This article appeared in Being Serwan Baran Issue #69 dedicated to tackling the journey of Serwan Baran, an Iraqi artist who transforms the brutal realities of war and human suffering into visual narratives. Born in Baghdad in 1968 and shaped by his experiences as a soldier, Baran’s work is rich with authenticity and emotional depth. His art reveals a complex psyche and a deep connection to the human experience. Through dark, brooding canvases, Baran explores themes of pain, resilience, and hope, urging viewers to confront uncomfortable truths while embracing our shared humanity.
Serwan Baran’s work has always been raw and deeply personal, significantly impacted by his surroundings and experiences. Born in Iraq in 1968, Baran has lived through decades of war and violence, his work an elaborate representation of both his personal life and his perspective on the human condition.
Baran was encouraged to draw and explore art at a very young age and went on to study at the University of Babylon’s Faculty of Fine Arts, graduating first in his class. He became a teacher while continuing to paint with oils, earning himself numerous accolades and prizes. One of his influences has been Iraqi artist Faik Hassan, who was instrumental in the development of contemporary art in the country and is often dubbed the “father of modern Iraqi art”.
The tumultuous and often violent situation in Iraq has had a profound effect on Baran’s creative process and has driven him to tackle various themes centred on imprisonment, war, the military, and death. Baran himself was first imprisoned as a teenager, then as a soldier when he was conscripted in the Iraqi Army.
Serwan Baran eventually left Iraq and began a long journey to Syria and then to Jordan, where he continued to paint and found great freedom in practising his art with no restrictions. He shares with us both his memories of growing up in a volatile Iraq and the artists who shaped him on his creative journey.
Early Life
Tell us how it all started. When did you begin painting?
My mother studied art for three years but didn ‘t complete her education after getting married. She encouraged my siblings and I to start drawing and exploring art. I remember one summer we were in the garden as small children. My father, a judge, had just come back from court. He asked everyone to go inside and draw him. I was drawing expressions and details in my father’s face. When we put the pictures next to each other, I realised my drawing was more advanced than my siblings’. They were drawing simple children’s drawings, while I was drawing a detailed portrait with eyes, shadow, and light.
How did your parents react to your talent?
My parents noticed that my drawing was more advanced than other children my age. They brought me art magazines and books and supported my interest in art. Little by little, I started practicing more and read all the art books that we had at home. I even created caricatures of people I disliked, like teachers who bothered us.
What happened after you discovered your talent?
I decided to study art at the University of Babylon’s Faculty of Fine Arts. The theory and practical work were easy for me since I was already at a high level. I had already read most of the books available at the library. I graduated first in my class with a big gap between me and the other students. After graduating I served in the army for a while and then started teaching at the university. Teaching was great but it required a lot of energy. Eventually, I felt the need to leave teaching because I wasn’t painting enough. Art requires complete freedom and dedication.
How did your career progress after that?
I joined the Iraqi Art Movement in 1990. In 1991, I participated for the first time in the Contemporary Iraqi Art Exhibition with 400 other artists. I won the prize for the youth competition. The competition was hosted at the Art Circle, a huge museum, that held up to 50,000 paintings. It had high walls and large spaces, so we all wanted to exhibit there.
Each floor in the building was reserved to an age group and artists of all ages had an opportunity to showcase their work. The ground floor was dedicated to 400 works by new upcoming artists. The rest of the floors were more like a museum. We wanted to exhibit there because it is the most important place for artists in Iraq. I won the second prize when I participated in 1994, and the first prize in 1995 for Contemporary Iraqi Art.
During the 90s, we faced difficult circumstances due to the siege, but we managed to continue our work. I remember teaching at the University of Baghdad, earning only $ 4 a month. Sometimes when I would go to get my salary, an employee would tell me she doesn’t have milk for her son, so I would tell her to take my salary, and I would finish the month for free. But I was a painter, so painting was my source of income.
What were you drawing?
I was drawing realistic scenes, mostly landscapes and portraits. I was working on the anatomy of the body, and on the portrait. This work helped me get to where I am today.
Canvases were very expensive, we couldn’t buy many, so I used to paint, and once satisfied with the result, I would take a picture and then paint over the work. I used to do this several times and the end result would be amazing. I had twenty paintings on the same canvas and the canvas would become heavy. You’d see the progression and the different stages.
What colours did you use?
Oil colours. The acrylic colours were still not commercially distributed. We used to get foreign oil paint, then, during the siege, we started buying pigmented oil paint. Iraq wanted self-sufficiency and it wanted to produce colours. I was very curious to try everything. I’ve explored different colour combinations over time.
Which artist influenced you the most?
I was influenced by many Iraqi artists, but the most important was Faik Hassan, the founder of the Iraqi Modern Art Movement. He guided students to look at art in a modern way, moving away from traditional methods. Another important figure was Jewad Selim, who pushed for modern art in Iraq.
Who are the artists that you studied with from your generation?
My generation does not mean age but my peers, all of whom studied under Faik Hassan, such as Sadik Kwaish Alfraji, Mahmoud Obaidi, Nedim Kufi, Ammar Daoud, Nazar Yahya, Ghassan Ghaib, Yasin Atia, Mohamed Koraich, Jabbar Abded El Roda. We were working to establish our experience within Iraqi art. All of them have become very important names.
We held a group show where four sculptors and four painters were displayed. It took place at the Ka’at Hiwar Baghdad (Baghdad Dialogue Hall) in 1991. The title of the show was Eight in Dialogue. Everyone exhibited became an important artist.
Can you tell us about your experience in prison?
Most Iraqis have been imprisoned at one point in their lives. We were soldiers. Sometimes we couldn’t take it anymore, especially the artists. We wanted to get back to life. So, we would escape. The punishment for escaping varied, but it often involved beatings and living in harsh conditions. Those who escaped for a week were imprisoned for two weeks. Those who escaped for a month were imprisoned for two months. That was the system at the time.
They would take us to a place called the Tadeebiyah and place us in a big cellar at the Rashid Military Camp. It was a prison called the Harithiyah. We used to go into a room in the back with 60 people. The guards used to come in to beat us and everyone would run to the middle. The people who stayed in the corner were usually the newcomers, they did not know what to do so they were beaten until their skin burned. Degradation in prison was common practice. When we got out, we tried not to go back.
The first time I was imprisoned, I was 16 or 17 years old, still at school. I made a political joke. One of the people at school witnessed it and informed the teachers. I was sent to the public security police. My father was a judge but for 18 days he did not know where I was. It was the worst thing that happened to me. My father finally reached me and was able to release me.
Tell us about your series on horses.
Inspired by Faik Hassan, I took a simpler, more abstract approach to painting horses. In 1996-1997, I began feeling the urge to leave the country, so I started a project called Houroub El Khouyoul, The Escape of the Horses, between 1999 and 2000, resonating with my feelings at the time; horses running in different directions in a panic, in fear and in a state of conflict – a preparation to leave the country. The idea that inspired me was [Italian sculptor] Marino Marini’s horse, who after 10 years of its life, became startled and scared. It’s called Horse and Rider. After I left Iraq and settled in Amman, I began working on the distortion of war machines, the distortion of the generaIs. I started to remember all the military leaders in my life, whom I used to praise, whom we used to draw during wartime.
We were soldiers, but this was not our truth inside; we drew their truth, so I started to draw their psychological state, their truth, the truth of the trauma, the truth of the violence inside and outside themselves, the cruelty and the lack of mercy, which they were always teaching us – not to be merciful, be very cruel. So, I worked on a large collection of distorted generals, and I worked on skulls. It’s called Face of War. I worked on statues and sculptures in the shape of skulls, which we used to see after war ended, including golden teeth. The military uniform was there, but only the skull remained. I tried to kill the image of the war generals. It was truthfully a reaction. I work on issues that move me. If something happens to me, and I have a reaction to it, this is the key to my themes.
This was part of a 10-year series of artwork on war called Harsh Beauty, which was centred on the idea of defeat. It included skulls, generals, hostages, death, canines, a military show but with crutches – a mockery of defeated soldiers. Our entire lives, we drew victory. I decided to draw defeat, and the truth is, war is defeat. It not a victory. It is an inner defeat.
When did you leave Iraq?
I left Iraq in 2003-2004 after the fall of Baghdad. I remember seeing peace for one year in my life. It was 1989, it was a great year, one of the most beautiful years ever. For the first time, travel was allowed. We lived this peace for a year, then we entered the Kuwait war, and we went back to zero again. We were banned from everywhere. I remember the first days of the siege. My father died. We started selling the house’s items so that we could eat and live. After 2003, I went to Syria and then to Jordan, where I held exhibitions and promoted my work. I achieved success and eventually bought an apartment in Jordan, which I turned into a studio.
When I first left Baghdad to Aleppo, I was still a little afraid, and I started to draw about the division of the watermelon: how people hold a watermelon, and everyone takes a piece from it. I worked on how different sects take a piece of the watermelon, so, everyone who lost a country, lost a piece from it.
Is that where you met Syrian artist Marwan Kassab-Bachi?
I met Marwan when I was still living in Iraq, when cultural trips were organised to Jordan to the Summer Academy for the youth of Palestine. They do not have many opportunities, so Marwan created this program to allow Palestinian youth to exchange with academic graduates from different countries. They used to invite three academic graduates from Iraq, three from Lebanon and three from Syria, so of course I applied.
During my time I got to meet Said Baalbaki, Ayman Baalbaki and Tagreed Darghouth, great friends till this day. We lived a great period, from morning to night, together in the same hotel, restaurant, studio, and with the same teacher. Marwan’s academy was like a military camp. Marwan was very blunt; he would not sugar-coat anything, but he also would not hide when he was pleased. When he liked what we did, he praised us to no end. We worked closely together, and he influenced my work greatly.
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