Men in Tahrir Square's 25 January Revolution were kinder and more sensitive than at first anticipated, confesses the gender sensitive artist and academician Hoda Lutfi to Gamal Nkrumah The names of the next, post- elections leaders may already be pencilled like the perfect line of a prostitute's eyebrows, but the most convenient ploy for people to sabotage the promotion of politicians would be to parrot outmoded notions of gender. Even after Egypt's 25 January Revolution, it is not clear whether the new constitution will ensure that an Egyptian woman can be president. Even so, there is simply no logical recourse for women to achieve a vindication of their injured womanhood. Hearts were thumping in Tahrir Square, but that was not because mortar and shrapnel hit the ground bursting into flames. Tahrir Square was not a virtual battlefield with men of men mustering the courage to delve headlong into the combat zone. Having considered the anatomical details of her drawings, paintings and illustrations, we turn to the enthralling précis of gender relations. The conversation, however, was no bombastic polemic. Umm Kolthoum, the diva par excellence, is iconic Egypt. She is passionate, she is powerful, but she is all woman. The portrait of Umm Kolthoum with "Democracy is Coming" inscribed on her brow is arresting. She who sang, Ana Fad Beya We Malleit -- I am up to here and wearied. "The Armless Soldier", one of Hoda Lutfi's more pleasantly puzzling works, is not only powerless but the soldier in question is fetching to boot. As significant to this stoic soldier is what is not there. The gender conscious artist boldly frees the warrior of his arms, his realistic constraint. She ingeniously and discerningly subordinates the bronze colour of warlike men to unmanly, feminine, form and line. Feminine, because her hero is fettered, with his limbs severed and disarmed. Is he the frozen, silent hero of Hoda Lutfi or is he masculinity emasculated and deprived of manhood? In the forthcoming months, Egypt will start a transition which will give the country a new leadership, and the women of Egypt and the world will be waiting and watching to see how many of the new leaders will actually be women, not token figures, but women of substance. "Gender is the theme of this exhibition," Hoda Lutfi, internationally acclaimed visual artist and professor emeritus of cultural history at the AUC told Al-Ahram Weekly. Lutfi's women are no subordinate subjects, but their powerful imagery is contextually shaped as they position themselves in the power hierarchy of post-25 January Revolution Egypt. Theirs is a struggle for greater freedom of choice and liberty. Theirs is no mere fight for gender equality. Theirs is an ongoing struggle for holding their ground in public to open up spaces for women to question hegemonic masculinities and overturn current oppressive gender relations. "I teach a course on gender with a focus on femininity. So this particular exhibition and the lecture that precedes it is a radical departure from my usual repertoire. My focus is on masculinity," Lutfi extrapolates. "This lecture and the accompanying exhibition coincided with International Women's Day which falls on 8 March, but it was scheduled long before the 25 January Revolution. It is rather refreshing that I can explore both in terms of imagery and expression the new kind of masculinity that I discovered in Tahrir Square." "Men With Balls", football that is, is a rather provocative composition of macho men hugging their precious balls. If armless is harmless, then sportsmen are the very embodiment of masculine physical prowess. Sportsmanship is an admirable quality of manliness. The men are touched with the spiritual fervour of revolutionary virility. Here man is at his most human and empathetic. Yet, their grip on their balls is an uncanny juxtaposition that dramatises the vanity of lithe masculinity. "The new Tahrir Square masculinity is not inspired or expressed by the use of violence. It has a decided focus on peaceful resistance in the face of repression. This is what left a deep impression on me," muses Lutfi. Lutfi tackles the prickly question of the feminine slogans adopted by the protesters in Tahrir Square. " Selmeya -- non-violent, peaceful is rendered in the feminine in the Arabic language. I focus on the kind of pacifism expressed in a positive fashion throughout the revolution in Tahrir Square. The men protesting eschewed the traditional masculine hegemonic roles and adopted the positive masculine personification of the protector, the guardian and this was even exhibited by the youthful neighbourhood vigilantes. For me as an artist, I was remodelling the iconic masculinity and making a man out of the beast." Lutfi delivered a lecture entitled "From Text to Image: Translating Masculinities" sponsored by the AUC's Centre for Translation Studies at the Oriental Hall, AUC Tahrir Campus. Lutfi then proceeded to officially open her exhilarating exhibition at Future Gallery, AUC Tahrir Campus. Then there is Lutfi's rendition of Barack Obama, all elongated body, but perceptibly American. Obama is decked out in the apparel of the Statue of Liberty, a feminine symbol no doubt, and one that perhaps underpins his own feebleness, ineffectiveness and fragility. Yet Obama is draped in Graeco- Roman garb, a male Sophia. Lutfi highlights in graphic images the interplay between women's interaction with masculine projections of power. She similarly pours scorn on powerful men's constructions of their own real and imagined masculinities, and explores in a creative context the injustice of gender relations. Constructions of masculinities often turn out to be paper tigers, expressions of state practices of control and repressive hegemony, the very objects of power and authority. They end up afire, like the burnt out police stations and all vestiges of power such as the castrated state security apparatus. In the aftermath of the 25 January Revolution, Egypt is undergoing subtle tonal gradations of colour and, of course, the occasional burst of light. These are all reflected in the works of Lutfi. "I Love Egypt" is a portrait of twins echoing the democratic and revolutionary impetus in bright red. "I have long enjoyed working on the idea of using dolls integrated into temporary art," Lutfi explains. Masculinity is often used as a euphemism for mastery. Femininity is also marketed as a byword for weakness. The restrictions on feminine movement either by confining outfits -- the Chinese historically had their women's movement restricted by the cruel habit of foot-binding, ironically taken as a sign of beauty. Certain Muslim societies draped their women in purdah ostensibly as a sign of purity, modesty and chastity. And, even Western women wear stiletto heels to highlight their vulnerability, yet another contrived emblem of feminine beauty. Perhaps the ultimate parody of purdah is "Batman and Catwoman", inspired by novelist Ahmed El-Aadi Don't Believe Her, projecting the latent fear of the female. Lutfi's poignant messages are often expressed through coded gestures. Hoda Lutfi's exhibition runs through 17 March, Future Gallery, AUC Tahrir Campus.
