“Refugee art” from Sudan: the paintings that escaped the war 'in extremis'

On April 14, 2023, a plane took off from Khartoum, the capital of Sudan, bound for Lisbon with dozens of works of art on board.

“If we had been late for a day, we wouldn't have been able to get anything out,” says Rahiem Shadad, co-founder of the Sudanese exhibition hall The Downtown Gallery.

On that ship were traveling most of the 31 paintings that Shadad and the Portuguese curator António Pinto Ribeiro had selected for the collection

Uprising on the Nile,

an exhibition

which was going to be presented in the Portuguese capital with the aim of “establishing a connection between Sudanese art and the global North.”

Just one day after the pieces left Khartoum, a bloody civil war began between the Sudanese army and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces that has forced more than 7.5 million people to flee their homes, according to UNHCR, and which threatens to trigger the largest hunger crisis in the world.

“At nine in the morning on April 15 of last year they began to bomb the airport,” recalls Shadad, who recalls the anguish he experienced those days during an interview in Madrid with this newspaper.

“My partner had left the works on April 13 at the last minute at the DHL office [in Khartoum] and the question we asked ourselves was whether or not the plane had been able to take off,” continues the young curator.

The chances that he would not have succeeded, given the tension experienced during the days before the outbreak of the conflict, were many.

“Our gallery is about 800 meters from the airport and we know, for example, absolutely nothing about the state of the 550 works that were inside,” he laments.

So these paintings, first housed in the Brotéria gallery in Lisbon and which have been exhibited since last Thursday at the Madrid headquarters of Casa Arabe, have not only managed to overcome “the restrictions that for years had prevented the entry of Sudanese galleries into international commercial art circuits”, but “they are refugee art, war survivors”, adds Shadad.

Our art gallery is about 800 meters from the airport and we know nothing about the status of the 550 works inside

Rahiem Shadad, co-founder of the Sudanese exhibition hall The Downtown Gallery

The exhibition, a selection of works by 11 Sudanese artists, including four women, “covers all the political unrest that has taken place in Sudan from the 1990s to the present and aims to tell how each generation of creators has reflected that uncertainty in his work,” explains Shadad, either with traditional techniques or with experimental supports such as recycled wood or even “video art” pieces.

The Sudanese artist Eltayeb Dawelbait, in front of two of his works last Thursday at Casa Arabe.Jaime Villanueva

Artists like Eltayeb Dawelbait (Hosti, Sudan, 1968) represent “the beginning of that period of political unrest,” describes the curator.

Exiled in Nairobi since the nineties to get away from the Omar al Bashir regime, he could not remove from his work the effects of the repression of the dictator who ruled Sudan with an iron fist for 30 years until the revolution that caused his fall in 2019. “The "Art reflects people's lives and in our work everything that happens to us comes to light, what happens to our family and friends, what happens around us," Dawelbait details during an interview in Madrid.

Rashid Diab (Wad Madani, Sudan, 1957), who lives in the Spanish capital, is also part of this first generation of contemporary Sudanese artists.

“What is the identity of Sudanese art?” asks Diab, who has reflected and theorized about the art of Sudan, from the Nubian culture to tribal traditions, to establish a bridge “between the Arab, the African and the Spanish. ”.

The Sudanese artist Rashid Diab poses in front of one of his paintings, last Thursday at Casa Arabe. Jaime Villanueva

Others, like Bakri Moaz (Khartoum, 1993), represent “the specific political moment between 2018 and 2021”, between the fall of Al Bashir and the coup d'état that frustrated the democratic transition and led to the current war.

“He is one of the people who painted the street murals created during the strikes” that forced the military to cede power, explains Shadad.

Now, Moaz, a refugee, like Dawelbait, in the capital of Kenya, and after having seen the building in which his studio was located engulfed in flames, carries a greater responsibility than when he created that urban art.

“I am among some of the few who have been able to leave [Sudan], so I feel the commitment to continue painting and be the voice of the people,” he says during a conversation with EL PAÍS.

Waleed Mohammed, the author of several of the pieces on display, was, however, unable to leave the country.

“We haven't had any news from him for four weeks, it's been impossible for us to contact him,” laments Shadad.

The Sudanese painter Bakri Moaz, last Thursday at Casa Arabe, along with his three works that are part of the 'Unrest on the Nile' collection. Jaime Villanueva

Gender perspective

Although none of the four women participating in the exhibition were able to attend the opening in Madrid – one of them because she had just had a baby and the others, exiled from Sudan, due to visa problems – including “men and women” in The collection was one of the priority objectives of Shadad and Pinto Ribeiro.

“The work of Yasmeen Abdullah [born in Qatar, in 1992] is very illustrative, they are stories, like the one in the painting

I don't know who sold the country, but I do know who paid the price

, which can even be read,” says Shadad.

On the other hand, Reem al Jeally “represents the artists who came after the revolution, when individuality began to emerge in the art world and people began to talk about what happens, not only in collective spaces, but in private spaces.” ” in a project in which she reflects on the border between public and private space as a Muslim.

“When do I really take off my hijab if I'm at home, but my window is open and the neighbor is looking at me?” Shadad gives as an example.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Reem Aljeally (@reemaljeally)

“Whoever comes to the exhibition will be able to see how varied the pieces are.

We have not chosen them randomly, but they tell the collective story of Sudan, how it changes and how it moves,” Shadad clarifies.

The future that awaits them, without a place to return to, is uncertain, although the young curator hopes that these exhibitions in southern Europe will serve to connect Sudanese art with the artistic commercial circuits that had previously closed the doors to them.

“They are good works, which can be part of international collections, so come and ask about the artists,” he says with a smile.

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