Tag: Shamsia Hassani

Отче наш, що єси на небесах, Our Father….

Shamsia Hassani

If humanity does not rid the world of war;it will be war that will throw humanity out of history.

February 24th marks the beginning of the 3rd year of the War that Putin of Russia is waging against Ukraine.
There is a growing sense of weariness amongst Ukraine’s western allies and a preoccupation with other conflicts.
How easy to would be to abandon the people of Ukraine to a fate that is unthinkable. Above is artwork by Shamsai Hassani, the artist from Afghanistan who continues to draw our thoughts and prayers to the plight of our world and therefore of each other.
I have given the title of this piece, Our Father..the beginning of the Lord’s Prayer. It begins in Ukranian. If you are able, please pray it in your own language.

The prayer below is a response to a request by the United Reform Church (UK) made to young people who are refugees in the UK. They were asked what we should pray for on the second anniversary of the war in Ukraine.

Отче наш, що єси на небесах,
Нехай святиться Ім’я Твоє.
Хай прийде Царство Твоє,
нехай буде воля Твоя
Як на небі, так і на землі
Хліб наш насущний дай нам сьогодні.
І прости нам провини наші,
як і ми прощаємо винуватцям нашим.
І не введи нас у спокусу,
але визволи нас від лукавого.
Бо Твоє є Царство, і сила, і слава
навіки.
Амінь

[Lord’s Prayer in Ukranian checked by Tania Andrienko of Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv]

MR.G.

Play the Piano for me.


I call this ‘Broken Music’. It is by the Afghan street artist Shamsiah Hassani.
She did much to inspire women in Kabul to be empowered and confident in a male dominated society.
After the Taliban took over, she moved away from Afghanistan and her work now has a global perspective. One of her recent paintings, Damn the War, was addressed to the people of the Ukraine.
I have chosen this one to illustrate a poem I wrote on International Piano Day.

A poem on International Piano day  

Play the piano for me.
I wish to hear music.
Play notes to calm my fears,
Soothing my soul from anxiety.

I live in a world ripped apart by sounds
gurgling up from the bowels of hell.
Bombs, missiles, bullets,
Angry tanks, guttural sounds of soldiers.
Many are far from home, tired too, hungry.
bewildered.
Sucked in by masters whose only language is hatred.
Their words a cacophony of crashing disharmony
mixed with disillusionment.
Such cankered and disfigured hearts,
no longer at one with the music that created them.

Buildings shake and discard the rubble of their former life.
Incessant noise, unceasing ruin.
No symphony.
No sympathy.

Wars begin in hearts crumpled by demonic blackness.
Is this hell?
Despair. The concerto of annihilation.

But, if you play music to us,
We may find a way out of all this.
Your sound of note caressing note,
sprinkles  kindness over us ,  and love;
showing us where we need to be.

As the piano music  lifts my heart,
I hear it’s tune –
There is more than hell on earth.
There is earth raised up to heaven.

Mr G. 29.3.2022

Please look at the work of Shasiah Hassani either on Instagram or by Googling her name.
There are a number of interesting and informative articles about her,

We cannot be erased

Photos of paintings by Shamsia Hassani

We Planted the seeds  :  Female graffiti artists of Afghanistan

I was drawn to a profoudly moving article, in this week’s Observer newspaper, by Ruchi Kamar, an Indian journalist reporting from Kabul.
On Twitter she has reported,  “Last week I was a journalist. Today I can’t write under my own name. My whole life has been obliterated in days. I’m not safe because I’m a 22-year-old woman. and because I’m a journalist”

Ruchi is one of a group of women in Afghanistan who have challenged inequality, violence and the progress of women in an hitherto male dominated society. They have spoken through the medium of art, particularly graffiti art, using the buildings of their cities as their canvas. Art was the seed of change they planted in the fabric and the hearts of progressive Afghanstan. It was never plain sailing but since the takeover by the Taliban it has become, for the time being, almost an impossible dream.

Most of the women artists have fled from Afghanistan but even where the Taliban has whitewashed their art, the power of their story lives on. Most are continuing to paint and offer cartoons which challenge us all in the global struggle to foster inclusivity, peace, justice and freedom for all.

One of the leaders of the Art movement is Shamsia Hassani  (born 1988). She is a graffiti artist, was until the Taliban arrived a fine arts lecturer and was associate professor of Drawing and Anatomy Drawing at Kabul University. She has popularized street art in Kabul and exhibited in a number of countries round the world. Excluded currently from Afghanistan, their voice lives on in their drawings.

After reading Ruchi Kumar’s article, I was moved to write this poem:

We cannot be erased

Men in black came.
Shrouded in rags of darkness,
they carried pots and crumpled brushes,
grubby paint under their dirt-ridden fingernails.

But we eluded them.
They did not capture our spirit, or even our fears
and we slipped behind our art.

They found our murals –
not hidden, but filling the streets.
Statements of freedom, love and hope
on walls and doorways, houses, alleyways and souks.
Art in the public domain:
picture-words addressed to those
who would be changed by them,
engaged through them.
Hope, constantly embraced.

Dangerous words for those who want control,
power and demonic servitude.
So they came with their little pots to erase them –
to erase us!
Frantically obliterating all we stood for.

But by then we had gone,
slipping beyond the darkness out of reach.
We cannot be silenced – not even in Kabul.
Our identity, our message, our struggle, our hopes
are all there in the soil of our country,
planted deep, but growing up through the darkness
watered by tears shed abroad,
until, one day…

Our hearts hurt yet also yearn.
Sad now, but with joyful expectations
and the determination to open our hearts one day
to a new dawning…

We cannot be erased.

© Mr.G Oct 2021