Hazem Harb

Text by Lara Khaldi

Archaeology of Occupation and TAG are two new bodies of work by artist Hazem Harb. In the collage series Harb juxtaposes pre nakba (1948) photographs of Palestinian landscapes with concrete heavy masses in the horizon of some of the images. Among many things, Harb has been experimenting with the relationship between sculpture and painting; collage as a technique seems to be very fitting, not only in terms of formal experimentation, but as a reference from modernist works of art. Harb is referencing modernism in relation to architecture, the occupation of Palestine and the Bauhaus style that worked hand in hand with military occupation. The series emphasizes a history of colonialism, where the fraught concretions are levitating ominously above Palestinian coastal skies. Thus the collage is double fold: the photos show a landscape devoid of people representing a biblical landscape while the concrete cut outs preempt the arrival of colonial modernizing concrete onto the horizon of the cities. But how does one read it from the present, or from the future? Perhaps in reverse? 

The TAG series is posing a question to the past in a very contemporary familiar language of tagging. The photos, also archival pre dating 1948, show faces and bodies that seem to be inhabiting their native landscapes, but that almost ornament them rather than pose a physical presence. The act of tagging that Harb introduces is both an effacing and an affirming act. It is worth noting that, during iconoclastic periods in Ottoman times, a line was added onto the neck of the figure in miniature paintings as to annul any animate affect. Thus Harb's work is not only a nuanced affirmation of the presence of people in that landscape, but is also a question about contemporary ways of self-legitimation and archival tendencies on social media and the internet. 

Text by Lara Khaldi

Archaeology of Occupation and TAG are two new bodies of work by artist Hazem Harb. In the collage series Harb juxtaposes pre nakba (1948) photographs of Palestinian landscapes with concrete heavy masses in the horizon of some of the images. Among many things, Harb has been experimenting with the relationship between sculpture and painting; collage as a technique seems to be very fitting, not only in terms of formal experimentation, but as a reference from modernist works of art. Harb is referencing modernism in relation to architecture, the occupation of Palestine and the Bauhaus style that worked hand in hand with military occupation. The series emphasizes a history of colonialism, where the fraught concretions are levitating ominously above Palestinian coastal skies. Thus the collage is double fold: the photos show a landscape devoid of people representing a biblical landscape while the concrete cut outs preempt the arrival of colonial modernizing concrete onto the horizon of the cities. But how does one read it from the present, or from the future? Perhaps in reverse? 

The TAG series is posing a question to the past in a very contemporary familiar language of tagging. The photos, also archival pre dating 1948, show faces and bodies that seem to be inhabiting their native landscapes, but that almost ornament them rather than pose a physical presence. The act of tagging that Harb introduces is both an effacing and an affirming act. It is worth noting that, during iconoclastic periods in Ottoman times, a line was added onto the neck of the figure in miniature paintings as to annul any animate affect. Thus Harb's work is not only a nuanced affirmation of the presence of people in that landscape, but is also a question about contemporary ways of self-legitimation and archival tendencies on social media and the internet. 

The TAG series is posing a question to the past in a very contemporary familiar language of tagging. The photos, also archival pre dating 1948, show faces and bodies that seem to be inhabiting their native landscapes, but that almost ornament them rather than pose a physical presence. The act of tagging that Harb introduces is both an effacing and an affirming act. It is worth noting that, during iconoclastic periods in Ottoman times, a line was added onto the neck of the figure in miniature paintings as to annul any animate affect. Thus Harb's work is not only a nuanced affirmation of the presence of people in that landscape, but is also a question about contemporary ways of self-legitimation and archival tendencies on social media and the internet. 

The TAG series is posing a question to the past in a very contemporary familiar language of tagging. The photos, also archival pre dating 1948, show faces and bodies that seem to be inhabiting their native landscapes, but that almost ornament them rather than pose a physical presence. The act of tagging that Harb introduces is both an effacing and an affirming act. It is worth noting that, during iconoclastic periods in Ottoman times, a line was added onto the neck of the figure in miniature paintings as to annul any animate affect. Thus Harb's work is not only a nuanced affirmation of the presence of people in that landscape, but is also a question about contemporary ways of self-legitimation and archival tendencies on social media and the internet. 

The TAG series is posing a question to the past in a very contemporary familiar language of tagging. The photos, also archival pre dating 1948, show faces and bodies that seem to be inhabiting their native landscapes, but that almost ornament them rather than pose a physical presence. The act of tagging that Harb introduces is both an effacing and an affirming act. It is worth noting that, during iconoclastic periods in Ottoman times, a line was added onto the neck of the figure in miniature paintings as to annul any animate affect. Thus Harb's work is not only a nuanced affirmation of the presence of people in that landscape, but is also a question about contemporary ways of self-legitimation and archival tendencies on social media and the internet. 

Text by Lara Khaldi

Archaeology of Occupation and TAG are two new bodies of work by artist Hazem Harb. In the collage series Harb juxtaposes pre nakba (1948) photographs of Palestinian landscapes with concrete heavy masses in the horizon of some of the images. Among many things, Harb has been experimenting with the relationship between sculpture and painting; collage as a technique seems to be very fitting, not only in terms of formal experimentation, but as a reference from modernist works of art. Harb is referencing modernism in relation to architecture, the occupation of Palestine and the Bauhaus style that worked hand in hand with military occupation. The series emphasizes a history of colonialism, where the fraught concretions are levitating ominously above Palestinian coastal skies. Thus the collage is double fold: the photos show a landscape devoid of people representing a biblical landscape while the concrete cut outs preempt the arrival of colonial modernizing concrete onto the horizon of the cities. But how does one read it from the present, or from the future? Perhaps in reverse? 

The TAG series is posing a question to the past in a very contemporary familiar language of tagging. The photos, also archival pre dating 1948, show faces and bodies that seem to be inhabiting their native landscapes, but that almost ornament them rather than pose a physical presence. The act of tagging that Harb introduces is both an effacing and an affirming act. It is worth noting that, during iconoclastic periods in Ottoman times, a line was added onto the neck of the figure in miniature paintings as to annul any animate affect. Thus Harb's work is not only a nuanced affirmation of the presence of people in that landscape, but is also a question about contemporary ways of self-legitimation and archival tendencies on social media and the internet. 

Al Baseera is a series of three-dimensional paintings inspired by abstract Islamic art. The objective is to re-view it from different, contemporary perceptions. Forming an interesting and unique conceptual and philosophical collection that transforms into geometrical shapes.

What is often recounted about the aesthetic of Islamic geometry and its splendor is that it quenches the observer’s taste for beauty and awakens the senses. Noticing the difference between the straight and the curved, the moving and the fixed, the closed and the open, the dot and the full circle help appreciate the function of Islamic geometry

The artist believes the role of Islamic geometry is to establish that humans have a unified existences; a solid unit of that is part of the creation of beauty.

Al Baseera is a series of three-dimensional paintings inspired by abstract Islamic art. The objective is to re-view it from different, contemporary perceptions. Forming an interesting and unique conceptual and philosophical collection that transforms into geometrical shapes.

What is often recounted about the aesthetic of Islamic geometry and its splendor is that it quenches the observer’s taste for beauty and awakens the senses. Noticing the difference between the straight and the curved, the moving and the fixed, the closed and the open, the dot and the full circle help appreciate the function of Islamic geometry

The artist believes the role of Islamic geometry is to establish that humans have a unified existences; a solid unit of that is part of the creation of beauty.

The work 'Re-build' is made out of a piece of a thin striped sponge mattress, it looks as if it has been used and re-used again and again. Its corners are cut out, making it look like an architectural plan, a basic floor plan for a house perhaps. A cement brick is laid out in one of the corners sideways making it look almost like a bed. The work is amongst the most recent body of sculptural works that artist Hazem Harb has been working on, which depicts the intimacy between architectural ruins, the body and violence. The cement brick denotes infrastructure, or rather the building material of interior walls and facades: infrastructural elements in our utmost private and daily lives, which supposedly gives shelter, support and protection that is of course until they collapse. The binding together of such material with the frailty of the mattress is fraught with the binding together of the human and the architectural. The flimsy mattress invokes sleep, perhaps an eternal sleep induced by the slab-like brick signaling human traces and thus an affinity between architecture and the body, a ruined architectural form signifies a ruined body. Hazem foregrounds the alienating feeling of our utmost homely and intimate surroundings turning into nightmarish life threatening structures, where architecture becomes the crushing weight of violence against our bodies. Hazem disrupts our trust in architecture and infrastructure. He strips bare both the brick, usually hidden behind painted walls, and the thinness of the mattress, which is usually cushioned in layers and cloth, revealing an architecture of vulnerability.  

When Germany began to build the Berlin Wall on August 13th, 1961, spanning 106 km in length, and costing around 150 million USD, the wall cut across 10 residential districts, 97 streets and 7 underground metro tunnels. It included 300 secret police headquarters, 22 safe houses, killed over 250 individuals who tried to cross over and arrested thousands more.

After 28 years, on November 9th, 1989, the Berlin Wall fell, as the people tore it down. Now, Germany and the whole world celebrate the 23rd anniversary of that day, proud of this momentous achievement, for politics, and for civilization. And here we are today, playing out the same scene, but with different actors, facing a pitiless and racist dividing wall.

This wall precipitated the most dangerous settlements on Palestinian lands since 1967, for according to the ‘Unified Coordination Committee to Confront Settlement’, in 2003, Israel took over more than 10% of the most fertile and water-rich Palestinian lands on the West Bank as a result of the wall. The Palestinian State Information Service also issued a warning of Israeli plans to use the wall to take over more than 45% of the West Bank. Furthermore, the amount of Palestinian land sequestered to make way for the wall amounts to 187 acres, mostly in the Municipalities of Jenin, Kalkeelia, and Jerusalem.

By the time it is completed, the Israeli Wall will span 703 km. 46% of the West Bank territory will be annexed and 97 of the surrounding villages will be eradicated.

The number of houses that have been demolished and that are threatened with demolition come up to 4,656 (not including the Nablus area). The Wall has 73 doors, only 38 of which are used by civilians, the rest of which are for military use only. 48.5% of families struggle to drop off their children at school. 3.5% of students have dropped out. The losses of business-owners, farmers, and workers as a result of suspended communications and transport comes up to hundreds of millions of USD.

This work consists of conceptual images of a hypothetical wall, taken in a studio. By appropriating the structure of the wall, and utilizing it for figurative purposes and treating it as a transparent and reflective sheet of glass, you can tell the story of the other side. The act of climbing in order to see over the wall, entails a defiance, and the ladder, by its very nature, symbolizes a rising up and a reaching out for the horizon, a horizon that was deliberately obstructed. I wanted to defy the wall that stands on Palestinian land, albeit hypothetically, and to protest against the deterioration of the Palestinians quality of life, surrounded by concrete barriers that extend into every aspect of their lives. The concrete has ceased to be a tool for construction, but rather has become a tool for the de-construction of life.
 
Taking hypothetical images is integral to the concept of the work, as a result of the impossibility of my reaching the other side of Palestinian territory from within it. This work is also an extension of a previous project entitled ‘Is This Your First Time in Gaza?’, that consists of 6 digital images, for it is not only my concept that progresses, but the state of division, displacement

Al Baseera is the artist’s first interpretation of Islamic geometric patterns. The title of this series Al Baseera is derived from the Arabic word ‘basar’ which means looking as well as seeing through something whether an object, an event or an idea. In this exhibition, Harb invites the viewer to look deeply and reflectively, to admire ‘art for arts sake’ to immerse oneself in the series of paintings that celebrate the aesthetics of geometry. Here, there are no overarching themes of suffering. In contrast to works that explore human conditions of loss and oppression, in Al Baseera, the visitor transcends the present to engage in a contemplative Sufi interpretation of geometrical abstraction. 

According to Harb, Al Baseerah  “… is a journey to challenge myself to seek a deeper understanding of Islamic art and its dialogue with abstraction.”  The outcome is this outstanding exhibition that offers a rich visual experience.

When Germany began to build the Berlin Wall on August 13th, 1961, spanning 106 km in length, and costing around 150 million USD, the wall cut across 10 residential districts, 97 streets and 7 underground metro tunnels. It included 300 secret police headquarters, 22 safe houses, killed over 250 individuals who tried to cross over and arrested thousands more.

After 28 years, on November 9th, 1989, the Berlin Wall fell, as the people tore it down. Now, Germany and the whole world celebrate the 23rd anniversary of that day, proud of this momentous achievement, for politics, and for civilization. And here we are today, playing out the same scene, but with different actors, facing a pitiless and racist dividing wall.

This wall precipitated the most dangerous settlements on Palestinian lands since 1967, for according to the ‘Unified Coordination Committee to Confront Settlement’, in 2003, Israel took over more than 10% of the most fertile and water-rich Palestinian lands on the West Bank as a result of the wall. The Palestinian State Information Service also issued a warning of Israeli plans to use the wall to take over more than 45% of the West Bank. Furthermore, the amount of Palestinian land sequestered to make way for the wall amounts to 187 acres, mostly in the Municipalities of Jenin, Kalkeelia, and Jerusalem.

By the time it is completed, the Israeli Wall will span 703 km. 46% of the West Bank territory will be annexed and 97 of the surrounding villages will be eradicated.

The number of houses that have been demolished and that are threatened with demolition come up to 4,656 (not including the Nablus area). The Wall has 73 doors, only 38 of which are used by civilians, the rest of which are for military use only. 48.5% of families struggle to drop off their children at school. 3.5% of students have dropped out. The losses of business-owners, farmers, and workers as a result of suspended communications and transport comes up to hundreds of millions of USD.

This work consists of conceptual images of a hypothetical wall, taken in a studio. By appropriating the structure of the wall, and utilizing it for figurative purposes and treating it as a transparent and reflective sheet of glass, you can tell the story of the other side. The act of climbing in order to see over the wall, entails a defiance, and the ladder, by its very nature, symbolizes a rising up and a reaching out for the horizon, a horizon that was deliberately obstructed. I wanted to defy the wall that stands on Palestinian land, albeit hypothetically, and to protest against the deterioration of the Palestinians quality of life, surrounded by concrete barriers that extend into every aspect of their lives. The concrete has ceased to be a tool for construction, but rather has become a tool for the de-construction of life.
 
Taking hypothetical images is integral to the concept of the work, as a result of the impossibility of my reaching the other side of Palestinian territory from within it. This work is also an extension of a previous project entitled ‘Is This Your First Time in Gaza?’, that consists of 6 digital images, for it is not only my concept that progresses, but the state of division, displacement

When Germany began to build the Berlin Wall on August 13th, 1961, spanning 106 km in length, and costing around 150 million USD, the wall cut across 10 residential districts, 97 streets and 7 underground metro tunnels. It included 300 secret police headquarters, 22 safe houses, killed over 250 individuals who tried to cross over and arrested thousands more.

After 28 years, on November 9th, 1989, the Berlin Wall fell, as the people tore it down. Now, Germany and the whole world celebrate the 23rd anniversary of that day, proud of this momentous achievement, for politics, and for civilization. And here we are today, playing out the same scene, but with different actors, facing a pitiless and racist dividing wall.

This wall precipitated the most dangerous settlements on Palestinian lands since 1967, for according to the ‘Unified Coordination Committee to Confront Settlement’, in 2003, Israel took over more than 10% of the most fertile and water-rich Palestinian lands on the West Bank as a result of the wall. The Palestinian State Information Service also issued a warning of Israeli plans to use the wall to take over more than 45% of the West Bank. Furthermore, the amount of Palestinian land sequestered to make way for the wall amounts to 187 acres, mostly in the Municipalities of Jenin, Kalkeelia, and Jerusalem.

By the time it is completed, the Israeli Wall will span 703 km. 46% of the West Bank territory will be annexed and 97 of the surrounding villages will be eradicated.

The number of houses that have been demolished and that are threatened with demolition come up to 4,656 (not including the Nablus area). The Wall has 73 doors, only 38 of which are used by civilians, the rest of which are for military use only. 48.5% of families struggle to drop off their children at school. 3.5% of students have dropped out. The losses of business-owners, farmers, and workers as a result of suspended communications and transport comes up to hundreds of millions of USD.

This work consists of conceptual images of a hypothetical wall, taken in a studio. By appropriating the structure of the wall, and utilizing it for figurative purposes and treating it as a transparent and reflective sheet of glass, you can tell the story of the other side. The act of climbing in order to see over the wall, entails a defiance, and the ladder, by its very nature, symbolizes a rising up and a reaching out for the horizon, a horizon that was deliberately obstructed. I wanted to defy the wall that stands on Palestinian land, albeit hypothetically, and to protest against the deterioration of the Palestinians quality of life, surrounded by concrete barriers that extend into every aspect of their lives. The concrete has ceased to be a tool for construction, but rather has become a tool for the de-construction of life.
 
Taking hypothetical images is integral to the concept of the work, as a result of the impossibility of my reaching the other side of Palestinian territory from within it. This work is also an extension of a previous project entitled ‘Is This Your First Time in Gaza?’, that consists of 6 digital images, for it is not only my concept that progresses, but the state of division, displacement

When Germany began to build the Berlin Wall on August 13th, 1961, spanning 106 km in length, and costing around 150 million USD, the wall cut across 10 residential districts, 97 streets and 7 underground metro tunnels. It included 300 secret police headquarters, 22 safe houses, killed over 250 individuals who tried to cross over and arrested thousands more.

After 28 years, on November 9th, 1989, the Berlin Wall fell, as the people tore it down. Now, Germany and the whole world celebrate the 23rd anniversary of that day, proud of this momentous achievement, for politics, and for civilization. And here we are today, playing out the same scene, but with different actors, facing a pitiless and racist dividing wall.

This wall precipitated the most dangerous settlements on Palestinian lands since 1967, for according to the ‘Unified Coordination Committee to Confront Settlement’, in 2003, Israel took over more than 10% of the most fertile and water-rich Palestinian lands on the West Bank as a result of the wall. The Palestinian State Information Service also issued a warning of Israeli plans to use the wall to take over more than 45% of the West Bank. Furthermore, the amount of Palestinian land sequestered to make way for the wall amounts to 187 acres, mostly in the Municipalities of Jenin, Kalkeelia, and Jerusalem.

By the time it is completed, the Israeli Wall will span 703 km. 46% of the West Bank territory will be annexed and 97 of the surrounding villages will be eradicated.

The number of houses that have been demolished and that are threatened with demolition come up to 4,656 (not including the Nablus area). The Wall has 73 doors, only 38 of which are used by civilians, the rest of which are for military use only. 48.5% of families struggle to drop off their children at school. 3.5% of students have dropped out. The losses of business-owners, farmers, and workers as a result of suspended communications and transport comes up to hundreds of millions of USD.

This work consists of conceptual images of a hypothetical wall, taken in a studio. By appropriating the structure of the wall, and utilizing it for figurative purposes and treating it as a transparent and reflective sheet of glass, you can tell the story of the other side. The act of climbing in order to see over the wall, entails a defiance, and the ladder, by its very nature, symbolizes a rising up and a reaching out for the horizon, a horizon that was deliberately obstructed. I wanted to defy the wall that stands on Palestinian land, albeit hypothetically, and to protest against the deterioration of the Palestinians quality of life, surrounded by concrete barriers that extend into every aspect of their lives. The concrete has ceased to be a tool for construction, but rather has become a tool for the de-construction of life.
 
Taking hypothetical images is integral to the concept of the work, as a result of the impossibility of my reaching the other side of Palestinian territory from within it. This work is also an extension of a previous project entitled ‘Is This Your First Time in Gaza?’, that consists of 6 digital images, for it is not only my concept that progresses, but the state of division, displacement

When Germany began to build the Berlin Wall on August 13th, 1961, spanning 106 km in length, and costing around 150 million USD, the wall cut across 10 residential districts, 97 streets and 7 underground metro tunnels. It included 300 secret police headquarters, 22 safe houses, killed over 250 individuals who tried to cross over and arrested thousands more.

After 28 years, on November 9th, 1989, the Berlin Wall fell, as the people tore it down. Now, Germany and the whole world celebrate the 23rd anniversary of that day, proud of this momentous achievement, for politics, and for civilization. And here we are today, playing out the same scene, but with different actors, facing a pitiless and racist dividing wall.

This wall precipitated the most dangerous settlements on Palestinian lands since 1967, for according to the ‘Unified Coordination Committee to Confront Settlement’, in 2003, Israel took over more than 10% of the most fertile and water-rich Palestinian lands on the West Bank as a result of the wall. The Palestinian State Information Service also issued a warning of Israeli plans to use the wall to take over more than 45% of the West Bank. Furthermore, the amount of Palestinian land sequestered to make way for the wall amounts to 187 acres, mostly in the Municipalities of Jenin, Kalkeelia, and Jerusalem.

By the time it is completed, the Israeli Wall will span 703 km. 46% of the West Bank territory will be annexed and 97 of the surrounding villages will be eradicated.

The number of houses that have been demolished and that are threatened with demolition come up to 4,656 (not including the Nablus area). The Wall has 73 doors, only 38 of which are used by civilians, the rest of which are for military use only. 48.5% of families struggle to drop off their children at school. 3.5% of students have dropped out. The losses of business-owners, farmers, and workers as a result of suspended communications and transport comes up to hundreds of millions of USD.

This work consists of conceptual images of a hypothetical wall, taken in a studio. By appropriating the structure of the wall, and utilizing it for figurative purposes and treating it as a transparent and reflective sheet of glass, you can tell the story of the other side. The act of climbing in order to see over the wall, entails a defiance, and the ladder, by its very nature, symbolizes a rising up and a reaching out for the horizon, a horizon that was deliberately obstructed. I wanted to defy the wall that stands on Palestinian land, albeit hypothetically, and to protest against the deterioration of the Palestinians quality of life, surrounded by concrete barriers that extend into every aspect of their lives. The concrete has ceased to be a tool for construction, but rather has become a tool for the de-construction of life.
 
Taking hypothetical images is integral to the concept of the work, as a result of the impossibility of my reaching the other side of Palestinian territory from within it. This work is also an extension of a previous project entitled ‘Is This Your First Time in Gaza?’, that consists of 6 digital images, for it is not only my concept that progresses, but the state of division, displacement

When Germany began to build the Berlin Wall on August 13th, 1961, spanning 106 km in length, and costing around 150 million USD, the wall cut across 10 residential districts, 97 streets and 7 underground metro tunnels. It included 300 secret police headquarters, 22 safe houses, killed over 250 individuals who tried to cross over and arrested thousands more.

After 28 years, on November 9th, 1989, the Berlin Wall fell, as the people tore it down. Now, Germany and the whole world celebrate the 23rd anniversary of that day, proud of this momentous achievement, for politics, and for civilization. And here we are today, playing out the same scene, but with different actors, facing a pitiless and racist dividing wall.

This wall precipitated the most dangerous settlements on Palestinian lands since 1967, for according to the ‘Unified Coordination Committee to Confront Settlement’, in 2003, Israel took over more than 10% of the most fertile and water-rich Palestinian lands on the West Bank as a result of the wall. The Palestinian State Information Service also issued a warning of Israeli plans to use the wall to take over more than 45% of the West Bank. Furthermore, the amount of Palestinian land sequestered to make way for the wall amounts to 187 acres, mostly in the Municipalities of Jenin, Kalkeelia, and Jerusalem.

By the time it is completed, the Israeli Wall will span 703 km. 46% of the West Bank territory will be annexed and 97 of the surrounding villages will be eradicated.

The number of houses that have been demolished and that are threatened with demolition come up to 4,656 (not including the Nablus area). The Wall has 73 doors, only 38 of which are used by civilians, the rest of which are for military use only. 48.5% of families struggle to drop off their children at school. 3.5% of students have dropped out. The losses of business-owners, farmers, and workers as a result of suspended communications and transport comes up to hundreds of millions of USD.

This work consists of conceptual images of a hypothetical wall, taken in a studio. By appropriating the structure of the wall, and utilizing it for figurative purposes and treating it as a transparent and reflective sheet of glass, you can tell the story of the other side. The act of climbing in order to see over the wall, entails a defiance, and the ladder, by its very nature, symbolizes a rising up and a reaching out for the horizon, a horizon that was deliberately obstructed. I wanted to defy the wall that stands on Palestinian land, albeit hypothetically, and to protest against the deterioration of the Palestinians quality of life, surrounded by concrete barriers that extend into every aspect of their lives. The concrete has ceased to be a tool for construction, but rather has become a tool for the de-construction of life.
 
Taking hypothetical images is integral to the concept of the work, as a result of the impossibility of my reaching the other side of Palestinian territory from within it. This work is also an extension of a previous project entitled ‘Is This Your First Time in Gaza?’, that consists of 6 digital images, for it is not only my concept that progresses, but the state of division, displacement

When Germany began to build the Berlin Wall on August 13th, 1961, spanning 106 km in length, and costing around 150 million USD, the wall cut across 10 residential districts, 97 streets and 7 underground metro tunnels. It included 300 secret police headquarters, 22 safe houses, killed over 250 individuals who tried to cross over and arrested thousands more.

After 28 years, on November 9th, 1989, the Berlin Wall fell, as the people tore it down. Now, Germany and the whole world celebrate the 23rd anniversary of that day, proud of this momentous achievement, for politics, and for civilization. And here we are today, playing out the same scene, but with different actors, facing a pitiless and racist dividing wall.

This wall precipitated the most dangerous settlements on Palestinian lands since 1967, for according to the ‘Unified Coordination Committee to Confront Settlement’, in 2003, Israel took over more than 10% of the most fertile and water-rich Palestinian lands on the West Bank as a result of the wall. The Palestinian State Information Service also issued a warning of Israeli plans to use the wall to take over more than 45% of the West Bank. Furthermore, the amount of Palestinian land sequestered to make way for the wall amounts to 187 acres, mostly in the Municipalities of Jenin, Kalkeelia, and Jerusalem.

By the time it is completed, the Israeli Wall will span 703 km. 46% of the West Bank territory will be annexed and 97 of the surrounding villages will be eradicated.

The number of houses that have been demolished and that are threatened with demolition come up to 4,656 (not including the Nablus area). The Wall has 73 doors, only 38 of which are used by civilians, the rest of which are for military use only. 48.5% of families struggle to drop off their children at school. 3.5% of students have dropped out. The losses of business-owners, farmers, and workers as a result of suspended communications and transport comes up to hundreds of millions of USD.

This work consists of conceptual images of a hypothetical wall, taken in a studio. By appropriating the structure of the wall, and utilizing it for figurative purposes and treating it as a transparent and reflective sheet of glass, you can tell the story of the other side. The act of climbing in order to see over the wall, entails a defiance, and the ladder, by its very nature, symbolizes a rising up and a reaching out for the horizon, a horizon that was deliberately obstructed. I wanted to defy the wall that stands on Palestinian land, albeit hypothetically, and to protest against the deterioration of the Palestinians quality of life, surrounded by concrete barriers that extend into every aspect of their lives. The concrete has ceased to be a tool for construction, but rather has become a tool for the de-construction of life.
 
Taking hypothetical images is integral to the concept of the work, as a result of the impossibility of my reaching the other side of Palestinian territory from within it. This work is also an extension of a previous project entitled ‘Is This Your First Time in Gaza?’, that consists of 6 digital images, for it is not only my concept that progresses, but the state of division, displacement

When Germany began to build the Berlin Wall on August 13th, 1961, spanning 106 km in length, and costing around 150 million USD, the wall cut across 10 residential districts, 97 streets and 7 underground metro tunnels. It included 300 secret police headquarters, 22 safe houses, killed over 250 individuals who tried to cross over and arrested thousands more.

After 28 years, on November 9th, 1989, the Berlin Wall fell, as the people tore it down. Now, Germany and the whole world celebrate the 23rd anniversary of that day, proud of this momentous achievement, for politics, and for civilization. And here we are today, playing out the same scene, but with different actors, facing a pitiless and racist dividing wall.

This wall precipitated the most dangerous settlements on Palestinian lands since 1967, for according to the ‘Unified Coordination Committee to Confront Settlement’, in 2003, Israel took over more than 10% of the most fertile and water-rich Palestinian lands on the West Bank as a result of the wall. The Palestinian State Information Service also issued a warning of Israeli plans to use the wall to take over more than 45% of the West Bank. Furthermore, the amount of Palestinian land sequestered to make way for the wall amounts to 187 acres, mostly in the Municipalities of Jenin, Kalkeelia, and Jerusalem.

By the time it is completed, the Israeli Wall will span 703 km. 46% of the West Bank territory will be annexed and 97 of the surrounding villages will be eradicated.

The number of houses that have been demolished and that are threatened with demolition come up to 4,656 (not including the Nablus area). The Wall has 73 doors, only 38 of which are used by civilians, the rest of which are for military use only. 48.5% of families struggle to drop off their children at school. 3.5% of students have dropped out. The losses of business-owners, farmers, and workers as a result of suspended communications and transport comes up to hundreds of millions of USD.

This work consists of conceptual images of a hypothetical wall, taken in a studio. By appropriating the structure of the wall, and utilizing it for figurative purposes and treating it as a transparent and reflective sheet of glass, you can tell the story of the other side. The act of climbing in order to see over the wall, entails a defiance, and the ladder, by its very nature, symbolizes a rising up and a reaching out for the horizon, a horizon that was deliberately obstructed. I wanted to defy the wall that stands on Palestinian land, albeit hypothetically, and to protest against the deterioration of the Palestinians quality of life, surrounded by concrete barriers that extend into every aspect of their lives. The concrete has ceased to be a tool for construction, but rather has become a tool for the de-construction of life.
 
Taking hypothetical images is integral to the concept of the work, as a result of the impossibility of my reaching the other side of Palestinian territory from within it. This work is also an extension of a previous project entitled ‘Is This Your First Time in Gaza?’, that consists of 6 digital images, for it is not only my concept that progresses, but the state of division, displacement

Five structured, diagrammatic memories are both a moment of the past made contemporary and blueprints which map methods of remembering. In ‘Re-proposing The Memory’ Hazem Harb presents the third instalment of a series in which he plots playful alternative approaches to the enduring presence of collective memories.  

The series uses archival images and objects, the ephemera and residue from a shared Palestinian past, as tools for pro-active intervention and transformation of history.

‘Beyond Memory’ and ‘The everlasting presence of an excluded memory’ posited found materials as repositories of past impressions, objects which could be transformed. ‘Re-proposing the Memory’ interrogates the very existence of the memory, creating new imagined objects, plans which establish memory as process, deconstructing and repurposing how it exists.

With the pared back, utilitarian purity of a modernist building, these five memories assert themselves as contemporary. Giving rise to a sense of memory as data, plans foist the records catalogued by each into a current, present moment, shedding ostensibly nostalgic aesthetics to insist relevance and functionality.

These are not photographs, their edges jutting beyond the confine of the frame, nudging into the realm of the 3-dimensional. The implied structure instigates an encounter with the past, departing from the idea of the archival as an aide-memoire or even an assemblage. These are newly forged objects, displaced from the past through an engaged process of transformation. With the physicality of an encounter, one which exists and is shaped by time and space, these memories incongruously exist right now. The sense of encounter gives rise to an opportunity for dialogue. Yet, even in these evolved objectified moments, memory made current, the fragmented, faulty structures are revealed.

Harb becomes an archeologist and architect of the past, providing directions compiled with the meticulous and attentive care of an engineer. What is re-proposed here is a new process. Emphasising the durational, mutable quality of memory, Harb demonstrates the flux of remembering, creating a contemporary catalyst where he “gives birth to something, which gives birth to something”.

In the collage series Harb juxtaposes pre nakba (1948) photographs of Palestinian landscapes with concrete heavy masses in the horizon of some of the images. Among many things, Harb has been experimenting with the relationship between sculpture and painting; collage as a technique seems to be very fitting, not only in terms of formal experimentation, but as a reference from modernist works of art. Harb is referencing modernism in relation to architecture, the occupation of Palestine and the Bauhaus style that worked hand in hand with military occupation. The series emphasizes a history of colonialism, where the fraught concretions are levitating ominously above Palestinian coastal skies. Thus the collage is double fold: the photos show a landscape devoid of people representing a biblical landscape while the concrete cut outs preempt the arrival of colonial modernizing concrete onto the horizon of the cities. But how does one read it from the present, or from the future? Perhaps in reverse