Qatar: A Rising Tide With Art

Elias being introduced to the Minister of Art and Culture here in Doha. Adel, Elias's friend and mentor wanted him to meet the minister who visited the exhibit. 

Qatar is not only aiming to become a sports hub in the world, but it is also eager to bring more art to the Gulf Region. That means supporting not only local artists, but those who are here from different countries. This week we attended an exhibit of about two dozen artists who are trying to make it in the art scene here in Doha--several from different countries. Large paintings, and a few sculptures were being sold. Elias, our son with autism, was invited to show his paintings too. In the last few years, creativity is weaving into this culture in Qatar. It is an exciting time to be an artist in Qatar.
Creativity is prized and sought after.

The exhibit was a rich experience in various cultures being represented---Tunisia, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, India, Qatar, and Elias, the token artist from the U.S.

This is a children's story by one of my favorite children artists, Leo Leonni. He tells of some mice who are gathering food for the winter, but Frederick is writing poetry and making pictures. The theme: that in the winter the mice not only need some food, but they need some culture--like art, a riveting storytelling session, and poetry. This is the message of Qatar's message right now to everyone: You are invited to create. To build a sculpture, paint, sketch, and draw is important to celebrate life and humanity. And then to share it. Somehow forming color onto pages, paper, wall, canvas make us more alive--definitely more happy. There should be a little Frederick in all of us.

Artist Elias with four of his paintings. Another one is hanging on a wall .The winter scene was sought after by a Qatari policeman/art who misses snow, and spent some time with his mother at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN

An artist painting a mural to advertise for the show.

A Qatari artist who paints portraits with his hands

I go to see Miriam, a Qatari artist exhibit some of her paintings at the show. She has not been able to walk for seven years, but continues to create. If you talk to her, she never stops smiling. It makes me think how much joy and fulfillment art has brought to her. I met her at the Picasso exhibit. You know how it is. We artists run in the same circles.....

An artist from Saudi Arabia wood burning portraits. He is stunningly accurate with his wood burner.

The night we went to bring the paintings, Hamad, a Qatari policeman and artist spotted Elias's painting--begging to buy it.  He misses the snow when he brought his mother to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN, USA.

Hamad, the policiman/artist and Elias. Hamad never stops smiling. He laughed when I told him he didn't look like a policeman.

An artist from Pakistan who has just been here in Doha a few months--trying out his hand in a new country to show his art.

Some traditional Qatari music in the background. Adel, Elias's friend, a fellow artist, who has done so much to help him.

Some Qatari brothers buying some ice cream in a stall out in the parking lot--part of the show.

Of course, there is always decadent candy at exhibits in Qatar. The candy even was highly decorated for the occasion.

Elias with one of his art classes at an exhibit at the Fire Station. It has been thrilling for him to have his art displayed now three times since we moved here two and a half years ago. I am so grateful to those teachers and mentors who have helped my son be more alive and happy because of art. I appreciate Qatar for supporting him and all other artists.

Qatar: Sailing, Sailing Away....

I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning to sail my ship.                                                               --Louisa May Alcott

Elias, being my shipmate. We make a good team!

In the hilarious comedy What about Bob? Bill Murray is tied to a mast as his sailboat glides across Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire, USA. He elatedly screams out for all those on shore to hear, "I'm sailing. I'm sailing. Look at me, I'm a sailor." Last week we took a spring sailing camp here in Qatar from Regatta Academy. This is my third year in Qatar, and my third spring break being a "sailor." You can start as young as six years old at the academy. My 15 year old son with autism can steer a dingy around the harbor. So no excuses for me when I thought I might get blown around or tangled in rope. On the last day you get to sail to an island off the coast of Doha. Feeling the wind of the sails above you, pulling you to your Ithaca, with the salty sea spraying in your face is exhilarating. I promise. It's addicting.

Graduating from our sailing course

Whenever I get out on the water in a sailboat, I begin to notice the direction and strength of the wind or zephyr. On land, the breeze or the lack thereof, is never much on my mind. But out on the smooth or tempest water, I am constantly looking at the flag, telling me which way the wind is gusting by.  Our instructor said to face where you think the wind is blowing, and if both ears feel the gust, you know where she blows. One needs to be wind-aware--always alert to the direction and strength of the wind. It's your invisible fuel to move in the direction you desire--your passage.

As Mark Twain said, "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the things you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

Sailing takes teamwork; it is not just a solo journey. Some of the kids bringing up the boats from the shore.
                                               

                                                     Lessons of a Sailing Week

1. KNOW YOUR NO GO ZONE
There is a "no go zone" that is 45 degrees wherever the wind is blowing--meaning you cannot force yourself forward into the wind. You have to zigzag to your destination. Trying to push yourself directly into the wind will flap the sail. You will stop, and even go backwards. This is where the old sailing term, "in irons" comes from. You are stuck, almost like in chains. Just as in life, you have to be alert to the various angles and options available to avert the "irons." Understand where the "no go zone" is located, and steer yourself away. Know your wind, and eventually it will become more instinctive. You can maneuver your way around the "no go zone" to your Promised Land.

Know your winds

2. KNOW YOUR COURSE
Know the points of sail that can bring you to your goal or destination. The point of sail lets the boat travel diagonally to the wind direction. You must turn into the wind, in a "close haul" or "beam reach," and then gain a lift as the sails are brought in tight. On a sailing journey, there is no way that you are going to go from Point A to Point B in one straight line course. The boat will have to follow the direction of the wind, and that means zigzaging. Just as in life, we need to be constantly vigilant of the motions surrounding us. Wind can pull us off course or be our surging power to reach our destination. It's your decision where the wind will take you. Keep your hands on the rudder, looking forward. But be aware: the wind is changing all the time.

Karin holding onto the tiller the whole time

3. ENJOY THE JOURNEY
Sometimes there is no wind in the sail. You just sit and drift for awhile--patiently waiting for a gust to push you along. Other times the waves are rocking, swaying the boat with water splashing in. Being in the small boat with my son, sometimes I had  to remember to stay calm. He was looking to my response if the rope got tangled or the mast suddenly blew across. I knew his reactions to the journey would mirror mine. Every day is a new journey--sometimes gliding swiftly along with no storms. And the next hour a wave can capsize you. But as long as your hand is steering the course and you are looking around for the wind to give you the direction, you will reach your Ithaca--the place you are looking for in the wide, expansive sea. The secret is to relish every moment of the journey.

Finding company along the journey....

Again, enjoying the moment of the journey. 

Qatar: Creating Bonds With Art

Blessed are they, who see beautiful things in humble places, where other people see nothing.
                                                                           --Camille Pissarro

Adel and Elias--working in a magical physical and imaginative place together

I could never have supposed the power of art to create bonds with people--people who speak different languages or those with disabilities. Somehow it takes me by surprise every time. It makes me realize the untapped reservoir we have in all of us to create. When you work together doing art, there need not be spoken words. To sit and watch colors merge and mix, transforming into splendor, gives sparks to our brain. To see colors manifested in a glorious creation changes you; it makes you see beyond the horizon. There emerges a growing inner excitement to shape textures, colors, lights, and shadows that surround us. At first, our attempt to create is perhaps unsteady or dim, but then the light starts to shine through. We see before our eyes what we pictured in our head.

Two artists, Tresa and a woman from Yemen,--from different parts of the world--creating together. No words. There doesn't have to be.

Recently Elias, my son with autism, met a remarkable Qatari artist and master teacher, Adel. We met him at the Fire Station gallery and museum here in Doha, Qatar. We wandered into his workshop, a sprawling, rambling space with two floors of wonder and awe--a toyshop for any emerging artist or anyone who wants to create. It is a laboratory of brimming creativity, waiting to experiment with and discover. You become just a little more alive when you enter his studio. You walk out feeling like someone has just injected you with reborn energy. More than anything, you feel enlivened and happy. It makes me think everyone should make a little space to create. As Pissarro, a favorite French Impressionist said about his workplace, "I am installed in a fairylike place. I don't know where to poke my head. Everything is superb, and I would like to do everything so I use up and squander lots of color.... "

Watching the colors whirl

If you roam around Adel's studio, you can see different objects from nature dragged in like logs, branches, and rocks. Wires and clay are ready to make a sculpture. Paintings, sketches, and large canvases cover the cement walls. There are areas where you can do printmaking, cut styrofoam into whimsical shapes, tarps with spray paints turned over on their side that just have a little more color in them. There are other areas where Adel works with many mediums--even mixing finger nail polish on glass. Upon entering, it might seem like clay, paint, paper, canvases, and boards are strewn around like a storm of chaos blew in. But as you wander, you begin to marvel. Your interest is piqued. You want to create the images that are floating around in your head.

Creative Chaos

Elias learning how to cut shapes with the hot wire cutter

In the middle of another project

A few words about the next step in the project

As we came in the workspace, Elias just wandered around the workshop saying, "Wow." Adel took him aside, and they began to make paint a large canvas with spray paint and markers. Few words were said--only the words, "slowly," "watch," "imagine," and "Can you see it?" Adel has been teaching art for many years, and is fascinated with teaching people with disabilities. As Elias slowly wandered around the spacious studio, Adel commented, "You see, he already knows how to create. He is not blocked like other people. For 24 years I have been trying to close my eyes to see the picture I want to create--to see it in my mind, and then capture it. He knows how to enter a zone that is special without me telling him how to go there." He then pointed to him, "You see he is thinking. Let him think."

In another recent session together as Adel worked with Elias, he said with much adamance, 'We are family now because we do art together. Art is soft--not hard and clashing. There is no need for fighting and war with art. All peoples can come together. There need not be many words. We know what each other is saying."

God gives us all the capacity to create. To view the enfolding creations of those around us, no matter how humble or different, opens our eyes to things as they really are. Our souls open up to each other. Creating unlocks the hidden crevices and pockets that are waiting to come out in all of us.

You see. Creating makes everyone a little more happy.

Egypt: Finding treasures in your backyard

Meet Hannah, who lives in "my backyard"--about eight villas down in the compound. Hannah's family comes from Egypt, a place of endless intrigue and fascination. How grateful and astonished we both were when we met one another last week. Hannah is an aspiring physician who is also an artist, She wants to combine art and medicine together with therapy and healing. I am passionate about how art can unravel and enfold creativity in people--especially people with special needs, in refugee camps, hospitals....  I am launching a non profit foundation called #art4every1. Hannah and I could not cease talking about our passion of how art can heal and bond. And to think we had been living just down the street from one another for two and a half years. #miraclefind

This month in a nondescript slum neighborhood in Cairo, Egypt a colossal eight meter, three ton statue was found sticking out of some water and mud. I am not sure if it was an ear or elbow that was seen first. But a huge precious Egyptian antiquity was found--deep in a murky puddle. When I heard this announcement, it confirmed to me what I have always known: there are so many treasures, invaluable gems, right under our feet. Sometimes the sought after treasure is buried so close to the surface where we ordinarily walk every day. Our footprints do not detect the trove of riches underneath us. Abundant treasure chests are so near, even beckoning, but we do not always see the possibilities in our own backyard and neighborhood. We just rush by.

Wherever you go in Egypt, you sense there is a chance you could discover something under some blowing sand too. Statues, Obelisks, tombs, hieroglyphics, and buildings beckon to other worlds and long gone dynasties. In 391 AD the Byzantine Emperor Theodosius I closed the "pagan temples", and for 1500 years hieroglyphics became undecipherable. It wasn't until 1820 when Jean-Francois Champollion, with the help of the Rosetta stone, opened the door to the long-lost Egyptian culture. Hieroglyphics were known in ancient times as "the words of God" and were mainly assessable to the priests. But Champollion finally unearthed hidden knowledge that had been swirling in mystery for many centuries.

When I went to the Valley of the Kings (where all the tombs have been discovered), in my mind's eye, I imagined Howard Carter camping out intermittently on that sandy hill from 1891 to about 1925. Howard, the archeologist who discovered the intact tomb of King Tutankhamun on November 4, 1922, had been searching, digging, and scraping sand away for several decades before he finally found the treasure of King Tut's tomb. When he found it, he exclaimed, "...as my eyes grew accustomed to the light, details of the room within emerged slowly from the mist, strange animals, statues, and gold--everywhere the glint of gold. For the moment--an eternity must have seemed to the others standing by, I was struck with amazement, and when Lord Carnarvon (who was with him) was unable to stand the suspense any longer, inquired anxiously, 'Can you see anything?' it was all I could do to get out the words, "Yes, wonderful things." Sometimes treasures are excavated after much painstaking work. Other times the treasure chests are just spontaneously found. Undoubtedly in our lives, we usually experience both.

One of my big take away lessons from Egypt was that under seemingly typical, even in repugnant or unpleasant conditions, marvelous beauty can be unearthed--sublime treasures. The lesson can be most applied to people. People who are wrinkled and old--maybe they don't see, hear, or walk as well anymore. People who look different from what our sensitivities are accustomed to. Children who may seem wild, loud, uncontrollable. Sick people who show scars from diseases that have ravaged their bodies. People who speak, pray, or eat differently than you or I are used to. Often times I wonder now, do I dig deep enough to unearth the goodness and talents of people? Or is there maybe a little more excavation needed?

I love the rejoicing words of Howard Carter on the incredible day when he found King Tut's tomb--the moment he had been aspiring to for decades, "We were astonished by the beauty, and refinement of the art displayed by the objects--surpassing all we could have imagined. The impression was overwhelming." However,  I have found the same elation when, under my own feet, I meet people who astound me--sometimes so very close I could touch them. Often I am surprised by the happenstance of intersecting paths, but mostly the treasure is found because I took the time to dig a little more.

Joseph meeting the bishop of Luxor of the Coptic church at the airport

Trying to become amateur Egyptologists--unearthing and understanding the messages behind the messages from long ago.

Enjoying the seeming infinite number of statues and carvings in Luxor.... When there is a continuous flow of treasures, it is important to not become sensitive, jaded, or disinterested around you. Not to just walk by because of the all the surrounding treasures.

There is always another spice or herb to discover in the Old Bazaar in Cairo.

The excavated tombs that required so much digging.

My boys in a mosque, looking on as others read their Qurans. It is always good to pause, and drink a little deeper.

Enjoying a few moments of friendship in the Old Bazaar.

The Cairo Museum--an endless array of treasures that were found by excavators....

One of my favorite minarets in the Old Bazaar--about 600 years old. Whenever we leave the Middle East, I always miss the punctuated rhythms of hearing the call to prayer five times a day. 

Always the fascination of looking a little deeper, trying to understand a little more, brings joy in the seemingly ordinary.

The entrance to the Sphnix, a portal where people prepared for death.

Other blogposts on Egypt:
Time and Immortality: http://www.openingthesky.com/…/egypt-time-and-immortality.h…
Enchanting Egypt  http://www.openingthesky.com/2014/11/enchanting-egypt.html
Experiencing Eid in Qatar and Egypt http://www.openingthesky.com/2014/11/experiencing-eid-al-adha-2014-in-qatar.html
Embracing the Dates: http://www.openingthesky.com/2014/10/embracing-dates.html

Seeking "Thin Places"

Hagia Sophia or Aya Sofya in Istanbul, Turkey. I wasn't expecting to cry when I entered this mosque that was formally a Byzantine church. But I did. The Chora, the little sister of the Aya Sophia overwhelmed me too. I lost my composure there, and had to exit for a few minutes so I wouldn't embarrass myself around the Japanese tourists. The Byzantine frescos and mosaics were sublime--truly a "thin place."

The ancient pagan Celts, and later the Christians, used a term called "thin places" to describe spaces and places that take us, even for a moment, to another world. They believed that heaven and earth are really only three feet apart, but in "thin places" the distance is even shorter. A"thin place" for them was the isle of Iona (now in Scotland)--a wind swept isle that brought them closer to a spiritual world--a place where they were transformed. I guess the ancient Celts understood they became better humans by going there. "Thin places" are where we are inspired, stirred, feel a tug and get a glimpse from another place. People all over the world seek "thin places" to enlighten them. Sometimes our daily world is so "thick" with confusion and murkiness. We all need to sojourn to "thin places"--whether it is faraway or even in our own home.

In a New York Times article, Eric Weiner writes of his travels and wanderings to "thin places." These are not usually high traffic touristy places. Or at least they do not have to be. With humor, Weiner states, "It is, admittedly, an odd term. One could be forgiven for thinking that thin places describe skinny nations (see Chile) or perhaps cities populated by thin people (see Los Angeles). No, thin places are much deeper than that. They are locales where the distance between heaven and earth collapses and we're able to catch glimpses of the divine, or the transcendent. . . ." If we are as Alfred Lord Tennyson penned, "part of all the places I (we) have met," then it is important to find and linger in "thin places" as much as possible.

I have been to many "thin places" in this world. Many times I have been overcome by feelings or impressions, that this is indeed a light-filled place. Sometimes the stirrings come because of certain people who are with me. Other times I hear whispers of divinity in high rocky cliffs, aspen tress, expansive seas or deserts. Occasionally, it has been a place that I have sought to go to--like a temple or other places of faith. I am sure I have been in some "thin places" that have eluded me too--not realizing the illumination that resides there. And in times of grief or sadness, a "thin place" has added a layer of joy and light when clouds gathered in.

A "thin place" can be sought after, such as a person going on a pilgrimage. But also we can serendipitously bump into a "thin place"--sensing that it is a corner or pocket in the world where we need to be at that moment. They are sacred occasions, even if they last a moment. My husband, a physician, has related to me many times about being in a "thin place" in a hospital room. Virginia Hinkley Pearce explains, "A 'thin place' is ... where we experience a deep sense of God's presence in our everyday world. A 'thin place' is where, for a moment, the spiritual and natural world intersect."

Since my husband and I will celebrate our 33rd anniversary this month, I was reminded of when he invited me to a family reunion at a beach house in Balboa Island before we were dating--a "thin place" for us. I had been friends with him for a long time, but he was determinedly trying to change my mind. He wanted to be more than friends. As I walked in the gate of the outdoor patio that afternoon in Balboa Beach, I was unprepared for what was before me. His father, a WW2 veteran who had landed on D-Day and was blinded six weeks later, was playing the harmonica to his granddaughter, Christine. She sat there in her wheelchair, with a tender smile on her angelic face. I had never met Christine, but I had heard that she had cerebral palsy due to the umbilical cord that was wrapped around her neck at birth. The doctor had not realized there was another child when he delivered her twin minutes earlier.

Joseph and his dad playing music together long ago.

I remember coming to a halting stop when I entered the patio that day. There was a swelling love that was real and palpable in that space. I wiped a tear away. The tides of light were that strong. It seemed irreverent to proceed further so I just stood there and watched a blind grandfather who had never seen his granddaughter or any of his grandchildren or children, for that matter, play music to someone he loved. Upon hearing the music, Christine was calmed and happy. A serene peace filled the air in that "thin place." Perhaps it was in that moment my heart opened to my future husband. It is a sacred moment to me that transformed my life. I am glad the spirit of the music was not lost on me on that patio long ago.

Happy Anniversary! I am so glad I listened to the music on the patio that day....

Blogposts about home:

http://www.openingthesky.com/2016/07/family-time-in-dining-room.html

http://www.openingthesky.com/2015/09/a-pocketful-of-homes.html

I believe the ancient Celts were right: we all crave a "thin place" or holy space to tarry for awhile. And perhaps, our home is the easiest place to start. That brief interlude or intersection of time in a "thin place" can jolt us into new awakenings that can transform us. Never underestimate an ordinary place, like a patio....

Here are a few "thin places" I have loved. What are yours?

The Teton Valley in Idaho, US--an endless place of beauty and revelation for me....  Post about the Teton Valley:

http://www.openingthesky.com/2016/07/the-poetry-of-barns_25.html

On a visit to India, my friend, Ashok, with his sister before her marriage. He gathered with his parents and sister to remember the last time as a family of four before his sister brought another person to the family. With all the rituals and traditions associated with Indian weddings, there are many moments of light. 

A favorite painting by Brian Kershisnik called The Sound of Books
Thoughts, ideas, words call out in "thin places." They bring sparks to our minds that make us more alive.

Jerusalem, one of my favorite "thin places."

My parents dancing at my father's 80th birthday party while their nine children and spouses looked on. Do they have grandkids? Just 55, that's all.... A blog that is a tribute to my parents: http://www.openingthesky.com/2016/05/family-reframing-roof-tribute-to-my.html

The Prove Temple in Provo, Utah where my daughter was married last fall. So much love within those walls....  The Provo Temple was previously the Provo Tabernacle, built by Mormon pioneers. A fire destroyed much of the inside a few years ago, but with new construction, paintings, and stained glass windows, it has become a new sacred spot. 

Being with my family in Reykjavik, Iceland. Knowing that my ancestors fished and rowed those waters was like coming home to me.... Blogposts about Iceland:
http://www.openingthesky.com/2015/10/icelandic-creativity.html
http://www.openingthesky.com/2015/11/family-bonds-and-being-icelandic.html

Flatey Island, Iceland where my great grandfather was born. When I stepped on the small island that is only about a mile wide, I felt earth and heaven loosen its grip. Places where our ancestors lived are "thin places."

Music always brings us to "thin places."
Blog about music at home: http://www.openingthesky.com/2015/11/a-musical-soiree-anyone.html

Elias lighting a candle at the Duomo Cathedral in Milan, Italy. The Duomo, the fifth largest cathedral in the world has the most statues and gargoyles. Six hundred years in the making, with 78 architects, it is an undoubtedly thin place. John Taylor once remarked when going in a cathedral in England, "If the Dark Ages were so dark, take me to them. I see so much light there."

On a recent trip to Milan, I was finally able to view the Last Supper. It was done by Leonardo Da Vinci from 14904-1498 in the Dominican monastery of Santa Maria delle Gracie. Each person's personality and character shone through on the beloved fresco. Art has brought me to many "thin places" in my life with artists such as Michelangelo, Monet, Caravaggio, Van Gogh, Gerrit von Honthurst, Pissarro, Durer, Rembrandt....
Blog about Italian art: http://www.openingthesky.com/2015/04/happy-easter-part-2_5.html

While in Milan, I was able to view Michelangelo's third pieta--one is in Rome, the other in Florence, and this one is in Milan. The master sculptor worked on this pieta for about 30 years, even in the final days of his life. When I walked in the room with this sculpture in the middle of the room, there were only hushed tones. The sculpture evoked a reverent mood to those who entered. Although his pieta in Rome was finished when he was 25, catapulting him to fame, this one he continually chiseled at in the last decades of his life. It was never finished. It made me think that in older years, we realize that the fast tempo of youth cannot be sustained. Although his vision for this pieta was never fully realized, it shows his constant bravado to shape it and bring it to life. I like the fact that Michelangelo never gave up his dream to have Mary hold up the standing Christ .

One of my tender times is watching my son with autism paint. It is a "thin place" where autism washes away, and creativity and joy enter his space. He is making aspen tree trunks.

Meet Miriam who I met yesterday at the Picasso exhibit here in Doha. Miriam has not been able to walk for seven years, but through her painting she still has so much cheer. Although she spoke little English, I was brought to a "thin place" yesterday meeting her. Her dogged determination to bring color to those around her with her personality and paintings inspired me. We were instant friends.

Last summer painting in my favorite barn with people who uplift and inspire me. Tresa, in the middle, would die of cancer a few months later. We all innately knew our time of "thin places" was ending with our dear friend. Thus, every moment was cherished. And now we know she will compress those spaces between heaven and earth just a little more often.  Blog about Tresa: http://www.openingthesky.com/2017/01/egypt-time-and-immortality.html     #creatingopenshearts