A communion of artists in the desert
What is art if not a chance to share beauty, and also to share heartbreak?
What is art, if not a way to better understand oneself, and all that has happened to our bodies on this earth?
What is art, if not a way to explore ones dreams, by exploring oneself?
What is art, if not a glimmer of connection in a world that, despite its contradictory facade, is painfully disconnected?
I recently returned from spending several months on the Jordanian-Syrian border working in a refugee camp there. This time held many experiences and thoughts that cannot be spoken of so publicly on the internet, but one I would like to share with you was from one of my last weeks there, when I was asked to paint a mural on the side of a kindergarten building in the camp. It couldn't be anything too fancy, for there was neither the time nor the resources, but I was excited all the same, for the chance to create, and to use creating as a vehicle for service, . Despite this excitement, I was unaware in the beginning of the greatest blessing that this project would bring; that came in the form of several young faces, curious as to what I was doing, and eager to see the process. The eagerness in the eyes of two young boys was greatly strengthened when I asked them (in extremely mediocre Arabic) if they would like to join in. They had such fun watching the colors be mixed, and took the utmost care, with gentle hands and lips bitten in concentration, to paint the areas I pointed out to them.
Shortly afterward (perhaps after seeing that I don’t bite) I was approached by two young men, probably middle teens, who will go by Mohommed and Hamid. Mohammed spoke fairly comprehensive English, and thus I could escape the prison that is my deficient Arabic, and have a real conversation unfettered by grammatical stumbling. I learned that Mohommed is a poet, and that Hamid is an aspiring illustrator. Both boys spoke passionately about their pursuit of craft, and all that they put in and take away. Mohammed spoke broadly on how he hoped to convey the journey of his people, a struggle in any sense of the word, through his poetry. Hamid spoke of wanting to become an illustrator for Disney, of all his ideas. We also talked about simpler things, favorite movies, favorite musicians.
When I looked at them soon after they had declared their dreams, with laughter in their eyes as they recounted some story from one of the Fast & Furious films, I found myself looking at such a portrait of resilience. At hopes, dreams, an appreciation for art, and at laughter, from such young faces who had seen and experienced so many terrible things. This was one of the most beautiful communions of artists I have ever experienced, and was such a testament to the role that art can take in telling stories, fostering connections, and relating on a transcendental level. I wanted to share this story in the hope that it would humanize a few of the faces (in a sea of hundreds of thousands) of refugees searching for safety, and for the chance for their dreams to grow.
