The Rateb Seddik Museum is the newest in town, inaugurated last May by artist Salah Al-Meleigy now replaced by Ahmed Abdel Ghany as the chairman of the Fine Arts Sector at the Ministry of Culture, and housing the work of the late artist and his wife. Well-known as one of the pioneers of Egyptian art, Seddik was born in 1917 and went to study in London in 1936, returning to bequeath a remarkable legacy. The unpaved road that leads to his former house in one of the poorest areas of Munib, Giza makes for a harsh, dusty trip. But the architecture, designed by the legendary Hassan Fathy as a house for the artistic couple, makes up for the experience. In 1994, Seddik donated his house to the Ministry of Culture, to be converted into a museum to include his collection, but he sadly died before he could see his dream come true. For 20 years, what is more, Seddik's house remained closed and deserted, neglected by the ministry. Meanwhile, the surrounding area had dramatically changed to the worse, with a shanty town emerging in pace of the green. Renovation work begun in May 2013 were finally adopted by Minister Saber Arab, who preserved Fathy's design. The 4,200-metre house was thus converted into an integrated cultural centre that now includes a museum, library, an open-air theatre, a small hostel for foreign artists, a research centre and four well-equipped studios for pottery, painting, heritage and traditional crafts, and photography. When I arrived at the complex it was Tuesday morning, time for a painting workshop for the local children, who showed huge enthusiasm for drawing. This made the information that the place has no financial resources all the more saddening. The children hardly have access to paper and colours, while the lithography, traditional arts and photography studios are closed. The two galleries of the museum proper are somewhat too small for a museum, but they contain half of the collection, with oil paintings testifying to Seddik's fascination with the Abrahamic prophets: Ibrahim about to slaughter his son Ismail and Cain and Abel struggling stand side by side with women's portraits and landscapes. One graphite sketch playfully illustrates fingers, typifying the artist's interest in his tools. A whole section is dedicated to sculptures by the artist's wife Aida Shehata, who passed away a few years before Seddik. Her sculptures are both naïve and very beautiful: all in white gypsum, they look fresh and cheerful, depicting such everyday scenes as a cat yawning and stretching its legs. Al-Meleigy says the importance of this museum is that it is located in a slum area, which has long been neglected and deprived of cultural services. The cultural centre is intended to cater to the talents of the local children and young people, and to generate appreciation of the visual arts and awareness of beauty. As artist Khaled Al-Samahy, the director of the museum, explains, however, the place lacks any budget. To organise classes, Al-Samahy resorted to donations from other artists and public figures. “The cultural centre and the museum offer a great opportunity for the local families to participate in cultural activities free of charge,” Al-Samahy said, frequently interrupting our conversation to attend to groups of children in person, “something that never happened before. But, aside from the financial issue, the road to the museum should have been paved before the inauguration. I feel sorry for my visitors, most of whom do not come back.” There is something tragic about an LE15 million project that fails to pay attention to basic amenities and then ends up without a budget. The classes lack not only financial support but also qualified teachers, with Fine Arts graduates refusing to make the journey on a daily basis. “What can you do,” Al-Samahy concluded. “We are trying to handle the situation with what modest resources are available to us. But it must be said that, if this project is to stay alive, a proper budget will have to be provided by the ministry.”
