When Sliman Mansour, one of the most significant Palestinian artists of today, was arrested in Ramallah in the 1980s, along with two colleagues, Nabil Anani and Isam Bader, for incorporating the colors of the Palestinian flag into his works, he later recounted how the then-chief of the Israeli police tried to convince him to depoliticize his art. He told us, Mansour recalls, Why don’t you paint flowers and nude figures? That’s beautiful; I might even buy that from you.
The burden on the shoulders carrying Jerusalem, the tenderness of a mother’s embrace, women as heroines of the harsh everyday life, the dream of return and hope, and solidarity in the pain of freedom deprivation, are just some of the scenes in the works of this artist that reflect a deep love for his people and his occupied homeland.
Mansour’s works are precisely symbols of the existence and resistance of the Palestinian people. Born in 1947 into a Catholic family, a year before the Nakba (Arabic for catastrophe, referring to the ethnic cleansing of Palestinian territories during the declaration of the State of Israel in 1948), he is one year older than the formation of Israel.
Through his art, the artist conveys the strength and suffering of the Palestinian people because art is the only freedom that Sliman lives. Skillfully reflecting hope and survival under occupation through art, Mansour’s works have become a symbol of resistance. Israeli authorities often closed galleries displaying his exhibitions precisely because the powerful messages subtly woven through the most beautiful artistic language preserve the identity and connection of the Palestinian people to their roots and call for survival.
The dehumanization of the Palestinian people occurred on all fronts, from the denial of basic human rights, property confiscation, and persecution to the denial of culture and neglect of an entire artistic scene that flourished, abounded in talent, and developed despite the oppression by the occupiers. An artist who, through the power of his works, won the hearts of ordinary people, a genius often ignored by curators of Western culture and salon intellectuals who contemplate the value of works only if they align with the interests of art fund financiers.
Such individuals tacitly overlooked human rights violations and freedoms for material gain while permanently tarnishing generations of young people with their selective activism. Still, they made Mansour’s artistic opus even more valuable in the eyes of true art lovers. The conversation with this giant, who now lives in East Jerusalem, has elicited even greater respect and admiration in me because Mansour’s decades-long struggle reflects his primal desire for freedom and the fight for equal rights for all the people of his homeland.
The burden on the shoulders carrying Jerusalem, the tenderness of a mother’s embrace, women as heroines of the harsh everyday life, the dream of return and hope, and solidarity in the pain of freedom deprivation, are just some of the scenes in the works of this artist that reflect a deep love for his people and his occupied homeland.
You are one of the most significant voices in the Palestinian art scene worldwide, inspiring younger generations and speaking through your work with much love and care for your people. My impression when observing your art is that it is full of love, sorrow, and nostalgia, but also hope. Do you believe that art can change people’s consciousness?
– You are right, I think most Palestinian artists who work in a realistic, symbolic style are like me. I think this attitude is in poetry and literature, music and songs, and sometimes cinema. There are always feelings of love, nostalgia, sorrow, and hope. Yes, I think art can help change people’s consciousness because it communicates with humans on a personal level with imagination, creativity, and magic, unlike ordinary debates and talks. But we must not put too much hope in art to make the change, it helps some people with different effects. I was never so ambitious as to change consciousness but if I succeeded in making somebody happy and think when seeing my art, that’s all the change I look for.
I think art can help change people’s consciousness because it communicates with humans on a personal level with imagination, creativity, and magic, unlike ordinary debates and talks.
In the ongoing process of dehumanization of the Palestinian people, which has been unfolding for almost 75 years, and the violation of all human rights – do the double standards of the Western world, where freedom and human rights are advocated but simultaneously violated, hurt you?
– It used to make me furious when I was young and naive and I used to believe this kind of advocacy, but now, after all these years, I know that the West is racist and human rights for them don’t mean the same to different people. They use it as a political tool to interfere.
You were born a year before the Nakba, and you practically grew up facing injustices. I believe the word “freedom” may sound like a myth to you. Is your artistic language, through which you address the audience, a quest for personal freedom and the freedom of your people?
– A big amount of freedom is in people’s hearts and minds. Maybe a political prisoner somewhere is freer than his or her jailor. Unjustices make a free artist act and try to change things, and that’s what makes art good and successful. Taking the freedom of any person (whether it’s movement, economic development, or using their resources or minds is unjust and brutal, and no real artist can accept that except fake ones.
Your approach to art is very personal in many ways, and the characters that emerge in your paintings give the impression of sacred beings. Do you feel that, in the eyes of politics, human life has become invaluable?
– I have a strong feeling of belonging to my people, and that’s why my art looks personal; humans are sacred and invaluable because it reflect myself.
Unjustices make a free artist act and try to change things, and that’s what makes art good and successful.
Palestinians are systematically denied the right to a normal life and existence. Is your art a response to the world that denies your rights, starting with the basic right to exist?
– I believe that all humans should be free, mainly Palestinians. We are the bearers of so much history, and because our country that connects three continents is special and saturated with blood and tears and creativity and love, and with all that history, our enemies and their supporters deny even our physical existence as normal human beings, which makes it easier for them to kill us, steal our land and resources and deny us freedom on all levels. People call my art political, but I reflect how an ordinary Palestinian feels and aspires
Do you wonder how the cruelty of one human being towards another is possible? How do you personally experience the cruelty that we all witness today?
– Many Israelis tend towards fascism, coming from 19th-century ideologies from Europe. What makes it more like that is that it’s based on religion, and any political ideas based on religion and serving the Empire are very hard to have a meaningful dialogue with and reach a compromise with.
Women. In your artistic works, women are often the bearers of compositions and the main protagonists, guardians of the land, and family. Are women a symbol of resistance? Is this because women express their emotions, or are they your symbol of Palestine?
– Women are all these things and more. They symbolize homeland and resistance; through them, I express my feelings, nostalgia, and hopes for the future. Because they represent Palestine, they are always beautiful, strong, and proud. In the eighties, the Israeli military censor used to confiscate such paintings, and we were astonished because there was no violence or hate in them. Much later, we knew that being beautiful, proud, and strong made some Israelis mad.
You use mud in some of your works and combine acrylic and oil. Reflecting on your art, I wonder if inspiration comes from the sacred narratives of the creation of the first human from the earth or the deep suffering for your land and as a testimony of existence?
– I started using mud in the first intifada to boycott Israeli and foreign materials. Then, I returned to normal materials and started to mix both mud and normal art materials. Using mud takes us to the sacred narratives, representing the land and representing Palestinian geography’s fragmentation. It symbolizes the human condition, which looks very fragile yet very strong.
We are witnessing one of the greatest tragedies in the modern history of the Palestinian people. Thanks to social media, we see the most brutal scenes of entire families, women, and children suffering before the eyes of the whole world. Remarkably, at no moment do we sense hatred and anger from all the journalists reporting from the devastated Gaza. Even in the moments when they lose their closest family members, their voices tremble with emotion, yet they continue to do their job professionally. How is it possible for them to remain professional and composed while privately and personally experiencing the most horrifying scenes in life?
I am not in Gaza and don’t know exactly how people feel. But I think people know that no freedom can be achieved without sacrifices. I am sorry to say that, but freedom needs blood. The other part is that the Muslims believe that you cannot live one moment more than God planned for you, so they accept death in a religious context.
The other part is that the Muslims believe that you cannot live one moment more than God planned for you, so they accept death in a religious context.
You have exhibited worldwide and received significant recognition for your impressive and longstanding artistic contributions. How do you personally feel now? The people of Gaza are going through systematic destruction and genocide. Are you losing hope? Is there still hope in your heart? Do Palestinians feel isolated?
– I have hope, and Palestinians always have hope. We believe that our position is right. People know that their roots are in this land from ancient history, and the excuse that Zionists use (God gave them this land) is not convincing at all, not only to the Palestinians but to most of the World, especially young, enlightened people. We passed tens of even more violent occupations, and the occupiers always left.
We come from a country with the experience of aggression, war, and genocide. We spent four years under siege, and many of our artists have built careers on war-related themes and stories. Do you think the world will give more space to Palestinian voices to speak about their experiences? Or will it be merely a way to soothe their conscience regarding the crimes against the Palestinian people?
– I don’t know what you mean by the World. If you mean the West, I am not optimistic. Ordinary people might give us much more space, but in the art world, I doubt it. These institutions are part of the government institutions which are hostile to Palestinians, each for its own reasons. In Germany, it’s understandable, but in countries like France, Britain, and sometimes Italy, they are nostalgic for Colonialism and like to play that part whenever they can. And in Palestine, they can because most Arab governments don’t object to that.
In the end, do you believe that the power of creation will succeed in overcoming the power of destruction? Do you believe in survival?
– Yes, I believe in humanity, and the power of creation has proved to be stronger than destruction.
In the face of limited options for ordinary individuals beyond taking to the streets, protesting, and seeking justice, especially in the absence of political will from leaders, do you have a message for each one of us?
– I usually advise people to strengthen their feeling of belonging to the culture of Palestine in general. Without this sense of belonging, it will be easier to separate people into fighting groups and clans, killing each other. We must feel and support each other, and without the feeling of belonging, you cannot do that. Literature and all creative arts can create a bond for people to feel and help each other.