Noam Bahat

This page is dedicated to my exhibition which was presented in the Cultural center in the spring of 2008.

Shahid, Shahiden, Shuhada
Shahid, Shahiden, Shuhada, is an essay in seven paintings. It is an attempt to highlight the martyrdom of Palestinian children, who died in the last 7 years. Seven children were drawn in portraits, some through their real faces and others through the imagination and reality of their lives and deaths.

The exhibition is a journey to Palestine of the no future. It is a journey that explores the meaning of the word Shahid, and the relations between the meanings of the word for Palestinians and for Israelis. While for Palestinians it means martyrdom, for Israelis it is synonymous to terrorism. Through these paintings I tried to explore the tension and the relation between these two meanings.

Using the language of acrylic paint, I try to bring to the discussion the symbols associated with the Palestinian martyrdom and the Shahid posters used to commemorate the Palestinian Shuhada. Like the original Shaid posters themselves, I use repetitions of Palestinian symbols. Repetition is maybe what helps learning the most. To us learning creatures it is a language within itself and it indicates a didactic and cognitive exclamation marks. Above all the strongest exclamation mark in this language is the one of death. But the meaning of such remains open to interpretation.

Where the traditional posters are aided with words: nationalistic and religious language, to commemorate the Shuhada, I was aided by Jose Marti to replace these words. But with time I gave up on the assistance of Marti's words to express my self through more liberated emblems. Nonetheless I chose to compliment the exhibition with the poems by Nazim Hikmat and Jubran Khalil Jubran, who saved me the trouble of saying the obvious nonetheless need to be said. I let their works make an introduction and a background for the exhibition.

Noam Bahat

LET'S GIVE THE WORLD TO THE CHILDREN
Let's give the world to the children just for one day

like a balloon in bright and striking colours to play with

let them play singing among the stars

let's give the world to the children

like a huge apple like a warm loaf of bread

at least for one day let them have enough

let's give the world to the children

at least for one day let the world learn friendship

children will get the world from our hands

they'll plant immortal trees

Moscow, 21 May 1962

tr. by Fuat Engin

Children
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."

And he said:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

the animation
A story from prison | animation

the paintings






The list of paintings
(by chronological order /from bottom to right to the top)

1. Muhammad Jamal Muhammad a-Dura 12 year-old resident of al-Bureij Refugee Camp, Deir al-Balah district, killed on 30.09.2000 in Netzarim Junction, Deir al-Balah district, by gunfire; did not participate in hostilities when killed. Additional information: Killed during clashes. His father tried to protect him with his body.

2. 'Abir Bassam 'Abd Rabo 'Aramin 10 year-old resident of 'Anata, al-Quds district, injured on 16.01.2007 in 'Anata, al-Quds district, by gunfire, and died on 19.01.2007; did not participate in hostilities when killed. Additional information: Killed while on his way to buy candy at a store next to her school.

3. Khalil Ibrahim el-Mughrabi 11 year-old resident of Rafah, killed on 07.07.2001 in Rafah, by gunfire, from a tank; did not participate in hostilities when killed. Additional information: Killed while playing with his friend on a hill near the Egyptian border.

4. Maram Mufid 'Abd al-'Aziz a-Nahlah 11 year-old resident of Nablus, killed on 15.09.2004 in Nablus, by gunfire; did not participate in hostilities when killed. Additional information: Killed during an exchange of gunfire during an incursion into Nablus. She was in the house at the time.

5. Ghadir Jaber Hussein Mukhemar 9 year-old resident of Khan Yunis, injured on 12.10.2004 in Khan Yunis, by gunfire, and died on 13.10.2004; did not participate in hostilities when killed. Additional information: Killed by a gunshot to the head while she was in class at school.

6. Rajai 'Azmi Isma'il Rian 16 year-old resident of Nablus, killed on 27.12.2003 in Nablus, by gunfire; did not participate in hostilities when killed. Additional information: Killed while throwing stones at a tank. Was wounded in the hand and fell to the ground, where he was shot in the stomach by soldiers in the tank.

7. Aamer al-Far 16 year-old resident of Askar refugee camp near Nablus; Detonated himself in Tel Aviv Monday Nov. 1, 2004, killing three Israelis.

Jose Marti, Versos Sensillos
Quiero, a la sombra de un ala,

Contar este cuento en flor:

La niña de Guatemala,

La que se murió de amor.

Eran de lirios los ramos,

Y las orlas de reseda

Y de jazmín: la enterramos

En una caja de seda.

...Ella dio al desmemoriado

Una almohadilla de olor:

El volvió, volvió casado:

Ella se murió de amor.

Iban cargándola en andas

Obispos y embajadores:

Detrás iba el pueblo en tandas,

Todo cargado de flores.

...Ella, por volverlo a ver,

Salió a verlo al mirador:

El volvió con su mujer:

Ella se murió de amor.

Como de bronce candente

Al beso de despedida

Era su frente ¡la frente

Que más he amado en mi vida!

...Se entró de tarde en el río,

La sacó muerta el doctor:

Dicen que murió de frío:

Yo sé que murió de amor.

Allí, en la bóveda helada,

La pusieron en dos bancos:

Besé su mano afilada,

Besé sus zapatos blancos.

Callado, al oscurecer,

Me llamó el enterrador:

¡Nunca más he vuelto a ver

A la que murió de amor!