Ismail Fattah (1939-2004)

The history of Iraqi art has witnessed few creative sculptors in comparison to the numerous painters who appeared since the beginning of the modern art movement over seventy years ago. Jawad Salim (1919-1961) was a pioneer of modernism in Iraq and placed Iraqi sculpture at the head of the Arab fine arts movement. He was followed by Khalid Rahhal (1926-1986), whose works demonstrated a strong link with the dynamic spirit of ancient Iraqi sculpture. The sculptures of Ismail Fattah al-Turk, however, took this dynamism to new heights, making him one of the most prominent and influential sculptors in Iraq. Moreover, Fattah was no less prolific and distinctive as a painter.

Upon his return from Rome in 1964, where he completed his academic training, specializing in sculpture and ceramics, Ismail Fattah held his first exhibition of paintings. His works provoked strong debate due to their minimalism, both in terms of colour and form. These same works were exhibited in Beirut, where they were extremely well received by the Lebanese public. This exhibition marked a turning point in his career. From then on, Fattah continued to stimulate the artistic arena with his provocative painting and sculpture projects. A highly accomplished sculptor, Ismail Fattah produced technically brilliant academic works. He possessed a deep human vision that transcended historical roots and achieved a form through which he expressed the tragedy of the human personality. Although Fattah’s sculptures bear the influences of some of the masters of modern art – Giacometti in his early works, Henry Moore, and Kenneth Armitage during his later periods – Fattah’s work was most affected by, and could almost be said to be an extension of, the ancient Iraqi sculptural heritage. Regrettably, some of his more ambitious projects were never executed due to political upheaval and war in his native country.

Passion between man and woman was Ismail Fattah’s main artistic preoccupation. He used drawing and painting as interludes of rest from the rigour of sculpture. He painted and drew incessantly, haunted by stylized, primeval, tortured faces that bear expressions of deep, mysterious grief and a sense of drama that contrast with Fattah’s apparent sense of humour and optimism. These drawings of nude men and women, on paper or on canvas, executed in coloured inks and acrylics, exude a powerful, primal beauty that evokes the origin of creation and the secret of existence. The figures are so vivid and moving that they take on a life of their own.

Any mention of death brought on a pessimistic mood in Ismail Fattah. Ironically, his famous forty-metre high Martyrs’ Monument in Baghdad, with its split azure blue dome, radiates spirituality and is one of his most important works. Ismail was known as a free spirit, always laughing and cheerful and always speaking his mind. Full of nervous energy, he moved about in Baghdad, defiantly provoking those around him to be more creative and more courageous.

His affectionate words filtering through the telephone receiver from his hospital bed in Abu Dhabi were words of farewell. This was the only time that Ismail did not speak of future plans. He doubtless wanted to say a lot – that is what will remain stored in the earth’s memory and that of his friends. Like his predecessor and teacher, Jawad Salim, he was prolific and energy giving. His impetuosity, his chaotic nature, his abundant love and capacity to forgive, his anger, all stem from the fundamental nature of Iraq – its energy and its contradictions, its natural gifts and its devastation, its joys and its sorrows.

On the twenty-first of July 2004, Ismail Fattah arrived in Baghdad from Abu Dhabi. He was nearing the end of his path. He asked to take a glimpse of the city through an open window, and, comforted by the fact that he was home, took his last breath. His spirit soared where, only months ago, Shaker Hassan Al Said preceded him. Both men left traces on the soil of Iraq that no power can erase.

The last sculptural work I saw by Ismail Fattah was of a group of gigantic painted figures, a work in progress that he was unable to complete in Qatar after he was struck by cancer. His artistic legacy, whether on Iraqi land or scattered all over the world in public and private collections, will remain witness to his vitality and his unique artistic spirit that stemmed from the arts of ancient Mesopotamia.

May Muzafar
Amman, September 2005