Interviewed by Hans Ulrich Obrist
In collaboration with Clare Davies, Associate Curator, Modern and Contemporary Art
In this video, curator and Artistic Director of the Serpentine Gallery in New York, Hans-Ulrich Obrist, interviews artist Dia al-Azzawi (b. 1939) about his life and practice in Iraq prior to his departure in 1976 for political reasons. Filmed in 2022, in the artist’s London studio, the video aims to contribute to the living record of Iraq’s cultural life prior to the country’s invasion in 2003.
The interview is divided into four chapters: In Beginnings, the artist recalls how his early years as a student of archaeology and the fine arts in newly independent Iraq fostered his desire to create a modern school of art that reflected his own experiences. In Where Artists Gather, he discusses the small but vibrant arts scene that developed in 1960s Baghdad and its connections with artists and writers in Beirut. In Art and Literature, he speaks about his ongoing relationship to Arabic literature and how it has intersected with his own practice. In My Broken Dream, he speaks about two works that respond to the long-term consequences of the 2003 American invasion of Iraq and his own relationship to the country after almost fifty years of exile.
Artist’s Biography
Dia al-Azzawi (b. Baghdad, 1939) is recognized as a defining figure of modern Iraqi art, celebrated widely for his interest in abstraction and adaptation of Arabic script to the surface of the canvas. He graduated in 1962 with a BA in archaeology from Baghdad University and with a Diploma from the Institute of Fine Arts, Baghdad in 1964. He contributed to the establishment of Iraq’s most dynamic art movements of the post-independence period including the New Vision Group (Jama‘at al-Ru’ya al-Jadida, est. 1968) and the Iraqi Artists’ Society. He helped found the landmark al-Wasiti Festival in 1972 and the first biennial of Arab Art in 1974. Between 1968 and 1976, Azzawi also worked at the Iraqi Antiquities Department in Baghdad and helped establish museums across the country. The artist has described much of his work from this period as a conversation between the country’s historical arts and contemporary cultural and artistic influences.
While in Iraq, Azzawi held five solo shows at the National Museum of Modern Art, Baghdad, participated in the first Triennial of International Art in India (1968), the first two biennales of Arab Art (1974 and 1976), and the 37th Venice Biennale (1976). After moving to London in 1976, he began exhibiting his work more widely in Europe and internationally, and took part in the 15th São Paulo Art Biennial (1979). Major retrospectives of his work have been held at the Institut du Monde Arabe, Paris (2001), the 6th Abu Dhabi Music and Arts Festival (2009), Mathaf: Arab Museum of Modern Art, Doha (2016–2017), and, currently, the Ashmolean Museum of Art and Archaeology, Oxford (December 2022–June 2023). Azzawi’s mural sized Mission of Destruction (2004–2007) was displayed at MOMA PS1’s exhibition “Theater of Operations: The Gulf Wars, 1991–2011” from 2019 to 2020. Most recently, he participated in the latest, or 58th, edition of the Carnegie International in Pittsburgh.
Video Transcript
Please note: This transcript has been edited for clarity.
*CORRECTION: Photographs by Latif al-Ani © The Arab Image Foundation
Beginnings
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
I'm so delighted to be here with Dia al-Azzawi in the studio. So I thought, as artist Bas Jan Ader said, that we could begin with the beginning, and you were born in 1939 in Baghdad. And I wanted to know how it all began. How did you come to art? How did art come to you?
Dia al-Azzawi:
I was born on the old side of Baghdad. From the beginning, since I was a child, I had very much interest in doing a lot of drawings. Most of the time, I was using some magazines, and trying to copy these magazines. When I went to secondary school, the teacher was very helpful with the idea that you should start doing something from what is around you, rather than just copy. I was at that time following his instruction in that way. But later, after I finished school, we didn't have at that time an academy of fine art. So I went to study archaeology as an alternative. But after one year at the university, I managed to start at the Institute of Fine Arts–with evening studies–and I stayed there for five years.
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
And can you tell us about archaeology? I mean, [art historian Erwin] Panofsky always talked about the idea that the future is somehow invented with fragments from the past.
Dia al-Azzawi:
Archaeology is very helpful in [two senses]. One of them, I became very familiar with a lot of objects, which I had the right to handle in a way, and also to know the history of art in all parts of Iraq, mainly, and also Syria and Egypt. And that's what helped me a lot; or maybe this has influenced me very much towards the idea of doing work which is more related to my history rather than just copying work of European artists.
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
And that leads us to the question also of your mentors, of artists who inspired you, because at the university you had actually a mentor with the Iraqi artist Hafidh Druby (1914–1999), and you told me before that you learned a lot from him. Yet at the same time, it was actually other artists whose work was really important for you. Can you tell us about these early influences?
Dia al-Azzawi:
At that time, I had some knowledge of two artists, mainly Mahmoud Sabri (1927–2012) and Jewad Selim (1919–1961). But because of my background with archaeology, I became more interested in the work of Jewad Selim, who tried—he and a group of artists—he tried to create art, which he called “Iraqi art.” And this Iraqi art depended very much on the history of our civilization, either Islamic or Sumerian.
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
I spoke a lot with my late friend Monir Shahroudy Farmanfarmaian (1922–2019), and she told me about these journeys she made in Iran. She would go from Tehran all over Iran and look at the past and be inspired for her art. And you, in a similar way, did a lot of travels in Iraq. I wanted to ask you how this material you saw during these trips inspired you? Can you tell us a bit about these journeys, these early journeys?
Dia al-Azzawi:
[W]hen I started working with the Iraqi Museum, I was responsible for exhibiting [curating] artifacts. And that gave me the opportunity to go to the north. For example, I worked for two years in Mosul to exhibit [help curate] the new museum at that time. After that, I went to the south of Iraq, Nasiriyya, to exhibit [curate] a new museum. [A]fter I finished, I [worked in] Baghdad to help [curate] the Ethnography Museum. All this helped me, first, to be very close to my history; second, to have the opportunity to go around Iraq and see what was going on. I mean, for example, particularly in the north, with the folklore items, I managed to find a lot of works, which I hadn’t seen before when I was in Baghdad.
Where Artists Gather
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
And the city is, of course, also where artists gather, where artists congregate. I was wondering if you can talk a little bit about Kadhim Haydar (1932–1985) and Jewad Selim and the Pioneer generation. And it would be interesting to hear—
Dia al-Azzawi:
They are of different generations. Kadhim is not from the same generation as Jewad. Jewad and Faik Hassan (1914–92) and Hafidh Druby: they were the first Pioneer [generation] artists. There was a museum in the old part of [Baghdad]: al-‘Adhamiyya [neighborhood]. The Institute of Fine Arts [was] at the same time there. Most of the time, I think they were in that part of Baghdad.
Kadhim came later. Kadhim came [back to Baghdad] after 1960. When he was a student, he was studying at university at the same time as he was exhibiting some of his work. But when he came to Baghdad, it was the mid-1960s.
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
When you left university, you became a founding member of the New Vision Group–the al-Ru’ya al-Jadida–and that included also Rafa Nasiri (1940–2013) and Ismail Fattah al-Turk (1934–2004). Can you tell us about the group, the New Vision Group, what bound you together, what brought you together, and what was the manifesto? Because you said that you were a new generation; there was clearly a rupture with the previous generation.
Dia al-Azzawi:
Most of the Pioneer artists, at that time, were in control of everything. So I thought at that time, when many artists came back from their study abroad: [Rafa] Nasiri was in China, when he came back. Ismail Fattah was in Italy, in Rome, when he came back to Baghdad. So I thought–I suggested–the idea to have a group. And the group was not to be a group for exhibitions, but only because I wrote the manifesto. The manifesto, mainly, it's about the idea that no longer [should] we talk about Iraqi art, like the Baghdad Group. We have to talk about Pan-Arab art and also because of the political situation at that time, we very much supported the Palestinian right to have their state. The combination between politics and the idea to be more Pan-Arab: we tried to exhibit outside [Iraq] and to have exhibitions, for example the personal [solo] exhibitions. Until that time, I don't remember [seeing] one [solo] personal exhibition by the Pioneers. We [the next generation] started having personal [solo] exhibitions. And that was very much the difficult side [of being an artist] at that time because the market was not there and the support of the government was not that much. So most of us, we tried our best to do something which is a little bit different from our Pioneer art.
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
It's interesting also because one of the characteristics of the New Vision Group—and that's something which is also very characteristic for a lot of your early work—is the incorporation, actually, of Arabic script. There is a text that you wrote, because writing was always important. You wrote not only the manifesto, you wrote a lot of texts. And you wrote there, I'm quoting here, “My view of the Arabic letter was not that of traditional calligraphers, nor was it metaphysical hyperbole, but rather it was based on the demands of the canvas in the Western sense, as opposed to a superficial understanding of identity, which uses or misuses tradition in all its forms and has no relationship to modern art.” So I was wondering, following this quote, if you can tell me more about how you viewed Arabic script and the incorporation of it into your art?
Dia al-Azzawi:
[T]his is part of the “identity problem”: what to do with it; how to create something which is related to our history? So I was very much influenced by a different part [of Iraqi history], mainly by Sumerian [art]. Also, I got more interested in Arabic calligraphy. And in combination with Arabic calligraphy, very much you have the ability to create abstract kinds of images.
Also the main question at that time [was] how you can use Arabic calligraphy without creating something which is very much graphic rather than a painting. The paint, we [Iraqis] didn't have the knowledge of painting; this is very much imported from Europe. I mean, in Islamic art we have the manuscript, which is mainly something [like] illustration with images and some text. With painting, it’s a bit of a problem for us: how we [can] manage to create something which can be accepted in terms of a painting. We don't have the support, neither from our history, nor from our Pioneers. Our Pioneers, most of them, have been very much influenced by European art, except maybe Jewad [Selim] and Mahmoud Sabri, who tried to go [in] different directions.
Art and Literature
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
Before we talk about London and your move to London, I wanted to stay a little bit more in Baghdad and ask you about the studio and the place you worked, because, of course, we mentioned the city before. And I was curious where your studio was in Baghdad. And, if you could share the map of Baghdad, of you and your artist friends at the time: the cafes you met in, the studios of your colleagues, also the places where the museums were, the universities, the studios, the libraries. Can you tell us about your Baghdad in the 1960s?
Dia al-Azzawi:
From my generation, most of the artists, they were from outside [of] Baghdad. So most of the time, they didn't have the opportunity to have a studio. In reality, maybe from our group, maybe only me and Nasiri had a studio. I [had a] studio which was at the entrance of my house and I managed to sometimes invite my friends or artists or even a collector to come there.
The map of Baghdad, at that time, it's not that huge. I mean, maybe from my studio to the modern art museum, about twenty minutes; from Nasiri[’s studio],about half an hour. It's not that big a city at that time, but the main thing–when it happened–was that when we had the Iraqi Artists’ Society, financed by Gulbenkian [Foundation], it became a center for us to meet.
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
There was an exchange with Beirut at the time. Can you tell us about that? Was it a cultural exchange, an artistic exchange?
Dia al-Azzawi:
Baghdad is very far from any influence of Europe. When I first went to Beirut, which was [in] 1968, for us this [was] paradise. You can see a lot of fantastic work about art. The freedom. They had fantastic freedom—better freedom than Iraq, and the relations between people there. And also they [had] different, two or three, very important galleries. I mean, for example, Gallery One, which [was] run by Yusuf Al-Khal (1917–1987), a very well-known Lebanese poet. In this gallery, he exhibited [and] I saw the work of Ibrahim El-Salahi (b. 1930), for example, Ahmed Shibrain (1931–2017), and also the work of the Egyptian sculptors.
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
There was, of course, a lot of exchange between art and literature in Beirut at the time.
And I was curious, because we are here surrounded by many of your amazing artist’s books in the studio, and a lot of these artist’s books are collaborations with poets—Adonis, Mahmoud Darwish, different poets—also your own writing, a lot of your drawings. I was wondering at that moment about this very vibrant art scene in Baghdad in the 1960s. Can you tell us about this exchange between art and literature? It would be great if you can describe the art scene in the 1960s in Baghdad and how it connected to literature.
Dia al-Azzawi:
My beginning was when I was studying archaeology, when I found The Epic of Gilgamesh, which was the most important piece of literature [of that period]. At that time, also, I got some knowledge of al-Hallaj [the Sufi poet (ca. 858 – March 26, 922)] and other poets, for example, Badr Shakir al-Sayyab (1926–1964). I didn’t know them, but at that time because of the books I was able to get, I did some drawings in the 1960s, but most of my work became more important in that sense during the 1970s, when I started meeting other poets and the government spent a lot of money at that time to publish books of different poets and I became part of this system to have each poet, when he got his book to be published, [he] would ask an artist to illustrate [the poems and covers].
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
And so can you tell us about how this works? So do you answer to the poem with your drawings, or is it the other way around? How is the process?
Dia al-Azzawi:
I prefer not to read. I prefer to listen to the poem. This gives me the opportunity to do something which I enjoy rather than…[it] doesn’t mean that I'm following the text. I don't care about this that much. I try to get something which can enrich the poem rather than through illustration.
My Broken Dream
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
My Broken Dream (2015–2016) is also an enormous artwork. And you mentioned Iraq being your inner soul, when you talked about this work. Can you tell us about the work?
Dia al-Azzawi:
This is a work which is—in a way, because [in] 2003, when the Americans, the British, they toppled Saddam—I thought something [would] be changed. Definitely, we will have something: a different government, different politics. But the reality [was], the start of the fighting between the sectarian mentality of the government at that time, created a problem [so that it wasn’t] like what happened in South Africa, for example. When Mandela came to power, [much of what he did was to] shake hands with [his greatest enemies]. In Iraq, it has become the other way. It has become a mentality of revenge, which creates a problem [for] a lot of people. And for me, this is part of the dream, which [was that] I thought one day I can go and visit Iraq. But what happened after that with the sectarian conflict, it has become too difficult for me. So I have to do something which is, in a way, recording my feelings at that time, or my upset with what had happened.
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
Another statement you made in 2010, when you curated the exhibition called My Homeland at Art Sawa in Dubai. We looked at the catalog before, and that was another project, actually, which responded to the devastation of Iraq following the American invasion. Can you tell us about this show?
Dia al-Azzawi:
Yeah, this is the same, all these [shows that came] after the 1990s, become more related to works about Iraq, which I haven’t visited since the 1980s. I mean, because you can [still] read, you can have knowledge from a friend, from a contact, from a part of my family that is still there. I got [made] this work, when President Bush said at the end of the fight, “the mission is complete.” Something which is really…he [had] no idea what had happened. The real fight in Iraq [was] after the invasion. The destruction—what happened to the Iraqis—was after that. It was when the museums [were] destroyed. A lot of work was stolen and even many places, also the library, for example, burnt completely. All this happened after the war stopped.
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
So it's…war...It was like an extinction.
Dia al-Azzawi:
Yes. Because of what happened, [it was] the complete destruction of the country.
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
Rainer Maria Rilke wrote a little book, which is advice to a young poet. What would in 2021, now 2022–we are already in 2022!–what would in 2022, be your advice to a young artist?
Dia al-Azzawi:
To young artists [I would say] to do as I did: challenge themselves and do something related to their way of thinking rather than copying others.
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
And what about the future? You once said, “The future is too short.”
Dia al-Azzawi:
Yeah, I think so. It's life. You don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, so work like something will last forever. At the same time, you have to expect something will happen tomorrow.
Hans-Ulrich Obrist:
I mean, there could not be a better conclusion. Thank you so much. This is great.
