Makram Hunein: Visual grammarian

Art is a liberation steeped in history. But even the most daring need to learn the uses of economy and self-restraint

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'I cannot forget Charlie Chaplin's shoes. From these shoes, I learned proportionality. You cannot see these shoes and not instantly recognise them. This is how I came to appreciate the importance of illustration'

What is art? A stage for the dramatisation of totemic symbolism drawn from distant tributaries, inaccessible to the immediacy of life? Or a weaving of strands which run back into the past, and superimpose the joys and sorrows of one generation upon that of another? Or, is it just a gesture of chaotic freedom, a random breaking of the rules? These are just a few of the questions Makram Hunein has had to grapple with over the past half-century of his career. Little did the man who was to become a landmark of the Egyptian art world know what was awaiting him when he arrived from Beni Sueif in the late 1950s to attend the Fine Arts College in Cairo.

Hunein graduated in 1962, and was immediately offered a teaching job at his alma mater. But his heart was elsewhere. Instead, he joined the magazine Rose El-Youssef, before moving to Al- Ahram, where he now edits the creative arts page. He is an acclaimed painter, an astute critic, and the author of a book

about the pioneers of the plastic arts in Egypt. As an artist, he is best-known for his murals, one of which -- a mosaic -- occupies a prominent riverside location in Cairo. Another massive work envisions the relationship between the media and democracy. He has won several international awards, and his engraved portrayal of the Aswan High Dam is a key part of the country's Nasserist heritage.

Hunein was only nine when his art teacher walked into the classroom and gave the students an unusual assignment. Having recited a line of poetry, he asked the children to turn it into a visual image. The line was this: "Branches leaned down on the river, like a loving mother embracing her baby." As the students went to work on their assignment, it was Hunein's pictorial rendition of this verse that caught the teacher's eye. Hunein still recalls the name of that teacher, Fathi Bekir, who first introduced him to the magic world of painting. Bekir had that particular painting framed and hung in the classroom. The child Hunein knew, right then, that art was to be his calling.

"Everything around me inspired me to paint -- still life and animals, horses and women with long necks." Hunein started reading and researching, devouring every art book he could get his hands on, studying Coptic and Pharaonic art at every opportunity.

Today Hunein can sit back, close his eyes slightly, gaze into the distance, and list from memory the "Who's who" of the art world, both here and abroad. He speaks with the academic's ease and the artist's eye for detail. Rembrandt (1606-1669) is someone he particularly admires. "He is the greatest Dutch artist barring none. I am fascinated by the self-portrait he did when he was

living in poverty: you can see the pain shining out of his face."

Matisse (1869-1954) is another of his favourite artists. Hunein admires the way the post-Impressionist identified with his own work, to the point where he had trouble looking at his paintings. In 1908, Matisse wrote, "I do not want to leave my paintings hanging on the wall, for they remind me of those intense moments that I lived through. I don't like to be reminded of them in periods when I am at peace."

Art is more than just a skill, it is an expression of knowledge, culture, and personal maturity. The vision of the artist is born out of inspiration, and the impulse to convey this inspiration to others. The arts have their roots in tradition, in the past. Painters, sculptors, and photographers all try to capture an image that transcends their own lives, that is public at least in part. Hunein is one of those. His palette may be quiet or riotous, but he is always searching for beauty, for a special form of beauty, a beauty that is touched by some legacy from the past, and which results from the fusion of more than one of life's many elements.

Ask Hunein about abstract art, and he will take you on an unexpected journey into the past. "The whole world must be aware that the Arab carpets made in Andalusia were the origin of abstract art. The revival of Arab art and furniture is a return to that past. Islamic architecture is famous for its rich capacity for improvisation."

Art, Hunein believes, is a language, but one which has its own grammar, its own myriad of dialects. "Every colour in a painting has a tune and a voice that penetrates deep into the soul of all those who encounter it. Red says one thing, and green says something else. Now, if you fuse red with green, if you juxtapose red and blue, you'll get a totally different tune. Mixing colours is like creating a harmony with multiple registers. Every painting

has its own rhythm and scale. The painting that people understand is the one that speaks to their heart. Moreover, even the sheer size of the painting matters. Its length and its width and the shape of the frame all matter. Even the place in which you hang the painting is crucial."

In his art, Hunein explores a whole range of themes -- Pharaonic and Coptic, Islamic and folkloric. In particular, he is fascinated by religious icons. "Icon painting started in Egypt, before spreading to Antioch and then Byzantium, as Christian travellers headed towards Constantinople."

Another folk art he has studied is the art of tattoos. Early tattoos represented amulets of Pharaonic and Coptic origin. A lion holding a sword, a fish, twin fishes -- all these were symbols meant to defend the tattooed person against evil. The Coptic and Islamic eras brought their own varieties with them, the best known of which are the images of Mar Girgis, Abu Zeid Al-Hilali, and the man with the twin swords. The most common type of Coptic tattoo is the cross, a simple form with a powerful message. Through all these different variations, however, there is an uninterrupted flow of history, which mutates as time goes by, and as the collective consciousness shifts its focus. "Don't the images and tattoos of Mar Girgis resemble those of Horus, riding his horse, slaughtering evil?" Hunein wonders aloud. "This is a legacy transposed."

Hunein is an avid reader, but even while reading, his mind stays on a visual track. "I love the writings of the late Luis Awad and Hussein Fawzi. When Hussein Fawzi wrote about music, I could almost hear his words as melodies in my ear. I would draw and think of his words. I would visualise soulful fingers playing the violin." Hunein pauses, and digresses. His restless mind has called up the memory of films, and in particular the imagery of black and white cinema. "I cannot forget Charlie Chaplin's shoes. From these shoes, I learned proportionality. You cannot see these shoes and not instantly recognise them. This is how I came to appreciate the importance of illustration. For example, when you draw illustrations for a novel by the late Ihsan Abdel-Quddus, you have to make it resonate with his own ideas. You cannot part ways with the novel. Your visual creation and his imagery should proceed in the same direction. Otherwise, the illustration will be all wrong."

One of Hunein's favourite paintings is The Resurrection by the 16th Century Spanish painter, El Greco. For many, this canvas epitomises triumph over death. But for Hunein, it is even more than that. "It is a visual representation of Gothic art. The forms are all stretched towards heaven, seeking salvation. It's as if El Greco had drawn invisible lines linking his images, invisible lines of spirituality, that surpassed in their effect anything produced by earlier Renaissance artists. The Resurrection combines two opposite forces of gravity. One is heading upwards, with Christ rising to heaven; the other is heading downwards, with the bodies of the guards collapsing underneath."

Artist and critic, journalist and art historian, Hunein is not your common multi-faceted persona with an encyclopaedic knowledge, yet prone to superficial erudition. He knows how to delve, with total focus, into the finest aspects of art. He notes the nuances in each artist's work, the smallest propensities that may escape the untrained eye. For example, Hunein can talk for hours about the way Mahmoud Mokhtar approaches the totally covered body of the country woman. Mokhtar, Egypt's leading sculptor of the early 20th century, depicted peasant women carrying earthen pots, relaxing, shopping, selling produce from their fields, posing in patriotic attitudes, softening with expectation as they go to meet their lovers, basking in the authority of powerful husbands. In all of these situations, he sculpted the female body as supple but substantial, muscular but appealing, resilient when motionless, as well as dynamic in movement. "Mokhtar knew how

to abbreviate, how to minimise the need for detail, so as to enhance the aesthetic effect. You see a woman carrying her jar, and the jar looks like a continuation of the body, an extension of its dynamism."

One of Hunein's favourite local painters is the late Bikar, who was also a poet and a journalist. Bikar was well- known for encouraging his fellow artists to work for the mass media. One of his paintings, Motherhood, is now on display at the Modern Art Museum. "In this painting, Bikar creates an unusual composition" Hunein explains. "The head of the peasant woman is set in the exact centre of the painting. The movement of the eyes is precisely calculated, and the perspective is masterful. The colours are used to accentuate the three-dimensional effect and the light is distributed with geometric precision, conveying immense self-restraint."

Self-restraint is one thing that Hunein has learned over the years. He enthuses about his work just as he does about the work of others, but every now and then he pauses and measures his words, gauging the public's reaction to what he has to say. Artists should take risks. Otherwise they cannot express our deepest fears and hopes. But even artists need to watch their step occasionally, otherwise they may lose the sympathy of the public.

Hunein lives in a villa not far from the Pyramids, which also doubles as his workshop. He is married to Nadia Khalil, a professor of botany at the National Research Centre. The couple have three children, Karim, Michel, and Mena. One of them, Karim, studied art, and is now an interior and exterior decorator.

Before I leave, I ask Hunein about the way he sees art and the future of man. In reply, he cites the words of Herbert Marcuse: "Art and aesthetic studies are essential to liberate man from the hold of repression, alienation, and despair."

By Samir Sobhi