Artists' brush with words heralds a new trend...

The 2006/2007 art and cultural season has finally kicked off once again with two art exhibitions by two very original and fascinating artists. The month of November promises to offer a great deal. On November 5, renowned Iraqi artist Rafa Nasiri opened his solo exhibition, 'Patina', at Al Riwaq Art Gallery, followed on November 6 by the opening of Love Begins, an art exhibition for Iranian contemporary artist Farhad Moshiri, who is displaying his artwork in Bahrain for the first time, at Al Bareh Art Gallery.

Born in Baghdad in 1940, Nasiri became one of the leading and influential forces behind the rise of the Iraqi conceptual art movement, which took place throughout the later part of the 20th century. After spending periods in Europe in the 60s, followed by stints in Iraq and Bahrain teaching art, he now resides in Jordan.

In Patina, he presents us with a collection that reflects his fascination and love for abstraction, using it as a medium to channel the way he views humanity, nature and life, toying with colours, vague shapes and lines to take us through his intricate mind. He does not tell us what to see, merely hints to us at the possibilities of what could be seen, often using letters and words within the milieu of the painting itself, which adds an almost mystical dimension, almost like a film from a dream, vague, fading and reminiscent.

Words and letters are also an evident feature in Moshiri's work. In the collection of 22 paintings he offers us in his first art exhibition in Bahrain, we are faced with what can only be described as larger-than-life manifestations of contemporary heritage, if there is such a thing, and if there isn't, then that's exactly what Moshiri has created with these pieces.

Moshiri's infatuation with jars and pottery led him to experiment with paint and fragmentation, creating an original and textured feel to his paintings, almost a three-dimensional and authentic element to them. The size of each piece makes it all the more easy to enjoy whether from a distance or up close and the vibrant, bright and rich colors, along with the powerful and evocative phrases, verses and lyrics that Moshiri interjects into his art, contribute in producing some stunning eye-candy.

Moshiri's relaxed and almost care-free attitude towards his own art, combined with his passion and flare, can only be admired. Meeting him in person, one would realise that this is not a man who is on a mission to single-handedly change the world, but to simply help us in seeing the beauty in the simplest, yet most intricate, possible ways.

Both exhibitions were a promising start to the new art season and have helped reinforce the integration of art with verse, just as the upcoming art exhibition for Dutch artist Theodora Plas, whose exhibition Letters of Love opens at La Fontaine Centre for Contemporary Art on November 22, will confirm that artists are finding new ways to express their deep thoughts and feelings by employing letters, words and verses.

Artists, and writers, don't feel that they should be constrained by single mediums, as often used to be the case. With the many different available means nowadays, artists find more room for creativity and experimentation. And it's not only artists, we find poets, novelists, writers and photographers all expanding their horizon of imagination and creativity on different mediums and platforms.

One of many fine examples is award-winning illustrator James Jean and Japanese artist Kenichi Hoshine, creators of the wonderfully-imagined and artistically-conceived A Polite Winter (found at www.politewinter.com, in which a hauntingly bittersweet tale is unravelled through painting and illustrations garlanded with verses.

We are witnessing the birth of a new breed of artists and writers who challenge the norm and break the conventional and traditional constraints.


*First appeared in GDN Vol XXIX, NO. 237, Sunday, 12 November 2006

An oasis of reading that promises fun and growth

A fortnight ago I attended the opening of the new and fabulous Iqra Library in Muharraq, opposite the Shaikh Ebrahim bin Mohammed Al Khalifa Centre for Culture and Research, a true celebration of children's literature and reading.

The library, in addition to being a stunningly beautiful building architecturally, will serve as a reading house for children between the ages of six and 12 - a more than welcome move and one that will surely have an impact on encouraging the young ones to pick a book up and read.
It is one of a number of initiatives adopted by culture and national heritage assistant under-secretary Shaikha Mai bint Mohammed Al Khalifa, who is perhaps one of the strongest advocates of art, culture and literature in the country and a woman who obviously has the foresight to realise the importance of these elements in the progression of the local community and notably Bahrain's younger generation.

The interior design is simple, contemporary yet grounded in tradition. There are the actual library, computer hallway and gallery hall. It makes perfect use of a small space with calm and soothing decor. The library space has shelves full of children's books, in Arabic and English, from science-fiction and art to fairytales and learning books.

It would be interesting to see the sort of titles the library features, to have children's books by local and regional authors alongside the great classics of the eccentrically wondrous world of Roald Dahl. Iqra should be a perfect place to get local authors involved by bringing them in for readings and storytelling sessions on a regular basis, which would also give the children a chance to meet the authors and spend time with them.

And I am sure there are a number of Bahraini writers who would and should be involved in such a programme. (I shall be one of the first to volunteer to be part of it!). The Arabic word Iqra means 'read'. It was the very first word from the Quran that was delivered to the Prophet Mohammed, signifying the importance of reading and how celebrated it is in Islam. And it seems only fitting to have chosen this word to name the library, showing not only the importance of this act but also its relation to the local culture.

Our culture has always been rich with literature, but perhaps over the past few decades reading, for some reason or the other, has taken a back seat. Lack of reading activities for pleasure, as apposed to studying, could be to blame. Many of us, growing up, came to look at it as something solely associated with school work, and thus unattractive.

But with such projects as the Iqra Children's Library, this could all change. It has the potential to contribute enormously in reshaping young people's attitude towards reading from a very early stage and introduce them to the fabulous world of literature in a fun environment. Shaikha Mai has already provided Bahrain's young ones with a reading oasis that they all can enjoy and benefit from.

It will certainly be interesting to see how this library progresses and what sort of response it will get from the public, as well as the various programmes it will introduce over the coming months and years. Meanwhile, though, I suggest you go down to the old capital and visit it - just don't forget to take the kids with you!

*Appeared in GDN Vol XXIX, NO. 223, Sunday, 29th October 2006

Laughing our way to reforms with TV hits

Things don't change overnight. We all know that. We all accept it. But when it comes to changes to our cultural attitude towards social commentary and political criticism we, as nations and as communities, tend to be even more guarded.

With all this talk about adopting diplomacy and freedom of expression in our region and advocating it, we are yet to see tangible proof of it. Our conservative communities usually apply self-censorship when it comes to certain elements and generally we find it hard to criticise ourselves, or at least admit to certain problems and issues facing us. Perhaps we are trapped in denial and getting out of that mould won't be easy.

Media and entertainment play a crucial part in forming public opinion and, more importantly, reflecting that opinion. Highlighting serious issues in a light manner and presenting them to the public in an easy-to-swallow dish can contribute immensely to broadening minds and opening our eyes to social, political and cultural issues.

This Ramadan, such steps can be traced in our regional television channels. Arabic networks are slowly becoming more daring in taking chances with comedy programmes and even though the majority are still below par, one or two shows are proving worth the audience's while.
The Saudi show Tash Ma Tash, aired on MBC1 and led by celebrity Saudi actors Nasi Al Ghasabi and Abdulallah Al Sadhan, brings a new situation or current hot issue under the microscope every day, with uncompromising critical satire.

Over the past years, the show has gained a loyal following not only in Saudi but all across the region. In this year's edition, they expanded their reach and tackled wider issues that touch all Arabs, through analogies and symbolism. The show's theme song could easily become a No 1 hit if it ever were released as a single!

Directly associated with Ramadan, Tash Ma Tash, could perhaps be described as ground-breaking. It certainly was when the very first season of it aired in 1993. Tash Ma Tash alone has exposed the deep problems Saudi society is suffering from and through the 30 episodes is shedding light on vital issues such as women's rights, economic reform and democracy. It was the first show to poke fun at hot topics like terrorism and religion.

A Lebanese show had a similar impact. The team behind the hugely popular comedy show La Yumal have created a new show for Ramadan called Kul Yaum Shee, aired on the Lebanon-based Future TV, in which we follow the adventures and misfortunes of certain, familiar characters by the four-member team.

Their approach towards political issues is at times very direct and hard-hitting, but it mostly reflects what the general public is thinking, or how they see things. With the help of a little slapstick comedy here and there, they can get away with a lot of things that normally we wouldn't see on Arabic television, especially when most channels are government-run or owned.
Both these shows and their creators, have gained a cult following over the years and have introduced to the Arabic audiences a new wave of comedy shows that is often daring, funny and responsible.

Let's just hope that there are more such shows on Arabic television, and not just during one month of the year. We're still far from having our own Daily Show with Jon Stewart and more likely than not it will take us some time to get there - but maybe, just maybe, hit or miss, we're on the right track here.

*Appeard in GDN Vol XXIX, NO. 209, Sunday, 15th October 2006

Banished for being different

Last week I had a blast from the past. A school friend finally resurfaced after an eight-year disappearance. I had lost contact, as people often do, with most of my school friends not long after graduation. I was pleased to see him. He was one of the very few that I had a good relationship with and felt comfortable to be around.

I wasn't known for my excellent social skills back then being more of the reclusive type.
But with him I shared a number of things, we both wore Bon Jovi T-shirts and listened to Gun 'n' Roses records (I was once warned I would be sent back home if I wore that Slash T-shirt again at school!) and we both were football fanatics, spending hours under the scorching sun kicking a ball around and talking about the coolest new rock music.

To everyone else around us, we seemed like misfits and when I heard my friend's stories, of his struggles, to be accepted for what he is, not only by his other friends and family, but everyone else around him, it confirmed one idea - that the Bahraini community is culturally phobic.
In a lot of ways it is a community obsessed with pretences and image control. Our seniors, the previous generation, tend to be over-protective of their own ideals and perceptions of what life is and how it should be lived.

They insist, at times, that their way is the right way, the only way, without taking a moment to think of the consequences of such an attitude. Surely, when they were young, they did things that their parents couldn't relate to, or disapproved of.

My father told me the story of a young man, from his earlier years, who had a bit of a bad boy reputation. What did he do? He rode motorbikes! Back then, that on its own was cause to label you as a rebel, a renegade. When in truth, it could've been that that young man's only fault was that he had a free spirit, an independent mind.

I understood what my friend went through, because I went through it too and sometimes it feels as if everyone around you condemns you, besieges you, undermines you, for no other reason than having your own thoughts, for being different, as if that in its own right is a crime that calls for banishment.

I was lucky in that my family finally came around before it was too late. They realised and more importantly, understood me, as a person and an individual and stood by me and supported me through it all. At the end of the day, that is what we are, we are individuals, with our own individual dreams. If someone dares to dream, dares to challenge the common understanding of life, that doesn't mean that they are mad. It just means that they are different, which, in most if not all cases, isn't necessarily a bad thing.

What I don't understand is why certain people take it upon themselves to put people's dreams down just because they think they are trivial, or go to extreme lengths to deter their attempts, mocking and belittling them. Perhaps they do that out of jealousy. I will never forget the time I was walking in Seef Mall with a couple of 'friends' less than three years ago and how they sarcastically giggled at the thought of having a book displayed on the bookstore shop-window.
What Bahrain's senior and current generations must realise is that the new generation simply needs breathing space, needs independence and more importantly the freedom to express what and who they are, be it through art, sports, music or fashion.

We should stop looking at creativity and talent as an oddity or novelty that will eventually wear out and fade, as if it were a hormonal phase a teenager goes through.

Instead of creating a cultural conflict, there must be some sort of compromise from both ends. The way to do that is left in all of our hands.

*Appeared in GDN Vol XXIX, NO. 202, Sunday, 8th October 2006

Bahrain book fair should serve as a cultural bridge

As yet another edition of Bahrain's very own cultural festival kicks off, any hopes of having a much more enhanced and developed event are blown away. No matter how many of these I go to or attend, it seems that every year is the same. We don't move forward, or backward.

Book fairs and cultural festivals as such are considered great opportunities for not only publishers and distributors, but also authors and their readers and unless these two have a much more involved and direct participation in these events, their validity and significance will remain at the lowest.

These events should not be like a big open flea market for books, where publishers, distributors and bookstores toss in their titles across the exhibition floor by the bulk - without categorisation or thought over presentation - for visitors and readers to simply pass by without really noticing them.

What purpose would that serve? We see most of the bookstores and exhibitors displaying very much the same titles. Hundreds and thousands of them stacked over shelves, on the floor and on tables and more often than not, the shop or stand keeper does not have the slightest clue as to what the books being sold are about.

So the book fair becomes a lot like a flea market and I wouldn't be surprised if we soon find books being sold by the kilos in there! Books are unique products, unlike food or electronic gadgets. You can't market them the same way.

In many of the international book fairs, visitors are served real treats with many special events and appearances by their favourite authors.There are new books being launched, book signings and even talks for readers and visitors to enjoy and be part of. But another vital component of such exhibitions is the fact that it serves as a meeting point for publishers, distributors, agents and authors; a market place for the local publishing industry. Such is the case with the Frankfurt Book Fair and the London Book Fair, two of the leading and biggest book fairs worldwide.

Organisers of this years' Frankfurt Book Fair, being held from Wednesday to October 8, are expecting up to 280,000 visitors to attend the four-day international event, with a focus this year on Indian literature. Last year's version highlighted Arabic literature in translation. A total of 7,000 exhibitors from 100 countries will be displaying 350,000 titles - these are enormous figures and just goes to show the sheer size of the publishing industry and its significance.

The potential is great and Bahrain is in desperate need of such an initiative, for a country that is seeing constant development projects in economy, tourism and property, the arts must not be left behind. Bahrain can take the lead now and establish a much worthy and better-staged book fair that will not only attract publishers and distributors from Arab countries, but from around the world and it can serve as a cultural bridge between the Western and Eastern/Arabic literature.

Basically, what Bahrain needs is to take a step back and look at the bigger picture and create a book fair that would be exceptional in every way.

Because the last thing we need, is to trip over a stack of books tossed on the floor.


*Appeared in GDN Vol XXIX, NO. 195, Sunday, 1 October 2006

Why English is so indispensable...

I don't mean to brag, but I was a marvel of my time! Having graduated from a government secondary school, one would be expected not to have the best level of English language.
It was one of those unspoken truths; if you were government school educated, English as a subject was most probably not your hottest one.

People's eyes widen and brows raise when they realise that I have been solely educated in government schools and that I have not even attended higher education.
How could it be, they puzzle, a government education graduate who is good at English? It is indeed a marvel.

For as long as I remember, English was known to be one of the most dreaded subjects in government schools, perhaps even the weakest and less significant. The change within the job market spectrum though, over the past decade or so, has made English an essential skill to learn. Not a day goes by without either using it, hearing it, or reading it in our everyday activities, be it at work or at home.

I remember how throughout my secondary level years my English class was scarcely looked at seriously. In a number of cases I was actually the only student sitting on the chair in the front - it was the only subject I sat in the front for.

The teacher would give me an odd look as if to say: "Well, what are you doing here?"
Most of my other classmates considered English as a filler subject, one which they had no interest in nor considered an important one as, say, physics or chemistry (both of which I was terrible at, I confess), for the prosperity of their career potential.

Things have changed in the past 10 years. And things will change more within the next decade.
With the Ministry of Education's decision to introduce the English language as a subject at the preliminary stages of education, starting this new academic year, it is safe to assume that the attitude towards the subject will change.The move comes as part of a complete overhaul for the public education system adopted by the government.

Education Minister Dr Majeed Al Nuaimi recently announced that no less than 100 government primary schools would begin from this academic year 2006/07 by including English as a subject in the early stages. Sixty of these will introduce English for first year students, while the rest will familiarise their young students with the language from the second or third year.
This will likely contribute to reforming the perception of these young students and encourage them to firstly be more interested in the subject and secondly realise its importance as a skill in today's day and age.

Having said that, when I look at my young nephew who, at the age of only five, speaks as much English as he does Arabic, I also acknowledge the essence of keeping our future generations rooted to their culture and heritage. Still, looking back to those years I find that I wasn't good at English because I understood its potential significance, but because I was simply intrigued by it.
At the end of the day, we can only be as good as we can be in the things we feel passionate about.

And that is the crux of the matter.

*Appeared on GDN Vol XXIX, NO. 188, Sunday, 24th September 2006

The complexities of giving birth ... to a book

Over the past few weeks, I've been going back and forth to ensure that all was running smoothly for the launch of my lates book, Moments. It's one thing to write a book, it takes months, even years to complete and get right, but "producing" a book is a completely different ball game.
Most writers, at least the ones blessed with a big fat contract from a major publisher, don't get to know the intricate details of "making" a book.

They don't have to worry about it. They hand in their manuscript and the publisher takes it from there. What happens between that and the launch of the final book is unknown.
I've had the privilege to learn more about the complexities of editing, designing, laying-out, proofing and printing. I designed my own cover and I had a direct involvement in the interior design, dimensions and even the type of paper being used. It's been a great eye-opener and an educational, hands-on experience.

I've even created and designed my own website and made promotional banners and posters. With all the big major publishing houses competing ruthlessly in the book industry, what's left for smaller, independent publishers is one source, the author himself.
If a writer has the passion, vision and drive to work with whatever littler resources he or she has and make something out of them, then that could be the key to breaking into the bigger market.

It's been happening quiet often lately. The publishing industry, as we know it, is (thank god) changing.

Here in Bahrain we have a great many talents and writers and they produce some top quality works of literature, but no-one - apart from their friends and relatives - knows about their work. This is simply because they fail to realise the potential of their work and are content just getting it printed and then leaving it on their library shelves to gather dust.

If you want to succeed as a writer, to leave your mark, to make a difference, you have to first take your own work seriously, for others to do so too. It begins and ends with the writer; the reader is the linking connection, without which there is no purpose to your work.
A book is like a child. I can't help but make the comparison every time I get asked the question, the first thing anyone says to me when we meet: "How's your book doing?"
"Oh fine thank you," the reply would come. They even end up having their own nicknames, growing into good old mates to those I meet: "Hey, good ole Q doin' alright?"
A book has a name, it has a personality. It grows with you and, dare I say, it reflects who you, as a writer, are.

You have to take it by the hand and guide it through the first days of its life. It begins with the process of love-making with words. Then the conception and carrying for a whole nine months in editing, designing etc that's the really hard bit.

And eventually it's there. And once it's out there in the world, it becomes part of it.

As I return the proofed galley to my publisher, I know that another phase is completed and that I should now brace myself to the next big phase - giving birth!

*Appered in GDN Vol XXIX, NO. 181, Sunday, 17th September 2006

Reaching out through fiction

"Is it all worth it in the end?" I kept being asked why.

The concept, for some people, was just incomprehensible; an Arab writing fiction in English? Why? And why English? Why not Arabic? Why fiction? This was not just a challenge. It was the start of something new.

Writing a novel in English was unheard of amongst Bahrainis. This was something that was in the back of my mind during the writing of my very first novel. But it wasn't until I had actually published my book that it sunk in.

A little over five years since I first started working on it, QuixotiQ was born. And the response from the media and the public was a pleasant surprise. The novel went on to become a national best seller and received wide acclaim and praise from local and international critics and authors.
All of a sudden, this whole affair turned from just a guy's dabbling with storytelling and passion for writing, into a national celebration! Bahrain had its first English-language novelist. It didn't come easy. For five years I struggled with completing the manuscript.

Coming from a small country that had no history in English literature, I found it difficult to find a publisher for my novel. There simply weren't any !

Thankfully I discovered POD (Publish on Demand). This gave me the platform to launch my career as a writer. I must admit that the process of self-publishing was a useful learning curve, from editing, to layout and from art design to production.

The response QuixotiQ received was beyond my wildest imagination. I thought people would shrug it off, but to my utmost pleasure, they were 'interested'. I would never have imagined being asked to give a talk on writing and literature to a group of 16-year-old students, or being invited to partake in an international literature seminar in Cambridge, of being flown all the way to Stockholm for a cultural conference. And to top all that, being given the Bahrain 2004 Outstanding Book of the Year Award for QuixotiQ.

QuixotiQ did what I hoped it would. It got Bahrainis reading (and writing!) English-language literature. It began a new movement. It encouraged more young and talented locals to come out and present their work.

Following the success of my debut novel, two new local authors emerged on the scene by publishing their own prose and verse in English. It is important for any beginning writer not to give up and to peruse his goals and dreams. Most times, it pays off. I truly never thought I would ever get published, let alone have a best-selling and award-winning novel.

As I prepare to launch my latest book, I'm hoping that my stories will reach more people. Because, even though our world today might seem glum and dark - with a horrible war going on not far away - there are always things that make it worthwhile.

There will always be the pleasure of writing, and reading, and escaping reality through our vast imagination and beautifully odd dreams.I sometimes ask myself if my stories - any stories -mean anything when there's so much darkness in the world. But then I realise, what's life without hopes and dreams?

I believe that the only way to communicate with other cultures, to make the world a better place, is through our stories and tales, by sharing our astounding imaginations and fictions.
It doesn't matter where you're from, and what you believe in, we all understand and enjoy stories and we all love a good read.

People don't ask me why I write anymore.

Appeared in the GDN Vol XXIX , NO. 174, Sunday, 10th September 2006

In pursuit of the Great Big Obscure Novel...

I woke up one morning and suddenly decided to buy that novel I've been thinking about reading for a while from my local bookstore. Heaven knows when was the last time I did some good old-fashioned 'physical' book shopping, what with all this Internet shopping and online bookstores and all that.

It would later on reveal itself to me as one big mistake. I simply didn't know what I was getting myself into. The simple, straight-forward visit would end up being one long, arduous adventure into the world of Bahrain's unnaturally tapered book shopping.

Now mind you, I tend to lean favourably more towards what others would only describe as nothing less than obscure novels. What can I say, I'm not a big fan of the commercialised, hyped-up books out there. Call me a hypocrite if you like.

I started by playing it safe and drove to one of the biggest and better known bookstores in Bahrain. After a relatively quick browse, I went up to the counter to ask the smiling gentleman behind it if they had the Great Big Obscure Novel I was searching for. He turned to his computer and punched a few keys and, completely engrossed, delved into the results shown on his screen.

"Sorry, sir, we don't seem to have it," he apologetically told me, "but you can order it through us."

I thanked him for the offer. Knowing full well that it was most probably going to take 10 to 14 days to get here.

"Of course, you'll just have to pay a small shipping fee."

"Oh," I frowned, "so it'll likely take up to two weeks AND you'll overcharge me for it? Why don't I just go ahead and order it through Amazon?"

He smiled again, this time nervously. When I leaned over the counter and glanced at the screen, I realised that he was actually browsing Amazon.com. Great.

My visit to the next stop was a lot shorter. A skip through their "Fiction" section revealed to me that whoever was the purchase manager of that shop must still be living in the 80s.
All I found, stacked all together over a few shelves, were cheesy romantic paperbacks with bare-chested men on the covers - think John Holmes meets Joan Harris- in the A-Team era - and some political thrillers that had something or other to do with the Russian communist party.
And yes, they, of course, had a couple of Tom Clancy chunkies.

I drove to the other side of the island for my next visit. This time I didn't bother browsing. I went straight to the shopkeeper.

"I'm looking for this novel ?" I paused. The poor bloke looked as if I had just told him he had three seconds to live.

"Uh, never mind. Thank you."

It's frustrating that Bahrain to this day does not have a great source for a wide variety of reading material. It would be brilliant to see some of those big bookstore chains arriving on the island.

But until that happens, all we have is a couple of decent stores and several jumbled ones that don't appear to know the basics of bookselling.

One of the things I make sure I do whenever I am abroad is visit as many bookstores as I can find on my path, even if I wasn't looking for anything in particular. It's an experience. It's not like, say, going to Geant for the weekly Friday afternoon shopping. As long as e-books (books in digital format) don't completely replace printed books, the need for physical bookstores won't be overshadowed by the online stores.

By midday I abandoned my pursuit. My dream of spending a bright weekend morning at one of the many beautiful coffee shops around the island, sipping on an aromatic cup of coffee, indulgingly reading that Great Big Obscure Novel, dissipated.

*Appeared on Vol XXIX, NO. 157, Thursday, 24 August 2006

We shy away from arts because we fear challenges

I suggested to a couple of my friends that we visit one of the art galleries around the country, get a bit of a feel of the cultural scene here in Bahrain. They looked at me as if I had suddenly decided to hatch an egg right in front of their eyes! After a moment of awkward silence, I told them that I was kidding. They let out a brief laugh of relief.

There is some sort of wall separating the Bahraini public from the arts in this country. It's simply shrugged off, belittled and, to most, is considered an absurd luxury for those snobbish arty hippies with plenty of time on their hands.

Well, perhaps the latter is true, but what we fail to realise is the significance of the arts in not only developing societies' way of thinking, entertaining us and expanding our imagination, but also as a means to 'challenge' us.

But that's it isn't it? We fear 'challenge', we fear 'change'. Maybe fear is too strong a word, maybe we're just 'indifferent' to it all. Can't see the point, why bother, sort of attitude.
It should rather be looked at as more of a stimulator than a luxury.

There are a number of art galleries and cultural centres around the country that do as much as their limited resources permit them to. Places such as the Al Riwaq Art Gallery and the National Cultural Forum do their bit in supporting local artists and writers.

It would be nice if the organisations concerned and the government took a more consistent and long-term look at the situation, by emphasising a little more on art and literature at schools, establishing scholarship schemes and funding programmes for artists, writers and performers.
But we don't even have a proper arts council yet.

Over the next few years (up to March 2008), the Arts Council England, UK, is funding over 1,100 arts organisations with a budget worth around £412m (around BD299m).
Not to mention the hundreds of funds, grants and support schemes for writers, artists and filmmakers.

One wonder, how much Bahrain intends to set aside for the arts in its budget ? I doubt there is a mention of arts at all in it. That's why I was surprised (and encouraged) to learn that there was a Bahraini book of the year award in 2004. And I truly was honoured when The Culture & Arts Directorate decided to present me with a special award for writing the first novel by a Bahraini in English.

Then suddenly though the Book of the Year awards ceased to exist!

There was no mention of the 2005 and 2006 editions. Is it lack of books? I doubt it, because Bahrain is prolific when it comes to book publishing in the Arab world, with 132 books published last year alone.

According to the United Nations Development Programme the average for the entire Arab world is seven books published per one million people. How many of those 132 books were literary works though, is another matter. It's unlikely to be a high percentage.

When all is said and done, it's eventually down to the public to take an active interest in the process of regenerating the art scene.

I yearn for the day, in which a trip to the nearest art gallery (or dare I say, bookstore) becomes part of people's weekend activity, just as going to Seef Mall every Thursday night is almost a religious duty.

*Appeared on Vol XXIX, NO. 143 Thursday, 10th August 2006