A one-hour tour was sufficient for Rania Khallaf to tune into black and white Black and White: Variations on an Old Theme is the title of the latest exhibition of the work of leading painter Gameel Shafeek (2-26 November), at Picasso Art Gallery in Zamalek. Some 25 paintings follow through Shafeek's trademark projects (monochromatic work was exclusively exhibited time and time again in 1989, 1990, 1994, 2000, 2001 and 2002), with the motifs for which the artist is best known -- the female figure, the horse, the fish -- occupying centre stage once again. "Black and white," Shafik says, "affords a sense of intimacy, allowing for deeper, ponderous ideas to come through. Technically it requires greater accuracy, however." He goes on to explain how the monochromatic technique "lets out the light", with the original brightness of the paper playing a central role. "That way, you get to deal with the things in themselves, the themes. Colour can be a huge distraction, as it increasingly is in our lives; in this obsessively colourful world, black and white can serve as an essence in some way." Along those lines, can one speak of a philosophy of monochrome art? "It's just the drive to go beyond the pollution," Shafeek retorts, "the chaos and the noise of our lives to a state of virginity -- so as to contrast the horrors of consumerism with essential human conflicts." But black and white has another, deeper function besides: "It invests the work with a purity, a Sufism, that brushes onto the viewer, inadvertently relocating feelings." This is particularly true of the encounter with horses: Shafeek's horses are indeed almost human in their import, an idea further underlined when they appear side by side with desperate figures apparently in a state of trance. Born in 1938, Shafeek stayed in Tanta until he enrolled at the Art School in 1957. Together with artist Helmy El-Touny, Shafeek is perhaps responsible for the notion -- common in cultural circles by now -- of thinking of animals in human and mythical terms, especially the fish. "Oh yes," he smiles, "the fish. Fishing, you know, has been my favourite hobby for many years. Fishing in the Nile, especially at night, you enter into a mythical and fantastical state where, meditating, things take on a life of their own." A similar transformation occurred during a 10-day visit to Siwa in the early 1960s, and again in moulids (saint's anniversary), especially that of Al-Sayed Al-Badawi, whose shrine, in Tanta, is perhaps the most popular of all. The moulid, Shafik says, which draws together Muslims and Christians -- they attend the anniversaries of each other's saints -- has been his most consistent inspiration through the years: "The procession of the caliph, the Sufi orders marching in full regalia -- they are as unforgettable as camping out in Bilkas, near Tanta, for the moulid of [the Christian] Saint Joumyania, where horses dance and men engaged in stick fights." How does he reconcile it all with modernity? "Modernism is a relative thing," he insists. "Any one group of people is the product of a specific place at a specific time, with their own givens, so being modern should always be an expression of that place and that time. Few artists understand modernism as a concept; the rest simply imitate Western modernism. There are artists like Adam Henein whose work demonstrates the continuity of Egyptian art from ancient times to the present. This too is modernism, and should really be understood as such." Shafeek is critical of the art scene in Egypt: he speaks of a lack of criticism and the absence of a holistic national plan for cultural life, calling for the revival of one-artist museums which have turned into "storage space". Shafeek belongs a generation of artists who were closely associated with the press: Abdel-Salam El-Sherief, Hussein Bikar, Kanaan and Salah Jahin, among many others -- and he values the sense of community they upheld, both among themselves and, via thr newspapers, with the public at large: "They thought of journalism as the medium through which to reach the widest audience base, with every social group and class represented." When Shafeek graduated in 1962, he joined the staff of the fellahin cooperative newspaper, which included well-known artists like Zohdi and Hassan Fouad, who were his seniors. "It was a golden opportunity to tour Egypt," he recalls. Equally significant was his six- year sojourn with UNESCO (1979-1985), during which time he toured various Arab countries. But he is eager to point out that, for the duration of his career, he has never worked on a regular basis. And there is certainly something free and unburdened about his art: a sort of magic that encompasses both sensuality and romanticism that has an invariably uplifting effect, at least as evidenced by this exhibition. Having walked in with an empty head, you come out with just that extra bit of love -- for animals, for humans, for the earth and, ultimately, most importantly, for yourself.
