Tag: identity

by jad

Near Raphael’s Grave, Thinking About Orientalism

I’m sitting in a room that’s a ten-minute walk from where Raphael is buried in Rome, going through the last couple of shots I took from the exhibit of his life and work at the Met, writing these words while waiting for the sun to start setting, to get respite from the unbearable heat blazing across Europe. And I’m only just now noticing the subtitle the curators had chosen: “sublime poetry.” Being in Italy during this heatwave has been an interesting twist to a challenge we’d already set ourselves. Italy is infamous for its inscrutable ways. But there’s graffiti in … Continue reading “Near Raphael’s Grave, Thinking About Orientalism” →

by jad

Two Years Since the Care Bear Polaroid

And just like that, it’s over. The art’s been struck, the crowds have gone home, and for some reason, I slept even worse now that it’s done than I did in preparation and anticipation; I guess my brain needed time to process it all. I’m very grateful to @nwfolklife for this opportunity and for all the hidden helpers that made this possible. Thank you Ben for inviting us into this novel process. Thank you Emma for taking on such a logistical labyrinth. Thank you Pete for figuring out how to even install this non-traditional art. And thanks especially to Faith … Continue reading “Two Years Since the Care Bear Polaroid” →

by jad

Finding a Political Home on May Day

Mr. Melee told me that he’s perma-banned from Instagram, so he probably won’t see this, but I’m sure you’ve seen him before, if you’ve been to any rally, march, or protest in past year or so. This was from May Day. I’ll be posting a few photos. Me and the other 10,000 people with cameras who were out here today. x Comrade Nate was a little suspicious of my intentions at first, but I think I won him over with the sheer power of my airtight logic: if you show up looking this cool, you’re gonna get pestered for a … Continue reading “Finding a Political Home on May Day” →

by jad

Barthes and the History of Looking

“The portrait-photograph is a closed field of forces. Four image-repertoires intersect here, oppose and distort each other. In front of the lens, I am at the same time: the one I think I am, the one I want others to think I am, the one the photographer thinks I am, and the one he [sic] makes use of to exhibit his art. In other words, a strange action: I do not stop imitating myself, and because of this, each time I am (or let myself be) photographed, I invariably suffer from a sensation of inauthenticity, sometimes of imposture (comparable to … Continue reading “Barthes and the History of Looking” →

by jad

Growing Up Middle Eastern Here (Readymade: Big Gulp and Mailbox)

Interstitiality. The service area in between two sections of artwork at the 9th Avenue gallery. x A central question in Gizelle’s exhibit is: what does it mean to grow up Middle Eastern here? This question speaks to a universal diasporic unease between “here” and “elsewhere,” but for those of us inscribed in Arabic script on a backdrop of Alpha Beta Charlie, the question cuts more deeply. Our very existence “here” rends us in two, like an act of betrayal. In many ways, I relate more to Gizelle’s parents’ experience than her own. I chose to come here as an adult. … Continue reading “Growing Up Middle Eastern Here (Readymade: Big Gulp and Mailbox)” →

by jad

Gizelle’s Belltown Show, and Modern American Masculinity

I kept saying that I’ve had Gizelle’s Belltown Art Walk show in my calendar for a year, and today my phone reminded me that we in fact did hang out exactly one year ago today, when I must have put it in my calendar, because it was already in there the next time we met up and she excitedly relayed her plans for it. I had a vague idea what to expect, but walking into the space still took my breath away, like “wow.” The sheer scale of these pieces, combined with the patient labor it took to make them … Continue reading “Gizelle’s Belltown Show, and Modern American Masculinity” →

by jad

Beauty in Banal Things (True Self, False Self)

I mentioned yesterday how my anti-car scruples have gone more lax in the past few years, with making a living in this urban fabric being the primary impetus. But there’s also the influence of the photographic eye. I don’t remember ever taking photos of cars in Lebanon; in fact, I spent a long time taking photos of buses. Over here, though, it sometimes feels like cars are the only finely-crafted aesthetic objects around. That says a lot about a place. As the closest thing to public art in deserts of the the capitalist real, cars are synecdoches of time and … Continue reading “Beauty in Banal Things (True Self, False Self)” →

by jad

Permission to Read a Different Script

A friend’s been going through a profound transformation that’s been a privilege to witness and be invited behind the scenes for, and it’s been making me think about my own threshold experiences, past, present, and future. Another friend has been calling this year a time of blooming. As the perennial late bloomer, I’m thinking about that too. What seeds are sprouting, I wonder? A subterranean connection I think these two friends have in common is a love of being alive, as a meme one of them shared with me this morning put it. And the more I think about it, … Continue reading “Permission to Read a Different Script” →

by jad

Seven Years of This Account (Pike Place After Dark)

Pike Place, after dark, on New Year’s Eve. x I started this account seven years ago as a grounding tool; a way to mark my x on the spot with a move as massive as immigration. Over time, it became a diary of sorts. A way to break with hesitation and rearticulate myself and my thoughts, especially in the depths of pandemic longing and despair. But now I find myself wanting to write less and say less. Some of that is a consequence of having picked up photography as an honest-to-god hobby, instead of just a visual pairing with the … Continue reading “Seven Years of This Account (Pike Place After Dark)” →

by jad

Imago, Ergo Sum

Many years ago, I had a conversation with someone who said they’d been receiving messages from beyond the grave—not just any grave: she said she’d been in touch with Chester Bennington of Linkin Park fame. I don’t remember how and why this came to pass in her life, but she’d said that I probably wouldn’t believe her so I didn’t press for answers. She seemed to feel to be genuinely heartbroken about his death and had found some purpose for others like her. She said he wanted them to know that he was okay. I remembered this story as we … Continue reading “Imago, Ergo Sum” →