instinct, his sense of freedom, an ethic of hard work, shining happiness, talent and kindness?
In Katanani’s studio, which was also his room, he had just installed a weaving tool that he had created thanks to his carpentry skills. His father was a carpenter, and as a child he had helped his father, sometime even to install roofs on the concrete cubicles of refugees. But what he intended to weave here were waves, tornadoes, carpets, made with barbed wire. His hands and arms are full of scratches and wounds
from the materials driving the themes to create his sculptures: corrugated zinc-metal sheets, disused crude oil barrels flattened (as a hint towards the petrodollars that reshaped the map of the region), scraps, wood, and of course barbed wire, all of them found materials that he sources directly in the camp. He transforms them into impressive works that are not only unique and moving but also supremely original.
It’s no wonder that the children playing so creatively with disused materials, on the staircases of the ex-hospital and in the streets of the camp, became the source of inspiration for so much of his work. How do you survive in a country where, despite your having lived there for generations, you still have no right to work, or buy a property? How can an artist, despite the dire conditions, hardship, poverty and trauma, create such wonderful pieces? In the case of Katanani, as with most exceptional artists, there seems to have been no choice other than to reach for art to express himself. Weaving his concepts and themes – protest, displacement, borders, trespassing, petrol, poverty, but most of all freedom – he instils in us the desire to shout, rebel, live, love and be free. Here, Palestine becomes an allegory, for all the displaced.
With the onrush of tragic refugee crises worldwide, and the drowning of thousands from war-torn countries, the sea has become another source of inspiration: this time, Katanani’s urge to promote change and to revolt results in works on a massive scale. He creates waves, tsunami-like waves, curved pieces of woven barbed wire stretching eight metres long, to dynamic effect. He also builds towering tornadoes, three metres high, to warn against and denounce other catastrophes.
In 2019, a large-scale, immersive installation that mimics the refugee camp was shown in both Beirut and Paris: a work that speaks of the precarity of our current conditions, and asks what future awaits us. The same year, Katanani received a French passport, so now he can travel. He enjoys learning about bees (he is an expert on them and can handle them with great serenity), discovering forests, studying trees, nature, all new sources of inspiration.
A wonderful recent monograph about the artist, written by Barbara Polla, a medical doctor, writer and gallerist, reveals the more intimate and personal life and work of the artist. He is currently exhibiting with other close friends, Ayman and Said Baalbaki and the Kurdish Iraqi artist Serwan Baran. If you are in Geneva, try to see this display at Analix Forever Gallery.
"Weaving his concepts and themes – protest, displacement, borders, trespassing, petrol, poverty, but most of all freedom – he instils in us the desire to shout, rebel, live, love and be free. Here, Palestine becomes an allegory, for all the displaced."
My first encounter with Abdul Rahman Katanani was in 2008 during the opening of my solo exhibition at Agial Gallery. I also remember that shortly after the opening, Abdul Rahman had his own exhibition at the Lebanese Artists Association, which he invited me to. However, although I attended the event, Abdul Rahman was not present on this occasion. His father told me that he was representing his son at the exhibition because Abdul Rahman worked as a cartoonist for a magazine. Therefore, it can be said that we became acquainted with each other’s works before properly meeting on a personal level.
In 2010, I had an art installation at the Venice Biennale, and I needed assistance in setting up this large-scale artwork. As a result, the gallerist Saleh Barakat asked Abdul Rahman to lend me a hand. He
immediately came to my aid, and in doing so we helped each other even before we had got to know each other well.
Although there was a period of time when Abdul Rahman was rarely in Beirut as he had been awarded a grant and was in residence at Cité Internationale des Arts in France, eventually one day we crossed paths, and I invited him to my studio. Since that day, we became close friends. Between 2014 and 2018, when Abdul Rahman was still living in Sabra, we would meet daily. During these years, we began to witness each other’s artistic processes. Abdul Rahman would visit me in my studio, and his curiosity often inspired him to sketch. The spirit of cooperation between us started to grow, turning our meetings into both work and pleasure at the same time.
"His work reflects the experiences and struggles of individuals, often encapsulating powerful messages in minimalist yet impactful compositions."
Our collaboration took various forms. Sometimes, it took on a practical aspect, where Abdul Rahman would assist me with a specific issue, especially since he had more technical expertise with materials. For example, he would help me with woodworking or iron welding.
Although Abdul Rahman had distanced himself from painting during his time at university, through his relationship with me and the painter Serwan Baran, his love for it grew. Later, the three of us decided to travel together to Greece. We took up residence in the city of Patras, with the aim of spending the summer and working at the same time. We felt the need to get away from Beirut for a while at that time, which further strengthened our relationship. We also had an excellent experience in terms of collaboration for work.
Another time, Abdul Rahman, Serwan, my brother Said and I travelled together to Venice to help set up one of my artworks. Then, the four of us went on to help Said with setting up his exhibition in Berlin. Now, more recently the four of us are having a group exhibition, which we spent two weeks together preparing for in Geneva, Switzerland, at the residence of Barbara Polla.
In terms of Abdul Rahman’s work, I can talk about the strength of his personality, his courage, and his love for life. It is not easy for an artist to emerge from the refugee camp environment in which he lived. Effectively, he came from nothing, and the difference between him and us, meaning myself, my brother Said, and Serwan, is that Serwan, for example, received academic training in Baghdad, and my
brother and I are fortunate to hail from an artistic family. Abdul Rahman, however, built himself up from zero, and engaged in socially and politically motivated art that took a critical stance against corruption, parties, and instigators in the camps. His first works were graffiti that showed him to be a fearless activist more than a painter. Then he moved onto the art of caricature, which allowed him to enter university.
Indeed, it is remarkable to observe the rapid development of an individual who initially had no knowledge of art history. In a short period, he transitioned from political and social activism to academic artistic pursuits, seamlessly blending all these aspects together through his experiences and visual intelligence. His journey demonstrates his adaptability and ability to incorporate various influences into his work.
His artworks are characterised by a lightness that can be described as both elusive and concise. I vividly recall how he would mix materials and colours, constantly contemplating the essence of these elements to distill them later. He initially started with depicting individuals and the world of the camp, only for these figures to later transform into abbreviated shadows of people. This reminds me of the anecdote of a Palestinian objecting to a journalist wanting to photograph him, saying, "Do you think you will see anything in us? We are merely empty shadows."
Abdul Rahman’s ability to capture the essence and convey it in such concise forms is truly captivating. His work reflects the experiences and struggles of individuals, often encapsulating powerful messages in minimalist yet impactful compositions. This development in the aesthetics of his work has transformed him from being simply a Palestinian artist on a small scale to an influential artist in the Lebanese art scene. He initially exhibited at the Lebanese Artists Association and won awards at the Sursock Exhibition. He then studied at the Lebanese University and gained a large audience in the Arab world, as well as participating in exhibitions in Geneva and Paris. I am impressed by his maturity and the evolution of his work towards conciseness.
The conscious spirit of collaboration that exists between the two of us, the similar places from which each of us comes, and our shared struggle in our environments and our empathy for people, is something that is rare today. We take pride in it and fight for it. Nowadays, the world is mostly heading towards the notion of the artist as an individual entity in their studio, as if they were a registered brand or a machine designed to produce numerous works at a required level. However, we differ from that through our spirit of humility that allows us to collaborate with each other and produce works in which two or more artists participate.
"The conscious spirit of collaboration that exists between the two of us, the similar places from which each of us comes, and our shared struggle in our environments and our empathy for people, is something that is rare today. We take pride in it and fight for it."
Let me begin by saying that I have been following the works of the artist Abdul Rahman Katanani from the beginning. And while first and foremost he is my friend, I was also one of the first admirers of his experimentation.
I got to know Abdul Rahman through the Saleh Barakat Gallery during my earliest visits to Beirut nine years ago. I always used to ask Saleh about him, and eventually Saleh introduced us. I instantly liked him. Despite being a great artist, he was so easy to get on with and he always had a smile on his face. He gives off this amazing energy that makes people feel like they need and want to see him. He is also generous, and I found this to be one of his most beautiful qualities.
Both of us create artworks portraying characters in a contemporary manner, but our styles and techniques differ. Abdul Rahman is focused on sculpture, whereas I work in painting.
One unique characteristic that Abdul Rahman incorporates in his artworks is his use of recycling, especially since such an act is somewhat rare in this part of the world. He turns his attention to abandoned, lifeless objects and gives them a soul. He makes use of simple, popular, and inexpensive materials that he finds in his environment, but gives them a new meaning, such as zinc panels that are ubiquitous in refugee camps. This is a challenging material to use for artistic purposes.
With these simple materials, he creates rare sculptures and landscapes, presenting them in a contemporary manner. For example, the mirrors he used in the corridors of the camp-like construction for an exhibition created the illusion that we were walking inside the camp, becoming an integral part of the artwork. This is a very important characteristic of his work, as it makes the observer become both a participant and a part of it.
His work also stands out for the personal touch he gives it, such as an element of harshness reflecting what he experienced in the Sabra and Shatila refugee camp. That’s why he often shoots at his completed works, leaving traces of bullets and the wars this region went through, along with the suffering of the civil war and its lasting effects on the doors and rooftops of crumbling buildings. All of this provided rich material for him to present it in a contemporary way after it had been destroyed in the past. The visual discourse in his works touches anyone who has experienced disasters, as he tries to remind you of the past and reconstruct it for a new life.
I must say that the whirlwind he created with wires had a profound impact on me and that his works generally have influenced my own work and artistic journey. We used to meet at least five or six times a week as a group of artists, along with Ayman and Said Baalbaki. Sometimes this would be the occasion for serious discussions
"He turns his attention to abandoned, lifeless objects and gives them a soul. He makes use of simple, popular, and inexpensive materials that he finds in his environment, but gives them a new meaning, such as zinc panels that are ubiquitous in refugee camps."
that revolved around how to push our artistic works into new realms. The three of us who are painters were mostly interested in exploring how to venture into contemporary sculpture, whereas Abdul Rahman’s focus was on exploring how to move from sculpture into painting. In short, these discussions revolved around how to make sculptors draw and painters sculpt.
This group shared a common element: we all worked with the concept of ruin to present it in a beautiful artistic form. This ruin is our reality, as we have all been through extremely harsh experiences, significant defeats, and numerous setbacks, all of which we retain as memories. We recycle these painful memories and present them through artistic materials, whether it be stainless steel, bronze, or paint on a canvas. Most of our subjects and themes are harsh, but they are presented in a way that is universally acceptable because they contain life. The artistic and performative aspects of the work overshadow much of its darkness.
This group also has a tradition of collaborating on projects together. For example, in 2018 we travelled to Petra in Greece, where we rented a house and an atelier. Abdul Rahman’s presence made this a different experience for us, as on previous occasions it had been just us painters. This trip was also very significant for him as he entered the field of painting for the first time.
It requires a high level of courage for an artist like Abdul Rahman, who is experienced in contemporary artistic sculpture, to venture into the field of painting. This courage cannot be learned overnight; it takes someone who is extremely adventurous to do it. As a painter, I was immensely taken aback when I saw him adding bold touches to a painting in a way that would take any painter 20 years of experience to be able to do.
When the four of us got together, we often drew each other just for fun. When we returned from Greece, Abdul Rahman transformed a photograph of me immersed in drawing into a life-size zinc work. It was such a pleasant surprise and I cherish it greatly. When I saw it, I thought to myself that the person who created this artwork must be a sculptor who expresses themselves through painting.
After 2018, Abdul Rahman began seriously considering transforming his sculptural works into drawings and transferring his rich experience in sculpture to painting. Undoubtedly, the workshop that brought us together served as a catalyst for him to embark on this endeavour.
During a more recent trip by the four of us to Geneva, Abdul Rahman created a series of large-sized paintings ranging from one to two metres high, and he handled colours and brushes with great sensitivity.
It is surprising to think that he has not exhibited any of his drawings until now because he is a very shy person. He hesitates a thousand times before making any move. I always tell him, "Your work is ready to be exhibited, don’t hesitate!". However, he always replies that he needs more time to think about it.
For the Geneva trip, the four of us spent 15 days participating in a workshop, just as we had done in Greece, but this time with a greater seriousness and sense of responsibility. As professional artists we had committed ourselves to a specific timeline to produce art for an exhibition related to war and peace. The four of us took up the theme of "tent", which symbolises the roof of peace under which we live, and we each produced an artwork on this theme.
The idea of collaboration between sculptors and painters is not new but it is always a commendable idea that has sparked great movements. It is worth mentioning
that our group has never been limited to the four of us, and that it has also included the artists Tagreed Darghouth and Nadia Safieddine in Beirut.
Abdul Rahman possesses an excellent cultural background due to his travels and time spent in France, which provided him with an opportunity to explore Western artistic experiences. This allowed him to infuse Eastern influences with Western experimentation, creating a unique blend that bears his personal touch. Additionally, he has a curiosity for learning, which enriches him as an artist. He is often more eager to listen than to speak, and this is one of his most beautiful qualities.
In my opinion, his work is among the distinguished works in the contemporary art scene today, and he has left a unique mark compared to thousands or millions of artists worldwide. The task of a visual artist to have a unique personality in this universe is one of the most challenging
because the world has become smaller today. This small screen on our phones allows us to connect with the whole world through the Internet, instantly identifying any work from a specific source. Anyone can see all the works in the world’s museums at their fingertips.
I believe that as an artist he is at a very accomplished stage, and that in the near future he will astound us with his presentation of a great painting experiment influenced by his sculpting experience. I always say that the adventurous artist is the one who creates something new because art is a bold adventure. I have faith in Abdul Rahman and his openness to adventure matched by his constant quest for new experiences.
"In my opinion, his work is among the distinguished works in the contemporary art scene today, and he has left a unique mark compared to thousands or millions of artists worldwide."
Woman from the Camp, 2008 245 x 120 cm Mixed media
"This artwork portrays the unity of women across generations in the refugee camp. The laundry represents the pieces of our souls intertwined within the fabric, symbolising strength and resilience."
Waiting with the Zinc Plates, 2008
220 x 120 cm
"During the tumultuous events of 1948, mothers would mistake pillows for their infants when fleeing in hurried panic. This led to Palestinian families adopting these left-behind children, who became part of new families while carrying the weight of their lost nationality."
"Children in Palestine play near barbed wire, symbolising the borders they imagine or confront. By breaking the chains of fear, they strive to transcend boundaries and inspire a future free from restrictions."
Untitled, 2011
100 x 100 cm
Mixed media
Untitled, 2011
250 x 150 cm
Mixed media
Untitled, 2013
Untitled, 2013
200 x 150 cm
"The resilient olive tree, enduring for centuries, becomes a symbol of resistance for Palestinians. Despite being cut down, it always regrows, teaching us the virtues of resilience and patience."
Olive Tree, 2016
290 x 180 x 50 cm
Barbed wire
Olive Tree, 2015
100 x 90 cm
Barbed wire
"The once romanticised waters have been transformed into harsh borders. The wave, constructed with barbed wire, loses its romantic aspect and highlights the new reality of restricted movement and barriers."
"The traditional circular woven straw tray symbolises our collective struggle. It starts from a point and turns into an unbroken circle, representing the barbed wire that restricts us. But we strive to undo it and embrace infinity."
"Life is akin to a tornado, uprooting everything and leaving us bewildered. This work represents the shattered dreams of Palestinians and the violence we endure, creating an environment devoid of freedom."
Tornado, 2015 200 x 200 x 300 cm
"To shed light on the experience of living in refugee camps, I transformed the camps themselves into an installation. This exhibition brought the living conditions endured by Palestinians in the Arab World into the spotlight, challenging perceptions and fostering understanding."
No Address, 2012
Various dimensions
Mixed media
No Address, 2012
Various dimensions
Mixed media
No Address, 2012
Various dimensions
Mixed media
"Inspired by a dying tree in France infested with parasites, I saw a parallel with the occupation in Palestine. The mushroom-like parasites represent the occupying forces, exploiting resources until their eventual demise. The artwork symbolises the tree's resilience in breaking free from the confines of barbed wire."
Installation Mushroom, 2017
"This artwork aims to convey the harsh reality of refugee camps to a French audience. The narrowing alley reflects the overcrowding and constant influx of immigrants, while mirrors reflect the remaining alleys, emphasising the challenges faced in such overpopulated spaces."
The Red Flag Game, 2018
115 x 60 cm
Mixed media
The Red Flag Game, 2018 170 x 60 cm
"In observing these children's interactions with the red flag, we can discern a profound connection to the historical concept of colonisation. When foreign powers would arrive in new territories, they would symbolically plant their flag, signifying their claim of ownership and control over the land."
"The maze-like structure in this artwork represents an expanding alley, accommodating more people. It symbolises the pressure and struggles faced by those living in confined spaces. The shadows of the children represent the burden of the occupation that they will carry throughout their lives. The portraits on oil barrels represent influential leaders, showcasing the power dynamics at play. The adjacent wave artwork heightens the sense of intimidation and vulnerability."
Brainstorm, 2019 Installation view Photo by Paul Hennebelle
Brainstorm, 2019
Installation view
Photo by Paul Hennebelle
Brainstorm, 2019
Installation view
"Drawing a parallel between the concept of the virgin woman and the virgin land, I aim to shed light on the destructive consequences of colonisation. When a land is occupied, it is no longer considered 'virgin' in the sense of being untouched or unaltered. Similarly, when a woman's autonomy and agency are violated or disregarded, her personal 'virginity' is compromised."
"Fous Moi La Paix ventures beyond the realms of sorrow and destruction, aiming to shed light on an often overlooked aspect of art – the representation of peace."
Untitled, 2023 Mixed media
Abdul Rahman Katanani was born in 1983 in the Sabra refugee camp in Beirut, Lebanon. After the 1948 Nakba, his grandparents fled their hometown of Jaffa, Palestine, and settled in the Shatila refugee camp in Beirut. A third-generation refugee, Katanani was raised in the Sabra refugee camp. He acquired his formative education at Al Makassed private school in Beirut, then at a UNRWA-run school in the camp. From the age of eight, until college, he worked alongside his father, a carpenter. He received his diploma in Fine Arts from the Lebanese University in Beirut in 2007 and an MFA in 2012 on Palestinian contemporary art. Between 2008 and 2012, he was a supervisor for the creative department at Al-Quds TV in Beirut. In 2012, La Cité Internationale des Arts foundation in Paris granted Katanani a three-month artist residency, later followed by a fifteen-month artist residency in 2013 and a three-month artist residency in 2016. Similarly, in 2017, Vent des Forêts contemporary art centre in Meuse, France, offered him a two-month artist residency.
Katanani was born into a world of poverty and trauma. A year before his birth, in September 1982, and following the Israeli invasion of Lebanon, a Lebanese Christian militia committed one of the most horrifying massacres against the Palestinians in the Sabra and Shatila camps. In collaboration with the Israeli army, nearly two thousand refugees, mostly women, children and the elderly, were slaughtered. "Two of my aunts lost their husbands in the massacre," says Katanani. "They still don't know what happened to the bodies, and a lot of my family’s friends were also killed," he explains. His parents had escaped the camp a couple of days earlier. His grandfather, however, refused to leave the only home he had left.
Like many other Palestinian refugees, Katanani’s grandfather held on to his "right
of return" to Palestine. However, to date, no Palestinian has ever been granted that right. Hundreds of thousands of Palestinian refugees were dispersed across refugee camps in Lebanon. Camps were unliveable spaces: they lacked sustainable infrastructure, health or education services, or any decent employment opportunities. The Lebanese government also denied Palestinians social and economic rights.
Despite these dire conditions, Katanani did not grow up to be bitter or nihilistic. He reached for art and education to express his frustration, but with a positive and forward-looking outlook on life. The agile artist believes in cultural interaction and boundary-crossing via art. His body of work, which spans from caricature and street-art to sculpture, and installation, addresses themes such as displacement, borders, trespassing, and freedom. Palestine is omnipresent in Katanani’s work and has come to serve as an allegory for all the displaced in the world.
To keep his hopes up during his teens, Katanani painted colourful graffiti murals in the refugee camp. He tagged whimsical graffiti texts and painted nationalist iconographic figures such as al-Fida’i, the freedom fighter, and the Dome of the Rock. In 2004, to encourage communal art and give life to the camp, Katanani and a group of young refugees painted more than 90 murals on the walls of the Sabra refugee camp. In addition to graffiti, Katanani illustrated numerous caricatures inspired by the Palestinian political caricaturist, Naji al-Ali. Katanani addressed the Palestinian cause in a non-violent form.
From the start, Katanani’s style was unorthodox. It ascribed to liberal ideals that pushed the artist to an even more expressive art form. Between 2008 and 2010, he created a collection of
assemblages incorporating zinc-metal sheets, kitchen utensils, pre-used garments, and laundry pegs; all materials collected from the camp. At first sight, the materials seem like scraps, but, for him, they represent the survival kit of a refugee: shelter, food, and clothing. At times, to enliven the picture, he would add touches of colourful spray paint onto the final composition, such as in his picturesque assemblage entitled "The Martyred Camp", from 2008. It features a mass of vibrant fabrics, a kufiyah, and laundry pegs spread and swirled around a human figure cut out of a corrugated zinc-metal sheet. Although his work resonates with the frameless fabric paintings familiar to the Supports/Surfaces art movement and the ready-made objects found in installations of the Nouveau realism art movement, Katanani’s chaotic art is not pegged to any of those movements. Still, Katanani admires the art of abstract expressionist Robert Rauschenberg and nouveau réaliste Armand Fernandez or Arman.
Onto his metal cut-out figures, Katanani often places Pepsi-Cola bottle caps at the intersection of body parts, mainly joints. This is drawn from a childhood experience. As a young boy, he helped his father install roofs made of corrugated zinc-metal sheets on top of the concrete cubicles of refugees. In the place of proper metal bolts, which they lacked, they used Pepsi-Cola bottle caps at the points of fixation and pinned a nail in the centre of each bottle cap, hoping to keep the roof stable.
One of Katanani’s sources of inspiration is the children of the Sabra refugee camp. In the narrow, humid, and crowded alleyways, children made toys from trash. Katanani played with the kids and took pictures of them. He cut their enlarged pictured figures’ silhouettes out of corrugated zinc-metal sheets. Onto these figures, he
introduced accessories such as a red ribbon, a red cap or a blue skirt, cut out of flattened crude-oil barrels found in junkyards.
For instance, in “In Six Days And We Will Be Back Inshallah”, from 2011, a poignant artwork made mostly of silver corrugated zinc sheets, Katanani assembles his figures in a wall-mounted installation comprised of four pieces. The installation features a migrating family of six. A young boy follows his mother and father while each carries a toddler. A grown-up girl in front leads the way. On their shoulders and over their heads, the adults hold bags made of hessian cloth stuffed with supplies and kitchen utensils. Touchingly, on the father's waist, a set of keys dangle – a hint to the right of return. Katanani's refugees are still and faceless. While they bear their uncertain future, they are made of metal sheets.
In Katanani’s “Kids and Barbed Wire” genre of installation of 2011-2017, he introduces barbed wire into his work and drops the application of paint. He sticks to the original metallic colours of crude oil barrels, such as red, blue, and green. Katanani often applies acid to the polished silver zinc-metal sheets, toning down their glossy effect. However, he doesn't mind the shiny surfaces of the once priceless crude oil barrels. In some compositions with kids playing, Katanani positions a wire to look like a jumping rope or a kite’s thread. At times he weaves the barbed wire into a large round disc and displays it as a carpet on which kids lie down.
In the early stages of Katanani’s career, the materials drove the themes. With time, his themes became more focused, and materials were deliberately chosen. One thing remained constant, though;
Katanani never departed from metal. As he says, "I am one with metal […] the contrast between soft and hard, malleable and thorny, inspires me, specifically in barbed wire.” Barbed wire was his way of describing the contentious livelihoods of refugees or migrants.
Recently and following the Syrian refugee crisis, Katanani turned to broader issues of migration to Europe by sea. This topic is poignantly expressed in a collection of wave-like sculptures symbolic of the sea. Made out of one substantial curved piece of woven barbed wire, they range from two to eight metres in length. Moreover, Katanani expresses the state of being "stuck in a void without knowing what the future holds," as he says, in tornado-like sculptures. “Tornado”, from 2015, is a staggering ceiling-mounted installation handmade of woven barbed wire. The three metres high and two hundred kilogrammes rotating column stands five centimetres above the ground and spirals from narrow to wider rims. The massive scale and dynamic rippling and spiral visual effect, in both the wave and the tornado, suggest an urge for change or possibly revolt. Besides, both artworks are executed with a provocative material symbolic of restriction.
Boundaries, physical or otherwise, are a recurrent theme in Katanani’s art practice. Based on a past solo show entitled “No Address”, exhibited at L’Institut Français in 2012, in Beirut, Katanani constructed a large-scale structure that mimics the refugee camp, which was displayed at his solo show “Brainstorm” in 2019, at Saleh Barakat Gallery, in Beirut. Katanani created a real-life model of the overcrowded and tight spaces of refugee camps, in which
people were barely recognisable. The three metres high immersive installation with doors, windows and alleyways is made out of colourful flattened crude oil barrels, silver corrugated metal sheets, brass ghee butter gallons and wooden studs. The viewer’s gaze roams through the claustrophobic narrow pathways of the installation, and mirrors lining both sides of the main corridor make viewers see their reflection. However, out of what apparently seems like a closed circuit, Katanani draws a way out, breaking free from the camp’s borders and tight pathways.
In other politically-inspired projects, Katanani takes the facial silhouettes of prominent authoritarian Arab political figures and carves them out of crude oil barrels. The collection includes King Abdel Aziz Al Saud, Muammar Gaddafi, Gamal Abdel Nasser, Mohammad Mosaddegh, and Saddam Hussein, amongst others. Some of these political leaders funded political projects that threatened the rights of Palestinians. This mélange also hints at the centrality of petrodollars and the rentier state in the Middle East.
After receiving a French passport in 2019, Katanani now lives between Paris and Beirut. The refugee boy who lived at, and worked all his life from, the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps, "made a dream come true," as he puts it.
2017 2-month Artist Residency, Vent des Forêts, Meuse, FR.
2017 1-month Artist Residency, Vent des Forêts, Meuse, FR.
2016 3-month Artist Residency, Cité internationale des arts, Paris, FR.
2016 1-month Art Residency, Centre d’Art de Nanterre, Paris, FR.
2013/14 15-month Artist Residency, Cité internationale des arts, Paris, FR.
2013 Master's of Fine Arts, Lebanese University, Institute of Fine-Arts, Beirut, LB.
2012 3-month Artist Residency, Cité internationale des arts, Paris, FR.
2007 Diploma of Fine Arts, Lebanese University, Institute of Fine-Arts, Beirut, LB.
Caricature Exhibition in cooperation with AJPF, Paris, Nantes, Chambery, FR.
2006
Softness of a Circle, Knifeedge of a Straight Line, Agial Art Gallery, LB.
2015
Zinc, Barbed Wire and Freedom, Agial Art Gallery, Beirut, LB.
2011
Children, Olive Trees and Barbed Wire, Al Markhiya Gallery, QR.
2016
No Address, French Institute, Beirut, LB.
2012
Camp Message, LAAPS (Lebanese Artists Association for Painters and Sculptors), Beirut, LB.
2008
Resilience, Analix Forever Gallery, Geneva, CH.
2017
Kids, Barbed Wire and a Dream, Tanit Gallery, Munich, DE.
2023 "Ce que la Palestine apporte au monde", Institut du Monde Arabe, Paris, FR.
2023 "Fous moi la paix", Analix Forever, Geneva, CH.
2022 "L’art au naturel à l’ombre des ficus de l’ESA", Beirut, LB.
2022 "Expo Forest Art", FR.
2022 "Exodes", JardinBonaparte, Saint-Raphaël, FR.
2019 "Summer Collection", Part 15, Al Markhiya Gallery, Doha, QA.
2019 "Libres", Musee du Fer et du Chemin de Fer, CH.
2019 "Libres", Salon D’Art Contemporain, Yveron-Les-Bains, CH.
2018 "SPACES BRING PEOPLE TOGETHER", Punta del Este Convention and Exhibition Centre, Punta del Este, UY.
2018 "Un oeil ouvert sur le monde Arabe", Institut du Monde Arabe, Paris, FR.
2018 Beit Beirut, Beirut, LB.
2018 45th Bahrain Annual Fine Art Exhibition, Bahrain, BH.
2018 "Arabicity-Ourouba", Middle East Institution, Washington DC, USA.
2018 "Flux", Arts Ephemeres, Marseille, FR.
2018 "Paris Pris", Gallery Magda Danysz, Paris, FR.
2018 "Keyword: Palestine", Dar El-Nimer, Beirut, LB.
2018 "Face Value – Portraiture", Saleh Barakat Gallery, Beirut, LB.
2017 "Mushrooms", Vent des Forêts, Meuse, FR.
2017 "Water Lilies", Mir Amin Palace, Mount Lebanon, LB.
2016 "Dendromorphies", Topographie de l’Art, Paris, FR.
2016 "The Wave", Dar el-Nimer Foundation, Beirut, LB.
2016 "Olive Tree", Electronic Art Cafe, Rome, IT.
2016 "Olive Tree", Resistance and Persistence, Beirut, LB.
2016 "Girl jumping with a cover", Chapter 31, Gallery P21, London, UK.
2016 "Olive Tree", Jardin d’Orient, Institut du Monde Arabe, Paris, FR.
2016 "Forêt d’Oliviers", La Terrasse, Centre d’Art de Nanterre, Paris, FR.
2014 "Tornado, My Beautiful Laundrette", Cité internationale des arts, Paris, FR.
2014 "Jumping over the barbed wire", Day of Peace, UNESCO, Paris, FR.
2013 "Untitled", La Route Bleue, Villa Empain, Brussels, BE.
2012 "Hula-hoops" Art is the Solution, Villa Empain, Brussels, BE.
2012 "Boy running after a wheel", Together we connect, Anima gallery, Doha, QA.
2011 Rebirth, Beirut Exhibition Centre, Beirut, LB.
2011 Isharat, Al Markhiya Gallery, QA.
2011 "Family jumping over a barbed wire", funded by Apeal (Association for the Promotion and Exhibition of Art in Lebanon) at Royal College of Art; London, UK.
2010 "Kite", Salon d’Automne, Sursock Museum, Beirut, LB.
2009 "The Martyred Camp", Biennale of Abu Dhabi, UAE.
2009 "Embroidery, Mother and Palestine", Penang State Museum and Art Gallery, MY.
2009 "Art, Peace and the Global Village-Against Violence", Kuala Lumpur, MY.
2009 " Waiting with the Zinc Plates", LAAPS (Lebanese Artists Association for Painters and Sculptors), The Fine Art Spring, UNESCO, Beirut, LB.
2009 "Peace Expressions of Hope", RA Gallery, Kuala Lumpur, MY.
2009 "Kid or a Pillow", Salon d’Automne, Sursock Museum, Beirut, LB.
2008 "Women in the camp", Salon d'Automne, Sursock Museum, Beirut, LB.
2008 "Caricature", Fête de l’Humanité, Paris, FR.
2007 "Artist in the Camp", Salon d’Automne, Paris, FR.
2007 "Caricature", Fête de l’Humanité, Paris, FR.
2007 "Caricature", UNESCO, Beirut, LB.
2013 "Le Lanceur de Pierres", Christophe Donner, Paris, FR.
BOOKS
2023 "Abdul Rahman Katanani, Paroles d’artiste", Barbara Polla, Slatkine Ed.
2017 "Hard Core", Barbara Polla, Analix Forever, Paris, FR.
2016 "Nominated for commitment", at YIA Art Fair, Paris, FR.
2009 "Prize of young artists", at Salon d’Automne organised by Sursock Museum, Beirut, LB.
2008 Special Mention of the jury, at Salon d’Automne organised by Sursock Museum, Beirut, LB.
Accor Hotels, France. Boghossian Foundation, Brussels, Belgium. Dalloul Art Foundation, Beirut, LB.
Dar El-Nimer, Beirut, LB.
Mathaf: Arab Museum of Modern Art, Doha, Qatar. Philippe Jabre Collection, Lebanon.
Drawing on centuries of tradition and know-how, artists from the MENA region have created works that reflect their rich culture and transcend regional boundaries. This extensive collection of artworks by established and emerging talents provides a breathtaking visual map of the region’s art world, with a collection of unique works. As it travels around the globe, the show shines the spotlight on the great artistic contributions of the region, while transmitting the exceptional character of each country represented.
Join the show, submit your application through the website.
