Ibi Ibrahim

March 23, 2012

thoughts

the more art i make, the more i realize that i am in the wrong place. i really wish i was able to be in Yemen, living as a respected artist and able to create work that is relevant to my surrounding.

i find it rather hard to explore my point of view through being in a society that isn’t much involved ideologically with what i present. In the same time, if i were to be in Yemen i am certain that it will be almost impossible to express my point of view.

so i give myself much pity and feel as an artist with no home. but sometimes the right audience appears and takes all the pleasure in my work. one experience like this is what keeps me going.

ibi ibrahim

March 20, 2012

Whisker Jack

Crucify the Yemeni Artist

Petrify the devil inside it

Light up a flame

Burn his so called fame

the sinner has gone insane

gather the girls

gather the mothers

let them watch

let him suffer

run away, run my dream

take an adventure in your favorite stream

Tell about the forbidden theme

break me from that regime

but i ask you, do come back

to guide my children into the track

without you, i am under attack

with you, i am a whisker jack

—

ibi ibrahim

March 19, 2012

Profile Photo

you posted a new photo

your name came up in the news feed

my heart beat stopped

my hand shivered

and my soul screamed

screamed for mercy from the pain

a pain that keeps on making a return

my shaking fingers clicked your name

i miss your fingers swimming in my hair

i am angry, i want to scream

but my sisters are next door

so i let my tears fall on my keyboard

Sounds of Oud

he once made a film

he once told a love triangle

i saw the love

i smelled the desire

i felt the devotion

whom do i have to blame?

whom do i dare to kiss?

lust is what he built

despair is what she felt

now tell me what will we do?

us three, what shall we do?

——-

few words i wrote on my film Sounds of Oud. 2012.

ibi

Permalink

Me for Shirin Neshat.

Piece will be auctioned/exhibited @ Magic of Peria in #Dubai in March 2012

Permalink

making art

Making art for the world. not for the gallery.
Making it for the sky, and the land.

For the flying birds.

For the loving eyes, and burning desires.
For the hungry souls…

for our lustful mornings,
and our quiet nights

for our naked bodies, and empty hearts
for our soft fingers, and dry lips.

~~for my loneliness.~~