Kowarsky's Cairo
Men as models could be the fillip a forlorn urban landscape needs,
indicates Australian artist Damon Kowarsky in conversation with
Gamal Nkrumah
There is something almost overpoweringly masculine about the
drawings, etchings, illustrations and prints produced by the softly
spoken Damon Kowarsky, an Australian artist who is currently exhibiting
his work at the Mashrabiya Gallery in downtown Cairo.
Women are nowhere to be found in his concrete jungles. He obviously
has no time for frills and flounces. During the course of our
conversation, I find myself flailing around searching for ways of
describing his dusky, murky and somewhat shadowy depictions of cities he
has visited and deeply cares for -- Cairo, Damascus, Khiva in
Uzbekistan, Istanbul and New York City.
Overcast grey, russet of the dreariest and dirtiest sort, lead-and-
ashen ghostly whites. The cheeriest of the lot is undoubtedly Damascus
with its pearl grey jade ambiance and the mysterious and muscular Michel
in the midst of it all. "No, he is not Syrian. He is Australian. A
friend and a very good model."
As a taxi whisks me through Tahrir Square, I reflect that the
Mashrabiya Gallery is a world away from the glamorous galleries of the
leafy Cairene island suburb of Zamalek. The Mashrabiya is exactly where
one would expect to find the works of Damon Kowarsky. The young man who
sits across from me is a model of self-containment. He possesses the
tightly composed and almost wooden, adrenaline-charged serenity of an
artist who has worked flat-out to produce haunting images of sprawling
metropolises such as Cairo or New York, or of fairytale-like cities on
the ancient Silk Roads, such as Khiva.
As Kowarsky morphed from his hometown of Melbourne to the madness of
hectic Cairo, his predilection for stark cityscapes is a reminder that
his native Australia is one of the most urbanised societies on earth.
"90 per cent of Australians live in cities. 50 per cent live in the two
largest cities of Sydney and Melbourne," Kowarsky elucidates, briefly
reminiscing about the unforgettable cities he has travelled to.
The conversation at first is gauche and rather maladroit. Kowarsky
is as neat and concise in his conversation as the cityscapes he etches
on canvas and paper. "The outback is not where the vast majority of
Australians are. Melbourne is home. That city is where my closest
friends and family are. Cairo, on the other hand, is a city that
inspires me."
In Cairo he is in his element. He wears open-toed sandals on the
opening night of his exhibition: perfect for haunted house- hunting in
ancient Cairene alleyways. The sturdy sandals are a distinguished touch,
of course, but a practical one too. They are efficient, in other words,
and effective for the task at hand. He is an artist, after all, and one
who is on the move.
In step with the Cairene spring, the heat and spirit of the 25
January Revolution still hovering over Tahrir Square, Kowarsky explains
why the area of Al-Darb Al-Ahmar holds a special fascination for him. It
is characteristic of Cairo, he says, the city in miniature. "The
density of the buildings. The unplanned nature of the spatial spread,
both vertical and horizontal. When people have some extra cash and money
to spend, they add floors without permits and without proper plumbing.
People have control over their environment. I like that."
Kowarsky's Cairo is also something of a melancholy charade depicted
in rawly physical and symbolic terms. I inquire further into his
relationship with the city.
The façades, he says, although falling apart, have an ancient
history. Like Cairo itself, the city's alleyways and doorways tell tales
that are woven like a tapestry around the residents and their ghosts,
extending across cultures and through time. The building's occupants
paint the rooms they live in and the balconies and façades. There is a
quality to the best of these haphazard creations that Kowarsky finds
fascinating.
"I understand that the Agha Khan Foundation is restoring the area.
In historic times, Al-Darb Al-Ahmar used to be a suburb of Cairo where
the wealthy elite lived. Then came the 1952 Revolution, and the remnants
of the rich and powerful people who lived there moved out and the
peasants moved in. But traces of the beautiful mansions of the past have
survived. The district has everything -- layers and layers of
everything from every age," he says, entranced by the beauty of it all.
"I loved the city at once on first sight." This is typical of
Kowarsky's candour. The characteristic and distinctive elements of the
cities he depicts in his work are easily discernable. However, they
cohere into abstract harmonies.
His Istanbul, for instance, is like no other depiction of the city
that I know of. "I am not interested in the picture-postcard Istanbul
and the famous landmarks. I find the minutiae far more interesting, like
in Cairo. The satellite dishes and the metro system are as compelling
as the majestic minarets of the great mosques."
And then there is Sarouja, not quite a city, nor even a town, but
rather a village in the heart of the enchanting Syrian countryside
somewhere between Homs and Hama. Michel poses in Sarouja as well. And
there is Paul, presumably an African- American, Ahmad Abdel-Fattah and
Mostafa Badawi. Lonesome city lads, I suspect.
Jaisalmer, the jewel of India's Rajasthani crown, glows a faintly
reddish hue. The majestic Jaisalmer with its distinctive, authentically
Indian architecture sharply contrasts with the meek mud-brick beehives,
the conical shapes of Sarouja's peasant homesteads. This is a
reflection, perhaps, of the criss- crossing worlds that co-exist in
Kowarsky's aesthetic intellect. His art accentuates otherness and
otherworldliness. Yet, in order fully to apprehend the specificity of
space and form in each city Korwarsky sketches, the caricature confirms
the fact that the contemporary histories of global cities are shared in a
curious fashion.
The shared modern memory of cities is claimed even in or despite
their differences. Mohamed Naguib is a masterpiece, and Nubar Street is
stunning, though the inhabitants are extraordinarily invisible in
Kowarsky's sketches of the spirits of cities. The spatial utilisation is
never haphazard, even though at times it can appear to be so. The
buildings themselves, and the artist's approach to the spatial settings
of these global cities, conjure up images of residents you do not see.
Kowarsky is oblivious to everything except the lonely male figures that
embody the solitariness and at times detachment of individuals from the
concrete jungles they dwell in.
"I respond to what I see," Kowarsky clarifies. He is impulsive and
proud of it. "I am interested in the collage, the collision between
different styles and periods standing side by side." History aside, his
illustrations also offer disentangled talking points.
There is kudos to living with vulnerability and being unwilling to
brook any dissent from the urban norm. But the harsh reality is that the
transformation of rural landscapes into residential real-estate creates
a poignant sense of separation and urban alienation. Artistically
depicting the stark creations of the concrete jungle with intense
sensitivity, Kowarsky's illustrations are reminiscent of the proverbial
dialogue of the deaf. While his models may not be hard of hearing, it is
as if they have arbitrarily renounced their capacity to listen to the
humdrum of the global city. Lacking a sense of hearing, they aren't
exactly tone deaf since they have an astounding capacity to communicate
in silence, without uttering a word and even staring back at the
onlooker.
Kowarsky's case is compelling. He seems deliberately to shun the
green angle, disregarding the beauty of urban greenery. What gives
Kowarsky's etchings their extra edge is that he constructs territorially
based urban images that are devoid of traffic, terraces, hedges and
gardens, let alone of passers-by.
Kowarsky has played a difficult hand well. Does he draw at dawn? His
streets are deserted, as if abandoned. His vehicles, oddly parked as
opposed to being in motion, are vaguely suggestive of matchbox cars. His
is an urban still-life. However, where are the parks, the leafy suburbs
and the woodland? I inspect his images of New York City scrupulously.
It's not an oversight.
"Actually, Central Park is the empty space out there in the
background -- the blank spot you may choose not to see," he says with
forensic honesty.
Damon Kowarsky's exhibition In Visible Cities is part of the Mashrabiya Gallery's summer exhibition schedule.
