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The Cemetery of Things


“Then I realized I had been murdered.
They looked for me in cafes, cemeteries, and churches .... but they did not find me.
They never found me?
No. They never found me”


From "The Fable And Round of the Three Friends", Poet in New York (1939), Garcia Lorca


Images carry a sense of becoming when they freeze a particular moment, yet the artistic element expresses itself through a disappearance of self-found within and without us, as though art were a refugee, not unlike when we seek refuge, it comes to us bearing the truth; especially when the limits of thought are enclosed by a hedge of responsibility. Is there a space beyond poetry and images where we can nurture our rights and illusions? I mean to emphasize the need for abstraction on the one hand, and inventing alternative ways to describe life and the future of expression, and how the content of art is a science that constantly reinvents itself to describe disappearance before accessing it on the other. If this disappearance was inevitable, then let secrets find themselves a grave, and for the grave let there be a witness, testifying to the very essence of mystery and the future of disappearance. So let us bury our secrets like we bury our martyrs, thus art becomes the cemetery of things; a sacred and eternal cemetery; the viewer keeps staring at the invisible in us, only to see his own secret; he exposes it to himself, and himself alone, whilst thinking of others’ secrets.


Wafa Hourani - Palestinian Artist - Photography - Installation - Science Fiction






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