He boasts an easy confidence that may easily perturb you. However, amusingly, the man possesses the prudence of a mystic allaying all foolish jitters. A writer who paints when at a loss for words, Saad bin Mohammed is an artist whose sole efforts remain exploring innate recesses of the human mind and nature.
Almost 20 years of his “closeted” artistic endeavors are now gradually being revealed to the public. His previous works have been exhibited at ATHR-Self-portraits: Mirrors on the wall; Young Saudi Artists exhibition and for a charity show by Benefit Arabia. Last week, Maison Bo-M, a unique fashion and lifestyle concept store, hosted an arts and culture exhibit with Saad bin Mohammed’s paintings from his series, “The Unrealized Darawish” and “Resurrection.”
I inquire if people really understood the undertones of his work that all evoke a certain wisdom of self-discernment, shaming prejudices formed by the shallow mediocrities of unevolved mental faculties.
“It’s always pleasing to have someone understand what you do, without any explanation. But, you don’t always have to be understood. I could gaze at the self-portrait of Frieda Kahlo for hours trying to understand her pain that may not actually be there. Yet, what I wish is if people see my work, let them discover their own meanings. That’s the beauty of art. However, trying to explain it…Oh no….I don’t think so,” said bin Mohammed.
“If the acceptance of artist’s ideas and their work doesn’t come naturally, there’s no use pushing it. I really don’t care whether my work is accepted or not. It’s my own intimate relationship with myself,” he added nonchalantly.
Chatting with him divulges a sense of silent enigma that he seems to have nailed into a coffin and buried within. I prod him deliberately, in an effort to dig deep into the philosophy and source of his artistic influences.
“Art comes from pain,” he said. “It doesn’t always have to be in a negative sense though. It could be positive, like longing or missing someone. Losing someone is negative, but the suffering is vital. Where do you get your most brilliant art, music and literature from? What triggers your senses? Don’t get me wrong; it’s okay to be in pain. Even tears help you clear your eyes. It’s a true gift from God.”
The ideologies of his works stem from the space of infinite terrain that mostly remains unexplored by the psyche, allowing oneself to be inspired by everything — of being able to not take anything for granted, he explained.
“There was a time when I questioned the Qur’an. It’s not wrong to question it in a way to believe in it. What’s wrong is merely inheriting the religion from your parents as a culture. I’m not questioning God’s order, but how I feel when I pray five times a day. Just imagine yourself in God’s presence five times everyday…I think everybody should do that.”
With most contemporary art bursting from an overload of digital graphics and pop-culture puke, his work is a saving grace in the genre of philosophical fine arts whose inspirations are difficult to attribute to a particular school of thought.
“I belong to the school of ‘me-ism,’ influenced by many artists. I like Andy Warhol and Da Vinci, but nobody seems to have entirely influenced me at once. I’m not unique, and certainly not the only one of my kind either. I’ve been experimenting all these years and still am…”
Two of his paintings from the series “The Unrealised Darawish,” have been sold. The last of the painting exhibited reveals an imposing command of brilliance. It indulges the idea of being and unbeing, awareness and oblivion of the existence of time and space.
He says he had learned about Sufism, a really long time ago — studies that may have been lost to his sub conscious mind. However, exploring the subject again brought forth an unexplained, re-emerging consciousness, he revealed.
“I’m not a Sufi; I don’t believe in Sufism. Yet, the whirling dervish themselves; the continuity of their movements moves within you, within your soul. It’s like stagnant water that is suddenly stirred. It is an out-of-body experience.”
“Resurrection,” the second painting at the exhibit, is a dark, at once disturbing, yet illuminating portraiture of illusionary realisms. It represents a freedom from the barricades of pre-conceived ideas, societies, duties, slavery of self, false worship or anything derogatory to the core of the free soul.
“Resurrection doesn’t have to be holy or understood in a religious sense,” he stated. “It really is about a first time discovery. You don’t need to go far. Just look inside yourself. Revealing myself to you in a different circumstance would be my resurrection to you. We go through it every day…it’s in the surprises we find.”
He spoke about artistic freedoms and the necessity to explore art beyond cultural binds and societal restrictions. He also spoke about Jeddah and its liberalism toward the appreciation of art and intellectuality.
“You won’t believe the art revolution we are currently witnessing in Jeddah,” he said. “It’s shockingly surprising. See the growing number of galleries. Art discussions are even transcending gender barriers. But, the movement is still evolving, you see. Many Saudi artists have been receiving a lot of international acclaim and that’s a great indication.”
It is easy to guess that he doesn’t consider himself a painter in the commercial sense. Perhaps it is because he has been painting as a means of self-therapy when his emotions failed to find the right mode of expression.
“I paint and write for my inner self. It’s not done with the intention of selling. For me, art is about understanding humans. I tell myself that if I exist, then there’s others like me who exist as well, feeling what I’m feeling, thinking what I’m thinking, whether male or female, old or young.”
“Maybe more artists need to be commissioned. But, again that requires a certain compromise to your vision to please your buyers. Money has its own power against the conscience of art, then again, it is anything but art.”