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My Homeland - Curated by Dia Azzawi

My Homeland - Curated by Dia Azzawi

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Published by Good-Bye Blue-Sky
We, who left our homeland each carrying his reasons and dreams, were also tormented by the illusion of return. A year and it will pass? But the years passed and we have become comfortable with our new lives. The days were repeating often… Wars came and the graves and prisons expanded all over the homeland that we started searching for excuses to ward off the delusion of return.

We often think of her when we remember what we carried with us of her youthful images, believing that what is in our memory is enough to return us to that beautiful time. And we wonder in amazement when we exchange our failure with delving deeper into mundane life.

As the years passed the homeland became more distant and we started to hear much talk. They talk about her in the varying languages of the world, and we are baffled by that chatter to the point of doubt since words were manipulated and lies became so common that they developed in the crowds seeds of unrest.

Forgetting was our solace, be it about the homeland we left behind or the new place we now call home. And because we are foreigners, we forgive ourselves the confusion of places. When friends who have visited the homeland inform us that she is not what is in our dreams, we pretend not to listen to what they say.

We are painting her from our place of exile as if we live there. It is the return
without reproach.

D. Azzawi,

London, 2nd Feb. 2010

http://www.artfacts.net/en/exhibition/my-homeland-expression-of-iraqi-artists-238894/overview.html
We, who left our homeland each carrying his reasons and dreams, were also tormented by the illusion of return. A year and it will pass? But the years passed and we have become comfortable with our new lives. The days were repeating often… Wars came and the graves and prisons expanded all over the homeland that we started searching for excuses to ward off the delusion of return.

We often think of her when we remember what we carried with us of her youthful images, believing that what is in our memory is enough to return us to that beautiful time. And we wonder in amazement when we exchange our failure with delving deeper into mundane life.

As the years passed the homeland became more distant and we started to hear much talk. They talk about her in the varying languages of the world, and we are baffled by that chatter to the point of doubt since words were manipulated and lies became so common that they developed in the crowds seeds of unrest.

Forgetting was our solace, be it about the homeland we left behind or the new place we now call home. And because we are foreigners, we forgive ourselves the confusion of places. When friends who have visited the homeland inform us that she is not what is in our dreams, we pretend not to listen to what they say.

We are painting her from our place of exile as if we live there. It is the return
without reproach.

D. Azzawi,

London, 2nd Feb. 2010

http://www.artfacts.net/en/exhibition/my-homeland-expression-of-iraqi-artists-238894/overview.html

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Published by: Good-Bye Blue-Sky on Sep 02, 2010
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10/22/2012

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MY HOME LAND
D. Azzawi, R.Nasiri, G.Gha’ab.K. Risan, M. Obaidi, N.Yahya, A. Al-Bahrani
 3rd March. 3rd April 2010
 
Artsawa Gallery, Dubai
U.A.E.T:+ 971 43408660 F:+ 971 43408661www.artsawa.comP.O.Box 212592 Dubai,U.A.E.
 
Cu
rated by Dia Azawi
.
 Expression of Iraqi Artists :the vision of Iraq as a memory of recent daily life in the form of all objects of art 
 From the beginning of the 1980s, many artists and intellectuals began
leaving Iraq for various reasons. The trend continued after the rst Gulf 
war and the very harsh sanctions that followed. Since the 2003 occupa-
tion, a new wave of migration started. For the rst time, My Home Land 
invites seven Iraqi artists from different parts of the Diaspora to exploretheir feelings towards the catastrophic events that occur daily in defer-
ent Iraqi cities. Living in different parts of the world, 
 Dia Azzawi, Rafa Nasiri, 
Ghasan Gha’ab
, Kreem Risan, 
 Mahmoud Obaidi, Nazar Yahya, and Ahmed Bahrani, mount a unique exhibition of Objects using dif 
- ferent techniques and variety of materials, producing a diverse body of 
work, tracing and exploring the paths of their childhoods’ memories, 
mythologies, histories and concerns for the daily life of a country under occupation. The result is a spiritual voyage that expresses their feelingsof deep sadness and hopes for a country without humiliations and failures.
MY HOME LAND
 
 It is the Return Without Reproach.
We, who left our homeland each carrying his reasons and dreams, were alsotormented by the illusion of return. A year and it will pass? But the years passed and we have become comfortable with our new lives. The days wererepeating often… Wars came and the graves and prisons expanded all overthe homeland that we started searching for excuses to ward off the delusionof return. We often think of her when we remember what we carried withus of her youthful images, believing that what is in our memory is enoughto return us to that beautiful time. And we wonder in amazement when weexchange our failure with delving deeper into mundane life.  As the years passed the homeland became more distant and we started tohear much talk. They talk about her in the varying languages of the world,
and we are bafed by that chatter to the point of doubt since words were
manipulated and lies became so common that they developed in the crowdsseeds of unrest. Forgetting was our solace, be it about the homeland we left behind or thenew place we now call home. And because we are foreigners, we forgiveourselves the confusion of places. When friends who have visited thehomeland inform us that she is not what is in our dreams, we pretend not tolisten to what they say. We are painting her from our place of exile as if we live there. It is the return
without reproach.
D.Azzawi 
 London, 2nd Feb. 2010
اك ،مح باس م ح ّك ،ل اناغ يذل نام قات ول ل ـر ةس ـ احي ول هرح ءاج ..رك اي رت ،اتا ئم انردجون انر ىح ل وط ىع ول ربا سوتن اب رن رخ  ب ، ول ه ام ذعف ام اب هوم، ةل اهو م ام اح ام دهاشنامدع ن،  مزل ل ىل اتاع ي اترك. ا ىل رصناب اشف دنم رل ن انر ل دب ول رم اكل هدن،ة لال اب اع وي ، لل دس  دب ،اس ف وسول خ ىح رثرل شي ام اح ىح ف ال ا ياك لاتل ل ع اك ءوس اكرم انؤزع ال اك .ةلرن ءابرغ ان اندب ن ذل ديد ا ع  اهاناغءاقد م ل  م ري امدع ،ةم خ ان ا ءا دب رهاظن مح ل سرت اك ل ان.نولويول ان ،اف وم انأك ، انام م اسرن ن اه.ال اخ
زل ءاضدل

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