Art without borders

Written by Albert Delia, sent by Claude Bajada (Malta).

Like almost all other such initiatives, art without borders was born in pretty much the same way; an idea uttered during one of the organisation’s meetings. In a chorus of opinionated voices one pensively said “How about an art exhibition for refugee and local children?” The pint glasses went down slowly on the table tops and the bar saw for a brief moment a short period of contemplative silence, before again the voices started again, this time however following a single stream of thought.

The idea started gathering its own momentum and practically started moving perpetually, propelled by a lingering sense of smiling satisfaction everyone who came in contact with it was awarded after having helped. Although this article is intended to promote the opening of the exhibition on the 10th of December, and its duration till the 17th of the same month, I feel that it is only fitting that the readers know what was happening behind the scenes.

Most saw squiggles, stick figures, brightly (and at times mismatched) colours filling in the patchwork of simple yet expressive shapes that signify so much to a child’s mind. Others analysed scrupulously the subtexts of these paintings and, like a title-less book, tried to figure and read the contexts of the young hand out of which it came; and rightly so.

However, to those that were there drawing with the children, these little masterpieces are considerably more value-laden, since in addition to the memories the paintings themselves hold, with them are also those shared during our little makeshift art lessons. The assistance we got from people we met at times by chance was overwhelming, so to all those who helped; thank you.

The aim of our exhibition was always that of integration, inspiration and (to a degree) entertainment. The children, both those local and not, started originally drawing individually and finally together on the very day of the opening of the exhibition. This meeting of diverse youthful experiences is to commemorate Human Rights Day on the day of the opening of the exhibition.

The children themselves always greeted us with expectant smiles (at times toothless ones too). Enthusiastic shouts of “More paper please!” filled the air most of the time. Concentrated glances stared at coloured sheets contemplating on the next creature that will shortly inhabit their rainbow coloured lands. At times their passion inspired us too, catching the occasional adult scribbling away at his little canvas wasn’t a rarity; pictures screamed nostalgia. Soon we became the messengers to old St Nick being given requests for paint brushes, paints and paper for Christmas, not to mention the new friends we’ve made along the way. As much of a cliché as some of the above is I really do have to say that there really was some Christmas spirit lingering in the air.

However, kids will be kids, there can’t a painting lesson without the occasional a poster coloured smudged face, an unplanned palm print on a wall, a paint stain on one’s shirt, irony is the kids where cleaner then I was. As I write what you are reading, behind me lies a stack of paintings, a month’s worth of Sunday afternoons, although I believe that the worth of these sheets is considerably more profound then just the time spent on them, 30 of them will be exhibited. Side by side the works of younger versions of yourself will be hung for public display each little artist having his own individual and diverse back-story. Stories spreading across continents and savannas, as well as stories from the villages we all know so well. This truly was an experience of collaboration through the universal language that is art.