Our Concept

Our Concept

At the turn of the 20th century, the Hejaz, a narrow-gauge railway built south from Damascus to transport pilgrims to Mecca during the Hajj, represented a tangible, if utopic, dream of a united region during Ottoman rule. Part divine aspiration, part vehicle for political gain, the train was designed to extend existing railways from Istanbul through present-day Turkey to Syria, Jordan, Palestine and Saudi Arabia and, finally, to the holiest cities of Islam. A decade later, the British, eager to replace the Ottoman Empire with its own, initiated what would become decades of European battles in the region. The dream was finally obliterated: Lawrence of Arabia and a Bedouin army repeatedly blew the railway apart during WWI. It never recovered but the tracks still remain.

We Have Woven the Motherlands with Nets of Iron investigates what is left of the withered dream to transcend physical and metaphysical borders after the rise and fall of empires. Having endured wars and conquests, the trains persist, limping along, rented out to nostalgic tourists and enthusiasts. Trains, like Arab unity itself, have a romantic geography: nearly obsolete, valued for historical symbolism, begging to be updated or made once again relevant. In contrast, various countries in the region are initiating modern railway systems that can reconnect citizens to the landscape.

In examining dichotomies between history and current nationalisms, the exhibition We Have Woven the Motherlands with Nets of Iron will make use of contributions from artists and historians from each of the five countries of the Hejaz (from Jordan, Palestine, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, and Syria) to produce performances on movable platforms, archival projects using remnants of the rail lines and other installations, all of which will take place on the rails in Jordan.

The exhibition is part of Apexart’s Franchise project for 2011, and will run from the 4th of May until the 4thth of June 2011. The exhibition is curated by Eric Gottesman and Toleen Touq.

Photo of the train wreck in the Nefud Desert of Saudi Arabia by Jerry Miller, 70images.com

Monday, January 24, 2011

How I Learned to Hate the Railroad

On the train from Damascus to Aleppo yesterday, Toleen and I were discussing our progress so far and I had a realization. Much as I love the perspective I get from riding a train through a landscape, and much as I enjoy the stillness in motion of a train, as I enjoy watching a campfire burn, a railroad is ultimately a mechanism of control.

We've been discussing how the Hijaz contributed to a sense of regional unity at the time it was built but it was a unity enforced by authority. In this case, and in many others, "unity" allowed Ottoman control of remote lands inhabited by nomads. And now... a photographer that has been photographing the Hijaz for 20 years told us the other day that many bedouins now use the abandoned railroad ties to produce fences for their livestock.

The line provided physical connection across the desert, but it also laid down a way for soldiers to get to the area, a way for the empire to trade, a means for the sultan to shore up his economic power and political power through his role as a religious leader.

Tourists want to revisit this "simpler" time, when everything was not so complicated. I too am nostalgic for a time before certain colonial impulses took form, as though we could collectively go back, start over, undo it. But, especially in the face of all the revolutions this week, I don't want to be just another tourist, wanting to go backward when others are finding better ways to move forward.

How can we turn this impulse into a mechanism for the opposite of control? What is the opposite of control? And what is the re-purpose of considering the railroad? Among the ruins, what shall we do now?
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