One night last month, Syrian artist Mohamad Hafez couldn’t sleep. A few days had passed since the fall of President Bashar al-Assad on 8 December 2024, bringing an end to his family’s over 50-year regime in Syria.
Despite the hardships endured by the Syrian people, they chanted joyously en masse and cleaned the streets across the country, continuing their civic movement.
A new Syria was indeed being born, and the world was there to witness this momentous occasion in history.
Among those who welcomed this political change are Syria’s visual artists, advocates of freedom of expression and the innate act of creation. Many of them are based abroad, a decision triggered by the devastating war in their country that began in 2011.
“We are cautiously happy, excited, driven, and full of love and appreciation. I’m very optimistic and not pessimistic about what’s to come — absolutely not,” Mohamad, who is based in Connecticut, told The New Arab.
“There is absolutely nothing worse than what we have seen as a Syrian nation,” he added.
Born in Damascus and raised in Saudi Arabia, Mohamad, who studied electrical engineering, has lived overseas for more than two decades, frequently travelling between the United States and the Middle East.
In 1999, at the age of 15, he and his family resettled in the Syrian capital, a place that captivated him with its layered architectural and social scene.
“I remember leaving my school and seeing Old Damascus: the churches, mosques, art galleries, nude sculptures, women wearing skirts, and others in niqabs. I thought, “What is this place? What is this coexistence?” This was when my infatuation with my country began. I took all of it in. It was a love relationship that started immediately,” he recalled.
In saying this, Mohamed admits that life under Assad was suffocating for him.
like torture and the refugee crisis
In the early 2000s, he moved to the United States to further his education, only to discover that his visa was a single-entry one.
“As they say, everything forbidden becomes desirable. I was a teenager eager to leave my country, but then I began to miss it,” he recalled.
From 2003 onwards, he began creating complex and intricate maquettes that depicted street life in Damascus.
“They denied us the thought of dreaming of going to Syria. You know how desperate we were? I was 100% sure I would not see Syria in my lifetime. I was 70% sure that my son, who is two years old, was not going to see Syria in his lifetime. So, we built an entire life and well-being and careers in exile, based on that premise,” he said.
“I had to bury my soul and my Damascus. It was an old memory. I focused on my life in the diaspora and now, everything has changed, like a huge explosion,” he added.
Just one day after Assad fled the country, Mohamad announced on Instagram his intention to donate his 100-piece art collection to a museum or cultural institution, with plans to transfer the works to their new home in Syria once a museum or cultural centre is established for the public to view.
“As a Syrian artist, I consciously had to draw that line in the sand for myself. It marked the end of a chapter. The task ahead of us is undoubtedly huge. Now is the time to build the country,” Mohamad shared.
To date, several parties have already reached out to him, expressing their interest in his collection.
The human side of the Syrian people
Another Syrian creative currently living abroad is the Berlin-based photographer Jaber AlAzmeh.
Eight months after the protests in Syria erupted in March 2011, he and his family left the country, first settling in Qatar and eventually moving to Germany.
“I felt things were going to get worse,” Jaber told The New Arab on his fairly quick exit.
“It was difficult to leave because it meant being uprooted, leaving everything I loved behind, and starting a new life. But this was nothing compared to what the people back home were experiencing,” he added.
Like many Syrians, witnessing Assad’s flight from the country was a surreal experience.
“In the beginning, we weren’t able to believe what was happening and it took time for it to sink in. He was gone. It’s over,” said Jaber.
“It was incredible seeing immense happiness in the streets and people being united. It was beautiful. But of course, there are some worries. If we look at history, from the French Revolution to the Bolshevik Revolution, change didn’t happen right away. It’s expected that there will be ups and downs. But I keep telling myself that no matter what comes, it can’t be worse than what was already there,” Jaber added.
When the revolution began, Jaber participated in the movement by working on some secret photographic projects. One powerful series he produced is the monochromatic Resurrection, which demonstrates the impact of silent protest.
Photographed between 2011 and 2014, the series shows around 70 Syrians — actors, writers, designers, citizens, and anonymous individuals — holding overturned Al-Ba’ath newspapers, each covered with handwritten messages of hope, anger, and dreams for a brighter future.
One person wrote, ‘I want my daughter to live better than I did,’ while in another picture, a woman tosses a crumpled piece of newspaper behind her.
edition of 5, 70 x 105 cm
Upon reflection, Jaber says he looks back on this bold body of work “with happiness,” as it was meant to highlight the human side of the Syrian people.
“All the images that emerged from Syria in the media tended to focus on the violence and the extremes of both sides — the Islamists and the regime,” he explained. “These works were a way to show our true image to the world.”
At present, Jaber hopes to visit Damascus again, believing it will inspire him to continue the series, but this time with a more open and optimistic approach.
“The very fact that I have a country I can return to is very comforting,” he added.
‘We must be present’
An artist who did return to Syria after an eight-year hiatus is Beirut-based Azza Abo Rebieh.
“I was out in the streets, seeing people, and I couldn’t believe my eyes,” she told The New Arab.
In late 2016, she left for Lebanon with a one-way ticket after being detained at Adra prison in Damascus due to her activism during the revolution. However, she stated that she was accused of terrorism.
During her detainment, Azza created black-and-white artworks inspired by female detainees, as well as dolls made from threads extracted from blankets.
After her release from prison, she moved to the Lebanese capital, where she showcased her artworks in an exhibition in 2018 that depicted life in captivity.
“I felt it was my duty to discuss this and to show what I witnessed,” she shared.
On a recent trip to Damascus, Azza created a poignant artwork addressing the issue of missing individuals in Syria, featuring the text in Arabic that reads, “I want justice for my son.”
Continuing her activism, she participated in a silent demonstration in Hijaz Square, Damascus, where she held up her new artwork in late December.
“I love the streets and working with people,” she expressed. “The spirits and momentum were high. We all need to be here and experience this moment, so it won’t be taken away from us. We must be present.”
[Cover photo: Hala Omran by Jaber AlAzmeh]
Rawaa Talass is a freelance journalist focusing on art and culture emerging from the Middle East. Her work has been published in Art Dubai, Arab News, Al Arabiya English, Artsy, The Art Newspaper, Kayhan Life, Dubai Collection, and The National
Follow her on X: @byrawaatalass
