Being Serwan Baran Issue #69

In the tumultuous realm of contemporary art, Iraqi artist Serwan Baran stands as a formidable figure, transforming the stark realities of war and human suffering into poignant visual narratives. Born in Baghdad in 1968, Baran’s experiences as a soldier and war artist have deeply influenced his work, giving it authenticity and emotional depth.

I first met Serwan Baran several years ago during a studio visit in Beirut, where his space was filled with canvases that seemed to pulse with life and history. I have had the privilege of multiple encounters with him, each revealing new layers of his complex psyche and artistic process. However, it was during a particularly memorable visit to his show at the 59th Venice Biennale in 2019 when he represented the Iraqi Pavilion under a show titled ‘Fatherland’ that I truly grasped the depth of his vision.

The Biennale was bustling with international visitors, yet Baran’s space was a sanctuary of contemplation. He welcomed us warmly, guiding us through his installations with the same meticulous care he invests in his work. One piece, in particular, stood out: a large canvas dominated by dark, brooding colours and fragmented human forms. He explained how it encapsulated not just the agony of conflict, but also the glimmers of hope that persist against all odds.

That visit underscored the power of Baran’s art to transcend cultural and linguistic barriers, resonating with universal themes of pain, resilience, and the indomitable human spirit. His work continues to inspire and challenge, urging us to confront uncomfortable truths while recognising the shared humanity that binds us all. The barefoot artist often paints without shoes, grounding himself and his art in a profound connection to the earth and human experience.

Anastasia Nysten.