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Peace
Begins With A Vision:
Three
Women Artists Working for Peace
In this newsletter, we interview three artists
exploring issues of peace and conflict resolution in their work.
Seema Sueko is a playwright who has explored the Israeli-Palestinian
conflict in her own work, and whose company, Mo'olelo Performing
Arts, plans this fall to stage A Piece of My Heart, Shirley
Lauro's poignant play about women who served in Vietnam.
Octavia McBride-Ahebee writes poems about the civil wars and conflicts
in Africa. Haifa Bint-Kadi is a Palestinian-American mosaic artist
who brings Muslim and Jewish women together to create public mosaics.
To learn more about
any of these artists, just search the WomenArts
Network on her name. You can write to any artist
on the WomenArts Network by clicking the email link at the top
of her profile page.
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Seema
Sueko: Sing Your Story Loud & Clear
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Seema
Sueko
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Sarah
Browning: Has being
a woman had an impact on your work on themes of war and peace?
Seema
Sueko: I'm sure that all of my cultural identities
filter and influence how I approach my art, whether it's my identity
as woman, or Muslim, or mixed-race, or actor, or San Diegan. As
I create new theatre works that are based on community interviews,
because I am a woman, I am given access into new communities through
other women, and consequently, I am able to learn and witness
the effects of war and peace at a personal and intimate level.
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Specifically, my play,
remains, was based on my interviews and experiences
in Israel-Palestine. My female identity gave me immediate access
to Palestinian and Israeli women's organizations, and a large
amount of my play is based on some of the women I met through
those connections. Further, rather than focus on the male-dominated
policy-making entities, my play focused on the bridges and obstacles
the women face in peacemaking, and the important work they are
doing to create change in their societies.
Sarah Browning: What role do
you see for the arts in a time of war? Does war change your art
making process or the art itself?
Sueko:
I see the theatre as our modern-day town halls, churches,
mosques, synagogues or temples. It's the place where our communities
can gather and experience diverse stories, voices, and viewpoints,
and it's the place for community dialogue. I don't think any of
that changes in the time of war. Perhaps it just becomes all the
more vital that our art creates the space for exploration, discussion,
fostering cross-cultural competence, and building bridges across
community divides.
War does not change my
personal art making process, but I think it does increase the
public's interest in new voices that have previously been ignored
or underrepresented in American theatre, which will hopefully
create the opportunities for their important participation.
Mo'olelo's
Fall 2005 production is Shirley Lauro's powerful play A Piece
of My Heart , which is based on the true stories of the diverse
women who served in the Vietnam War. It's a timely play as we
find our nation once again divided about our involvement in a
foreign war. The women veterans' experiences offer the human stories
that reveal the complexities of war in an even-handed way and
invite all audiences, regardless of political affiliation, to
feel represented, challenged, engaged and expanded, thus opening
the space for important dialogue about our society. We've made
the unprecedented move of partnering with the Veterans Museum
and Memorial Center and Young Audiences of San Diego to present
this play. It's unprecedented because it deliberately forces the
activist, artist, veteran, military and education communities
to dialogue and to not objectify one another but to hear the diversity
of perspectives within each of our communities. We'll present
public performances that will be followed by discussions and school
performances followed by in-class workshops led by teams of actors
and Vietnam Veterans.
Browning : Do you feel new challenges
or pressures either internal or external as a result of living
and making art in a country at war? Opportunities?
Sueko:
It's unfortunate that it takes a war to increase the interest
from our cultural institutions in a Muslim female theatre artist,
but that's exactly what has happened. I think in many cases, the
decision-makers at many of our nation's top cultural institutions
are being forced by their audiences, who are struggling with our
current global environment, to share new voices. The challenges,
however, are exactly the same: ensuring that what's presented
on these stages is not objectification of "the other," but honest
stories executed with integrity.
Browning : Is there
a community aspect to your work? If so, could you tell us a little
bit about it and the reactions of audiences and community members?
Sueko:
There is a very important community aspect of the
work of my theatre company, Mo`olelo Performing Arts Company.
I am perplexed by theatre that exists independent of, in spite
of, or irrespective of the community in which it is produced.
After all, to make theatre, you need three important ingredients:
text, actors and audience. How will you engage your audience and
discover new audiences if your art exists outside of the community?
This involves engaging all members of the community, not just
those traditionally invited to participate in our cultural institutions.
At Mo`olelo we deliberately pursue community
partnerships on each of our projects. In February we presented
a play about nuclear testing called The Land
Southward with The Peace and Democracy Action Group of
the Unitarian Church of San Diego. In March we are presenting
an exciting new play called The Squirrel
Wife by an emerging Korean American playwright, Kimber
Lee, with ASIA: The Journal of Culture &
Commerce and The Taiwanese American Community Center. And
our 2004 play remains forged partnerships
with the American Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee, Voices of
Women, JITLI, and Israeli and Palestinian visual artists. We learn
new things from each of our community partners, and they open
the door to new audiences for Mo`olelo and ensure authenticity
and integrity in our presentations.
Browning : How do you
sustain yourself in your work over the long haul, especially in
this political climate? Do you have any recommendations for other
women artists who may be feeling discouraged or frustrated?
Sueko:
I am fortunate that San Diego has some wonderful organizations
that provide important resources to Mo`olelo and other theatre
artists. For example, the San Diego Performing Arts League offers
a program called Business Volunteers for the Arts, and through
them we received pro bono services from attorneys, accountants,
marketing professionals, graphic artists, and business leaders.
This has allowed Mo`olelo to thrive in our current environment
of reduced funding for the arts.
My only recommendation for other women artists
is to take a seat at important civic dialogues in your communities
- don't wait to be invited, just take that seat. Get involved
with your arts commissions, your chambers of commerce, your local
government, grass-roots organizations, anything and everything
that interests you. Then sing your story loud and clear. I think
we artists often self-impose a certain self-effacing segregation
from our larger communities, thinking civic leaders don't really
want to hear about the daily triumphs and struggles of artists.
But I have found that once I educate my audiences, patrons, and
donors about the low pay or the lack of health insurance for most
artists, they appreciate the new information. And often they feel
a personal responsibility to improve the cultural infrastructure
of our society by contributing to increased payments for artists
or diversifying the voices that have access to the arts.
Browning : What can
our readers do to support you and other artists like you?
Sueko:
Bring yourself and your talents to San Diego . Our community is
currently engaged in an important dialogue about the impact of
theatre in our civic society, how we share our story about the
diversity of new work created here with the rest of the nation,
and increasing funding for small and mid-sized union theatres.
The local newspapers, TV stations, community leaders, and community
foundations want to make San Diego a nationally-competitive arts
destination by 2009. We can ensure the diversity of voices involved
in that conversation only with an infusion of great women artists
here. Call me at Mo'olelo, 619-342-7395, I want to know about
your work, and I want to convince you to move here. For more information
about Mo'olelo: www.moolelo.net
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ABOUT SEEMA SUEKO
Seema
Sueko is the Artistic Director of Mo'olelo
Performing Arts Company in San Diego, California, a theatre and
community arts organization dedicated to bringing to life untold
community stories, presenting contemporary plays, and training
youth in technical theatre and design. Sueko is also a playwright
and actor; her play remains was Mo'olelo's premiere production.
Her acting awards include the Chicago
"Jeff Citation" Award for her performances in the world premiere
of Rebecca Gilman's The Crime of the Century, The
Waiting Room, and A Piece of my Heart. Read
More>>
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Octavia
McBride-Ahebee: Celebrate the Human Spirit
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Octavia
McBride-Ahebee
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I am unequivocally
a citizen of the world. Pieces of me are everywhere and somewhere
- unfortunately, there is always war. Consequently, my writing
is informed and consumed by this bleak fact. As an artist, who
had until quite recently lived abroad and returned home to the
States as a result of a civil war in my adopted country of Cote
d'Ivoire, I am overwhelmed by a sense of urgency to share, with
people who are privileged and protected from the realities of
war, what those realities are. I am as equally besieged by a need
to push to center stage the victims of war and affirm and give
dimensions to their experiences.
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It has been such a surreal experience to leave
one country because of war and return to seek safety in my home
country, which is itself engaged in war. There are many times
when I go to bed, in Philadelphia, completely disheartened by
the human and material losses the war in Iraq continuously exacts.
And in my sleepy despondency, I am, too often, awakened by early
morning phone calls from Abidjan. The calls are from Osman, the
wonderful man who took care of my family and my home and who helped
me to understand the new culture I had joined there. An immigrant
from Burkina Faso, who has worked his whole adult life in Cote
d'Ivoire, he is now a target in a very vicious ethnic contest
for power. Always a dignified man, he tells me, "Madame,
c'est pas bon, ici." It is not good here. He proceeds to tell
me, with quiet dignity, how war can so easily strip you of everything,
especially your self-esteem.
Suzanne Akissa may call. An Ivorian, she
was my son Auguste's best friend and caretaker. An older
woman, whose employment in my home enabled her to leave an abusive
husband and even create a little side business for herself, she
has been devastated by the conflict in Cote d'Ivoire on so many
levels - even losing a son. What little money I can send periodically
via Western Union cannot begin to restore their lives and give
them a promise for the future.
I left my husband, Big Auguste, in his village,
in an unmarked grave with no flowers and an expansive view of
the highway that now serves as the divide between the two warring
sides. The village and the highway were landmarks that lead to
places and times of love and happiness. None of that remains now.
Cote d'Ivoire, once an oasis of peace and prosperity
in a region bloodied by war, was a refuge for many people fleeing
war, especially Liberians. They became my closest friends and
their stories of war I came to know by heart. I visited Liberia
in 2000 and I was not prepared to see first-hand what war destroys
so easily and with vicious finesse.
Since returning to the States, two things are
so clear to me now; the world is indeed small and people seldom
learn lessons from one other. My city of Philadelphia is home
to a growing Liberian and Ivorian community. The divisions that
spawned the civil conflicts in their home countries have stayed
intact in Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love. Money continues
to be raised inside cafes and fraternal centers to buy arms and
sustain different power bases.
By and large, what and who I write about - African
women, refugee women, women who are new immigrants, women who
are victims of civil war, etc. - are not what people want to hear
about. But what is more celebratory than the human spirit putting
up a grand fight against the evils of war? It is this human spirit
that I celebrate. And I go everywhere, most times with my nine-year-old
daughter, Sojourner, and I tell a few stories. With my friend,
Monica McIntyre, a fabulous cellist, we bring varied audiences,
through words and string, to situations that demand to be acknowledged.
This is a beginning.
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ABOUT
OCTAVIA MCBRIDE-AHEBEE
Octavia
McBride-Ahebee is
a writer of poetry, short stories and plays. Born in Philadelphia,
PA, McBride-Ahebee lived for nine years in Cote d'Ivoire, West
Africa. A former reporter for The Philadelphia Tribune ,
her literary work has appeared in such books and journals as The
Beloit Poetry Journal, International Quarterly: Faces of the Americas,
The Eagle Spirit , and Timbooktu . Her debut collection
of poetry, Assuming Voices , is published by Lit Pot
Press ( www.litpotpress.com
). She is at work on a
play with music, Full Circle , about the experience of
enslavement, genocide, and exile.
Read More>>
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Haifa
Bint-Kadi: Peace Begins with a Vision
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Haifa
Bint-Kadi |
Sarah Browning:
What role do you see for the arts in a time of war? Does war change
your art making process or the art itself?
Haifa
Bint-Kadi: Artists have always been known as the individuals
who can speak when it is not safe to speak and who can act when
it's not safe to act. I choose my career as an artist because
I was always a bit anti-authority as a youth. I knew that things
were awry with our system of government and with the way women
are sexualized and objectified in our culture in America, but
I often got in trouble when I tried to resist in high school.
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Even
though I was born in America, teachers generally knew that I was
a first generation American, an Arab, and I was often cast as
the "other," so I became marginalized and withdrew into a world
of my own making. I wrote poetry, made 8-mm films on a home movie
camera and I painted. I did a lot of mixed-media collage to speak
out and resist the oppression I found around me.
Artists do not have to answer to corporate structures and authoritarian
systems and that allows us the freedom to speak and act out in
our art about the injustices that exist. How can you live in a
country that wreaks havoc and destruction of war upon small and
disempowered peoples for the sake of corporate interests, and
not have something to say about it? My art ALWAYS reflects my
experience and because I am absolutely incapable of being a passive
observer to life around me, I must speak and communicate about
injustices and my art is a direct form of resistance.
I am angry about this war and yes, my anger
shows in my resistance pieces. At the same time, I truly believe
that to seek peace, to want it and to make it happen, begins with
a vision. You have to be a person who works every day, every minute
towards that vision. For me, I build bridges. I believe in grassroots
efforts. I organize meetings and art projects in my home between
Arabs and Jews, Muslims and Jews. I try to get involved in my
community.
Browning: Has being a woman had an impact
on your approach to your work on themes of war and peace? Your
cultural identity?
Bint-Kadi:
I often wonder how many women remember the pain, humiliation and
awkwardness of being a teenage girl walking down the street to
the catcalls, whistles, and drive-by insults of males who felt
completely empowered to objectify our bodies? As women, we are
the pursued and I know these experiences constantly shape and
mold our identities.
I know that not all men objectify women, but
certainly objectification plays a major role in war. American
culture has mastered this tool and anytime we declare an enemy,
it begins with objectification, by carving out the perceived enemy
as less than us, as different than us and less deserving of all
we benefit from in America. As a direct result of being pursued
and objectified, I have become an expert in recognizing when it's
being used as a tool of propaganda. Women get that in a way that
men might not be as sensitized to.
I'm a Muslim woman. I cover my head as my religion
requires. I don't feel oppressed. I actually feel relieved and
released. My contact with people, particularly men, is not about
the "look" of me, but about our dialogue and what I bring intellectually.
Let me tell you, THAT is a form of freedom!
My art definitely seeks to address the destruction
that we create when we objectify and try to control the world
to fulfill our own desires. In my mixed media pieces I often juxtapose
iconic fashion images with images of war and destruction. I use
text to make people think about how words are used as symbols,
so that almost a hypnotic effect consumes our minds. For example,
you say, "gap" and our teenagers think fashion that makes me a
member of the hip crowd. But it's never just about good clothes
at decent prices if global sweat shops make the low prices possible.
As Americans we can't seem to get enough. I'm
not OK with that. I can live with less gas so that others can
have peace, and although that is simplified.it is that simple.
This war is about corporate greed, so my art tries to ask: When
will our bellies be full? When will Americans be willing to give
up their cheap designer knock-offs and Nike's so that 8-year-old
children in India don't have to sacrifice their youth and health
to our unquenchable thirst for fashion? When will it not be OK
to blow up villages so I can keep my SUV in petrol?
Browning: What goals do you have for
your war-and-peace-themed art? Are they different from the goals
for your non-war themed work?
Bint-Kadi:
We live in a time in which mind control is considered
good slick advertising. The image rules and that's why naked models
are back on the hoods of cars selling sex to men and lip gloss
to our teenage girls. In my work my goal is to resist mind control
and the corporate agenda. I want our young women and men to feel
empowered to speak and resist. I want it to be OK again to demand
that women stop being sexualized and objectified in our culture.
Have you seen the commercial where the brawny Aussie outback muscle-bound
man comes in with a floor cleaner to save the distressed damsel
from the muddy kangaroo hoof prints in her kitchen? Kangaroo in
your kitchen, no problem, but muddy floors, declare a crisis and
send in the big man because women are still so helpless.
Browning: Do you feel new challenges
or pressures - either internal or external - as a result of living
and making art in a country at war? Opportunities?
Bint-Kadi:
War is an opportunity. It's an opportunity to reflect on
why, in 2005, violence is still the only right answer to any question
one may ask about global politics. We must remember that the war
was not just an event that suddenly happened. War in the Middle
East was planned long before September 11, so to respond reactively
doesn't get us anywhere. I try not to be reactive in my work,
but instead to stimulate a connection between the Powers That
Be and the ways in which they use the media, movies, and consumerism
to shape our perception of reality. I use my art to challenge
notions about media-generated reality vs. the reality that hides
under the surface. I may hide text under layers of paint or I
may use popular symbols in a form of plastic encasement. I use
strings and pieces of leather to connect and disconnect certain
symbols in my art. I try to create a sort of narrative that is
incomplete. It leaves the viewer to ponder and think deeply about
what message I might be trying to convey.
Browning: Is there a community aspect
to your work? If so, could you tell us a little bit about it and
the reactions of audiences and community members?
Bint-Kadi:
All of my work is about community. I'm working on a project now
called the Jewish Muslim Mosaic Project. I was disturbed by the
stereotype that Jews and Muslims have a historic relationship
of conflict. That's propaganda, but it's not historically true
or accurate. Muslims and Jews actually have a long and fruitful
history of shared peaceful culture. I had researched Andalusia
society and found a beautiful model of peaceful coexistence. In
Medieval Spain, Muslims and Jews maintained their cultural and
religious traditions while sharing their knowledge and scholarship.
They wrote scholarly texts together, they studied and learned
together, and they created magnificent art together. Peaceful
coexistence was based not just on mutual tolerance, but on actual
celebration and appreciation for what each culture had to offer
the other.
Our legal system in America forces us to tolerate
each other. That's not enough for me. I think one way to obtain
peace in Israel and Palestine is to build relationships with each
other. You will never be able to mandate peace, but if people
can discover that they can benefit from each other, that their
world will be more rich and valuable by living together and sharing
each other's culture, then we may have a place to build peace.
When you love and appreciate your neighbors, you don't want to
lose them because they make your house a home, they form part
of your community. You are willing to listen and compromise. In
my project, I provide Muslims and Jews an opportunity to know
each other intimately, to listen to each other and to learn from
each other. We've discovered that we have more in common than
we ever imagined.
Browning: How do you sustain yourself
in your work over the long haul, especially in this political
climate? Do you have any recommendations for other women artists
who may be feeling discouraged or frustrated?
Bint-Kadi:
Sustainability is an issue always for me, not just in a climate
of war. As artists, we sometimes get bogged down in our own little
world, so I try to resist that. I pray, meditate, eat organic
whole foods, and listen to Nina Simone, the Gypsy Kings, and Classical
Arabian music. I have a deep, committed spiritual life and my
relationship to God as my Creator is truly my greatest source
of sustainability.
I have always followed my passion and I make
sure that I surround myself with things and people that inspire
me. I keep a sketchbook in which I immediately document ideas,
thoughts and drawings for my art. I save bits of string and containers
that I find interesting even though they are often other people's
garbage. I use a lot of found materials in my mosaics so I save
everything and ask friends to save for me broken dishes, pottery,
coins or anything they know I like to collect. When I work, I
remember my friends and their stories, which become incorporated
into my art. My passion is there and literally my life is in my
work as a result.
Artists do not like to think about the notion
of marketing their work, and I certainly don't like the concept,
but you really have to be vigilant in terms of seeking opportunities
to show your work. I make calls and pursue collectors who I think
might be interested. I seek out galleries whose collections and
exhibits I loved and I try to form relationships with the curators
and other artists. I use the internet and sites that are willing
to display my work and bio. I live in a loft in an artist's cooperative,
which means that I have a constant source of inspiration as well
as honest, good people to lend constructive criticism. I have
a lot of artists as friends because, after all, who better to
understand life on the edge!
Browning: What can our readers do to
support you and other artists like you?
Bint-Kadi:
Everyone knows and it is understood that men are still capable
of selling their art for higher prices. Somehow, I think women
still get a pushed a bit into a kind of "crafty" identification,
but certainly this has changed and evolved and will continue to
do so. As long as we continue to address this I hope the disparity
will continue to decrease. Buy women's art at prices that makes
their lives sustainable as artists!
I always need opportunities to expose others
to my work. Not everyone will relate to it, but everyone will
get a glimpse into my life and in a small way connect and interact
with me. I think Americans in general don't think about Muslims
as artists and I constantly have to deal with stereotypes. As
a Palestinian woman, people assume that my work will be all about
that conflict, and much of it is, but I also address many issues
that I feel form the basis of violence. I'm a pacifist and I think
people don't expect that. But as a Muslim Sufi it is at the core
of my being.
I hold open houses in my loft and I love to
invite people who have not seen my work. My web site often lists
my next open house date and by all means I can be called and emailed.
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ABOUT
HAIFA BINT-KADI
Haifa
Bint-Kadi is
an American Muslim of Palestinian heritage who works in mosaic.
Classically trained in traditional mosaic at the Ravenna
School of Art in Italy, Bint-Kadi combines both the traditional
and contemporary. She is Artist-in-Resident for many schools and
organizations in New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania and recently
exhibited at the Tribe Gallery in Manhattan. She is currently
at work on a Jewish/Muslim Mosaic
Project to create a public art installation that breaks the stereotype
that Jewish/Muslim relationships are inherently bound in conflict.
She is also completing a public installation mosaic of an ancient
mariner's map of the Hudson River for the City of Peekskill to
be installed in the Riverfront Green. Read
More>>
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Sarah
Browning is the Associate Director of The Fund for
Women Artists. Please email her at
browning@WomenArts.org
if you have story ideas or suggestions of other fabulous artists
on the WomenArts Network to interview for future newsletters.
Read
more about Sarah Browning on the WomenArts Network!>>
Go
Back to March 2005 Newsletter >>
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