The interview: Mohamad Hafez
The interview: Mohamad Hafez
Mohamad Hafez is a Syrian-American architect and artist. He talks to Louisa Waugh about how he is homesick for Syria and how his art is about that.
Mohamad Hafez. PAUL SPECHT
You were born in Damascus, then you spent much of your childhood in Saudi Arabia before moving back to Syria as a teenager. Tell us about growing up in such different places?
It’s strange, but growing up in Saudi Arabia was the best childhood! I used to go to school by bus and I looked forward to it every day because we would drive 200 kilometres across the desert. I think that’s where I began to love being alone, especially because I was one of those strange children who didn’t like sports. I was 14 when my family moved back to Damascus for a few years, and back home in Syria the streets were full of life. So when my parents took their siestas I would explore the streets of the old city. I still remember some of the smells, like the jasmine flowers over house walls. We call it Damascene jasmine, and I loved it. But, after only a few years as a Damascus teenager, I moved again to the US, to study architecture.
One of your art exhibitions is of very small streets in Damascus with Victorian mirrors. How did you change from an architect to an artist? And why did you make very small models?
I started making models when I was at architecture school in the US. The Damascus models are not real streets. They are romantic ideas and from my homesickness for Syria. After I finished architecture studies, I stayed in the US. I spent many years working as an architect for multi-national companies, including oil companies! I am sorry to say that now! But slowly my art was more important. I wanted to think about what home means, especially if like me you lost your home. My pain is not like the pain of people still inside Syria, but the last time I could go back home was in 2011. That was just a very short trip to Damascus to see my family. Then the war started and I knew I couldn’t go back for a long time. So my memories of Syria are from before the war. I fell in love with the idea of Damascus, and my memories of it. So my work is about my love of street art and activism.
You have deep homesickness for Syria. But does the US feel like home?
I live in Connecticut, and America does feel like home now. Damascus is also home, but in a very different way. Because, you know, home isn’t just a physical place. I have two different ideas in my head: one is about my strong thoughts on the Middle East, especially Syria – and the other is about the West. The two ideas live together happily. I’m happy to be American. But I don’t like the way the US government treats migrants and problems with migration. Migrants built the US. The US needs to remember that and its principles. I made art about migration, and migrants and refugees forced to leave their homes We need better policies on both problems.
Do you see connections between architecture and wellbeing, and between the way we design cities and violence?
Yes! Through Syria’s history, we understood this connection between architecture, beauty, and wellbeing. In homes in Damascus, for example, the windows face east and west, for the sunlight. And the design of the homes gives safety, privacy, and rooms to welcome guests. In the streets there are lines of trees to give shade from the sun, and to make walking a pleasure even in the heat. Another tradition was to build religious buildings from different faiths close to each other, like churches and mosques. This made peaceful existence possible. People sat together in public parks and gardens. Now I don’t know who could bring together different interests and religious groups inside Syria. But my models of Damascus streets have secret messages, especially for people in Syria, They are messages of hope and to wake up.
What art are you making now and why?
I’m working with cultural and archaeological organizations and institutions in the US, to teach young Syrians and Middle Easterners living around the world about their traditions. I want them to think about the rich architecture of our region. And I opened a ‘third space’ project called Pistachio. It’s a cultural room where I invite friends for poetry and food, and to become supporters of peaceful change. This is my activism. It always comes from my homesickness for Syria.
A short film about Mohamad Hafez, called ‘A broken house’, was shortlisted for an Oscar. You can see it at mohamadhafez.com
NOW TRY THE ORIGINAL:
https://newint.org/features/2022/10/25/interview-mohamad-hafez
(This article is in easier English so it is possible that we changed the words, the text structure, and the quotes.)
