From Ehab's solo exhibition at the Art Gallery Male, on till 29 July.
Our mutual friend, an artist herself, describes Ehab Abdulla as a gentle giant. And he is – some might even be tempted to say ‘slow’, too, until they walk with him. The man has a giant's stride.
Ehab is also quick with his hands, though they tremble from a side effect of his medication. He paints quickly, intensely, like he might lose his entire train of thought forever if he stops for too long. And this urgency can be felt in his pieces, conveyed by his generous use of paint and almost brutal strokes.
Ehab's work, helped by his large canvasses, compels you to feel something, and it’s usually intense. This happens regardless of your aesthetic judgment. I doubt anybody can go 'meh' and be done with an Ehab. To me, experiencing his work feels like confronting something primordial, more often than not.
But that doesn't mean he can't be subtle or tender. The painting of his mother and wife for instance is evidence enough for this. In that painting, his wife Lucy reclines on the sofa, while his mother is in the foreground, likely just come in to visit. Despite some cool elements, the overall feeling is one of tremendous warmth. It's a serene domestic scene, composed and rendered with almost tangible devotion.
Deeper in the gallery are more sombre portraits – we see Ehab’s subjects counting the days with marks like those on prison walls, a recurring motif in his art. These works are pitiless, and direct in their expression of his and his companion's misery – seemingly endless and claustrophobic while in the throes of a depressive period. A depressed person's mood leaks out, like the blue of the canvas, and envelops those around them. Ehab has been very forthcoming about his struggles with mental health, and this part of the exhibition gives them colour and form.
Meanwhile, on the other end of the spectrum, i.e. mania, there are Basquiat-like figures with bulging eyes and open mouths with sharp teeth – it's like they can rip a person to shreds with just their mouth. Which is what mania does: you say a lot of hurtful things to those you love most. And in the depression that follows, you are reminded of those very actions through memories that surface like nightmares. There is guilt, there is shame. And mostly, there is pain. You see this in the subdued self-portraits.
But there is joy and playfulness here too – there's even a painting with a mundu pattern, which I think is the weakest piece here. There's a stunning work depicting fish, an easy favourite, and a painting of Ehab's nephew, his head full of curls.
But you must know that for the most part, Ehab isn't a melancholy man – he is sensitive, more so than most, but he loves to laugh. Even at things he did while in a manic state, because some of that is insane. I think despite its seriousness and its toll on the people you love, there is an inherent funniness about being 'mad' or 'losing it'.
When Ehab and I meet, we don't talk about our shared 'illness' that much, our chats are mostly about food, film, ageing, rap, and more recently, swimming. We've swum together a few times now, and one day, he asked me if he could give me a comment on my swimming. 'Sure,' I said. I mean why would you even ask?
'You're doing it all wrong!' he told me. His words, like his art, frequently carry that bluntness and in the right context they can be very funny. And I realised then why he had asked.
Why should you visit the exhibition, though? Why is Ehab important? Like I’ve said, it's because there's plenty of power in these canvases. Perhaps you'll hate them, but if that's the case, at least you felt something strong about his art. As for me, I am glad Ehab's work has a recognised place in our own art scene, one that has long venerated realism to the scene’s detriment. It fills me with hope now that the children of today can go to a gallery and see what art could be, so that they have a chance to think of more possibilities.
Note: The exhibition is on at Art Gallery Male until the 29th of July. Viewing times are Saturday - Thursday: 10am - 12pm and 1pm - 5pm.
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