Have the poets left anything for me to write poems about?And have you recognized the beloved's abode after much guessing and doubt?
Do speak to me, O Ablah’s dwelling in “Jiwaa’” where my beloved does live.
Good morn, Abla’s home! May your mornings be blessed, and may you be protected from mischief.
Antarah ibn Shaddad Al-Absi (525–608 AD)
For some inexplicable reason, over the past two years, these particular lines have persistently surfaced in my mind whenever the deadline for my monthly article looms. I've always been inclined to begin with them, but invariably, they seemed incongruous with the article's theme or the issue at hand. As is my habit, I would delay writing the article, hoping the idea would mature and fully form in my mind tomorrow, the day after, or perhaps sometime during that very day. Yet, each time, I found myself falling behind schedule.
This time, since the theme of this issue is art, I decided to start with the opening lines of Antarah’s poem or qasida and then see where the discussion leads. Fortunately, I finally found the right angle to incorporate the verse into the article, bringing it out of my subconscious, which echoes with the opening lines of this poem every month.
The poet, in the opening lines of his poem, expresses the same confusion I experienced when writing about art. Is there something new, or an angle that hasn’t been addressed by writers in the field of art? Just as the poet described his own bewilderment in speaking of his beloved’s charm more than 1,500 years ago—his struggle to find something to add or say when poets before him had seemingly said everything.
In fact, this is a logical question, but I believe the answer is somewhat complex. From my perspective, topics may indeed be repetitive, but people, their experiences, and their perspectives differ. And this is where renewal lies. To affirm this, poets have not stopped composing poetry to this day! Based on this, we will approach the subject of art from this perspective.
At first glance, when the word "art" is mentioned, what comes to mind (or perhaps it’s just me) is painting. However, art has many forms and fields. When we refer to an artist, we might mean visual artists, sculptors, expressionists, or performance artists. Poetry and literature are forms of art as well. A talented athlete is often colloquially referred to as an artist, and so are singers, actors, dancers, musicians, and creative architects. In essence, anyone who is talented in their craft is truly an artist.
If we broaden the definition of art, our perception of creativity and beauty expands. Some might argue that the true definition of art doesn’t apply to what I’ve mentioned above, and I wouldn’t necessarily disagree when discussing the art world as an industry and market. It wouldn’t make sense to compare Picasso to someone who paints as a hobby. However, if their work pleases them or others, they are still an artist—even if they haven’t reached the depth or expertise of a seasoned, professional artist.
This doesn’t diminish their value. If the art is good, it will impose itself. And if it doesn’t meet the highest standards, that’s okay, as long as the person is honest with themselves and their emotions. Practicing any form of art is often a creative energy that demands expression through persistence and repetition—just like the verse at the start of this article.
As for whether the work deserves to hang on the walls of the Louvre alongside the Mona Lisa, that’s a discussion for specialists and not the essence of the matter.
We have a saying in the Kingdom, often used humorously to describe someone who loves or admires many people, implying a lack of sincerity or seriousness in their affection. The saying goes: "The heart is a shop, and everyone has a place!" Similarly, I say, let us make art a shop where everyone has a place..
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