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Islam is based upon the peace, the return to the peace. Interestingly,
the word Hui, describing people of the Chinese Muslim community --
the Huighurs-- means 'return':
Hui
.
I finally decides to reproduce the different calligraphies I found in
Ibrâhim's house. They are twin projects he has realized a few years
ago for his friends.
The calligraphies read:
FREEDOM
MY MOTHER
Jiyuu
haha
houryah
ummi
Both Arabic calligraphies are courtesy of Nihad Dukhan:
Most interestingly is the fact that there are two Zen gardens
in the Japanese culture, one trying to reproduce the asymmetry of
nature, and the other devoid of trees and of anything alive. Ibrâhim
explains:
“What is the most important thing in one of the the Japanese
gardens is the ground floor, strictly limited by walls, enclosed in a
bigger garden or a grove. Inside a border of tiles, a square space is
filled with white, small pebbles. We can see the evident scratches, one
or two big rocks scatter the monotony of the geometric design, and
people come to meditate on these scores. Looking at the scene, one
travels through the Time and loses himself. This garden is like the
features of the hand. Some people pretend they can read the past of a
person just by looking at the palms of their hands. When we take the
by-road to a Zen garden, it is like we take the footpath that leads to
ourselves. And there, somewhere inside polluted climates, the race
towards the economy without mercy, stands this world Zen. In it we
are obliged to find a balance, to find ourselves and to recover our
road. I find it beautiful! In people, what I always found, whether they
were racing or not, the moment Zen was still alive; this instant Zen
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was shared inside, in silence. In the depth of this culture there was
this garden, the garden of the heart!”
2000-2001 http://www.arttoday.com
Looking at his pictures of Japan where he was a stranger,
ignorant of the culture, I have the feeling he captured something
inexplicable. Now I ponder more about Japan. Is it not exactly this
universe of contrasts, of rest that Ibrâhim describes, that one can
perceive in the picture of geishas walking across a flux of cars, their
head bowed down and their tiny fingers lifting the hem of their
kimonos. Nobody is ever able to look into their face if they do not
want to, and their time belongs to them. They are the butterflies of
Japan, yet more and more ignored and brushed back in the past.
2000-2001 http://www.arttoday.com
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