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An Article by MJ (733 words, 4 min. read)
Breathing Through Trees
At Galerie Tanit, Tamara Haddad presents And then againa body of work that grew over more than a year, shaped by loss and by a return to something deeply shared. The title carries a dedication to her father, whose presence runs quietly through the paintings. He loved trees, forests, and the simple act of being in nature. This connection finds its way into the work through form, through repetition, through a steady attention to what continues.
Walking, Seeing, Holding
The paintings begin outside. Walks through Lebanese landscapes, through forests and open paths, form the starting point. These are not brief moments. They stretch into time, into observation, into a way of moving slowly through space. The artist photographs what she encounters, fragments of trees, branches, light falling across the ground. These images return to the studio, where they shift and take on another life.
There is a clear attachment to these places. The work holds a desire to keep them present, to give them weight and importance. The forests of Lebanon appear through something lived rather than imagined.
Building the surface
Each painting is constructed through layers. Acrylic and oil are combined with sand, bark, and organic elements. The surface grows gradually, one stage after another. Each layer needs to settle, to dry, before the next can begin. This rhythm slows the process and gives the work its density.
Leaves are not simply painted. They are built. Trunks gain thickness, branches stretch across the canvas with a sense of direction. The surface becomes tactile, even sculptural. It holds both image and substance, as if the landscape has entered the painting physically.
From Image to Matter
Some works begin with photography. Images taken during walks serve as a base, a memory of a place and a moment. Painting transforms them. The photograph dissolves into texture, into composition, into structure. It remains present, yet altered.
This passage from image to matter gives the work its layered quality. It connects immediacy with duration, the instant of the photograph with the extended time of painting.
Scales of Presence
The works move across different sizes, from smaller, more intimate formats to larger canvases that expand across the space. Each scale carries its own intensity. Smaller paintings invite closeness, a focus on detail and texture. Larger ones create a stronger physical presence, where trees rise and extend beyond the surface.
Moving through the space, there is a sense that the walls themselves take on a new rhythm. The repetition, the density of surfaces, the variation in scale create a feeling of continuity. The gallery seems to breathe through these trees, through their presence and their quiet movement.
A Living Dedication
At the center of this work is a personal gesture. The title addresses a father who passed recently, and the paintings express this connection without turning it into narrative. It remains present through the choice of subject, through the attention given to each tree, through the time spent building each surface.
There is something steady in this approach. Trees stand, grow, and remain. They hold memory in a way that feels grounded. Through them, the artist maintains a link that continues through the act of painting.
Giving Weight to Nature
Beyond the personal, the work reflects a clear commitment to the natural world. The landscapes of Lebanon are approached with care and attention. They are observed, recorded, and reconstructed through material and form.
There is a desire to give importance to these environments, to hold onto their presence through painting. Organic fragments become part of the surface, bringing the outside into the work. The paintings carry both the image of nature and its physical traces.
Continuing Through Time
These works hold time within them. The time of walking, of photographing, of layering and waiting. The time of memory and transformation. Each painting becomes a point where these moments meet.
These paintings read like fragments of a language rooted in the ground and rising upward, where layers replace lines and materials replace ink. In this sense, the act of painting becomes a way of preserving what already exists as poetry in nature. It is a continuation rather than a translation, a way of holding onto those living poems and giving them another space to exist, where memory, landscape, and emotion remain inscribed within the surface.
