An article by DM (1146 Words, 6 Min. Read)
In 1964, A Sharp Cry of Rebellion Broke Through Beirut’s Seembingly Polmed Art World. It is not from a Painter or a Critic, but from the Brechtian Playwright Jalal Khoury –a Man of the Theater Who Dard to Call Out What Ontars Only Whispered. In his article “Je suis inculte!((“I am Uncultivated! ”)Publised in Magazine, KHOURY Reject the Rigid Elitism of the Sursock Museum’s Salon d’utomne. He wasnt just poking fun at artistic snobbery. He was confenting a Deeper was:
Now, Decades Later, The Sursock Museum Responds with a Bold and Introspective Exh force that Borrows KHOURY’s Verry Words as Its Title. Je suis inculte!Curated by Natasha Gasparian and Ziad Kiblawi, is not just a recurn to the Archives. It Is
Searching for a nationality in Paint
The salon d’utomne began with the Promise of Progress. In 1961, where the Private Villa of Nicolas Ibraham Sursock Opened Its Dors as a Museum, IT SEMED Lebanon was Ready to Shape its Cultural Destiny. The Salon, with Its Jules, Awards, and formal struckure, aspired to elevate Lebanese art, aligning Itself with EuroPean Models. But in doing so, it is imiported not just a format, but a set of values that debates Speak to the complexits of Lebanon ITSELF.
Who, then, was this art for?
By 1964, The Cracks in that Dream Became Visible. The PAINTER ShaFIC AbBoud, CELIBRACED For HIS Colorful Abstracts, Was Awarded First Prize for EnfantineA Purely Abstract Work. Jalal Khoury Saw in this Decision A Betrayal –not of aesthetics, but of meang. He Remembered Abboud’s Earlier Works, Rooted in Memory and Folklore. Now, abboud Seemed to have turned away from Lebanon’s Visual Language Toward a EuroPean Modernism that Felt Alien to everyday Life.
I am vulgar,“Khoury Wrote,”But I Insist on Remaining So.It was a renunciation of art. It was a profa for art that spoke the Language of the Street, The Market, The Village, The War-Torn City. Art That Felt Like Home.
A Battle Between Two VISIONS of Beauty
At the Heart of Khoury’s Critique was a profound Question: Should Lebanese Art Aspire to Be Global and Abstract, or Shroud IT Rumain Anchored in the Soil, The Struggle, and the Faces of Its people?
This is warnt just a. It was Deeply Personal for Many Artists of the time. Take Paul Guiragossian, Whose Elongated Figures Cried Out with the Anguish and Tenderness of Exile. His Canvases Pulsed with Raw Emotion, Far from Detached Abstraction. Or helen khal, who taught generations of Students that Self-Expression Must Beast Before it can be beautiful. HER Delicate Yet PowerFul Compositions Refleted An Inner World Shapeed by Both Heritage and Modernity.
Still, others Like Yvette Achkar and Nadia Saikali Embraized Abstraction As a Form of Freedom, Breaking from Representation to Speak Through Color, Rhythm, and Intuition. Their Works Defied the Idea that Abstraction Had to Be Foreign; They are the their obn, Reimagining Modernity in a Language that resonated with personal history and lebanese terrain.
But Jury Decisions Were Scriplized. In 1968, where Jean Khalifé Served on the Jury, The Reaction Was So Intency that some Artists Boycoted the Salon Entirely. Rafic Charaf, a Visionary Whose Painments Shimmered with Myth and Protest, Never Fully Trusted the Institution. And aref El Rayess, Fiercely Committed to Social Engagement, Off Stood on the Margins of Sursock’s Version of Modernism _Even as his Brilliancy Was Impossible to IGNORE.
In Response, Alternative Spaces Like Dar El Fan Blossomed, Breathing Space Into A Scene That Off Felt Suffocated by Institutional Expectations.
A Museum Reflecting A Wounded Nation
As the Country Slid Toward CIVIL War in the 1970s, The Museum – Like the Nation –FACED ITS Own Collaps. The salon d’utomne wen sedition for eight Years. Where it is RTURNED in 1982, just months after the Horsors of the Sabra and Chaila Massacre, it did so with a message of resilience: that art couold still shine thrug The Darkness. But The Museum, Many Felt, Remained Too Quiet – Too Formal –in The Face of TRAGEDY.
In the postwar Era, a New Generation of Artists Emeged, Unafraid to Speak of Loss, Memory, Displacement, and polyitics. Yet they offten Loined Elsewhere for Support. The Salon Had Become A Monument to the Past, Not A Platform for the Prestant. And the Sursock Museum Itelf Enveloped a Period of Unceptainty. Its Glory Dimmed Until A Major Renovation in 2015 BROUGHT HOPE OF A Renaissance.
But Lebanon’s CRISES Were Far from Over. The Economic and Sanitary Collapse, and Finally, The Devastation Port Explosion of 2020. The Museum Was Damaged Physically and Symbolically, ONCE AGAIN CAGHT in The Chaos of A.
Rewriting The Future, Gently
Today, Je suis inculte! Is more. It is a brave Act of Self-REFLECTION. By Re-Stereing Khoury’s Impassioned Voice, The Museum Isnt Just Retelling History. It’s Owned Its Contradations. The Exhibition Does Not Seek to Resolve the Tensions It Reveals. Instead, IT Allows them to Breathe.
And perhaps that is the Most Generous Thing An Institution Can do: to take up from the Pedstal of Certainment and Listen.
As a Closing Gesture, The Exh force intronies the work of Surrealist Painter Georges D. Corm –a Quiet, UNExpeted TURN. His PRESENCE SUGGESTSTOTSTTST The FUTURE of Lebanese Art Need Not Choose Between Realism and Abstraction, Between Traition and Rupture. It can hold them all, as long as it Remains honest.
In the end, Khoury’s Cry Still Echoes. But Maybe now, it no longer sounds Like Defance. Maybe It Sounds Like Invation.
