On the back of a pale blue shirt displayed at an art institute in Baghdad, a crude painting shows a man walking hand in hand with a child. But the picture becomes more sinister when viewed through augmented reality, a technology that digitally overlays more information. A man emerges from the background and raises a knife before the image freezes, a split second before he strikes.
The haunting artwork is an interpretation of a childhood memory created by a participant in art therapy sessions run by the Tarkib Organisation for Arts and Culture in the Iraqi capital. She was six when a man stabbed her father in a market, accusing him of being loyal to Saddam Hussein’s regime.
Decades of war, violence, displacement and rigid social norms have taken a profound toll on the Iraqi people. To address the emotional scars, local and international organisations, art institutions and artists have begun offering art therapy sessions in recent years.
These sessions provide a creative platform for people to express their innermost feelings and experiences, helping them to cope with trauma and find a voice for the unspeakable.
“This nation of Iraqi people is totally traumatised,” Hella Mewis, the German founder of Tarkib, told The National.
The trauma is caused not only by “violent acts, but also can be by family issues”, Ms Mewis said. “There are too many [things], even the daily life. It’s difficult to cope with the daily life if you don’t have tools in your hands.
“I saw a lot of violent acts, experienced by myself or that people told me,” she said, referring to a 2020 incident when she was kidnapped by unidentified gunmen after leaving her office. She was released a few days later.
Ms Mewis, who has a degree in business administration, is a freelance curator and art manager who has been living and working in Baghdad since 2012. She established Tarkib, a collaboration with young Iraqi artists, in 2015.
Tarkib, which also serves as a community centre and hosts art events, introduced its art therapy programme in 2019 after “a lot of people came here and talked about their problems”, Ms Mewis said.
The programme offers participants a variety of artistic tools, from painting and poetry to performance, as well as group conversations. The problems they face are related mainly to violence, including domestic violence, child abuse, injustice and wars, Ms Mewis said. “Each has his own struggle.”
'Verdicts without trials'
Next to the stabbing artwork, titled A Mock Trial, is a note from its creator, Layla, who explains the incident, involving her father, without revealing her full name due to fear of social stigma.
“He was one of those who said ‘no’ to Saddam, which led to repeated arrests,” she wrote.
“It was unusual for someone to escape execution after saying ‘no’ to Saddam, therefore everyone thought he was one of them.”
After Saddam’s regime was toppled in the 2003 US-led invasion, “one of the street court judges ruled that he deserved to die”, she wrote.
Her father survived the attack and his family turned to tribal law to settle the dispute. Unable to pay compensation, the attacker offered his sister in marriage instead, but Layla's father refused.
“The street judges issue verdicts without trials and bargain one crime for another,” she wrote, referring to a tribal norm in which women are married off as restitution for blood spilt between two tribes.
'Smile on my face'
Trembling lines and fragmented faces in other artworks in the room seem to tell stories that words cannot, each brushstroke a release to process what so many have lived through but never dared to speak aloud.
One participant, whose family was forced to leave their home in Diyala province during the sectarian violence that ravaged Iraq after the 2003 invasion, created a poignant installation by linking key fobs together with the key to her childhood home. Each key fob features a photograph of a family member, capturing memories of them in various rooms of the house.
In one corner of the room is a pillow stuffed with broken bricks, with some spilling out. The artwork symbolises the creator's years of disturbed sleep, stemming from the trauma of sexual harassment as a child.
The inspirations for other artworks on display include paying tribute to a friend who was among nearly 1,700 military cadets killed by ISIS militants during their 2014 onslaught, miscarriage of justice, society's view of women and the barriers this creates, bullying, injustice and nepotism.
One participant, an English teacher, kept her divorce secret for about three years, fearing stigma and judgment, and continued to wear her wedding ring in public and around friends and relatives.
“Before coming here, I used to tell my story in a very sad way,” she told The National. “I was sad all the time, withdrawn and in a miserable situation.”
After completing eight therapy sessions in August, she stopped wearing the ring.
“I have energy, I love myself, my personality has transformed to a more positive one, and I realised that I deserve the best,” she said. “I have a smile on my face now.”
