Art, Entanglement & Bravery
When you think you are looking at one thing, and then things happen and you find you're looking at something else
Instagram kept teasing me with a membership of BFI, and in the end the beautiful cinematic shot of Elia Suleiman standing on a rock looking out to the sea made me subscribe, and I spent the evening watching It Must be Heaven. A couple of days later I was at Kettle’s Yard to see the Material Power: Palestinian Embroidery Exhibition.
A couple of days after that, Hamas launched the attack on Israel, and suddenly what had seemed (probably naively) like art that I could consume and enjoy, albeit with an emotional narrative, now felt like something which stood like a single tooth in an old gum. Brave, exposed, vulnerable, necessary. And as viewer or consumer of this film and this exhibition, I found myself exposed too - is it ok to be moved, to enjoy, now, when this stuff is real once again, and I’m so ill informed?
It Must Be Heaven is written and directed by Elia Suleiman, who also casts himself in role of filmmaker looking for a funder. The film takes place in Nazareth, Paris and New York. The trailer below gives the impression the film is full of action; there is actually little action, just a series of tiny incidents, strung together with repeated logic, and very little dialogue. There is beauty, empathy, curiosity, annoyance and above all threat - but all of these take place in a balletic way, and I found myself eating up the visuals. My favourite scene is of Elia and a small bird which flies into his Parisien apartment. The bird hops onto his MacBook as he types, and Elia uses his arm to brush the bird to one side. Repeat, repeat, repeat, and the gestures of bird and Elia turn the MacBook into an old fashioned typewriter with a carriage return. This kind of wit is when, for me, the film shines, and it did make me look at the world differently. The film is about connections - searching in different places, amongst different cultures and actually finding the same things, both good and bad, wherever you choose to look.
Material Power: Palestinian Embroidery, is just finishing at Kettle’s Yard, but there’s a film to watch, if you missed it. I hope it will be shown at other venues too. There are painful moments in the exhibition, even before the events of 7/10/23, and the question of who owns “culture”, and how people try to hold on to their traditions, or reinvent them, especially in times of need, is uppermost. “Embroidery is money, and money is resistance” stayed with me.
As artists and filmmakers, we grapple with the stuff of the world - using what we have at hand to share our understanding. As curators, we try to juxtapose images and objects to tell a narrative. As viewers, we bring ourselves, and part of the reason we bring ourselves to the films, artworks and exhibitions which others know far, far, more about than us, is, precisely, to learn; to test ourselves, to open ourselves and to build our understanding. The guilt that I feel upon absorbing this art from a safe home (my pleasure, my empathy, my exhilaration), is substantial, especially given so when the art itself evolves from need and blood and fear. But I can feel the experience of both film and exhibition are lodged like tiny bright jewels inside me.
I feel sad that after I left the Royal College of Art, I felt that art didn’t matter. That there were artists and there were people who weren’t artists, and that the artists were out of touch and that the people who weren’t artists didn’t care what the artists made. A disconnect. The RCA at that time (92-94) took away my energy and purpose. I realise how sad that sounds; that an institution which stands to promote creativity took mine away, and I know things have changed. I don’t blame the RCA, but I do blame the culture. I’m really appreciative of the fact that I don’t feel that way anymore, because art really does matter, and what artists and curators have to say is more important than ever. Seeing the film and the exhibition, by chance both from Palestinian roots, reminds us people are people are people, and connection and empathy more important than ever.
Whoever you are, keep making. We can never know or control the context in which things we make might be seen, and art by definition is always vulnerable, but “It’s never just embroidery.”
To finish, I’d like to share the trailer of a film I’m looking forward to seeing - Anselm by Wim Wenders.
It Must Be Heaven review – Elia Suleiman’s comedy creeps up on you, The Guardian
Anselm review – Wim Wenders’ reverent 3D portrait of artist Anselm Kiefer, The Guardian