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Artist Notes IN PROGRESS to The Main Work of This Collection (5563 A and 5563 B) of which one was seen at the ‘Group Exhibition – Florence International Biennial of Contemporary Art and Design: XIII FB THEME 2021 – Eternal Feminine – Change. Date: 23 – 31 October 2021’.
In Arabic:
Nafura means fountain, squirt, jet or spout.
Miah means waters.
Alshurb means drinking.
AYIN:
In Hebrew ʽayin’, literally means; eye. noun
- the 16th letter of the Hebrew alphabet.
- the voiced pharyngeal constrictive consonant represented by this letter and cognate with Arabic ‘ain.
The 16th letter of the Hebrew alphabet, so named, probably, because the original form resembled the eye. `Ayin (`) is usually neglected in pronunciation, and inverted comma (`) is the sign most commonly employed to represent it in transliteration.
The same sound is found in the Arabic and other Semitic languages. The Arabic people (edited by the artist) have two pronunciations, one a very strong guttural formed at the back of the palate, something like a rattled “r” or “rg,” the other similar in quality, only less harsh and guttural. The Septuagint reproduced the `ayin (`) in some cases by the Greek letter gamma (g). The numerical value of this letter is 70. An `ayin (`) begins each verse of the 16th section of Psalms 119 in the Hebrew.
W.W. Davies
ZAYIN:
In gematria, zayin represents the number seven, and when used at the beginning of Hebrew years it means 7000.
As for Z’s shape, in Phoenician it consisted of a vertical stroke with two horizontal bars, on top and at the base – a sort of sideways H.
The Aramaic zayin originally looked like the Latin letter we have today, Z, then deteriorated into a wavy line.
The modern-day Hebrew zayin looks a lot like the letter preceding it,vav, which a vertical line. But the zayin has a small T-like roof on top, slanting left.
Squint and the Hebrew zayin looks like an ax, or similar armament. Which explains the meaning of its name, in Hebrew: in the Bible “zayin” means “weapon.”
Hence sages and kabbalists see zayin as signifying power: It’s seventh and is shaped like a weapon.
The letters petition God
There is a legend about all the letters presenting themselves before God and asking him to start creating the world with them (according to the idea that the letters are God’s bricks of creation, pieces of his eternal Lego). Zayin wants to be the cornerstone by virtue of being seventh, like the day on which the Sabbath is observed. God refuses: it’s unfit to be the basis of creation, as it denotes fighting and war.
Modern Hebrew accepted zayin’s same connotations. References to arms in revitalized Hebrew is klei zayin, literally “instruments of war.” The arms race was merutz ziyun and so forth.
But a living language is an unruly creature. Sometime, somewhere, the name of the letter “zayin”
started being used to denote the penis.
Not for nothing is the word “tool” used in many languages when referring to it.
Weapons of war: A male prerogative
Oncolos, a Roman convert to Judaism in the second century CE and the first translator of the Torah to Aramaic, wrote that a woman should not carry arms (“klei zayin“), as this is a male, not a female prerogative.
By the time Modern Hebrew started to flourish, the times were post-Freudian and the phallic symbol was glaring. But the connection between the seventh letter of the Hebrew alphabet and the male genitalia had actually been made much earlier: as early as the 16th century, Rabbi Moshe Kordoveiro, one of the Zafad kabbalists, wrote about the zayin being the symbol of the covenant, the brit and the Sabbath:
As the Sabbath follows six days of labor, the dash which turns vav into zayin is a crown, the head of the male member, which is revealed in all its glory by the act symbolizing the covenant, the circumcision, cutting the foreskin that covers the head.
The Sabbath feeds the days of the week, and therefore the letter is called zayin, to symbolize the food (mazon, from the same root), and this is the glorious covenant: the male body is to be seen in the vav, the zayin being the penis erect, its head exposed, and het, the eighth letter, (like a roof with two legs), is the female (Shaar HaOtiot – “The Gate of Letters” – in the book Pardes Rimonim, “An Orchard of Pomegranates,” by Kordoveiro).
For some time zayin as penis was used mainly as slang, the Hebrew equivalent of a four-letter word. And as Hebrew is a language which tends to ‘verbalize’ nouns (to turn them into verbs), the verb lezayen, meaning “to use the zayin,” became the Hebrew equivalent of “to f–k.”
That led to many misunderstandings. A prime minister would be orating at a political rally about the arms race, warning about the perils of klei zayin and merutz haziyun, and get a lot of giggles from the crowd in response.
He who giggles last: Now it’s time to find out how the Z migrated to become the last letter in the Latin alphabet.
Some languages have a use for certain letters, and some don’t. The Latin had no use for the letterz, so it dropped it, not by Senate decree but by lack of usage. That created a vacancy in the seventh slot.
But nature abhors a vacuum. G, the third letter of the Hebrew and Greek alphabets, moved to the seventh place. C, somewhere near the end of the Greek and Hebrew alphabet, moved to the vacated third slot.
The Romans, who though they could manage without the Z – there are no Latin words with that sound – soon found out that while they themselves did not need it, they did need the Greek culture. And the Greeks did need the Z and use it a lot, ”by Zeus”.
So Z was added back to the Latin alphabet at the end, almost as an afterthought, after U V, W, X and Y, all hitched to the alphabet in time to address sound needs of developing languages. Andthis is the whole story of zeta, from zayin to Z.
References:
Ayin Definition and Meaning – Bible Dictionary (biblestudytools.com)
The Ancient Hebrew Alphabet | AHRC (ancient-hebrew.org) https://www.hebrew4christians.com/Grammar/Unit_One/Aleph-Bet/Ayin/ayin.html
How one Hebrew letter came to mean both ‘penis’ and ‘weapon’ – Archaeology – Haaretz.com
(5563 A) “Nafurat Miah Alshurb” – The Fountain of Excellent Memories in
Mother’s Eyes – “Ayin – Zayin”
‘’Feeds our Thirst
The Rose Revisited
‘’Help Mother Download Only Excellent Memories
The Eye of The Fountain is The Breast That Feeds Us: It Flowers
We Flower”
As seen in: ART Habens Art Review, Biennial Edition (Special Edition) – Webzine (47th issue) – Great Brittain, Published on Dec 31, 2021. https://issuu.com/arthabens/docs/biennial.ed.xxv
Medium: Digital version of combined drawings
Dimensions: ” x ” x 24″ Notes:
Description:
Artist Notes: Non – Vanitas – An Uncomfortable Truth: DO NOT CONTINUE – MAY BE – OFFENSIVE TO SENSITIVE VIEWERS
Credit: Best Way To Workout Chest – Copyrighted 2012 – scoobysworkshop.com . llc & www.reddit.com
(5563 B) “Nafurat Miah Alshurb” – The Fountain of Excellent Memories in
Mother’s Eyes – “Ayin – Zayin”
‘’Feeds our Thirst
The Rose Revisited
‘’Help Mother Download Only Excellent Memories
The Eye of The Fountain is The Breast That Feeds Us: It Flowers
We Flower”
Medium: Digital version of combined drawings
Dimensions: ” x ” x 24″ Notes:
Description:
A breadcrumb of the story accompanying the work:
copyrighted by Sharm.T.P 2001
“If we wish to know about a man, we ask ‘what is his story–his real, inmost story?’–for each of us is a biography, a story. Each of us is a singular narrative, which is constructed, continually, unconsciously, by, through, and in us–through our perceptions, our feelings, our thoughts, our actions; and, not least, our discourse, our spoken narrations. Biologically, physiologically, we are not so different from each other; historically, as narratives–we are each of us unique.” ― Oliver Sacks, The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales
So the daughter of Zion is left like a [deserted/abandoned) booth/ shelter in a vineyard, Like a watchman’s hut/booth in a garden of cucumbers/a cucumber field, As a besieged city/like a city under watch/like a besieged city/ [isolated, surrounded by devastation].– Isaiah 1:8
The Cucumber Field
…………. How could everything in his and his brother’s lives have gone so wrong?……..
He had prolonged, daily low-grade fever. His white blood cells rose against the world to which he was allergic, every day.
He had the vision of a modern Daniel. As he dreamt and saw Divine truth in the distance, so he also took to a sick bed, like the ancient prophetic seer, sometimes for two to three weeks, afterwards, mortally ill.
The tall, slender man with the soft; yellow – green-brown, unfathomable eyes had a bunch of fine, long-curly hair that hung down to his shoulders. He was used to bear it according to his Nazarene oath.
The sharp eyes missed nothing.
When he got close to certain people, he became physically ill. He was like a beautiful, exotic bird, beautiful to admire from afar, until he opened his mouth or slept in your house.
He dreamt everything and looked like an Elijah of old, even into the king’s own bedroom.
He pushed his elderly brother’s wheelchair down the street. He was paste after his last vision, which had pointed to the future. He saw himself in a dream, with his hands raised like one held in a desert area. If only he had seen more and what followed. He trembled like a reed for days……The Choice: Mother’s Memories
Collection Portfolio:
(5563 C) The Choice – Mom\’s memories
(5563 C) The Choice – Mom\’s memories
Medium: Digital version of combined drawings
Dimensions: 25.6″ x 27.7″ x 24″cm
Description: Short-Term and Long-Term Memories.
Permanent memories happen when your experiences are vivid
enough, significant enough, or repeated enough that your long-term memory
systems create neural structures between those experiences and
related information already stored in your memory systems. This is
Mom’s comic. i/ don’t wanna read it.
(5563 D) The Scribe – Mom’s Better Memories
(5563 D) The Scribe – Mom’s Better Memories
Medium: Digital version of combined drawings
Dimensions: 39.33″ x 41.43″ x 24″ cm
Description: To be born after mom has some better memories to
download: neuron mirroring. This neural mechanism is involuntary and
automatic, with it we don’t have to think about what other people are doing or
feeling, we simply know. I don’t want to enter the world through Mom’s private
parts. Too Private!
i/m PRESSURING FOR A CEASAR –
….CEASURE….CEZAR….SEIZURE…SEIZING my own destiny!
(5563 E) Uploading Dad’s and a Creator’s Memories
(5563 F) Ceasar came, say \’no\’ to in-house selfies – All went Dark
(5563 F) Ceasar came, say \’no\’ to in-house selfies – All went Dark
Medium: Digital version of combined drawings
Dimensions: 20″ x 21.06″ x 24″ Notes: Caesearean Selfie: The Scribe’s ideas and His Differed From Each Other – Mother Had No Say – His First Accomplishment – Stretchmarks Disturbed.
Description: Stalking is unwanted or repeated surveillance by an
individual or group towards another person.
Love me and speak tenderly to me in your womb,
but don\’t stalk me. i/ forced mother into a state of privacy.
(5563 G)Pixel Shuffler – The Truth Teller
(5563 G)Pixel Shuffler – The Truth Teller
Medium: Digital version of combined drawings
Dimensions: 20″ x 21.06″ x 24″
A breadcrumb of the story accompanying the work:
copyrighted by Sharm.T.P 2001
The Shuffling – Not Always Holes
The guest had a mop of thick blond hair and saucer like, sensitive, blue eyes, just close enough to each other, to render him untrustworthy to the more initiated and a set of pure white, horse teeth – of which he was very proud – and liked to put on display often – inside full sensual lips. He was tall and his build, every inch Roman and his manner that of the rich and shamelessly blameless, not of the blessed yet tameless.
He rocked up at Helena and her husband’s rented home in a tropical climate city near the seaside.
He was dressed in washed blue jeans accenting his manly parts, with boots out of sorts with the weather and casual long sleeve shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, tucked halfway into his pants.
His backpack was slung over one shoulder and his guitar was around his neck, with golden blond chest hair glistening with perspiration and on his hair he had a black French beret, seemingly tucked on in a casual manner. But there was ‘nothing’ casual about his manner. He was dressed to impress.
Helena watched him, admiring her family’s DNA bloodline into the heart of old Venice, France, and Italy but
hating the ‘blueprint’ in front of her, what her aunt used to call ‘that way’.
He was so cocksure of himself, before Helena could say anything properly, he started walking towards her in the small entrance in front of the lounge door. It made her back into the dining room instinctively.
Once inside his eyes fell on the sunken lounge to his right. He took off his guitar and backpack and put it down next to the glass dining room table and nearly knocked over, one of the Space Odessey like chairs.
He immediately retreated after that and said, ‘.. first I need to freshen up. Where is your bathroom?’ Helena started walking in that direction saying…’come I’ll show you’, but he threw up his hand saying, ‘I can take directions, it’ s not as if this is Buckingham Palace, you know?’
She walked up to him and pushed passed him….went and stood in front of one door, down the passage, gesturing with her hand: until he walked in.
She banged the door shut behind him, with flushed cheeks.
“Now that wasn’t so difficult Enro was it?”
He grinded his teeth behind the door. She’d spoilt his fact-finding mission, to see how they live and where and how to demand what. He could see she was as difficult and as private as always. He had to watch himself.
She waited for his return on a dining room chair, where she could see down the passage.
“Have you eaten something yet, and are you thirsty?”
She saw the look in his eyes, towards his joy that she would be at his beck and call and cart Blanche.
“Come. You have already concurred that this is not Buckingham Palace, now come and concur that this is not the Ritz either.”
She stopped in front of the kitchen – fridge. Inside there was a breakfast nook set made of wood and a fridge, cupboards and homely orange and white festoon, beautiful curtains and an electric stove with an oven and warming drawer.
He watched the inside of the fridge with zero enthusiasm. Helena was an ordered, numbering packrat. On the fridge was a menu. Now THAT got his attention.
“You may not live in a palace, but you flipping will eat like them.”
Helena had a migraine, three days old. That did it for her.
“You are welcome to take a beer from the fridge. Unfortunately, they are all Windhoek Lager. My husband got a taste for them in South West Africa.”
“There are ice cubes with cherries or mint or strawberry or marshmallows inside. You can have them with any of the cold drinks inside the fridge. But please just use the marshmallow ice cubes, at a rate of one a day. That’s all I have extra. They are meant for my son John. It is his treat for his Milo drink at night. And the Niknaks in the basket and small juice boxes, are only for him too. I take one a day, each, to him, when I fetch him from kindergarten, as well.”
He was irritated and hot and opened the fridge and just grabbed a beer.
She walked to the cupboard to hand him a beer glass. But by then he had managed to open the can and had already taken two huge gulps.
She pressed the glass hard into his other hand.
“Here let’s go to the lounge.”
She disliked him so in that moment. Knew he was an only child of a doting mother and strict father, with impeccable manners, but who wished to flex his Neanderthal ways on her and her home and family. But he had to practice on somebody right?
The little boy had an ADHD cloud of quietness enveloping his observations. He watched Enro and his mom like a little hawk.
Helena was trying to prepare lunch. She started to prepare her cousin; minced meat balls, with a coat of flavored crumbs on the outside just ever so lightly fried, with a teaspoon full of chutney, a yellow raisin, and a piece of feta cheese inside each one.
Then she had her bad moment. He was much too strong for her, in manner, or so she believed. She was going to test him, to see if he still had his old habits.
She turned her back towards little Jay and Enro. She put two pieces of meat separately in a small bowl, mixed it with egg and dried oats. She rolled two meatballs in the crumbs but only after she quietly spat in each of her hands. In one of them she put the tiny roll of bubblegum instead of the feta cheese. She turned away and went to wash her hands laboriously under the washing basin tap.
Little Jay squinted and turned back to Enro. He laughed loudly.
That was how his mum had taught him to throw “kleilat” on a stick. You spat on your hands. Made two mud stripes, one on each cheek, put the mud on the stick, arch your back and swing it back and shout “laduma”! The enemy by then knew what you were up to.
“Kleilat” works like; branch – reverse gear – spite. If you have ever been on a day or night march in the military you will know it intimately. It is when you choose to walk in front of those whom you despise. Sprightly branches could then be held to swipe their targets back across the face as one moves through the bushes or they can be restrained without whipping the sucker behind you, with utmost care. Either way, walking in front on military marches carried some power.
As little Jay laughed, Helena quietly whispered “laduma” in front of the washing basin.
Helena finished up the food and neatly pushed two meatballs to the edge of the middle. Taking them, may balance the plate visually. They may not be missed immediately.
Helena set the table and excused herself. After some time spent in her room and bathroom Helena went back to the kitchen. Sadly, her predictions came true, he and Jay had each pinched one meatball. But little Jay was blowing bubbles. She blushed! Never once had she given any thought to the fact that he could end up with the gum!!
She realized he would corrupt the little boy completely. He was teaching him to stick his tongue out at her, unseen, holding it, just on the inside of his little cheek. He drove her nuts and sabotaged her parenting on the spot with his wily ways.
Enro decided to sleep on the pink couch in the lounge. He did not want to be near her or the boy or her husband. It was a big house, but not big enough.
Her husband came home the previous night from the engineering site, tired, with little to say.
It was Sunday morning. She woke up from a small knock on their bedroom door. It was Enro.
His hair was tousled in shit. His chest hair was tousled in shit. His pure white cotton shorts had a small shit hand on it, with its wise finger pointing straight at his private parts. The hair on his legs were paintings still in progress and on his lips were dots of shit. She flew up and ran to the lounge.
She immediately saw little Jay. He wore his pajamas over an “in case” huge nappy. He was nearly two years old.
Where Enro had slept, little Jay had made a row of crosses all around the top of the couch all around it too, on the velvety fabric. He also marked the carpet as far as it could go around the couch. Behind the couch he had tried to open the long cream/and pink curtains with his hands above his head to reach.
He managed to mark two shitty hands opening the curtains and spoil the back of the couch.
He only woke Enro when he tried to put some excreta in Enro’s mouth.
She was in total shock. The previous night Enro sang a song to her about a man with a hole in his soul, about a girl called Rachel whom he missed. Little Jay got very upset and refused to sleep. He got into his toy box and took a crayon. He made circles in red, all above his cot at 3 am in the morning.
Enro was in the guest bathroom busy cleaning himself up.
She took little Jay to her own en suite bathroom, trying not to wake up her husband. The smell woke him up, before she reached the bathroom…. “Don’t ask..”
She cleaned Jay up, who watched her every move with bright blue eyes, but did not make a sound. She felt helpless. She entered his room and saw the wall above his cot. He started to push his chin up and down for the “yes” signal in his mind.
He smiled and kept nodding.
Her heart dropped in her shoes. “What on earth were you thinking and doing little one?”
Her husband walked in. Little Jay smiled. He was not having it.
He rolled up the carpet. Took down the curtains and phoned a company to fetch the couch for deep cleaning, after Helena had washed most of the poo off the couch.
Enro looked at them around the breakfast nook table.
Little Jay was in his toddler’s chair.
In the middle of his porridge bowl, he made a circle and carefully ate around it and carefully ate everything so that the remaining food formed a circle. He refused to eat the last bit and started pointing at Enro again. He put all his fingers of his right hand, onto his right thumb to form the shape of a looking glass/circle.
Helena’s husband got so fed up, he took little Jay and went outside to sit on the lawn. Monkeys ran across the roof like they always had done.
She faced the young man inside the kitchen.
“What have you done?”
“What do you mean?”
“Listen, my son hardly says anything. Usually when he does, it is a neat sentence carrying a whole lot of information.”
He knows what a hole is. Now please tell me.
You sang about a hole in your soul, about a girl missed. Bottles have holes. People dig holes, you have holes in your body, nostrils, a pie hole..”
“Okay, okay!!!”.
He started to shout hysterically.
“I did it. I raped her. A youth friend.”
“Who?”
He named her best friend, whom she had introduced to him as a teenager.
“Get out of my house.”
“Now.”
“Your parents would die of shame.“……
Please listen with me to:
https://youtu.be/GfIDo6Bnjz4
Live concert with Mario Frangoulis/Justin Hayward
Music in this video
Listen ad-free with YouTube Premium
Song
Nights in White Satin (Notte Di Luce)
Artist
Mario Frangoulis
Licensed to YouTube by
SME; Sony ATV Publishing, Polaris Hub AB, UNIAO BRASILEIRA DE EDITORAS DE MUSICA – UBEM, ASCAP, LatinAutorPerf, EMI Music Publishing, Adorando Brazil, LatinAutor – SonyATV, and 12 Music Rights SocietiesSHOW LESS
Catalogue Preparation List: Enclosure Fathom: “Nafurat Miah Alshurb” – “Ayin – Zayin” – Renewal of Birth: A Bespoke Collection
1. (5563 A) “Nafurat Miah Alshurb” – The Fountain of Excellent Memories in
Mother’s Eyes – “Ayin – Zayin”
‘’Feeds our Thirst
The Rose Revisited
‘’Help Mother Download Only Excellent Memories
The Eye of The Fountain is The Breast That Feeds Us: It Flowers
We Flower”
2. (5563 B) “Nafurat Miah Alshurb” – The Fountain of Excellent Memories in
Mother’s Eyes – “Ayin – Zayin”
‘’Feeds our Thirst
The Rose Revisited
‘’Help Mother Download Only Excellent Memories
The Eye of The Fountain is The Breast That Feeds Us: It Flowers
We Flower”