By Lubna Abdel-Aziz Sadly, it is the end of an era! Subsequent to the passing of Egypt's Nobel laureate Naguib Mahfouz last summer, we now mourn the passing of Egypt's premier painter Salah Taher. We lament the closure of our glory days when such giants enriched the artistic and cultural scene in Egypt. They were the pillars that constituted a remarkable renaissance, the influence of which spread well beyond Arab borders. A source of great national pride, their likes we may never see again. The curtain came down 6 February on the long and fruitful life of the grand master and his sublime art. While we grieve his loss, we take solace in the countless wondrous gifts he offered the world of art for more than half a century. He was more than prolific, he was a man possessed. His art took over his life, and his life was consumed by his art. Of average height and build, Taher's demeanour was daunting. He walked like a colossus, unintentionally diminishing all around him. No casual, dreamy, absent-minded, artist was he. Taher was strong physically, as well as strong-minded, aggressive and imposing. Conversant on all subjects, he rubbed shoulders with the intellectual élite, refusing to dally with the trivial, the trifling, the trite. A handsome man, he cut a noble figure, radiating his shining brilliance in any social surrounding, as forcefully as he did in his art. Taher was not without his gentle side. His mellow heart and glowing warmth were mostly reserved for his coarse canvas. It is there that he excelled the super ability of his gifts, the power of his brush, the jollity of his nature. He never masked his lust for life, which was part and parcel of his very essence. An epicure in every sense, he relished the finer things in life, art, music, literature, philosophy, psychology, astronomy, as well as gastronomy. At the start of his life, it would have been impossible to predict the heights to which Salah Taher would reach. Born in Cairo 1911, he graduated from the budding School of Fine Arts 1934 and assumed several teaching positions and numerous official appointments. He never abandoned his "magnificent obsession", his life's passion, his plain, rough, white, empty canvas. On it he would confer his loves, his hatreds, his joys, his sorrows, in electrifying colours, shapes and forms, throbbing with passion, burning with rage, to bewitch and bewilder generations of art lovers, forevermore. Searching for a personal style, young Taher dabbled in all of them, and ended up changing the course of modern art in Egypt. Like many masters who came before him, notably Picasso and Matisse, he worked in sculpture and drawings, and was a fashionable portraitist. The young artist followed an academic classic style which he soon abandoned in favour of impressionistic landscapes. He explored the vast Egyptian countryside, focussing on rural themes of proud villagers, particularly the village women. He then stumbled on classical music, which he absorbed instantly and so did his brush. Its abstract themes touched his unconscious, exploring the mysteries of life. Often compared to Pablo Picasso and Joan Miro', his brush began to depend on the emotional impact of colour and shape, convinced that painting was more important as an object of art, than as a representation of reality. One can detect the avant-garde influence of Russian painter Vassily Kandinsky, who championed a new form of art in 1910, which he called "abstract". Salah's aim was also to make painting more like music, which expresses general ideas and deep emotions, without the distraction of trying to represent nature, thus challenging the viewers' idea of the object or subject. If there ever is truth in the adage that "behind every great man, there is a woman" it is certainly true with Salah Taher. Among his many god-given gifts was his wife Aida -- a heavenly angel, the image of virtue, friendliness and goodness. Hers was the face you seek in a crowd at a moment of crisis, confident she would respond with grace and mercy. Her tender heart quivered with kindness for the lost souls, but she reserved the best for her Salah, and their only son, Ayman. To Salah, there could have been no better companion. Could he ever have reached the pinnacle without her loving, calm, patient, and untiring understanding? Salah was king of his castle, and his queen provided him with every comfort and convenience. Her refined nature sheltered and relaxed him, her tranquil purity lifted his spirits, her quiet approval urged and encouraged him. Her loss in 1988 was a traumatic blow to husband, son, and all who had been touched by her generosity. She had taken me under her wing when I was just 16, with the tenderness of a mother. She held my hand through all the ups and downs of my life. I cherish her memory and miss her to this day. Bereft of his life's companion, Salah furiously struggled on, singing his doleful song to his white canvas, which alone, was witness to his weeping. Salah, to me, was that larger than life, awe- inspiring figure, overwhelming me with his talent, his authority, his charm and charisma. I was among the fortunate few who came to know the gentleness of this giant's heart, as I sat for him, for hours on end. Mentor, teacher, idol, and above all, friend, he often called me his "daughter", and he will always be my spiritual father. Now, his energetic brush lies still, after years of endless labour. Salah Taher, quietly passed away, leaving his struggle behind, to join his life's soul- mate in heaven. His enormous legacy continues with his son Ayman, who follows in his father's footsteps, preserving his own artistic style and life-style. He combines the gentleness of his mother and the grandeur of his father. In this we find consolation and gratitude. As for this gentle giant -- his was a long and a good life. He would have accepted no other. He imparted his tremendous passion on canvas, depicting transcendental themes of bold brave strokes and vibrant, vivacious colours that are his gifts for posterity. Like the rest of history's giants, he will remain unrivalled in the superiority and intensity of his art. You should not paint the chair, but only what someone has felt about it. Edvard Munch (1863-1944)
