Rachid Koraichi, born in Ain Beida, Algeria in 1947, now lives and works in Tunisia and France. His ability to work with an impressive range of media—including ceramics, textiles, metals and paint on silk—reflects the extensive training he received at the Institute of Fine Arts and the Superior National School of the Arts in Algeria as well as the National School of the Decorative Arts and at the School of Urban Studies in Paris.
His work has been influenced by an abiding fascination with signs of all kinds. Beginning with the aesthetic of Arab calligraphy, his work also includes glyphs and ciphers drawn from a variety of other languages and cultures. In all, Koraichi’s work integrates layered systems of signs into an organized description of the world.
London’s October Gallery recently exhibited Koraichi’s latest collection entitled Ecstatic Flow- The Invisible Masters of Sufism where he spoke with The Majalla about his work and the state of contemporary Middle Eastern art.
The Majalla: Can you explain the state of contemporary art in the Middle East?
I think that Middle Eastern art has been at the forefront of contemporary art for some time. Countries like Egypt have had a group of internationally renowned artists. But the country that has been especially important for Middle Eastern art has been Iraq. Iraq has had an exceptional school for plastic arts, and as such has been a reference point for contemporary art.
Although, it is true that political power has had a habit of taking advantage of these artists to give their dictatorships a better image. Saddam Hussein, for one, gave a great amount of financial support to create a museum of contemporary art. He also created art contests that encouraged international artists to participate in the Iraqi art scene.
The second school that has been of great importance is the Moroccan school. Although they were faced with a problem: The art scene there was dominated by artist associations, which brought artists together to discuss esthetics and politics, but it also made their work rather homogenous. There was bit of emulation between them.
In Algeria, after independence there were a number of official painters. The issue here was the government was constricted by soviet-style communism and a conservative culture, which created a number of antagonisms within the artistic community. Basically those that supported a particular dominant ideology had the necessary funding, but independent artists were excluded from these privileges.
Middle Eastern art and its development was also greatly impacted by the importance of tourism. Here the idea was to incorporate art into the tourism of a country. This allowed the schools that formed artists to clearly define their objectives. Culture is a profitable business. What they forgot was that art requires time, it involves preparation, communication, coordination with galleries, etc.
Q: Personally, what inspired you to become an artist?
For me there were multiple factors that led me to become an artist. At a certain moment everyone has to decide what they want to be. Being an artist though is not like choosing a profession. Becoming an artist is very similar to undertaking religious life, in the sense that it becomes everything for you. If its not a passion its not worth it. But like with all passions you have to pay a price, and in the case of an artist, its financial instability. There are so many artists, and only a few become successful. For an Arab artist, it’s even more difficult to compete with Western artists for a multiplicity of reasons.
But there are a number of advantages as well, especially liberty. In other professions you are constrained by schedules; as an artist I am my own boss. I work at night, I work weekends, I work whenever I want to. It also means participating in the creation of culture with other artists, musicians and writers.
My mother painted very much as well. She lived in Algeria when it was still a colony, and at the time there was a national French prize for drawing, which my mother won, although out of a sense of patriotism, she destroyed the diploma after the French left Algeria. She had an interest in art, and art was regularly present in our house in one form or another. Her influence is seen in my work through my use of textiles for example. But also I have been greatly impacted by Sufi culture. The use of text within art is present in my work as a result.
Q: In addition to Sufi culture, and Algerian culture more broadly, do you find that French culture—in its colonial form—impacted your work as well?
It is necessary to see colonialism as a negative force but also as a positive force. I think it’s important to understand why it was necessary for Algeria to win its independence at the time. But it is also important to understand that colonialism in Algeria has become a part of the country’s patrimony, and this influence is not limited to France. The Roman Empire for example also left its mark on Algeria, it’s part of the country’s history and makes Algeria what it is today, and you cannot ignore it.
For me the idea of national territory has very little to do with geography and more with where the heart is. Today I am in London and London is my home. To come back to the issue of the impact of colonialism on the country, it is possible that as a result of colonialism Algerians appreciate their home country more than they otherwise would.
Q: Considering that your work is so influenced by Arab culture and Islam, do you believe that your work is understood globally by those less familiar with, for example, the importance of symbols in Sufism?
Personally, I don’t think artists create to demonstrate their work to other people. It’s ultimately a practice in auto-therapy in which its necessary to be completely honest with your self. To say that we create art for others is narcissistic. Although it is nice when others appreciate your work, it’s also important to be confident in your own work and be prepared to hear others say that it is good or its bad, and not be affected by either.
Each artist has their own language and their own sensibilities, whether its Picasso or Jackson Pollack. Gradually you can build a dictionary of sorts to read the work of an artist, and understand its meaning. It would be ideal to say there is some kind of formula to understand the work of an artist completely, but there is no recipe. Art is a form of expression. I express myself graphically in a way that I can’t in other forms, and ultimately that is what is important in my work.
Q: Does your work then carry a political or social message?
I think that politics is a permanent lie about staying in power. Nonetheless, it’s part of the history of humanity. That being said, art traces politics in the way memory does. Not much remains about wars of the past; what does remain are artistic representations of these events.
Interview conducted by Paula Mejia
