Souad Khalil | Libya

In the Spanish city of Córdoba, where layers of history intertwine with the pulse of contemporary life, artist Juanjo Garlo emerges as a model of the creator who goes beyond producing works of art, transforming art itself into a means of human dialogue, preserving memory, and building bridges between cultures. Through a journey that combines painting, writing, historical research, and cultural engagement, Garlo has developed a comprehensive creative project rooted in the spirit of Andalusia while simultaneously opening itself to broad human and international horizons.

Garlo’s work is inseparable from Córdoba, a city that has served for centuries as a meeting point of civilizations and cultures. Its presence is evident throughout his paintings, writings, and cultural initiatives. Among its ancient streets, flower-filled patios, and rich historical memory, the artist found an enduring source of inspiration, transforming place into a visual and poetic language that expresses humanity, its concerns, and its dreams.

This article explores Juanjo Garlo’s artistic and cultural experience and introduces his creative project, which combines beauty with human commitment, demonstrating that art remains a powerful space for encounter, understanding, and hope.

Córdoba, located in southern Spain, has become one of the most attractive destinations for those seeking an authentic Mediterranean lifestyle—peaceful, culturally rich, and deeply connected to tradition. With its unique combination of historical heritage, sunny climate, and relaxed rhythm of life, the city increasingly attracts creative professionals, remote workers, international students, and individuals searching for a more human-centered way of living.

The city preserves an extraordinary historical legacy. Its most iconic landmark, the Mosque–Cathedral of Córdoba, reflects centuries of cultural coexistence and makes its historic center one of the most impressive sites in Europe. Walking through its narrow streets, quiet squares, and flower-filled patios offers a sense of authenticity that is difficult to find in modern metropolitan capitals. Unlike faster-paced cities such as Madrid or Barcelona, Córdoba maintains a human scale that encourages social interaction, creativity, and everyday well-being.

Another of Córdoba’s great attractions is its quality of life. The cost of living remains considerably lower than in many other European cities, particularly regarding housing, dining, and leisure. The city is safe, highly walkable, and designed to encourage enjoyment of public spaces. Outdoor cafés, traditional markets, and terraces form part of daily life for most of the year thanks to a Mediterranean climate that provides more than 300 days of sunshine annually. Although summers can be extremely hot, Córdoba’s traditional architecture—with its interior courtyards, fountains, and narrow streets—demonstrates how the city has historically adapted to its environment.

Local gastronomy also plays a central role in the experience of living in Córdoba. Traditional dishes such as salmorejo, flamenquín, and fried eggplants with honey reflect a cuisine that is simple yet deeply connected to Andalusian heritage. Likewise, the culture of tapas and life in public squares transform dining into a daily social ritual rather than merely a tourist experience.

Córdoba’s appeal extends beyond its heritage and lifestyle. The city enjoys a vibrant cultural life throughout the year. Events such as the Córdoba Patios Festival highlight the importance of tradition, beauty, and community life within the city’s identity. During spring, particularly in May, Córdoba transforms into a living canvas of flowers, music, and social gatherings that attract visitors from around the world.

The city also hosts the Night of Flamenco in June and the Guitar Festival in July. Tourist accommodations provide swimming pools adapted to the intense summer heat, while the traditional Córdoba siesta remains a cherished cultural ritual. Experiencing summer in Córdoba is, in itself, a unique and unforgettable experience.

For an international audience, Córdoba represents a new concept of contemporary luxury—not material extravagance, but time, authenticity, architectural beauty, and quality of life. Beyond tourism, the city offers the possibility of living in a historically inspiring environment without sacrificing modern comforts or connections to the rest of Europe.

The Creative Experience of Juanjo Garlo

During the Córdoba Patios Festival, artist Juanjo Garlo had the unique opportunity to relocate his painting studio to the Patio of the Birthplace of Julio Romero de Torres, a space rich in memory, art, and the authentic spirit of Córdoba. This historic site was opened to the public this year through an initiative supported by the Provincial Council of Córdoba.

Amid flowers, conversations, and the unique light that characterizes Córdoba’s patios, Garlo developed a series of paintings inspired by the life of the courtyard itself and by the energy brought by its daily visitors. Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of this experience was the creation of collaborative artworks produced together with visitors of different ages and nationalities. Each painting became a collective work filled with emotion, encounter, and shared creativity.

This project emerged from the artist’s desire to bring painting closer to the public in a living and open way, transforming the act of creation into a shared experience within one of Córdoba’s most emblematic historical spaces.

The artist expresses his gratitude to everyone who participated in this artistic experience and extends special thanks to the Provincial Council of Córdoba for making this exceptional opportunity possible during the Patios Festival.

Juanjo Garlo Writes to Córdoba    Córdoba, water, air, and fire, land of flowers, crosses, and patios,   the feeling of joy,      the beating of the heart, the blue sky reflected in the graceful flight of rooftop doves.

Córdoba, city of poets and painters, green city, how deeply I love you   Lilies, geraniums, bougainvillea, orange and lemon trees blooming with fragrant orange blossoms.

Azahara, fountain of Medina Azahara, along the great river of Andalusia your identity is reborn, where we all come to greet you, and where we bid you farewell at sunset. Tower of Calahorra, guardian of past and present, you contemplate the serene mountains of Córdoba, where the city rejoices most in May.    Wine tasting, The Battle of the Flowers, May Crosses, The Patios Festival, Balconies and Window Grilles,   The Fair of Our Lady of Health, The Pilgrimage to El Rocío…  To walk through its streets and squares, to enjoy the delight of dance and music, where the southern breeze refreshes the night, filled with charm and enchanting beauty.

If only the whole year were May, to fill our lives with joy, in the City of Cultures,   where once we were the capital of the world, and where today we build a better future together.

May blends into September with La Fuensanta, May is Córdoba and its guardian Saint Raphael,  its patrons Saint Acisclus and Saint Victoria, May is joy…   the month of Córdoba’s soul

Who Is Juanjo Garlo?

Moving between the memory of Córdoba and the vastness of Orion.

In southern Spain, where civilizations have left their marks upon stone, light, and silence, Córdoba-born artist Juanjo Garlo has developed a creative project that transcends painting to become a complete human, poetic, and spiritual experience.

Painter, writer, historian, researcher, and cultural activist, Garlo is the founder of ProyectoGarlo and Juanjo Garlo Arte. He has developed a contemporary visual language that combines historical memory, symbolism, emotional abstraction, and a constant connection with the cosmos.

Born in Córdoba in 1973, Garlo has always regarded his city as far more than a birthplace. It represents the emotional and symbolic center from which all his artistic work emerges. The Andalusian legacy, the spirituality of old streets, the energy of Córdoba’s patios, and the artistic memory of Julio Romero de Torres and his family all resonate deeply within his creations, which remain firmly rooted in Mediterranean sensibility.

His academic background in Philosophy and Letters, Geography and History, together with doctoral studies in Art History and a Master’s Degree in Cultural Management from the University of Barcelona, has provided him with a distinctive perspective in which artistic creation, heritage, and cultural thought coexist naturally.

Throughout his career, he has participated in numerous projects related to historical heritage and cultural mediation, including exhibitions such as The Umayyads of Córdoba and Ibn Khaldun. These experiences further strengthened his connection to Andalusian and Mediterranean cultural memory.

Yet Garlo does not merely reproduce the past—he transforms it. His paintings inhabit a contemporary territory where symbolism meets conceptual abstraction. In his work, color does not simply depict; it breathes. Matter does not decorate; it reveals. Each composition becomes an inner map where memory, intuition, and energy engage in di

His creative universe draws particular inspiration from the colors and celestial dimensions of Orion, a constellation that has become a central element of his artistic and spiritual imagination. Through his series Seeds of Orion, launched in 2019, Garlo explores the relationship between humanity and the cosmos through a visual language based on expressive materials, intense pigments, and spontaneous gestures, creating atmospheres suspended between earth and infinity.

This series emerged during a transformative period in his personal and artistic life. The passing of his mother, Paquita, profoundly influenced the evolution of this body of work. She herself participated in some of the creative processes related to Orion, contributing ideas for colors and forms before her death from Alzheimer’s disease.

Since then, Garlo’s work has acquired an even more intimate and spiritual dimension, becoming a space of emotional memory, healing, and inner renewal.

Far removed from fleeting artistic trends, Garlo’s work represents a conscious response to the visual saturation of contemporary society. In an era marked by speed, noise, and constant stimulation, his art advocates contemplation, silence, and emotional depth.

As the artist himself explains:

“My paintings are born between dream and insomnia, where painting, poetry, music, and inner energy converge into a single creative impulse.”

ProyectoGarlo: Cultural and Human Dimensions

Through his cultural initiative ProyectoGarlo, Juanjo Garlo develops a variety of projects dedicated to heritage preservation, cultural dissemination, and the symbolic recovery of historic spaces for public engagement.

Among the most significant of these initiatives are his efforts related to the Birthplace of Julio Romero de Torres. Garlo has contributed to reopening parts of its historic garden and courtyard to the public and revitalizing them through cultural activities. Local media have highlighted this achievement as an important step toward reconnecting heritage with the community.

He is currently the founder and president of the Association for the Birthplace and Museum of Julio Romero de Torres in Córdoba, an organization devoted to promoting awareness of cultural heritage and revitalizing it through contemporary activities and public participation.

Garlo is also an active member of the collective Artists for Córdoba: Culture and Art, which recently hosted his solo exhibition Soul of Córdoba from April 15 to May 28, 2026.

His public presence has been reinforced through numerous media appearances and cultural initiatives that have highlighted his role in promoting contemporary artistic activity within Córdoba.

His cultural commitment also extends to intercultural dialogue. At the Living Library of Al-Andalus, he presented a lecture entitled Painting and the Painters of Coexistence, in which he defended art as a space for encounter among cultures and as a means of preserving shared memory.

The Writer and Thinker

Alongside his visual art, writing occupies a significant place in Garlo’s creative journey.

Through his literary column, The Author’s Corner, he produces essays and reflections in which Córdoba appears as a living organism animated by memory, beauty, and human fragility.

He has also participated in numerous interviews discussing his creative process, his relationship with Córdoba, and his vision of art as a way of life. These contributions have established him as a distinctive cultural voice within the contemporary Andalusian cultural landscape.

Art and Humanity: The Alzheimer Experience

Juanjo Garlo’s work extends far beyond the artistic sphere.

His belief in the therapeutic and human value of art is clearly reflected in the project Art and Alzheimer Space – Córdoba, where artistic creation becomes a means of emotional support, memory recovery, and human connection for people living with Alzheimer’s disease.

The initiative has received considerable media attention as an inspiring example of how art can serve human dignity and improve quality of life.

Artistic Bridges Between Cultures

In recent years, Garlo’s work has expanded internationally through digital exhibitions and artistic collaborations linking Spain with other parts of the world.

Among the most notable of these initiatives is the project Artistic Twinning Between Tehran and Córdoba in Contemporary Art, developed in collaboration with the Iranian gallery Vision Gallerii.

At a time marked by international tensions and humanitarian challenges, this collaboration has gained special significance as a call for dialogue, understanding, and cultural exchange through art.

Both ProyectoGarlo and its partners share the conviction that art is not a luxury but a human necessity—a language capable of building bridges between peoples, cultures, and experiences

Acknowledgements

The artist extends his sincere gratitude to the media organizations of Córdoba, particularly PTV Córdoba, which has closely followed his artistic and cultural activities and contributed significantly to promoting his projects related to art, heritage, and community engagement.

He also expresses his appreciation to the Libyan journalist, actress, writer, and translator Souad Khalil for her role in introducing his projects and the work of other artists to the Arab world, thereby contributing to the strengthening of cultural dialogue and artistic exchange between different cultural environments.

Garlo further acknowledges the support of the public and cultural institutions that have facilitated his activities, especially the Provincial Council of Córdoba, the San Rafael Alzheimer Association, and numerous cultural and heritage organizations that have welcomed and supported his artistic initiatives.

Soul of Córdoba: An Exhibition that Carries the City’s Memory

Through his recent project Soul of Córdoba, Garlo seeks to explore the invisible dimension of the city—not merely its outward appearance, but its profound memory, its inner energy, and its silent spirit.

His works engage in a dialogue with Abstract Expressionism and contemporary symbolism while preserving a highly personal identity rooted in Mediterranean sensibility and a free, human-centered spirituality.

Ten Years of Painting

The artist reflects:

“I have completed ten years of painting. Ten years since I decided to listen to that inner voice that urged me to express myself through brushes, colors, and emotion.”

Over the course of this decade, Garlo discovered that painting is far more than an artistic practice. It is a language of the soul, through which he seeks to open windows of energy and beauty that invite contemplation, serenity, and inner renewal.

The celebrations of May 2026 marked one of the most meaningful moments of this journey, coinciding with his solo exhibition Soul of Córdoba, his participation in the Córdoba Patios Festival, and his unique experience of live painting during the Córdoba Fair.

Live Art at the Córdoba Fair 2026

The Córdoba Fair of 2026 witnessed a remarkable artistic event when Juanjo Garlo created two paintings live before the public during a special broadcast by PTV Córdoba.

The first painting depicted a large open fan, symbolizing the hospitality of the people of Córdoba and their warm welcome to visitors from around the world. Through vibrant colors and dynamic forms, the work celebrated the joy, vitality, and human energy that characterize the city’s annual fair.

The second painting carried a particularly touching human dimension through the participation of a young girl named Valeria, who spontaneously painted a flowerpot filled with blossoms. This image symbolized the famous patios of Córdoba and the emotional memory associated with family and home.

At the center of the composition, Garlo paid tribute to the San Rafael Alzheimer Association and the individuals who attend its day center. In this way, art became a message of tenderness, memory, coexistence, and hope, demonstrating how collective participation can transform creativity into a powerful act of human connection.

Through this initiative, the Córdoba Fair once again demonstrated the ability of culture, communication, and social participation to create authentic and emotionally meaningful experiences that bring communities together around their shared values and traditions.

Today, Juanjo Garlo continues his journey from Córdoba to the wider world, carrying an artistic and human project that bridges memory and modernity, heritage and contemporary creativity.

His paintings are far more than visual compositions; they are invitations to reflection, dialogue, and the discovery of the invisible connections that unite human beings with their surroundings, their history, and one another.

In an age often dominated by speed and fragmentation, Garlo’s work reminds us that art remains one of humanity’s most powerful languages—a space where memory, beauty, understanding, and hope can meet.

Through his commitment to creativity, cultural heritage, and human values, Juanjo Garlo continues to build bridges between past and present, between local identity and universal experience, transforming art into a living encounter with consciousness, emotion, and shared beauty.

Read: Between the Theatre and Heritage

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Souad Khalil, hailing from Benghazi Libya, is a writer, poet, and translator. She has been writing on culture, literature and other general topics.

The post Juanjo Garlo: When Art Becomes Memory and Human Dialogue first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Souad Khalil | Libya

The semiotic and semiological approach is considered one of the richest modern critical approaches in the study of theatrical discourse, since it concerns itself with creative works as systems of signs and signals, analyzing them according to concepts and procedural methods derived from its theoretical propositions. If we realize that theatrical discourse is a semiotic act to the utmost degree, in which everything on stage appears as a meaningful sign, and that its reliance on codes and symbolic systems constitutes one of its essential foundations, it becomes easy for us to understand the necessity of this approach in studying and analyzing the theatrical phenomenon.

During the last ten years, a considerable number of books dealing with this approach have been translated into Arabic. These works formed an essential reference in enriching the culture of Arab theatre critics, developing their critical tools, and changing their vision of theatrical experience.

In a review by Awad Ali on Theatre and Signs entitled “Semiotics Has Its Enemies,” he points out that one of the most recent books is Theatre and Signs by critics Elaine Aston and George Savona, published in New York in 1995. The authors indicate that they wrote the book in response to the clear hostility toward semiotics — the preferred development of semiology in America — expressed by several participants at the Theatre Conference held at Crows and Sorcerers College in 1983. The book was intended as a guide to some of the limited but significant results produced by theatre semiotics.

The book deals with two principal fields in theatre: the text and the performance, based on the view that semiotics has clear implications for the study of both dramatic discourse and theatrical discourse. Dramatic discourse allows for a structural examination of the dramatic text, while theatrical discourse provides us with an artificial language participating in the analysis of the vocal, bodily, and visual language of theatre.

The early chapters, from the second to the fifth, define the theatrical text from a semiotic perspective, focusing on its essential elements and defining its characteristics: form, character, dialogue styles, and stage directions. Chapter Two examines the different approaches to analyzing dramatic structure and tests dramatic genres on the basis of the formal perception of the transformation of story into plot. The story constitutes the basic narrative framework, whereas the plot is the means through which narrative events are constructed, organized, and presented.

For example, the story of Oedipus, as narrated in its linear form, consists of successive general events happening to Oedipus, beginning with the prophecy preceding his birth, through which Laius and Jocasta learn that their son will kill his father and marry his mother. The story then records the successive events in the order in which they occurred. Sophocles’ tragedy, however, dramatizes the end of the myth. Instead of the linear nature of the story, it constructs a plot that organizes events spanning many years within twenty-four hours, rearranging Oedipus’ historical experiences according to the requirements of dramatic form, with its continuous flow of events and detective-like structure that shapes the tragic plot. In this way, the story is retold and reorganized, and the original text becomes a narrative of argumentative form enacted through the exchanges between actors and chorus during the theatrical performance.

The authors argue that transforming a story into a dramatic plot requires reflection on the way drama is constructed and on the conditions through which meaning and significance are produced within the dramatic text. Thus, they examine how the plot is organized through divisions into acts and scenes, as well as conventions of opening and closure, in order to demonstrate how drama achieves distinctive stylistic structures.

Chapter Three presents the concept of character as a function within the framework of the plot. The authors employ the functional and actantial models of Propp and Greimas as the basis for their approach. Propp’s model proposes a classification of thirty-one functions of the folktale, many of which are logically connected to form particular spheres embodied by performers or characters: the villain, the donor, the helper, the princess or her father, the dispatcher, the hero, and the false hero.

Regarding the way characters perform these actions, the character may correspond entirely to the action, or its function may change through involvement in several spheres of action, or several characters may share a single sphere. Greimas’ model, on the other hand, includes six roles or functions: sender, receiver, subject, object, opponent, and helper. The sender represents a force or being influencing the subject to initiate the search for the object in the interest of the receiver, whom the subject seeks to reach.

In the case of the quest for love, for example, the subject (the hero) seeks the object (the heroine), motivated by Eros (love), and is typically aided by confidants or servants, while opposed by paternal forces. In this model, the subject is also the receiver, since the hero, driven by love, acts for his own benefit.

This model is applied to Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler, where the actantial model illustrates the opposing binary forces upon which the tragedy is founded. Hedda’s isolation is clarified by the crowded category of opponents and the complete absence of helpers. Because of this absence, Hedda’s struggle acquires meaning. If the critic charts the sequence in which the interests of this group of opponents operate as actants, it becomes evident that their trajectory or objective constitutes an obstruction to Hedda because of the interests of the bourgeois society they represent.

Society itself becomes the force that suppresses individual will, functioning as a systematic structure of patriarchal repression that ultimately destroys the female subject. The authors also discuss the application of the model by Anne Ubersfeld to Racine’s Phaedra, through which she offers a method for clarifying the underlying structure of the play in order to deepen the reader’s understanding of the text. She observes that the models reveal, for example, the following:

The relation of action (Hippolytus’ desire) opens the play, and the dialogue between Theramenes and Hippolytus reveals the latent structure.

Hippolytus appears at one time as subject and at another as object, sometimes as subject and twice as opponent.

Hippolytus as object is opposed by his father in both schemes.

The structures of love reveal the political powers hidden beneath the emotions of individuals.

Theseus, the king-father, appears in all three models as an opponent, indicating the failure of all love schemes. He possesses no traits of the subject and desires nothing until the end of the play.

Chapter Four examines the different styles of dialogue operating within the dramatic text. Through this chapter, the authors aim to present a systematic account of the distinctive variations among the different kinds of dialogue styles: poetry and prose, classical dialogue in tragedy and bourgeois comedy, dramatic dialogue, and radical dialogue. They emphasize that the role of dialogue in dramatic texts generally is to define character, place, and action.

What allows dialogue to create reciprocal interaction within the time and place of discourse is deixis, the means through which exchanges between “I” and “you,” and between the conditions of “here” and “now,” are constructed. Through this deictic exchange, drama achieves its three-dimensional quality, clothing bare bones with flesh.

The authors maintain that poetic dialogue is characterized by the presence of artistic language employing metaphor, simile, and rhythm. Although dramatic discourse may accommodate either poetry or prose, the choice of style has a tangible effect on the processes of meaning production.

Historically, poetry was associated with tragedy, while prose was linked with comedy. Just as theoretical assumptions concerning ideal form influenced dramatic structures, methods of dramatic expression were also connected to assumptions regarding suitable style. Classical tragedy constructs a dramatic world inhabited by royal figures whose dialogue must possess dignity and sublimity appropriate to their status. Aristotle observed that the clearest style consists of ordinary words, but such a style is vulgar, whereas the style using unfamiliar words possesses dignity and elevation beyond everyday usage.

In Chapter Five, the authors study stage directions, beginning with a comprehensive overview of directions both within and outside dialogue. They classify the functions of stage directions related to the vocal and physical definition of character, as well as those connected to design and technical elements. They focus on demonstrating how particular patterns of stage directions are associated with specific theatrical and dramatic forms, linking them to dialogue.

The authors regard stage directions, according to Ingarden’s parallel terminology, as complementary systems of signification dependent upon one another. They frame dialogue literally in the typographical layout of the page and theatrically in that they endow the printed text with the quality of a draft for stage production. The production team is presented with a series of signs indicating the playwright’s theatrical intentions. The reader is thus given the opportunity to read the act of performance through the text, and consequently to stage the play imaginatively within the theatre of the mind.

The authors present two views of stage directions. The first belongs to the critic Veltrusky, who distinguishes between genuine stage directions and what he considers the dramatic equivalent of the authorial met text or narrative voice in nineteenth-century realist fiction. The second belongs to the critic Seger, who, unlike Veltrusky, treats stage directions that constitute texts for wordless scenes as literary devices in themselves, exercising a poetic function exemplified in the theatre of Beckett and Stoppard. Furthermore, stage directions always complete the operations of dialogue, as they may be read as manifestations of the potential slippage between primary and secondary texts.

The final chapters, from Six to Nine, deal with the elements of performance. Chapter Six lays the groundwork for establishing a language through which the authors discuss the text in performance. They consider the attempts made to classify theatre as a system of signs and examine the changing systems of signs and the methods of decoding employed by the spectator.

While semiotics offered a way of viewing the dramatic text that deepened understanding of how the text is constructed, it also provided a key to liberating theatre from literature, or from imprisoning theatre within the text. However, once the dramatic text is freed from the constraints of traditional literary criticism and viewed within its theatrical context, the difficulties of interpretation increase because of what Roland Barthes called the “thickness” of theatre — its capacity to attract numerous systems of signs that do not function linearly but rather within an instantaneous, simultaneous, and complex network unfolding in time and space.

Everything presented to the spectator in theatrical performance is a sign, as recognized by the Prague School before anyone else. The process of signification is directed and controlled; even if something accidental slips into the performance, it is nevertheless read as meaningful.

Chapter Seven returns to the subject of stage directions in order to evaluate their implications for theatrical practice. Chapter Eight concerns the reading of the image and considers the ways in which systems of staging — such as lighting, scenery, and acting conventions — cooperate in constructing the theatrical image. The authors indicate in this chapter the strategies through which these images may be decoded, and they reflect on the development of the theatrical image into a visual metaphor that either contradicts the dialogue or highlights ideological content.

They also examine the implications of the written text for performance style. The spectator’s reception of the visual dimension may be regarded as the final stage of a project involving four phases:

The playwright encodes the text according to an awareness of its function as an initial blueprint for theatrical production.

The director decodes the text, beginning the process of leadership or collaboration with the production team and arriving at a mise-en-scène.

The designer re-encodes the text in developing the design concepts, evaluating them within known financial and spatial limitations that are open to interpretation.

The spectator decodes the performance, and a reciprocal interaction occurs between the spectator and the visual dimension as a complementary factor in reception.

Chapter Nine presents a synthesis between approaches to text and performance, combining theory and application through comparative readings of two filmed versions of Samuel Beckett’s Krapp’s Last Tape, a one-act play and another example of Beckett’s reduced representation of the human condition. In this theatrical world, existence is reduced to an exhausted old man — Krapp — and a tape recorder, while the action consists solely of listening to tape-recorded memories Krapp made approximately thirty years earlier.

The first production discussed is Patrick Magee’s performance for the Royal Court Theatre, while the second is the cinematic interpretation by Jack MacGowran, presented during the Beckett memorial in 1990.

Read: Theatre between Poetry and Poeticity

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Souad Khalil, hailing from Benghazi Libya, is a writer, poet, and translator. She has been writing on culture, literature and other general topics.

The post Every Object Speaks On The Stage first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Souad Khalil | Libya

The discussion of the relationship between theatre and poetry is considered one of the critical issues that has occupied both researchers and creative writers alike, due to the intersection it presents between dramatic language and its aesthetic dimension on the one hand, and poeticity as a vision and sensibility that transcend the limits of reality on the other. In this context, poetic theatre presents a fundamental problem concerning the validity of attributing the quality of “poetry” to a dramatic work, and whether the mere use of verse or rhetorical imagery is sufficient to grant it such a designation. Through the discussion of the views of a number of critics and scholars, foremost among them Oscar Mandel and Nehad Selaiha, the distinctions between “verse,” “poetry,” and “poeticity” become clear as interrelated yet non-identical concepts, thereby opening the way toward a deeper understanding of the nature of poetic theatre and its artistic and aesthetic boundaries.

In the book of the well-known American writer Oscar Mandel, which includes a collection of lectures on poetic theatre delivered at New York University’s Graduate School, Mandel—who wrote poetry, drama, and short stories in addition to his work as a lecturer in drama at the University of California—presents a serious attempt to establish a clear and precise concept of the quality of poetry when applied to a dramatic work. Critics frequently resort to using this term in their analyses of certain theatrical works as a form of praise, either because those works are generally characterized by delicacy and sweetness, or because their authors employ poetic devices such as imagery, symbolism, rhythm, and suggestion in expressing and embodying their vision.

Applying the quality of poetry in these two cases is incorrect because the concept of poetic theatre has suffered from many misconceptions caused by critics as a result of confusing verse, poetry, and poeticity.

Regarding verse, Nehad Selaiha states that the prevailing view today is that arranging words into familiar metrical forms is not sufficient to create a poetic dramatic work. Verse in itself does not create poetry; indeed, there are many versified works that have nothing to do with poetry and may even lack poeticity altogether.

If we cannot describe a dramatic work as poetry merely because it is written in verse, then it is even more appropriate not to apply this description to a theatrical work praised for other reasons, since doing so would constitute a grave injustice to prose drama, especially realistic drama in its finest forms as seen in the works of Chekhov and Ibsen. Any good realistic drama must contain emotionally intense moments that sometimes require the playwright to resort to poetic devices such as imagery, rhythm, and suggestion in order to express them. Nehad Selaiha explains in this article that such moments do not constitute sufficient justification for granting the entire work the quality of poetry. Rather, it is more accurate here to use the term “poeticity.” Poeticity, therefore, is the quality characterizing dramatic works distinguished by emotional intensity or by delicacy and refinement of feeling and expression, while not essentially being poetic theatre.

True poetic drama, in Mandel’s view, is that drama which lifts us noticeably above the level of ordinary reality and daily life that we ourselves experience and read about in newspapers, so that we feel as though we have taken a vacation from reality. This does not mean that drama must completely detach itself from human reality in order to become poetic drama. Rather, it means a temporary elevation above reality into a distinct new world possessing a comprehensive human vision and differing in a perceptible and tangible way from the real world upon which it partly comments. The world of poetic theatre is marked by distance and strangeness, yet it does not separate itself entirely from the spectator’s world to the point where no connection between the two worlds can be established. Such complete separation, if caused by excessive alienation or obscurity, for example, removes the quality of poetry entirely from the artistic work. It is necessary for poetic drama to embody this indirect metaphorical relationship between the world of reality and the world of the play. Aristotelian imitation here does not occur, as in prose or realistic theatre, through comparison and condensation, but rather indirectly through elevation, so that the poetic play becomes a comprehensive artistic metaphor vividly perceived by the spectator.

The emergence of theatre throughout the world was purely poetic in the sense that it began as religious rituals during particular occasions not directly linked to everyday life. Theatre then evolved into celebratory performances revolving around well-known myths, and it was easy for the playwright at that time to achieve, without effort, that temporary separation between the world of poetry on stage and the world of reality, despite the close and indirect connection between the two through metaphor.

With the development of drama, the shrinking influence of myth, and the increasing connection of theatre with society, as well as the emergence of currents of realistic drama, satirical and critical drama, theatre of social and human types, and dramas of ideas and issues, in addition to naturalistic drama, theatre came to imitate reality not through comprehensive metaphor as in poetic theatre, but through intensifying reality and commenting upon it.

Thereafter, while drama in its poetic phase drew inspiration from myth to explore humanity’s relationship with knowledge and the universe, in its prose phase it came to focus on the individual’s relationship with his or her reality, society, people, and events.

In the modern era, writers of true poetic theatre often seek to achieve distance from reality through inspiration drawn from history and myth, or through dreams and fantasy. At other times, the writer succeeds in achieving that distance or elevation through intensifying certain human qualities to the extent that they become inhuman qualities or qualities beyond the level of reality. Mandel cites Faust’s love of knowledge as an example.

In light of this concept of poetic drama, we can consider the works of Ionesco and Beckett poetic plays regardless of their affiliation with the Theatre of the Absurd. On the other hand, we cannot apply the quality of poetry to the theatre of Arthur Miller, for example, whom Mandel considers primarily a naturalistic playwright despite Miller’s insistence on using unrealistic stage settings filled with multiple levels constantly reminding the spectator that what is seen on stage differs from reality, despite the expressionist label often associated with his theatre. Likewise, according to this concept, we cannot describe all the plays of the poet T. S. Eliot as poetic drama, despite the fact that they are written in verse. Verse, although it creates a form of alienation and a false sense of distance from daily reality, is not in itself sufficient to establish the necessary distance between the signifier and the signified so that dramatic metaphor may be realized with sufficient coherence and distinction. While Murder in the Cathedral fulfills the characteristics of poetic drama completely, one cannot consider The Cocktail Party a poetic play according to this concept.

The real difference between prose theatres—whether written in verse or prose, or what may more accurately be called realistic theatre—and poetic theatre is the difference between simile and metaphor. If prose theatre resembles reality through what occurs on stage and enriches the spectator’s awareness of reality through condensation and comparison, true poetic theatre aims to deepen and enrich the spectator’s emotions and life through the creation of a new world that serves as a metaphor for reality without entirely separating from it, extending into other regions of emotion and consciousness that may not be closely linked to the immediate concerns and pressing issues of daily life.

In light of this argument, it becomes evident that poetic theatre cannot be reduced to being merely a versified text or one saturated with poetic imagery. Rather, it is an artistic vision based on elevating reality rather than reproducing it, and on creating a dramatic world that transcends the ordinary and familiar without severing itself completely from them. Poeticity in theatre is not so much a linguistic quality as it is an aesthetic state embodied in emotional intensity and the ability to transform human experience into a grand metaphor that reshapes reality from a broader and deeper perspective. Hence, the distinction between prose theatre and poetic theatre lies in the difference between simile and metaphor, between imitating reality and recreating it anew. This grants poetic drama its uniqueness as an art form balancing truth and imagination, consciousness and emotional transcendence.

Read: Superstition and Magic: Ancient Cultures

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Souad Khalil, hailing from Benghazi Libya, is a writer, poet, and translator. She has been writing on culture, literature and other general topics.

The post Theatre between Poetry and Poeticity first appeared on Sindh Courier.

 Souad Khalil | Libya

This article presents a critical reading of the trajectory of artistic modernity and its transformations between East and West, through the example of the Weimar art exhibition and the extensive controversy it generated within European critical circles. It reopens the debate on the concept of “postmodernism” not merely as an artistic movement, but as a contested space where ideology intersects with aesthetics, and history with cultural politics.

It also highlights the perspective of the critic Edward Beaucamp, who defended the exhibition of East German art, revealing the underlying tensions between Western and Eastern conceptions of art, and between modernity as a liberating project and its use as an ideological instrument of classification. Through this approach, the article re-examines the relationship between art and power, as well as between creativity and freedom of expression within shifting historical contexts.

Postmodern art is a set of artistic movements that sought to challenge certain aspects of modernism or developments that emerged in its aftermath. In general, movements such as installation art, conceptual art, and multimedia art—especially those involving video—are described as postmodern. This is the scholarly definition of postmodern art. However, in previous years, the Weimar exhibition of East German art was subjected to harsh criticism, which led the art critic Edward Beaucamp to defend the exhibition.

Although the article is old, what this critic wrote and the important points he clarified prompted me to republish it in Arabic.

Art critic Edward Beaucamp, in defense of the Weimar exhibition of East German art as part of a three-part exhibition that was at one point heavily criticized, expresses his commitment to East German art, which is not highly appreciated in the West. Here he explains his view on why the exhibition was considered a failure.

He says: We have been overwhelmed in every way by talk of the millennium, its evaluations, and the pursuit of gains at the expense of modernity. The beginning came from Weimar, which celebrated and mourned itself at the same time. But this exaggerated attempt at self-exploration suffers from lack of clarity and distortion, and reflects a flamboyant, masculine, and ostentatious mentality.

“Rise and Fall of Modernity” is a comprehensive overview of more than one thousand works divided into three chapters. It is presented through a striking contrast between modernity and non-modernity, between the refined idea of abstraction held by the pioneers of art and a vulgar conservative vision, both of which were strongly criticized by both sides.

The noble first idea—and at the same time the largest part of the exhibition—was devoted to the emergence of modernity from the rural, bourgeois, and feudal system of cultured Weimar. Figures such as Count Kessler, some artists around him, and Henry van de Velde sought to transfer it, in a spirit of refinement and elitism after the turn of the century, to the center of the Belle Époque art world, through international efforts. The result is well known: the rapid acceleration of new beginnings and flights of artistic imagination was followed by defeats and setbacks. In the rural palace burdened with taxes and under an unenlightened duchess, there were urgent conflicts, revolutionary turmoil, and resignations of leading figures.

The exhibition in the Schloss Museum forms the first chapter and presents three hundred paintings by pioneers of Weimar art, including everything that was seen in the city—or rather everything that was produced there. This is thanks to the flourishing exhibitions during three periods full of hope. In this opening section, there is even a small structure that brings together works by Manet, Monet, Cézanne, Gauguin, Rodin, and others. While these artists were celebrated in Weimar, their reputation was being undermined in Berlin.

The exhibition was a living representation of the Schloss Museum’s collections and a reflection of earlier exhibitions. The atmosphere and setting reveal contrasts between different roles, particularly the arcade decorated with arches used for works by Rodin, Maillol, and others.

In a small hall, fourteen striking nude watercolor paintings by Rodin were assembled, dedicated to Weimar. Their exhibitions in cities and provinces caused scandal, which led to Kessler’s resignation.

However, the reform carried out by van de Velde at the School of Arts and Crafts was comprehensive, and the new artistic breakthroughs were largely reformative. After 1918, the most important cultural project and the most future-oriented plan in Weimar was the founding of the Bauhaus. In fact, this was the only project that imposed itself in Weimar until 1925, affirming the city’s place in art history.

Van de Velde’s Bauhaus House was fundamentally divided between rationalists, romantics, engineers, and poets. In the Schloss Museum, the attractive exhibitions of the 1920s reappeared through Impressionists from Munich such as Kandinsky and others, as well as Weimar artists such as Molzahn, Robert Michael, Ila Bergmann, Walter Dexel, and members of the “Vereinigung” group, Klee and Kandinsky.

There are also reminders of Weimar as a base for donors and constructivists who gathered in the city for the 1922 conference. Karl Peter Taemid considered the Bauhaus House the first artistic deviation and opportunistic movement.

At the beginning of the 1930s, it turned toward traditionalism, then returned again to its progressive roots in 1946.

Weimar’s artistic leadership was shaped by the reactions of progressive forces. By 1929, the National Socialists had come to power, and Interior Minister Frick—who came from Weimar—was one of the first advocates against “black culture” and in favor of German national tradition. Paul Schultze-Naumburg, director of the United Art School, promoted modern tendencies in art before later expelling its pioneers.

This introduction leads us to the second part of Weimar’s studies within the century: an epic selection of National Socialist art.

What is presented in the exhibition is nothing but derivatives of Weimar.

There are 120 paintings out of 700 purchased by Hitler himself or through his personal photographer Heinrich Hoffmann for the Government Art Exhibition in Munich. These heroic landscapes, mythological scenes, nude studies, and local paintings were all linked to the academies of Munich and Vienna. They were traditional and mediocre works, but they appealed to Hitler’s taste, expressing a hostile and provocative vision. He preferred ornate and exaggerated styles to pacify and mesmerize the educated public. Thus, the regime turned to traditionalists and conservatives who had been defeated and pushed aside by modernism.

This second part of the exhibition—and the third as well—was dedicated to East German art. It had been temporarily moved to the National Assembly Hall in the Nazi Koforam section, a massive space once used to hold twelve thousand people and still in use since 1968 as a multipurpose hall.

This scandalous arrangement brought together Nazi art and East German art, aiming to link both through hostility toward modernism. Yet the artworks clearly show that both systems are engaged in a struggle similar to that of fire and water. Nazi painting appears empty and devoid of feeling, while East German art reflects anxiety, hysteria, deviation, and fragmentation—ultimately stripped of meaning.

This confrontation serves a populist purpose. The contrast between the refined treatment of Nazi paintings on the ground floor and the rough handling of East German works—where five hundred paintings were crammed into a circular hall and left to “find their way to the trash of history”—is evident. The massive quantity was intended to provoke disgust and ridicule, recalling Nazi techniques used in exhibitions of “degenerate art.”

In this context, the “trash” becomes more than propaganda. High-quality works, commercial works, museum pieces, creative works, and even ideological productions were all mixed into a chaotic mass, rendered useless.

The rhythm and composition of this display symbolize a need for freedom and individuality, yet they also lead conflicting perspectives into a void. Nothing constructive emerges from Weimar in this regard. On the contrary, the Schloss Museum carefully selected the quality of East German works acquired.

A preparatory section under Hermann Henselmann documented Weimar’s post-1945 reality, including attempts to revive Bauhaus traditions. Later, abstract East German art was inserted into the circular hall, though it had little effect compared to the many outstanding works.

The issue is not about victims of East German cultural policy being judged in Weimar; rather, the exhibition was organized by West Germans, many of whom held academic and museum positions in the East.

Their treatment of modernism—derived from Cold War binaries of abstraction versus realism—was biased. Under such conditions, both Beckmann and Dix, as well as Medner or Kruse, were also discarded.

While the East developed its art within this type of modernity, the West preferred to examine authoritarian links to Soviet constructivism and the Bauhaus.

Similarly, a vast number of Western works from avant-garde artists and commercial galleries could easily be presented. However, the goal of this controversial exhibition was not dialogue but downfall.

If modernity is merely a fading spark requiring artificial support, then it is on the wrong path. Independent art should not be subject to social systems or regimes. What matters is the rejection of censorship and manipulation, and allowing fair comparison between East and West. The East does not fear competition; for example, in Berlin, historical folk songs often surpass Western contributions in strength.

Source: German magazine KULTURCHRONIK

Article by Edward Beaucamp, translated by Khaled Abu Al-Ruz

Issue 5, 1999

Read: Between the Ambiguity and Clarity

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Souad Khalil, hailing from Benghazi Libya, is a writer, poet, and translator. She has been writing on culture, literature and other general topics.

The post Rise and Fall of Modernity in Art first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Interview with the Kosovar Director, Publisher and Writer Dibran Fylli  

By Angela Kosta 

What drives you to move from stage to directing, and also from directing to poetry, and how are these two worlds connected for you?

Direction is a profession; the stage, for me and for every artist, is the sacred space where the characters of the artistic “game” come to life, while poetry is a passion that, as poetic creativity, is closely tied to my profession. Writing poetry, for me, means creating or developing an event even more than a drama or a screenplay does; therefore, above all, and primarily, it is literature.

In what way has your experience as an actor influenced the way you build characters in your writing?

As I mentioned above, a character is built well and successfully only when their character is clearly described and detailed; then it can be said that half the work is done and the actor is left with the performance. Only in this way is a character fully realized, whether in prose, novels, poetry, drama, or even film.

What is the role of historical memory, and how much does it influence your inspiration in your poetic production?

To be honest, our history as a people who have suffered greatly has left traces in the memory not only of mine but of every other writer; that is why we write, remembering the suffering, the hardships, the sacrifices, and the renunciations of many generations for freedom and independence. However, what plays an important role in my historical memory is the war of the Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA), in which I was also a member, and the titanic resistance of the martyr commander Adem Jashari, whom during the war I called “He is Alive.” Even today and forever, who can say otherwise—that he is not alive? This is and will remain my most important work, both literary and artistic, a work that will endure over time, as long as the Albanian language and word exist.

As promoter and publisher of the magazine ORFEU, what criteria do you use to select new voices, and how difficult is it to maintain quality in modern times?

This is a kind of sacrifice, because maintaining strict criteria and selecting new voices—publishing texts with literary, cultural, and artistic value, while at the same time preserving quality in modern times—is very difficult. Today’s poetry, even contemporary poetry—not to criticize or reject it—but in most cases is written without leaving a message, as if it were meant to be implied; however, in reality it remains suspended, incomprehensible, without metaphor, without a clear message. It is true that poetry is also read between the lines, but this only happens when the verses are composed according to literary poetics and aesthetics.

What motivated you to address such a delicate and powerful theme as the legendary figure of Adem Jashari in your book?

The book “He is Alive” is a chronology that reflects the war, sacrifice, and successful leadership of the immortal Commander Adem Jashari, up until his death at the beginning of March 1998, considering that even after his death the war continued in his spirit until the liberation of Kosovo. During the war, precisely on its first anniversary, on March 6, 1999, I created a screenplay and another theatrical performance entitled “He is Alive,” staging it in difficult circumstances, under wartime conditions, amid Serbian offensives, in front of thousands of citizens who remained in the combat zones and in front of many Kosovo soldiers, leaving a strong impression, also artistically, that the commander was still alive. After the end of the war, I also produced the chronological book with the same title, inspired by the performance. With the help of the multidimensional promoter Angela Kosta, this book has been translated into 16 languages: Albanian, English, German, French, Italian, Turkish, Croatian, Slovenian, Spanish, Hebrew, Arabic, Chinese, Polish, Punjabi, Assamese, and Korean; furthermore, in most of these countries it has also been published and distributed through social networks, platforms, magazines, and well-known newspapers.

How did you experience the process of translating your work into 16 languages? Do you think the message retains the same weight across different cultures?

For me and for our culture, this is an extraordinary experience, because it demonstrates not only the culture of writing, but also preserves an irreplaceable historical memory of our liberation war, identifying it with a unique case in the world: the fall of 59 members of Commander Jashari’s family for freedom and independence.

As for the message and its weight in different cultures, I would like to quote some lines from the review by Yang Geum-Hee, lecturer, publisher, translator, and vice president of the Association of Korean Writers:

“With great pleasure I present to Korean readers ‘Prekazi, Generations of the Brave – He is Alive (chronology)’, a biography of the heroes of Kosovo’s independence who fought and fell for freedom. Kosovo, located on the Balkan Peninsula in Europe, is a country largely unknown to Korean readers. This lack of awareness is reinforced by the fact that Korea and Kosovo have not yet established official diplomatic relations. However, if we look for similarities between the two nations, Korea also achieved independence through the sacrifices and efforts of independence fighters during the Japanese colonial period. Furthermore, Korea experienced the tragedy of civil war during the Korean War, which left indelible wounds on the nation. Considering Korea’s own history of struggles for independence, I believe Korean readers will deeply understand the story of Kosovo’s independence heroes and their fight for freedom.”

In the films you create, are there direct elements that come from your poetry or literary writings?

Yes, and there are quite a few. If we take some concrete examples, I can mention the poem “The Persistence of a Child,” in which a boy asks by all possible means for an emblem of the KLA from Kosovo soldiers. I developed it into a story, turning it into a screenplay for a short film titled “The Child and the War.” Then, from the poem “Fires and Destructions,” I created the screenplay for an artistic film titled “Arbëri’s Alphabet” (Arbëri is a child who leaves his homework unfinished because he and his family are forced to leave their home to flee from Serbian forces; when they return, they find the house destroyed and the notebook with the alphabet partially burned). There are many other stories that I have transformed into film screenplays, which I try to bring to life, despite insufficient financial conditions.

How do you see the role of art and literature in reflecting and documenting the suffering of an entire people?

Art has an important role in reflecting and documenting the pain of a people, especially when this is represented correctly, without deception, but exactly as it was, as the events unfolded, also through the production of documentary films and their broadcast on television. So, I say this without hesitation: I am the only director who, since the post-war period, has made more than 40 documentary films on the above-mentioned theme, all archived at Radio Television of Kosovo and beyond.

I believe I have fulfilled my duty to my profession, using in each documentary the phrase: “Not to pass the time, but not to forget our recent past, difficult and full of sacrifices.”

What challenges does a writer face when dealing with historical and political themes in a contemporary context?

I think this question does not require many comments! If we are talking about historical themes, the first challenge is that there is very little institutional support, if any at all, because it almost seems as if there is a desire to forget what happened in Kosovo. As for political themes, for true artists they are practically inaccessible, because if you do not write according to the will of political parties, not only do you receive no support, but you are also ignored, labeled undesirable by the government, or even worse: against it! What I have said may not please some, but it is the reality of our time—an endless time.

In this wide range of roles that you hold, where do you feel most free to express your truth?

I always feel more free when my heart is inhabited by the role or character connected to the history of my deeply tormented people, and also in roles or characters with themes of love, but always within the limits of human dignity.

How does moral responsibility toward history and national figures influence your creative process?

I pay particular attention when, in my literary or artistic production, I represent the history of national figures, because there I feel not only a moral responsibility, but also a national one; therefore, I try to be very cautious.

What message would you like to convey to the new generation through your artistic and literary works?

First of all, I wish and appeal for today’s young people to read as many books as possible, and not limit themselves only to social networks, because most of them exist for views and for the interests of their owners, whereas literary and artistic works by any author contain at least one message and an invitation to good rather than evil—even if in some cases they also represent evil, but by criticizing it in different forms. As for my artistic and literary works, I say: read them, because there you will find understandable messages, and only then will you truly know me.

How do you balance artistic sensitivity with the need to be direct when addressing painful historical themes?

Artistic sensitivity is a necessity for every artist. Understanding a work or dealing with painful historical themes is, I would say, history itself; therefore every film scene or theatrical scene must have artistic sensitivity, just like every literary creation.

What was the most difficult moment of your creative journey and how did it influence your development as an artist?

First of all, I attended the Academy of Arts not in my mother tongue, and this was my greatest challenge… later I faced almost continuous challenges, fear and challenge together, when during the war I staged performances, even founding a military theatre as well as many other initiatives. But all this had a positive impact and strengthened my conviction in forming my character as an artist and a rebellious creator, who has never worked to please others by violating my principles and my oath to authentic art.

If you had to describe your artistic mission in a single sentence, what would it be?

My artistic identity is what it is!

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Angela Kosta is the Executive Director of the Magazines: MIRIADE, NUANCES ON THE PANORAMIC CANVAS, BRIDGES OF LITERATURE, journalist, poet, essayist, publisher, literary critic, editor, translator, promoter

The post Preserving Kosovo History through Art first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Souad Khalil | Libya

Drama goes beyond being merely a form of entertainment or a means of visual and emotional pleasure; it becomes a universal language through which human beings search for themselves and an instrument for expressing the inner conflicts that agitate both the subconscious and the collective consciousness. Ever since humans began imitating nature and the surrounding world, drama has been their first mirror, reflecting fear and hope, as well as the desire to break free from the constraints of reality.

In this article, I approach drama as a counterpart to dreams; both emerge from the depths of the psyche and express the human need for purification, liberation, and psychological balance. The writer draws a parallel between theatre as a conscious representational act and dreams as an unconscious symbolic representation, affirming that both are grounded in imitation and in the expression of what is repressed and suppressed within the human self.

By engaging with the ideas of Aristotle, Freud, Jung, Hadfield, and others, I offer an in-depth reading of the therapeutic and intellectual function of drama, highlighting its ability to reshape the human psychological reality, just as dreams do within their free symbolic space. Thus, drama is no longer merely an expressive art form but becomes a space of spiritual healing and a laboratory for understanding the self and the world.

Some people misunderstand drama, reducing it to nothing more than an entertaining or recreational medium. Others go further in undervaluing this ancient art—older than human creativity itself—by diminishing its social and educational role as an effective force capable of influencing and transforming various aspects of life. Meanwhile, some believe that reflecting on the nature and function of drama may distract us from its primary purpose as a source of pleasure for both reader and spectator.

However, merely engaging with these ideas and attempting to understand the latent energies within drama, and the necessity of studying its importance as one of the most significant forms of human expression, helps us place drama in its proper position among literary genres, thereby enriching the dramatic experience and elevating theatrical taste.

In a study by Dr. Gamal Abdel Nasser on the relationship between acting and psychology, he notes that many people view drama and performance only as sources of viewing pleasure, without any awareness of how performance develops or expands intellectual horizons. This has raised debates about the role of drama in everyday life and its relevance in education. While it is, at its core, a theatrical game intended for entertainment and leisure—and perhaps also for moral reflection—it may nevertheless carry deeper aims and long-term intellectual and ethical value.

There is a need, therefore, to re-examine the fundamental nature of drama. Despite the long path it has taken throughout its history—especially in its social, moral, and philosophical dimensions—we have often overlooked a fundamental truth: humans have always used drama since ancient times. From the earliest stages of civilization, primitive humans sought means to adapt to reality and confront life’s challenges, eventually discovering in imitation and performance a way of expression.

From early childhood, humans are instinctively driven toward dramatic expression as a means of communicating their needs, hopes, and suffering. As self-awareness grows, so does the impulse to express oneself dramatically.

Thus, drama appeared in primitive societies and in childhood as an expressive representational world, long before the emergence of written dramatic texts or theatrical scripts. Later, Aristotle in the fourth century BCE laid foundational aesthetic principles for dramatic art, focusing on movement, voice, and music, followed by continuous theatrical development. The French actor and director Jean-Louis Barrault emphasized that drama is as old as humanity itself and deeply connected to human existence. Constantin Stanislavski highlighted actor training and performance development, while Bertolt Brecht emphasized the ideological and artistic function of theatre.

Drama, however, has proven its effectiveness beyond the stage, functioning as a spiritual and psychological stabilizer for individuals and societies, and as a means of understanding and addressing human problems. It has become a tool for studying human behavior and a continuation of childhood expression into adulthood. Hence, drama has been used in psychotherapy, and its importance has become evident in dreams as well.

This connection became clearer after it was recognized that dreams are deeply linked to the human need to create meaning and structure in life. This idea inspired the formation of beliefs and interpretations of social taboos. Primitive rituals often involved strong performative and mimetic elements, aiming to reconcile humans with the mysteries of existence and supernatural forces, while also serving as a means of emotional release, skill development, and psychological purification.

Aristotle addressed many of these aspects in Poetics, though he did not explicitly explore unconscious desires and fears, which later became central in psychoanalytic thought. Freud, for instance, studied dreams and their symbolic complexity, using free association to uncover hidden meanings, while also drawing parallels between dreams and dramatic representation.

Dreams, like theatrical plays created by adults, are silent performances enacted in secrecy. The adult does not dare to express them openly, nor even fully acknowledge them internally. Thus, dreams can be understood as symbolic dramatizations of unresolved psychological conflicts.

Barrault noted that as humans become more conscious of how others perceive them, they tend to suppress their true selves and conform to external expectations. This leads to repression, which accumulates in the unconscious and eventually finds expression in dreams. Freud, Adler, Jung, and later Hadfield further explored these ideas.

Hadfield, in particular, emphasized the therapeutic function of dreams, arguing that dreams replay life experiences and unresolved problems, forcing individuals to confront issues they tend to avoid in waking life. Dreams reveal weaknesses, expose illusions, and compel psychological confrontation, ultimately restoring inner balance.

Dreams therefore perform a biological function that no other mental process achieves. They release hidden energies and restore psychological wholeness.

The question remains: what is the value of dreams if they are not understood? The answer lies in intuition, where meaning can be sensed even if not fully understood. Dream analysis therefore requires both conscious and unconscious participation.

This symbolic function of dreams is also present in children’s play, where children express their inner conflicts through symbolic roles. A child may act as an animal or punish a toy, unknowingly projecting inner psychological struggles. Through such play, children attempt to restore emotional balance.

Aggressive play among children similarly allows them to confront fear and tension in symbolic form, ultimately achieving psychological equilibrium.

Dreams and play both transform emotions and ideas into symbolic characters and scenarios. They allow unconscious problems to emerge in representational form, whether through familiar or unfamiliar figures engaged in dialogue-like situations resembling theatre.

Dreams thus function as a complete dramatic structure, where psychological conflicts are externalized into characters and interactions. By analyzing these symbolic representations, one can better understand internal psychological conflicts and seek harmony.

Finally, this reading aligns with major studies such as Margaret Lowenfeld’s Play in Childhood (1935), Jean Piaget’s Play, Dreams and Imitation in Childhood (1962), and J.L. Moreno’s Psychodrama (1946). Although no final interpretation of dreams or psychodrama has been reached, several conclusions can be drawn:

Dreams, like drama, have multiple functions.

Their intuitive value exists even when their meaning is not fully understood.

There is value in diagnosing unconscious psychological distress.

Both dreams and drama provide emotional release.

Drama, like dreams, restores psychological balance and remains one of the most fundamental functions of art, with theatre as its most authentic form.

Drama, like dreams, reveals human beings as seekers of truth through imagination and of balance through symbolic confrontation with the self. It is not merely a reflection of life but a re-enactment of life in its deepest form, where desire, memory, reality, and imagination converge in a single existential scene.

Thus, drama and dreams alike remain spaces of purification, liberation, and renewal, affirming that art is not only a mirror of reality but also a means of discovering human depth and reshaping existence through beauty and meaning.

Read: The Vision in Image Theatre

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Souad Khalil, hailing from Benghazi Libya, is a writer, poet, and translator. She has been writing on culture, literature and other general topics.

The post When Dreams Drift, Drama Takes Lead first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Souad Khalil | Libya

Since ancient times, theater has been a unique artistic platform that combines creativity and humanity. It reflects the concerns and hopes of people and conveys life experiences in ways that go beyond ordinary words. In a world where events move rapidly and cultures change quickly, theater remains a means of communication between people, a shared language that everyone can understand, regardless of their language or location.

In a historic step, the first edition of the Ofeer International Theater Festival was announced under the motto “Where the Stories of the World Are Woven.” This inaugural edition received unprecedented participation, with a total of 63 theatrical productions from more than 26 countries around the world. This remarkable number of submissions confirms theater’s significance as a powerful human language and positions the festival as a global platform for exchanging artistic and theatrical experiences.

Diverse Productions from Around the World

This first edition stood out for its wide variety of theatrical works, ranging from classical to contemporary productions, experimental theater, street performances, and shows for children and youth. Each piece represents a window into a new culture and a unique story, reflecting the artist’s vision and creativity in expressing human themes in innovative and impactful ways.

This diversity highlights theater’s ability to bring together creators from different parts of the world in a single space, making the festival a true hub for cultural and artistic exchange where ideas and experiences converge to enrich the international theater scene.

First Phase: Initial Selection

With the registration period closed, the first phase – the initial selection – has now begun. This phase will determine which productions advance to the stage of officially announced festival participation. It represents both a challenge and an opportunity for theater groups, as they present their work to a specialized jury that evaluates them based on quality, innovation, and creativity.

Each selected production marks the beginning of a new story, showcasing the artist’s energy and vision while offering the audience a unique experience that combines art with a human message. This phase is not just about selecting productions; it is a fundamental step in establishing the identity of the festival’s first edition and laying the foundation for a sustainable event that continues to support theatrical talent worldwide.

Audience and the Theater Experience

The Ofeer International Theater Festival provides audiences with an exceptional opportunity to explore diverse cultures and engage with works that represent different human experiences. Here, theater is more than a performance; it is a direct dialogue between the artist and the audience—a shared experience that transcends language and geographic barriers, connecting people through emotions, ideas, and stories.

With every new production, excitement and anticipation grow, offering festival audiences a global artistic experience where voices and creativity converge to demonstrate theater’s power to communicate and move hearts.

The Stories Begin Now

The first edition of the Ofeer International Theater Festival confirms that theater remains the strongest language for telling human stories, capable of bringing people from all over the world together in a space of creativity and shared human experience. With the start of the first selection phase, the true stories are beginning to emerge, showcasing a new wave of global talent that translates the energy and voices of theater.

The stories have begun, and each production represents an opportunity to discover a new artistic experience, leaving a lasting impact on those who watch, keeping theatrical narratives alive, reflecting human life everywhere, and affirming that theater continues to be an indispensable platform for transmitting thought, culture, and creativity worldwide.

Read: Ofeer International Theatre Nights Festival

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Souad Khalil, hailing from Benghazi Libya, is a writer, poet, and translator. She has been writing on culture, literature and other general topics.

The post Theater That Unites The Worlds first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Souad Khalil | Libya

Drama and theatre have long occupied a central position in human civilization, not merely as artistic expressions but as profound modes of communication and reflection. Unlike other art forms, drama embodies a unique fusion of illusion and reality, imagination and presence, text and performance. It speaks directly to the human condition by staging conflict, emotion, and thought within a living space shared by actors and audience.

The study of drama therefore extends beyond literary analysis to encompass performance, visuality, rhythm, suspense, and the dynamic interaction between the written word and its embodiment on stage. Through this complex interplay, theatre transforms fixed text into living experience. This article explores the essential characteristics of drama, focusing on the relationship between illusion and reality, the mechanics of suspense and attention, and the vital role of the actor as the central element in the creation of theatrical art.

Much has been written about theatre and drama—about remarkable theories and stimulating discoveries concerning the structure and meaning of theatrical works. All those interested in art turn to drama as a form of communication, believing that the dramatic form is superior to any other means of reaching the human being.

The critic Eric Bentley, in his book The Life of the Drama, states that every form of drama has its own particular relationship with madness. If drama concerns itself with extreme situations, then the ultimate human condition—short of death—is that boundary at which the light of reason is extinguished.

When we speak of madness in theatre, we do not mean madness in its conventional sense. Rather, it is a different kind of madness, varying in degree according to circumstances, situations, and characters. Since the Greek era, characters have often found themselves entangled in strange ideas and behaviors. Madness was sometimes portrayed as a curse inflicted by the gods upon the tragic hero; in certain dramatic works, the gods punish tragic protagonists for what they consider to be a transgression.

However, this is not the central concern of our article, as it relates to multiple dimensions of dramatic action.

In Anatomy of Drama, Martin Esslin discusses, in the chapter “Illusion and Reality,” the nature of theatre as a mimetic act—a representation of the real world through play and pretense. The drama we witness on stage, television, or cinema is a carefully crafted illusion. Yet, compared with other arts that produce illusion, drama—particularly as performed text—contains the greatest element of reality.

When observing a painting, for example, it offers the illusion of a landscape, a house, or a human figure in drawn form. The only real elements it contains are colors and canvas. A play similarly presents an illusion: Hamlet in his castle in Elsinore. Yet Hamlet, here and now, is the young man standing on stage—an actor who is genuinely present, sitting on a real chair. The assumption that this chair belongs to a Danish castle centuries ago is the illusion we are invited to accept. But the chair remains a real chair in every sense.

Thus, during performance, drama—unlike other illusion-producing arts—can be said to contain a higher proportion of reality.

One of the principal characteristics of drama lies in this duality: the play as pure imagination, the product of the playwright’s mind, which once fixed in text becomes, in a sense, a “dead letter.” Yet it is fused with the living reality of actors—their costumes, surrounding furniture, and the objects they handle, such as swords, fans, or knives. Each performance of a play written centuries ago may therefore be seen as an act of resurrection. Dead words and actions are revived through the living presence of actors. It is no wonder that theatrical language describes staging an old play as “bringing it back to life.”

In purely academic study, attention naturally focuses on the most accessible element for analysis: the text—the play as literature. Other elements—performance, lighting, the charisma of actors—are far more elusive and were nearly lost before the invention of recording technologies. Yet these are precisely the elements that decisively attract audiences to theatre, cinema, and television. When we analyze the impact of theatrical experience on spectators, we find that they are the source of the profound pleasure derived from it.

In live theatre, the fusion of a fixed element (the text) with a fluid element (the actors) makes each performance a unique work of art—even within a long-running production with the same cast, scenery, and lighting. Consider classical Chinese theatre, where audiences are thoroughly familiar with canonical texts. They attend not to discover the story but to observe how particular actors perform it. The same applies to classical Western drama, especially Shakespeare: audiences judge actors based on how each interpretation differs from another.

The fundamental task of dramatic structure is to use the simplest and most accessible means—regardless of genre or audience—to capture and sustain attention for the required duration. To achieve higher goals—communicating wisdom and insight, poetry and beauty, entertainment and relaxation, enlightenment and emotional catharsis—we must first secure attention. If we fail to do so, everything is lost.

The creation of interest and suspense forms the foundation of the dramatic edifice. Expectations must be aroused but not fully satisfied until the final curtain falls. Events should appear to approach their goal without fully reaching it before the conclusion. Above all, there must be continuous variation in rhythm and pace; monotony in any form invites distraction and boredom.

Suspense is not created solely by plot devices. In ballet, for example, there may be no narrative plot, yet the beauty of the dancers and the anticipation of successive movements sustain attention. Suspense may arise from the question, “What happens next?” But it may also stem from, “I know what will happen—but how?” or “How will character X react?” Early in any dramatic structure, spectators must grasp its central suspense element.

A single major suspense is insufficient to sustain an entire play. Each scene requires its own suspense, connected to the overarching objective. Directors and actors must be aware of both strategic (primary) and tactical (secondary) objectives within each scene.

There is also a third, localized suspense operating moment by moment within dialogue or action. Suspense depends on the presence of at least two possible outcomes: Will the criminal be discovered or not? Will the boy marry the girl or not? Even the smallest unit of dialogue must contain multiple potential responses. Predictability is the death of suspense—and therefore of drama. Good dialogue resists anticipation; lines that merely confirm what is already expected are lifeless and must be eliminated.

Great playwrights such as Shakespeare, Noël Coward, and Oscar Wilde are masters of defying expectation and employing surprise. Each unexpected turn of phrase, each witty expression, each original verbal image contributes to sustaining attention.

In cinema and television drama, camera movement and visual artistry fulfill a similar function. A seemingly lifeless line can become charged with suspense through an unexpected glance or a flash in the actor’s eyes.

Theatre is art in multiple forms and images. It evolves from within and emerges from its environment even as it reaches outward.

Drama and theatre are two distinct entities that must ultimately become one. Their unity alone produces authentic theatrical art. This union is not easily achieved, yet without it, living theatre cannot exist.

Finally, drama that pulses with life—born of intellect, emotion, and imagination—requires live theatre, capable of representing, expressing, dancing, singing, and embodying the fullness of human experience. Historically and artistically, drama emerged from Greek tragedy, which itself grew out of Dionysian rituals—religious and musical ceremonies that were, in essence, profoundly theatrical..

In essence, drama and theatre are inseparable dimensions of a single artistic phenomenon. The written play, though foundational, attains its full vitality only through performance; and performance, in turn, draws its depth and coherence from dramatic structure. Their union generates the living theatrical art that continues to captivate audiences across cultures and centuries.

Suspense, unpredictability, rhythm, and the constant negotiation between reality and illusion remain the structural pillars upon which drama stands. Yet it is the actor—through gesture, voice, timing, and presence—who ultimately unites these elements and transforms words into experience. From its origins in Greek ritual to its contemporary manifestations on stage and screen, drama persists as a living art form, sustained by imagination, intellect, and emotional truth. It is this enduring vitality that affirms theatre not merely as performance, but as a dynamic expression of human life itself.

Read: The Heritage in Theatre

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Souad Khalil, hailing from Benghazi Libya, is a writer, poet, and translator. She has been writing on culture, literature and other general topics.

The post Drama and Theatre: Art in multiple forms first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Souad Khalil | Libya

Peter Handke, one of the most provocative and original voices in contemporary European literature, has redefined the boundaries of theater. Austrian by birth and living mostly in Germany, Handke’s work spans novels, essays, poetry, plays, and screenwriting. While his biography is widely known—he was born in 1942 in Griffen, Austria, and received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2019—what sets him apart is his radical approach to theater.

Handke’s plays, especially Offending the Audience, exemplify his bold experimentation with form and language. Rather than relying on traditional acting or narrative, he reduces the stage to a circle of speech, where the dialogue itself becomes the medium for tension, reflection, and meaning. By stripping language to its simplest, most unadorned forms—curses, confessions, questions, and proclamations—Handke challenges audiences to reconsider their expectations of theater. This study examines Handke’s theatrical philosophy, the stylistic features of his work, and the social and psychological impact of his unique approach on audiences.

Peter Handke is a contemporary German author of Austrian origin. He was born in Griffen in 1942. He is a writer, translator, playwright, essayist, poet, reporter, screenwriter, and Austrian director. He lived in Germany and focused exclusively on writing.

Among his novels are: The Hornets (1966), The Goalie’s Anxiety at the Penalty Kick (1967), Repetition (1966), Prediction (1966), Offending the Audience (1967), Kaspar (1968), and others. He received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2019.

This is brief and well-known information for anyone looking for some details about our author, and it is available across all media platforms. But what we want to write about in this article is his theater, which represents a school of thought characterized by extreme boldness never seen before. He drastically reduces theater and confines it to a small circle.

For example, in his play Offending the Audience, in which he presents two or more characters, he does not want them to act in the traditional sense but rather to speak and mislead the audience using phrases entirely taken from daily life, aiming to reach the word “Help.”

Thus, Handke strips theater of traditional acting, reducing it to a circle of speech. His use of speech includes natural, unpretentious forms: cursing, blaming, confessing, justifying, questioning, and predicting.

Dr. Mostafa Maher writes in an article that Handke makes the characters curse the audience because the audience enters the theater expecting a conventional performance. In this case, the theatrical work consists of the tension between the characters and the audience.

At other times, he removes literary embellishments from language, turning metaphor and figurative expressions into literal reality. Thus, some simple and familiar phrases spoken by the characters become self-reproach or moral reflection.

The phrases that make up Offending the Audience are simple and familiar, collected by Handke from newspapers, advertisements, signs, and common sayings. He arranged them one after another without alteration. But if one examines them deeply, they undoubtedly evoke the human desire for help or shouting “Help.”

He organized the phrases so that long phrases come first, short ones follow, finally ending with single words. Handke’s play Offending the Audience was published with a preface, whose text reads:

It is possible for any number of performers to perform this verbal piece, but it is necessary that there be at least two. They may be men or women. Their task is to lead the way through the many sentences and expressions to reach the desired word, which is the word “Help.”

They vocally express to the audience their need for help, freed from any specific real-life situation. They do not speak words and sentences with their usual meanings but with the meaning of searching for help. When searching for help, they need help. When they finally find the word “Help,” they no longer need it but continue to speak about it. When they are able to shout “Help,” they no longer require it, yet they feel relief in being able to shout it, and the word loses its original meaning.

As they search for the word, they repeatedly come close to its meaning or at least to its sound. Depending on their proximity, the response is accompanied by the word “No” after each attempt, which increases the formal tension of speaking. This resembles a sound graph of a football match: whenever the players approach the opponent’s goal, the crowd noise increases; if the attempt fails, it decreases, then rises again, continuing until the final attack finds the word “Help.”

At that moment, instinctive joy overwhelms the speakers, and they are bathed in sunlight. The audience gradually realizes what the speakers are seeking. When they want to shout at the speakers—as children do while watching puppet plays—the speakers, like the puppets threatened by the crocodile, do not understand the intended meaning; they perceive the shouts as real cries for help, which do not disturb them during the performance.

When the speakers finally find the word “Help,” it turns into a great victorious shout, repeated over and over until its meaning is overwhelmed, then transforms into a cheer appropriate to the word “Help.” When this cheer becomes nearly impossible to sustain, the audience stops, and one speaker repeats the word alone, maintaining joy while still needing help, finally pronouncing the word once.

During the performance, the speakers may occasionally drink Coca-Cola.

Peter Handke’s Works

Handke’s works differ from other writers in style and presentation, especially in Offending the Audience, whose text I am presenting here in this article.

Closing Remarks

As we reflect again, we urge you to join us in searching for paths to mutual understanding, deep knowledge, big hearts, and brotherly life in human society, which is surrounded by tension from every direction:

After the assassination, authorities examined every means to shed light on the crime: No

The president laid flowers on behalf of everyone: No

Unemployment decreased again: No

Cracks appeared in the ice in some places: No

The teacher scolded the student: No

The high-pressure zone moved east: No

An ancient proverb explained something: No

Recently, something bad happened to the patient on the artificial kidney: No

The brave commander led the forces to victory: No

Medical equipment was sterilized: No

The queen wore a new hat: No

Unknown individuals destroyed some gravestones: No

The actor fainted on stage during the performance: No

…[the text continues exactly as in Arabic with all “No” entries]…

Finally, the word “Help?” appears:

Help? Yes. Help? Yes. Help? Yes. Help, Help, Help…

This text stimulates the audience to seek help, expressing the deepest human feelings. We need such texts, both in style and presentation, to provide theater that addresses social issues and presents new and better approaches.

Peter Handke’s theatrical legacy demonstrates the power of language and the human voice as instruments of both artistic expression and existential inquiry. In Offending the Audience, the pursuit of the word “Help” transforms simple phrases from everyday life into profound reflections on human need, desire, and communication. The tension between the speakers and the audience creates a dynamic experience in which meaning emerges from the act of searching itself.

Through his radical minimalism, Handke exposes the underlying rhythms of language and thought, showing that theater need not be confined to representation or performance. Instead, it can become a mirror for society, a space where human emotions, cultural norms, and philosophical inquiries intersect. His work continues to inspire writers, directors, and performers, reminding us that the essence of theater lies not in spectacle but in the courage to confront reality, challenge perception, and give voice to the universal search for understanding and connection.

Read: The Conclusion of the Poem

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Souad Khalil, hailing from Benghazi Libya, is a writer, poet, and translator. She has been writing on culture, literature and other general topics.

The post Peter Handke: Architect of Experimental Theatre first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Souad Khalil | Libya

Throughout its long history, the pictorial artwork has never been merely a colored surface or a display of technical skill, but rather a civilizational witness to human transformations, a sensitive mirror of existential questions, dreams, conflicts, and tragedies. From the moment early humans traced their symbols on cave walls to the heights reached by painting during the ages of philosophy, the Renaissance, and modernity, visual aesthetics remained one of the most powerful languages capable of captivating the senses and opening horizons of contemplation.

However, the profound transformations brought about by the Industrial Revolution—followed by colonialism, oppression, commodification, and the accelerated explosion of technology and knowledge—have once again raised the question of art and beauty: Is the painting still capable of fulfilling its civilizational role? Or has beauty abandoned it, just as humanity has abandoned the rituals of slow contemplation in favor of faster, more consumerist spaces?

This article proceeds from this pivotal question, seeking to deconstruct the notion of the “death of the painting” and the migration of beauty, not as the end of an art form alone, but as a sign of a deeper civilizational crisis that touches the relationship between human beings, art, and meaning itself.

Painting has long been one of the most enduring witnesses to human civilization, carrying within its forms the traces of belief, power, beauty, and conflict. From cave walls to museums and palaces, it once occupied a central position in shaping collective taste and aesthetic consciousness. Yet the profound transformations brought about by the Industrial Revolution and modern technological life have unsettled this position. Beauty began to drift away from the canvas, while painting itself faced a growing estrangement from its audience. This article reflects on the notion of the “death of the painting” and the migration of beauty, examining the historical, social, and cultural forces that reshaped the relationship between artwork, artist, and viewer, and questioning whether painting truly failed its civilizational role—or whether civilization itself abandoned the conditions necessary for its survival.

Although many paintings throughout history have depicted scenes of combat and violence and portrayed heroes, they did not truly enter the realm of conflict as a central theme until after the Industrial Revolution. Their concept no longer corresponded to the old aesthetic order that harmonized with palaces, kings, and emperors. For the Industrial Revolution—despite the magnitude of its reciprocal impact on the development of thought, humanity, and production—was at the same time a fundamental cause of colonialism, oppression, hunger, subjugation, enslavement, and hatred.

The problematic relationship between civilization, producer, and consumer was not far removed from art. For a long time, the public remained merely a consumer of art, until theories of reception and interpretation confronted the audience with a major revolution by transforming it into a participant in the production of the artwork in order to grasp its beauty. The disappointment was profound when the painting found itself in one valley and its audience in another. Did the painting become incapable of fulfilling its civilizational role in our time when compared to the instruments of contemporary civilization, or did the audience fail to grasp its meaning and role in life?

After a long journey marked by pain—beginning with cave walls, passing through museum halls, exhibition spaces, and palace walls—the painting declared its death, after beauty had abandoned it, never to return. Among the first to be struck by this death were the visual artists, who would cast aside their tools after the long journey had exhausted them and worn down their expressive struggles. Among its closest mourners were the critics, who never ceased interrogating it through various methodologies—sometimes praising, sometimes evaluating, and at other times condemning it. And among all those present at its funeral was its scant audience, which continues to roam between exhibition halls and auction houses—sometimes as buyers, sometimes as sellers, and at other times as forgers. Thus the painting announced its death, just as many sciences and arts had announced their final whim before it.

Dr. Iyad Al-Husseini, speaking of the death of the painting and the migration of beauty, asks: does that captivating magic that enchants hearts fade away?

This civilization, proud of its symbols of beauty and saturated with the luxury of expression, has long been accompanied by senescence. From early on, painting began as a religious symbol expressing rituals and beliefs, then folded itself under the cloak of philosophy when the elevation of subject matter in Greek civilization became an expression of glory and intellectual connection. It reached its extension during the Renaissance with Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Raphael, then passed through stages of transformation in the nineteenth century at the hands of Cézanne, Manet, Monet, Van Gogh, and others.

Throughout its arduous journey, it moved between Classicism, Realism, Impressionism, Surrealism, Abstraction, Expressionism, Modernism, and Postmodernism—old and new alike—accompanied by generations of painters and sculptors, imposing itself upon many societies, perhaps the best of which were those in which the artist himself was miserable and pallid. Only the eyes of a conscious, cultivated elite contemplated it, delighted in its beauty, and grasped its meaning.

Although many paintings included themes of killing and violence and depicted heroes, they did not enter the theme of conflict until after the Industrial Revolution, when their concept no longer aligned with the old order that suited palaces, kings, and emperors. For the Industrial Revolution—despite the magnitude of its reciprocal influence on the development of thought, humanity, and production—was also a fundamental cause of colonialism, oppression, hunger, subjugation, enslavement, and hatred, when industrial nations needed resources and labor beyond their borders after their own resources proved insufficient to meet the demands of the new revolution. The only means of acquiring new resources was plunder, theft, and the enslavement of peoples.

The artist, as a human being, suddenly discovered that the bread he ate was soaked in humiliation, oppression, and servitude, and that the features of nature, splendor, and allure as symbols in the painted image were no longer capable of purifying that bread. The painting thus became a witness to the struggle between cruelty and pain, between exploitation and greed, between survival and annihilation. The symbols of beauty were transformed from signs of joy into a beauty that calls forth sorrow, pain, and misery, until the artist’s trust in capturing expressive symbols became a measure of the creative, subjective experience that testified to the capabilities of its creator throughout the twentieth century.

Undoubtedly, throughout its long history the painting has had numerous aims and diverse functions. Yet what ultimately remained was that enchanting magic we call beauty, in its many forms—the beauty that captivates hearts and bewitches minds. How desperately we have always needed doses of it, time and again, to make life possible. Lovers of beauty sought it with deep passion, while at the same time it meant nothing to the overwhelming majority of people.

The painting meant to beauty only what it carried and the directions to which it was connected. To merchants, it meant nothing more than pieces of wood fastened together with nails at four corners. But to the artist it meant a great deal: a condensation of lived experience, knowledge, and creative capacities that add something new to life.

Yes, it was that dose of beauty—the enchanting magic that possessed us for centuries as we searched for it across lands and societies. Yet beauty abandoned the painting after leaving museums and palaces. We no longer hear of people visiting museums or frequenting galleries, because the transformations of life and the prevailing climate welcomed the migrating beauty from museums into markets, streets, and homes. Technology, materials, substances, tools, and industries invaded every corner of contemporary life. Each product came to possess its own aesthetic advantages and necessities—a new kind of beauty that emerges through function, use, tool, and utility.

Yes, it is that dose of beauty that generates pleasure, no longer necessarily linked to a painting or a sculpture, but perhaps emanating from a mobile phone, a modern car, watching a film, or buying a new pair of shoes.

Technology and new materials were not the sole reasons for these transformations. The entry of numerous theoretical approaches and intellectual currents into painting also played a role. Painting no longer signified the superior skills of craftsmanship produced by mastery of technique, but became a visual, intellectual text subject to historical problems and difficulties of interpretation. This is natural, since painting lived within the intellectual climate that passed through society in all its transformations.

Thus it became commonplace to see decomposing remnants in an exhibition hall, or piles of waste from which we are expected to extract a dose of beauty imposed by the artist’s vision, or a single color field that the artist wants to convince us represents boundless pain.

The civilizational dilemma between producer and consumer was not far from art. For a long time, the public remained a consumer of art until theories of reception and interpretation confronted it with a major revolution, transforming it into a participant in the production of the artwork in order to comprehend its beauty. The disappointment was great when the painting stood in one valley and its audience in another. Did the painting become incapable of fulfilling its civilizational role in our time, when compared with the vocabulary of a different civilization, or did the audience fail to grasp its meaning and role in life?

The gap widened day by day until human beings found that the beauty obtained from a hamburger sandwich was better than a thousand incomprehensible paintings that meant nothing to them.

In one of its memoirs, the painting was closely associated with the age of Romanticism and prosperity, as it bestowed upon that era a complete and multidimensional image. It departed after we left the romantic age for an era of rebellion, political horrors, and oppression. Before bidding us farewell, it became incapable of expressing the movement of life shaped by rapid technology that no longer leaves us space for contemplation, reflection, or meditation.

As one of those struck by its death, beyond mourning its departure, I demanded from the painting more than it was created for, and felt disappointed when I did not find that the world had changed after I had completed it. Like other creators, I felt that this miserable birth meant nothing to anyone in the universe but myself, that it was nothing more than a witness to the tragedy of the human being since birth, and merely an expression of the bitterness of an eternal struggle that wished to leave nothing behind but despair.

The painting declared its death; the witness died, beauty abandoned it, and ugliness became the measure of truth, until tragedy was filed against an unknown perpetrator.

The proclaimed death of the painting reveals more than the decline of an artistic medium; it exposes a deeper crisis in the modern understanding of beauty and meaning. As beauty migrated from museums and galleries into markets, technologies, and everyday commodities, painting lost its privileged space as a site of contemplation and inner resonance. The gap between the artist’s existential vision and a consumption-driven public continued to widen, until ugliness was accepted as a new measure of truth. Yet even in its declared death, the painting remains a silent witness to humanity’s long struggle with pain, exploitation, and loss. Its absence does not signify the end of beauty, but rather its transformation into a dispersed, fleeting presence—one that continues to question our values, our choices, and the kind of civilization we are still willing to defend.

The proclamation of the death of the painting, as it emerges throughout this reflective trajectory, does not signify the disappearance of art so much as it reveals a radical transformation in the sites and criteria of beauty. Beauty has not vanished; rather, it has departed from its traditional spaces, migrating through streets, commodities, technologies, and functions, manifesting itself in new forms that no longer resemble those shaped by classical aesthetic consciousness. Between a painting that has lost its power to affect and an audience that no longer possesses the time for contemplation, the gap has widened to the point where ugliness has sometimes become the most truthful measure of expressing the tragedy of the age.

Yet the artist’s grief for the painting remains legitimate, for it once stood as a witness to a humanity that sought salvation through beauty rather than consumption. Perhaps the essential question is not whether the painting has died, but whether humanity itself has changed so profoundly that it can no longer listen to the call of beauty.

In this sense, the painting appears not so much dead as suspended between two eras, bearing witness to the fracture of an old relationship between art and life, and announcing—through its final silence—the tragedy of a civilization that has replaced contemplation with speed, meaning with utility, and beauty with the market.

Read: The Heritage in Theatre

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Souad Khalil, hailing from Libya, is a writer, poet, and translator. She has been writing on culture, literature and other general topics.

The post Death of Painting and Migration of Beauty first appeared on Sindh Courier.