Fragments. Shards. Tiny particles that don’t fit together Mismatched codes, Ironically similar In our flaws and lacks
We walk, but we don’t question the journey. We don’t understand the path, It seems deprived of destination and purpose. We just carry on, with or without legs With or without eyes. We just follow silent orders Anonymously in the crowds We dare not to stand out of norm, of compliance We can’t stop Catch our breath. Disrupt traffic, Rest. We succumb to the steep climb. Hopping that the unbridled descent will shorten the path, spare us, somehow.
We walk, breathe, we eat and sleep when possible. We obey inevitably. We are all besieged. Inside and outside all the walls in this world. We are patient and we go mad We wait, and we hope that something will change Someone will save us Anything will happen Besides the pain Despite the fate Beyond the insanity Above the oppression Under the sun We are scattered all over the place Living lawful lies Defying absurdities Coping with what is. But what is Is way less than we deserve
We dream of surviving chaos and catastrophe Hoping our fate would heal and redeem us. We surrender to time Holding to the pieces that are long gone Whipping the dust off our remains wipping dry tears off our eyes We continue, filled with shivering hope and whatever is left of our sacred innocence.
Luciana Mariano (c)
Waiting – acrylics on fine Belgian linen – 180×215 cm
Painting done during the Serlachius Residency in Mänttä, Finland, between March and June 2025.
I would like to tell and show you a little about why I’ve adopted Rewaa as my own. Yes, she is younger than my son, so I feel like a mom to her. I feel that my daughter and grandkids are in the middle of this brutal war. She is very, very shy. But since the beginning it seemed that she also adopted me back and even though she has 3 small kids, she says good night to me, every evening 🥰 (except when they have no Internet or electricity to charge her phone), differently from my son, that has internet and electricity all the time and rarely calls 😅 . Their culture is so far from my own, and yet, it is so beautiful to meet her in our humanity, and see that even culture, religion, a world apart can be merely a detail when kindred souls meet. Trying to learn and to know them better, I asked her where she met Mohammed. She answered: Oh no, this is something our parents prepare for us. I was shocked. (In this century?) And then I understood why she treats me with so much kindness and respect. She is a good engineer like her dad, and an amazing, loving mom like her own. Even though I had already talked with them a few times on cam, my suspicious western self, afraid of Internet scammers and wrong doers, went sneaking around on social media trying to find whatever I could on that couple that seemed a little bit too sweet and good to be true. I explain: they asked for help, but they never imposed it. They kindly asked for help and every time I shared their story or gave them Instagram advice (as if I could!) they would show immense gratitude. After a few times, she started wishing me a good night every night, even when I didn’t do anything for them. She would also ask how I was feeling and telling me little things about their difficult daily routine. But it was not only sadness. She told me stories like how happy she was working both on the bee keeping project with other engineers (very proud to sell pure Palestinian honey) and also the job in the dairy factory, where they produced yogurt out of dehydrated milk from Denmark, because Palestine doesn’t have enough cows for their own production of milk. She also told me that they never travelled, because they have been besieged for most of their lives and that was a dream that they could not yet make come true. We played about the day the war would end and how we could finally meet and laugh and hug and talk and cry together about these very dark, painful times. And then she also shared fotos from her kids (pretending I was her mom, I supposed I also felt very proud of my pretend grandkids). Maria was no more than 4 months when we started talking and now my cute chubby cheeks girl is sitting and almost standing up. I saw Rewaa a few times on cam, but she would never send photos of herself. That was annoying me a little because I said to her that it is much more difficult to get people to engage with her story and donate if they don’t see the face of their campaign. She would shower me with photos of her kids, but never photos of her own. One day I gave her an ultimatum: Rewaa, without your face no one will donate! She said she was very uncomfortable about showing herself. I flipped: Rewaa you are a gorgeous girl, we could sell your story much easier with your face on this campaign! I froze a little. Yes, I had heard myself. I not only didn’t know her culture, as I completely ignored it, butchered it and submitted it into our western standards where everyone has a price, everyone is a product and even the better if it is all shaped and marketed for mass consumption. I felt so disrespectful with a girl that had showed nothing else but love and respect for me and all the dum things I could say. I understand that our idea of oppression may be the obligation of wearing a head scarf, but we see no damage on being ourselves a product of consumerism or even tattooing slogans or brand logos on our own skin. I was oppressing her. I was demanding her to show her face and according to her culture, religion and her own choices, it was the same as asking her to stand naked on a public square. How arrogant. Evil. How small of me. She never said no, but she also never sent the picture. And slowly we both accepted that. At some point we just started understanding each other’s ways, concessions, limits, beliefs, choices.
I am an atheist. I am also very spiritual because I believe in physics and for me energy is the answer and mystery of science, as much as God is the answer and mystery of everything for those that believe in It. Because of my lack of god it is easier for me to cope with my mortality and try to be good just because life is way too short to accumulate bad energy. In the other hand, Palestinians are extremely religious and with all the ordeals this people have been enduring for at least 76 years, I think I too would have needed to believe in a mighty being that could save me from so much evil, dirty politics, aggressions, thefts, oppression and Nakbas. Palestinians are incredibly kind because they know it all shall pass and in the end they will be granted the things they love so much in their own land and they are more and more deprived from. We all believe in whatever gives us the most positive outlook out of our miserable human lives. I never told Rewaa I was an atheist. I suppose they believe I am Christian. She never once tried to indoctrinate me. Not once. ”Whatever your beliefs are, we love you and we pray for you”, they said. I never answered. I just accepted their kindness, knowing that they where giving me much more than I could ever give them. No western religious person would let go so easy on such an unprofitable trade. Have you ever met any fundamentalist Christian? Well, we’ve heard, through our whole lives (or perhaps more vehemently since September 11th or October 7th) how dangerous fundamentalist Muslims were. Well, I still believe that any fundamentalism is core stupidity, but have you lately met any fundamentalist evangelical zionist? Well, nothing is more dangerous than those… well, perhaps only Israeli zionists.
Anyhow, going back to my western suspiciousnesses; young Rewaa and Mohammed had ancient Facebook profiles. From those ancient times, when they were almost teenagers, just around before they met. A handsome, humble, yet hardworking and ambitious boy that was going to medical school. A young student with a little bit of an edgy gothic fashion taste. They didn’t post much through the years but slowly you could see their transition into the whole people they are today (We all had our embarrassing teenage years, right?). On their earlier photos I found young Rewaa and her beautiful luscious dark hair, her perfect face and the kindest blue eyes. Then came some wedding pictures. Fairy-tale like, to make any western capitalist princess legitimately insulted jealous. The bride shows her hair, apparent shoulder in a beautiful dress, the veil, the silhouette of her face, but no longer shows the face. And she seems immersed in bliss. Not one speck of regret nor oppression. Acceptance, hope, love, pride of her culture, approval of their parents choice as if she couldn’t have done better herself. Then a bit later the first baby belly. Then a cute baby and a proud dad, then family gatherings and celebrations, birthday greetings, kids videos running on their yards, friendly and loving comments from university, work colleagues, relatives… then war. Destruction of their homes, a plastic tent built on deserted sands. Now my girl is trapped with her family in a war zone.
They have been displaced 16 times.
They don’t have clean water, almost no food, drones buzzing day and night, bombs falling all around them 24/7, for the past 8 moths… as long time time as Maria’s whole life. Ali and Tia are 5 and 4. They look tired and afraid, they miss kindergarten and their toys. Mohammed still tries to work in what is left of a local hospital, he has no salary. He works because he must to help his people. I know no western doctor that would risk his life for that reason.
Rewaa messages me good night, almost every night.
They fled Rafah just before it was brutally invaded and tents were bombed. I guess Allah is also trying his best to save whoever he can from all the collateral damage the empire is causing. Perhaps He is what has been keeping Rewaa and Mohammed, Ali, Tia and Maria alive in such desperate, dire times.
Also their go fund me campaign. That gives them hope and chance of survival.
They want desperately to cross the border to Egypt (their first real trip abroad) and live.
They want to see their children grow, study, play, eat healthy food and drink clean water.
That should not be so much to ask for.
But they don’t always have internet.
So I must ask on their behalf: Please, help my friends.
Help them as we all should have done during the Holocaust in WWII, the genocide in Rwanda or the Nakba in 1948.
We cannot change history, they say, but we definitely should try a different end. This is our opportunity.
Rewaa´s campaign is still far from reaching their goal so I decided to do two extra actions to help them. It´s two different raffles and they both follow the same rules and conditions, it costs 10€ each to participate and can be done through donations straight into their fundraising on this link or via MobilePay to my phone (+358413690466). Remember to send me the print of your donation so I can put you in the raffles lists, mentioning which raffle you are signing on to. The first one is called “Bird of Freedom” and if you win it you will get this painting here sent to your home. The second raffle is called “My own painting” and the winner will get me to paint a commissioned word (20×30) of your own wish. Both raffles will be donated 100% to this family, helping them to escape death and starvation.
The 9th painting of this series is called “Living with differences”. Although this series was made during my residency at the Serlachius Museum Residency, and my reflection was done around the challenges of my own immigration to Finland, the paintings seem to me now reaching much wider comprehension about the matter. By the time I was producing them, I knew that the same concept could be shared in different situations of disruptive, such as a divorce, a change of jobs, house, city or even death. The current world situation brought my ponderations into a wider spectrum, where the political and cultural factors play also an important point of consideration. Living with differences means adapting. Also means allowing diversities to thrive together. It plays both in the individual, personal allowance to existence but also in the collective force, since we are all bound and connected in the same planet and we are the same species with a pleiad of diverse cultures, religions, contexts, stories. We cannot push others out of existence in order to exist without any discomfort nor disagreement. We cannot cease to be because others a claim the right to settle in. A war, in the 21st century, sounds to me that we are refusing to evolve as a society and as human beings. A genocide and a colonial mindset makes it all even more unreasonable, primitive, despicable. The painting shows the beauty and the ugliness in the possibility of allowing those differences to co-exist. But above that, it reinforces the idea of necessary and possible peaceful and comfortable co-existance. We can still thrive and be sheltered. Adapt and find balance. Allow and be granted with acceptance. Extreme individuality and separation builds walls and not homes. Exposes greed and not kindness nor intelligence. Zionism must end. Humanity must prevail over insanity, selfishnesses and violence.
Luciana Mariano, April, 2024.
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Português:
A 9ª pintura desta série chama-se “Convivendo com as diferenças”. Embora esta série tenha sido realizada durante a minha residência na Residência do Museu Serlachius, e a minha reflexão tenha sido feita em torno dos desafios da minha própria imigração para a Finlândia, as pinturas parecem-me agora alcançar uma compreensão muito mais ampla sobre o assunto. Na época em que os produzia, sabia que o mesmo conceito poderia ser compartilhado em diferentes situações disruptivas, como divórcio, mudança de emprego, de casa, de cidade ou até morte. A actual situação mundial trouxe as minhas ponderações para um espectro mais amplo, onde os factores políticos e culturais desempenham também um importante ponto de consideração. Conviver com as diferenças significa adaptar-se. Também significa permitir que as diversidades prosperem juntas. Ela atua tanto na concessão individual e pessoal à existência, mas também na força coletiva, uma vez que estamos todos ligados e conectados no mesmo planeta e somos a mesma espécie com uma plêiade de diversas culturas, religiões, contextos, histórias. Não podemos expulsar os outros da existência para existir sem qualquer desacordo. Não podemos deixar de existir porque outros reivindicam o direito de se instalarem. Uma guerra, no século XXI, parece-me que nos recusamos a evoluir como sociedade e como seres humanos. Um genocídio e uma mentalidade colonial tornam tudo ainda mais irracional, primitivo e desprezível. A pintura mostra a beleza e a feiúra na possibilidade de permitir que essas diferenças coexistam. Mas, acima disso, reforça a ideia de uma coexistência pacífica e confortável necessária e possível. Ainda podemos prosperar e ser protegidos. Adaptar-nos e encontrar equilíbrio. Permitir e ser concedido com aceitação. A extrema individualidade e separação constroem muros e não casas. Expõem a ganância e não a gentileza, nem a inteligência. O sionismo deve acabar. A humanidade deve prevalecer sobre a insanidade, os egoísmos e a violência.
I have not been posting much recently because of the horrible genocide that is happening in Palestine and it has been taking my attention and energy for the past 75 days. And the Palestinians have been loosing energy and land for an extra 75 years. I am deeply concerned for humanity and how humans have been treating their own kind and the planet. I have many Jewish friends and I admire those that have been opposing to zionism, violence, occupation and war. As many said: You just need to be human to understand how wrong it all is. I also have many Muslim friends and now I understand better the prejudice they have been suffering for unbearable decades, perhaps even centuries. Finally I don’t know many Palestinians, unfortunately, but now I wish I did. I have heard, since my childhood about the “Palestinian cause” and didn’t have much awareness and knowledge to understand what kind of pain and suffering these kind people have been enduring for many generations. This horrendous war brought to my understanding the almost unimaginable series of losses, violence, cruelty and despair that Palestine, peacefully, bravely, has been dealing with for the endless past 75 years. There are bad human beings in all societies. I am afraid it is in our human nature as well. But the amount of humiliation and abuse they have faced for almost 8 decades, is beyond my comprehension. And yet, they cope, they resist. Their supernatural faith makes up to all the injustice and they gracefully resist, fiercely carry on, almost ignoring all the adversities so brutally imposed. Anyone who knows me a little, knows that I am a pacifist, a feminist, a socialist and an atheist. But perhaps, if I was born a Palestinian I would also have to surrender to religion. Being born in a place where your home can be occupied, stolen or bombed at any time, where children can’t have a peaceful upbringing, where parents have their kids murdered or kidnapped, where country sovereignty and human rights are not respected, perhaps I also would have to leave my life and hopes in the hands of god. Siege, occupation, violation of all rights, laws, dignity; that’s the daily life of the Palestinian people and yet the world seems relentlessly uninterested. So, the 8th painting of the “Finding Home” series, called “The difficult art of unpacking” (painted on February-March/2023 in Mänttä, Finland), was originally conceived considering the processes of immigration and relocation. As how difficult it is to pack your life, keep your treasures, hold on to your memories when you choose or have to start your life in a new place. It still applies. But now it also relates to the emotions that were arraised by the invasion and distruction of this unfair and unbalanced war. In the painting, one wrapped manikin represents the paychological difficulties to reach out of your own social limitations and boundaries, to come out of your comfort zone and expose yourself to a new society. While in this war, the bodies of men, women, children, babies and elderly wrapped in a white fabric, being exposed to the cruelty of a world that turns a blind eye to a broadcasted genocide. In this work, red walls represent emotions, while the walls and streets of Gazza are flooded with real civilian blood. The cozy furniture is the sign of the needed safety to start feeling home, while homes, lifes and stories are becoming gigantic piles of debris and dust with thousands of lifeless corpses under the rubble. There is no light and electricity in Palestine. No water nor food. No shelter of safe place. Only death and faith. They are surrounded by a greedy, violent enemy. And sitting on the land and oil that the liberal world likes so much. Humanity has failed Palestine, so they become superhumans without limbs and powerful humbleness. They starve and smile. They are attacked and the continue to dig the rubble for life. I would also trust God if I were them. Because humans are not to be trusted at this point. The suitcase of the painting holds only material things of emotional value. When everything else is destroyed, their hands and feet are tied, Palestinians hold their treasures inside their blindfolded eyes and free hearts. When the powerful, the media and humanity fails us, only God and Art can save us.
#ceasefirenow🇸🇩 #freepalestine🇸🇩
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Merry Christmas to all my friends and followers who will celebrate it.
This year I am not celebrating Christmas, because Palestine, the place were Christ was born is under siege, invasion, attack, genocide. I am not religious but I was raised Catholic and I love Christmas because of its traditions, the childhood memories of togetherness, presents, food, love. None of this is possible when the world allows the massacre of Palestinian people in the birthplace of Jesus. I will not contribute to a consumerism event, when the principle of love and humanity is not respected.
I wish you all a peaceful, more conscious and humane 2024.
May love and hope guide us to better days.
✨
*******PORTUGUES ABAIXO / PORTUGUESE BELOW******
Não tenho postado muito recentemente por causa do horrível genocídio que está acontecendo na Palestina e isso tem tomado minha atenção e energia nos últimos 75 dias. E os palestinianos têm vindo a perder energia e terras durante mais 75 anos. Estou profundamente preocupado com a humanidade e com a forma como os humanos têm tratado a sua própria espécie e o planeta. Tenho muitos amigos judeus e admiro aqueles que se opõem ao sionismo, à violência, à ocupação e à guerra. Como muitos disseram: Basta ser humano para entender o quanto tudo isso é errado. Também tenho muitos amigos muçulmanos e agora compreendo melhor o preconceito que têm sofrido durante décadas insuportáveis, talvez até séculos. Finalmente, infelizmente, não conheço muitos palestinos, mas agora gostaria de conhecer. Ouvi, desde a minha infância, sobre a “causa Palestina” e não tinha muita consciência e conhecimento para entender que tipo de dor e sofrimento essas pessoas gentis têm suportado por muitas gerações. Esta guerra horrenda trouxe-me ao conhecimento a série quase inimaginável de perdas, violência, crueldade e desespero com que a Palestina, de forma pacífica e corajosa, tem lidado nos últimos 75 anos. Existem seres humanos maus em todas as sociedades. Receio que também esteja na nossa natureza humana. Mas a quantidade de humilhação e abuso que enfrentaram durante quase 8 décadas está além da minha compreensão. E ainda assim, eles enfrentam, eles resistem. Sua fé sobrenatural compensa todas as injustiças e eles resistem graciosamente, prosseguem ferozmente, quase ignorando todas as adversidades tão brutalmente impostas. Quem me conhece um pouco sabe que sou pacifista, feminista, socialista e ateia. Mas talvez, se eu tivesse nascido palestiniano, também teria de me render à religião. Nascer em um lugar onde sua casa pode ser ocupada, roubada ou bombardeada a qualquer momento, onde as crianças não podem ter uma educação pacífica, onde os pais têm seus filhos assassinados ou sequestrados, onde a soberania do país e os direitos humanos não são respeitados, talvez eu também teria que deixar minha vida e esperanças nas mãos de Deus. Cerco, ocupação, violação de todos os direitos, leis, dignidade; essa é a vida quotidiana do povo palestiniano e, no entanto, o mundo parece implacavelmente desinteressado. Assim, a 8ª pintura da série “Finding Home”, chamada “A difícil arte de desfazer as malas” (pintada em fevereiro-março/2023 em Mänttä, Finlândia), foi originalmente concebida considerando os processos de imigração e relocação. Como é difícil arrumar a vida, guardar os tesouros, guardar as lembranças quando você escolhe ou tem que começar a vida em um novo lugar. Ainda se aplica. Mas agora também se relaciona com as emoções que foram despertadas pela invasão e destruição desta guerra injusta e desequilibrada. Na pintura, um manequim embrulhado representa as dificuldades psicológicas para superar suas próprias limitações e limites sociais, para sair de sua zona de conforto e se expor a uma nova sociedade. Enquanto nesta guerra, os corpos de homens, mulheres, crianças, bebês e idosos envoltos em um tecido branco, ficam expostos à crueldade de um mundo que faz vista grossa a um genocídio difundido. Nesta obra, as paredes vermelhas representam emoções, enquanto os muros e ruas de Gazza estão inundados com verdadeiro sangue civil. Os móveis aconchegantes são o sinal da segurança necessária para começar a se sentir em casa, enquanto casas, vidas e histórias vão se transformando em gigantescos montes de entulho e poeira com milhares de cadáveres sem vida sob os escombros. Não há luz e eletricidade na Palestina. Sem água nem comida. Nenhum abrigo de lugar seguro. Apenas morte e fé. Eles estão cercados por um inimigo ganancioso e violento. E sentar-se na terra e no petróleo que o mundo liberal tanto gosta. A humanidade falhou com a Palestina, então eles se tornaram super-humanos sem membros e com uma humildade poderosa. Eles morrem de fome e sorriem. Eles são atacados e continuam a cavar os escombros pelo resto da vida. Eu também confiaria em Deus se fosse eles. Porque os humanos não são confiáveis neste momento. A mala da pintura contém apenas coisas materiais de valor emocional. Quando tudo o resto é destruído, as suas mãos e pés estão amarrados, os palestinos guardam os seus tesouros dentro dos seus olhos vendados e corações livres. Quando os poderosos, a mídia e a humanidade nos falham, só Deus e a Arte podem nos salvar.
#cessarfogoagora #palestinalivre🇸🇩
Feliz Natal a todos os meus amigos e seguidores que irão celebrá-lo.
Este ano não estou comemorando o Natal, porque a Palestina, o lugar onde Cristo nasceu, está sob cerco, invasão, ataque, genocídio. Não sou religioso, mas fui criado como católico e adoro o Natal pelas suas tradições, pelas memórias de infância de união, presentes, comida, amor. Nada disto é possível quando o mundo permite o massacre do povo palestino no local de nascimento de Jesus. Não contribuirei para um evento de consumismo, quando o princípio do amor e da humanidade não for respeitado.
Desejo a todos um 2024 de paz, mais consciente e humano.
Que o amor e a esperança nos guie para dias melhores.
luciana mariano 