“The open door” (Post 69)

This morning, after I had woken up, I remembered the image of the old door which I illustrated six years ago. I needed an idea for the post I had to write. I looked up the image and saw it was part of the “old city on paper” collection and there I discovered a story about a “door” that I wrote for my Journey with Jeddah book.

One Thursday afternoon I was not feeling well and I had to see the doctor and after my appointment I decided to go to the antique shops that were near the hospital. I walked into one small shop where the “sepia” of the ages can be seen on old items. When I entered, I thought the shopkeeper was gone but I heard people talking and when I stepped closer to the glass counter, I could see two gentlemen, two good friends, who were sitting behind it and drinking their tea on the carpet. I introduced myself and learned that one was called Abdullah. I looked down through the glass top and I saw old ink dipping pens and nibs which were for sale and I asked them for the price. Abdullah then asked me why I wanted to buy such an outdated item. I proceeded to tell him that I am an art teacher and in my free time I occasionally like to make pen and ink drawings. He became very interested and he wanted to see some of my art and then I showed him a few of the old city drawings which I had available on my phone.

His eyes lit up and he told me that he had been looking for someone like me. To cut a long story short, we became friends and he came to my house and I showed him the entire collection of drawings I had done on the farm and I showed him the little curio items I developed which displayed my Jeddah images. Little did I know that Abdullah had a factory outside Saudi Arabia which wove scarves and he was a business man with great connections; he wanted to use my images too. He suggested drawing up a contract which would protect both of our interests and for about one month this cloud of possibility was hanging over my head, because as an art teacher I did not really know about such complicated artistic ventures; it was very new to me.

I did not agree to enter into a partnership simply because, if I had signed a deal with him which could have brought me some financial benefit, it would have meant that I could not reproduce these designs of the old city on items of my choice for myself anymore; his company would then have sole jurisdiction over the ultimate destinations of these drawings. I think if I had primarily been a designer, someone who designed for others and I was not interested in growing my own artistic repertoire, it could have worked perhaps. My friendship with Abdullah did not suffer because of my unwillingness to put my signature on paper. He told me that he knew from the start that I would struggle to part with my drawings. May it imply that I liked the old city too much, to simply give it away for mass production?

Well, to be honest, I still do not know how to regard the value my art works (or any art work for that matter) correctly, because in today’s mass-produced culture, where images are freely available and the ever-present “selfie” has risen to icon status, we may ask: ‘Does a work of art still have merit or is it merely just another digital image in the sea of easy clicks?’ Perhaps the problem we face as artists is that we are still trying to stand our ground on outdated principles and we have not yet awakened fully to the immediacy of the digital age? I suppose the generations to come will be able to write about this period in history retrospectively and I can but speculate now.

May we find those open doors that have our names on it. We need wisdom from above, because sometimes what seems like the right door is not the best one for us.