Purple nights, golden days

Purple nights, golden days Sarah Young / 8 May 2013 A trendy gallery in Al Quoz was bursting with brightly-coloured canvases and plenty of interested buyers on Monday night. And the artists, children with special needs, who are teaching others about more than just art. It all began with a painting of a stark, black tree against a red background. It was 2009, and the director of Sharjah’s Manzil School of Special Needs, Dr. Ayesha Saeed Husaini, was struggling to secure enough funding for the school. “We were very low on funds with the recession. A lot of corporations were withdrawing support. It was a really tough year, I was out and about trying to get stuff, but it wasn’t happening.” Sitting in her dark office, the lights turned off as she pondered what to do, she was unable to focus on the emails in front of her. She went for a walk, and found a student putting the finishing touches on a canvas. “It was really nice. I asked ‘what have you made?’ And she said: ‘flowers’.” Husaini looked again at the painting. An art lover admires a work done by a student of Manzil School at Al Serkal art gallery during the silent auction of the artwork. — KT photos by Rahul Gajjar “It was a stark, black skeleton, no leaves, no life according to me. A nice, powerful painting – but no flowers as far as I could see.” She laughs now to recall her confusion. “I said ‘you say you have made flowers? Where are the flowers?” The student pointed at her feet. “I thought – oh my goodness, okay the story is the point …  I’ve been looking up all my life for flowers in the tree of life, but all along they’ve been strewn along the path I travel. “She taught me a good lesson … I was looking for money to come in from here and there but I didn’t realise I was sitting on all that potential and funds on the path where I stood. So that’s why we started the process for an art auction. The potential is here with us, we don’t need to go outside and get it.” Art-world professionals and Emirates NBD got on board, and ‘Conversations at Al Serkal Avenue’ was held for the first time last year. This year’s exhibition opened on Monday evening, with a silent auction at FN Designs gallery. The 22 artworks, each starting at Dh5,500, were selected with the help of well-known local artist Mohammed Kazem and director of FN Designs, Sheikha Wafa Hasher Al Maktoum. Jewellery made by students was also on sale. Conversations about the works between Husaini and the artists can be heard at the gallery – and visitors can also record their own message for the artists to hear later. Co-organiser Vilma Jurkute said this was part of establishing a dialogue between the community and the artists – and it was this, along with awareness, which was just as important as raising funds. The art has improved visibly with the use of better canvases and paints, and the tutelage of a trained art teacher, thanks to the funds raised last year, she says. People often are amazed the works are done by children. Even she had to visit the school and watch the artists work, to make sure it was their own and not influenced by teachers. “I had to make sure — we were getting important people involved. And it was. They were doing all these amazing canvases — there’s no imposing on anyone, they’re just free to create.” She also points out how Husaini has been offered a glimpse into these children’s minds which she never had before – despite having a doctorate in psychology and working with children for years. Art enthusiasts gather at Al Serkal art gallery. Husaini agrees – and much like the dialogues accompanying each painting, the stories she tells illustrate the lessons learnt both for the children and herself. It is a “different kind of interaction”, unlike the usual structured classes, and the outcomes are ones that cannot be achieved elsewhere.  “We have classes for social skills, self-confidence and the skills they require to survive in society. Little did we realise it could be done through art. “It’s not only a form of expression. We see a lot of skills developed: social skills, fine motor skills, creativity… and we understand more where they’re coming from.” And certain themes keep repeating themselves – especially happiness, she says. “When people look at people with special needs, there’s a tendency to feel sad that comes without thinking, but in these stories, the kids, even with autism, just talk about happiness. “We’re all spending hours of our time and money, going to life coaches, looking for happiness but our students have it right there. You wonder, looking at these paintings, who is truly the giver and the taker?” Mohammad Chandra, 7, has painted a piece called Happy Rain depicting a man and child underneath an array of paint-drippings. “I asked him what it was about, and thought he would say something like ‘colourful rain’. So it was nice he was adding a feeling to it, which was unusual for a child with autism. Later, he said it was his Dad in the picture beside him.” His father holds an umbrella, unlike the child. “Adults don’t know about happy rain,” Mohammad told her. “Dad told me the umbrella was for not getting wet but I say I won’t get wet.” Husaini explains. “Adults always have umbrellas, always want protection … they want safety nets around them. If you just let go sometimes, you will absorb the happiness around you, but if you set up an umbrella you don’t get a chance. “He doesn’t say it in those exact words, but that’s what comes out of a series of conversations.” Visitors admire a piece of art. Husaini reiterates during the interview that these answers don’t come perfectly, but are the result of her questioning and ongoing conversations. “We weave things together, we have to talk about it and then make sense of it. “This is because they’re long stories … and it’s sort of about connecting the dots over a period of time. “We called it conversations because it’s more than just art, it’s a peek into something beyond.” Another student, Tahsin Nawer, 13, who has global developmental delays, used to paint only purple skies. Huisani recalls one in particular with a tree which only bloomed at night when no-one could see – and how different this is to her piece being exhibited, ‘Windows’, with its four bright cells of yellow and grey.  “The purple nights had moved to yellow sunshine. I asked her “Are you happy? Why are there windows? So you can look out? Do you also realise people can look at you?’ She thought and then said yes. I asked if she was okay with that, and she thought again, and then nodded. “For me, that was the big thing … to see that transition from her being behind walls and in the dark, to being okay with coming out and being seen. “It’s a lovely process. It makes me smile, and it makes me cry. “I also found this is a way to go into their minds a little bit, which is something we try to do a lot, but don’t often get to, especially for those with autism.” She suggested once to one student he change the background colour of his piece. He told her he would not sign his name to it if he did – and that the painting would be hers, not his. “This is huge for my students – learning to stand up for themselves, even to authority. If my boss suggested I change something, I would probably say, ‘okay, maybe….’ “Very often I’ve put up the painting upside down or round the wrong way … you know, they’re quite abstract. They’ll come in and say ‘No that’s not right’, and they’ll change it. They’re quite particular about it … and they make clear who’s in charge.” Parents also benefit from their child’s creations, she says. “There’s initial disbelief almost that their child has done this, and then a lot of pride. There are times, particularly for parents with younger children, when there’s an element of doubt, fears of what will happen in the future, not knowing where and what. This gives them a lot of hope and confidence in their own children, and it shows them what they can do. “It makes me very proud so I can’t imagine what it does to the parents of these children.” The money raised will be used to make the school more “self-sufficient”. Husaini admits the funding situation is still “extremely tough” for the school which opened in 2006 and now has 40 students between five and 30 years of age. “Fees never cover the costs, they’re highly subsidised — by about 40 per cent. There’s a constant pressure to find funds.” More guaranteed funding would be better, especially when the school is operating on a “skeleton staff” who have to multi-task to stage events such as these, she says. “I would prefer to get a consistent amount for 10 years than a big amount and not know tomorrow. “Many don’t know about us because we’re tucked away in Sharjah in an industrial area, but yes, we do need more support. And it’s not just your money — we need people to come in and see the students. “People could learn so much if they just sit down with them and have a conversation, about art or anything else.” The message she says she wants to get out is that Manzil’s main aim is inclusion. “I’d like to say my students are really exceptional, rather than being the exception.  “We want people to buy this art because it’s good, not because it’s made by a person with special needs, or for people to buy it for charity and then put it in the store room and let it rot. “These pieces don’t have a signature that’s well known, but buy it now, be an angel investor and you never know when this will become a signature you want to buy.” “It’s nice to invest now while it’s affordable,” she laughs. Parent Huda Al Shatti, whose son Bashar Al Mazmi, 14, is a Manzil student, says the school, with its supportive environment and specialist teachers, is invaluable for her son. “They understand the situations, and are able to do so much more. This school has been so good for Bashar. It deserves more support and funding. Everything is so much more expensive – you need special teachers, special equipment … it’s very costly.” Activities such as art and music have a hugely positive effect, she says. Music calms Bashar, and helps him to relax and imagine things, while art helps him to express himself. And he has progressed from creating pictures with only black markings, to more colourful creations, she says. Asked what his favourite colour is now, Bashar smiles and says “purple. Definitely purple.” The exhibition runs until May 23. sarah@khaleejtimes.com Taylor Scott International