الخوف/ Fear, 2024

ﺗﻮﺟﻪ اﻟﻔﻨﺎﻧﻪ ﻣﻴﺴـــﺎء ﺳﻠﻴﻤﺎن اﻟﺬاﻛﺮة اﳉﻤﺎﻋﻴﺔ ﻟﺒﺪاﻳﺎت ﺷﻌﻮر اﳋﻮف ﻋﻨﺪﻣـــﺎ ﺗﺴـــﻴﻄﺮ وﺗﺘﺤﻜـــﻢ وﺗﺄﺧـــﺬك ﻣـــﻦ ﻋﺎﻟﻤـــﻚ اﻟﻮاﻗﻌـــﻲ إﱃ واﻗﻊ اﻓﱰاﴈ ﺗﺘـــﻢ ﻓﻴـــﻪ اﻟﻤﺤﺎﻛﻤـــﺔ وﻳﱰاﻓـــﻊ ﻓﻴـــﻪ اﻟﺪﻓـــﺎع ﺑﻜﻞ ﻫﺸﺎﺷـــﺔ وﻳﺘﺴـــﻠﻂ ﻓﻴﻬـــﺎ اﻻدﻋـــﺎء وﻳﻔـــﺮض ﻗﻮاﻧﻴﻨـــﻪ وﻳﺘﺤﺪث ﻋﻨﺪﻫـــﺎ اﻟﻘﺎﴈ ﻓﺘﺨﺮج اﻷﺣﻜﺎم اﻟﻘﺎﺳـــﻴﺔ ﻟﺘﻮﻗﻊ ﺳﻴﻞ اﻟﻌﻘﻮﺑﺎت واﻟﺼﺪﻣﺎت، ﻫﻞ ﻛﻞ ﻫـــﺬا ﻧﺘـــﺎج ﺗﺴـــﺎرﻋﺎت ﺧﻔﻴﻪ ﻣـــﻦ اﻷﻓـــﻜﺎر ﻧﺘﻴﺠـــﺔً ﻟﺬﻟﻚ اﳋـــﻮف. ﻫﻞ ﻳﺴـــﻴﻄﺮ اﳋﻮف ﻟﻴﺘﺤﻜﻢ ﺑﺄﺟﺴﺎدﻧﺎ وﻋﻘﻮﻟﻨﺎ. ﻫﻞ ﻳﺴـــﺘﻄﻴﻊ ذﻟﻚ اﻟﻤﺎرد اﻟﻤﺴـــﻤﻰ ﺑﺎﳋﻮف ان ﻳﻘﴤ ﻋﻠﻴﻨﺎ أم أن ﻟﻨﺎ ﻗـــﻮة ﺧﻔﻴـــﺔ ﻛﺎﻣﻨﻪ  اﻟﻼﺷـــﻌﻮر ﺗﺘﻮﺣـــﺪ وﺗﻨﺎدي ﺑﺎﻟﻬﺪوء واﻟﺴـــﻜﻮن ﻛﺼـــﻮت أﰊ اﻟﻠﻄﻴـــﻒ ﻋﻨﺪﻣـــﺎ ﻛﻨﺖ ﻃﻔﻠـــﺔ ﺧﺎﺋﻔﺔ ﻣﻦ اﻟـــﻈﻼم ﻳﻬﻤﺲ ﺑﺈذﱐ ﻣﺎﺳـــﻜﺎً ﻳـــﺪي ﻳﻘﺒﺾ ﻋﻠﻴﻬﺎ ﺑﻠﻄﻒ وﻗﻮة ﻳـــﻤﴚ ﺑﻨﺎ وﻳﻔﺘﺢ اﻟﻨﻮر وﻳﻘـــﻮل ﺑﺬﻟـــﻚ اﻟﺼـــﻮت اﻵﻣـــﻦ )ﺷـــﻮﰲ ﻳﺎﺑـــﻨﱵ ﻣـــﺎﰲ ﳾ ﻳﺨﻮف(. ﺗﺘﻀـــﺎرب اﻟﻘـــﻮى ﻟﺘﻌﻠـــﻦ أن اﺣـــﺪ اﻟﻤﺨـــﺎوف ﺳـــﻴﻌﻠﻦ وﻓﺎﺗـــﻪ وأﻧﲏ ﺳﺄﻧﺘﴫ ﻋﻠﻴﻪ ﻳﻮﻣﺎً ﻣﺎ. The artist Maysaa Suleiman directs collective memory to the origins of fear — when it takes control, pulling you from your real world into a virtual reality where judgment takes place. In this realm, the defense speaks with fragility, the prosecution dominates with its rules, and the judge delivers harsh verdicts that unleash waves of punishment and shock. Is all of this the result of invisible, accelerating thoughts born from that fear? Does fear take control of our bodies and minds? Can this giant called fear destroy us, or do we possess a hidden strength, buried deep in our unconscious, that rises and calls for calm and stillness? It is like the gentle voice of my father when I was a little girl, frightened by the dark. He would whisper into my ear, holding my hand firmly yet tenderly, guiding me as he turned on the light, saying in that reassuring voice: "Look, my daughter, there’s nothing to be afraid of." It is a clash of forces, a battle where one of my fears will declare its death, and I will triumph over it one day.