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=> Crucify The Sculptor? Hmmm...

Crucify The Sculptor? Hmmm...
Posted by Emil (Guest) squaremoon@emilsdiary.com - Thursday, October 20 2005, 14:56:43 (CEST)
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I remember the first time I happened upon Farid's sculpture near the San Francisco Civic Center. I was in my early twenties and was in the city from Modesto with another queer Assyrian friend. I also remember being fully surprised and delighted. Kind of proud. I had no idea who the subject was or who had sculpted him, and even if I had I would have forgotten. But I would have remembered the feeling- the awe.
And I think for me this has been true with all of life and art. I rarely remember the names of the books I am reading, or their authors- only the power of the work remains with me, the emotive vibe, and if I am changed in some way.
Heck, this is a comlement- not meant to sound underhanded.
I would be thrilled if someone walked away from my writings feeling empowered or even overwhelmed enough to question their phobias- even if they couldn't recollect the exact words or my name.
I can't believe, as in Maggie's case, how accessible and talented Farid is- never mind what we may think of him and what our exact exchanges with him as the man, the artist. Obviously personalities get the better of us. Still, the work itself speaks volumes.
How fortunate do I feel, as one queer Assyrian in a world that can feel and seem so estranged, so distant, too big, too impersonal, to know there is a man out there doing this kind of work and on such a large scale, representing a part of us, shaping our nebulous inception to a three-dimensionally brilliant and immediate state.
Does the church do this?
It is not Christianity that will ultimately distinguish us, our independent ideas as people, our struggles, hopes, individual dreams. It is art. Christianity blurs us, blends us into a borrowed faith that washes our humanness and history under a cloak of obscurity. Art, which we do not acknowledge and encourage in our families, our children, our culture, reveals our personal adventures, true urges and desires, as well as the mythical, the historical, perhaps even the actual.
We're so fortunate and so ungrateful. We lament that we don't have enough recognition and acknowledgment in the world, we feel unseen and unheard, and when someone does something about it we complain, we crucify them. How self-sabotaging is that!
An artist is not a caterer, a slave. He/she is not society's receptionist taking down our dictations. He is also a historian, an autonomous philospher, has ideas, has opinions, and if he is any good he will challenge us, contradict us, and yes- even drive us crazy.
These are good things. These are a few of the provocative ingredients that have moved many a civilization forward.
It's ironic that Farid as a sculptor, an artist of three-dimensional proportions, would not only give shape to our past through art, but would ultimately contribute another dimension to our way of thought as it stands on one leg today...



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