Ghylan Safadi Has something to say about our table

There is something about Syrian artist Ghylan Safadi's shy and humble demeanor that makes you wonder what his table looks like.

Yes, you've heard correctly.

I am wondering about his table.

The one over which he ponders about his timeless romance with people's faces.

The romances they, or perhaps he himself, never had the courage to live.

The table he talks to when there is only the pained expression of a story that is yet to be lived, to console the oceanic magnitude of his sadness.

The table that forever holds the aromas of his memories.

And precisely those he never had the courage to live.

In his new solo exhibition held until the weekend in the elegant gallery, Art on 56th:


he recounts the tales of our stolen moments of privacy, our shameful secrets, fleeting moments of weakness,

Our muffled screams hidden behind polite smiles and rigid expressions.

Our vulnerabilities disguised as frightened evilness.


You see, Ghylan Safadi believes:

"To each person his own table".

For this quiet man, whose paintings are mostly so crowded, you wonder, how on earth do its "inhabitants" breathe:

"In cafes, tables carry memories
Perhaps holding people's dreams
Their last words of farewell".

And the table, is forever, the silent witness of what he eloquently describes as the
"Carnival of others' lives".

To each his endless stories, no one has the right to judge us for.

But what troubles Ghylan Safadi are the stories of those amongst us who are forgotten.

Those of us who are left with our table, the silent witness of our broken heart.

The very discreet witness of our solitude and endless struggles.

Ghylan Safadi firmly believes that to each his table.

And his cartoon imagery allows us the luxury to walk midst our crumbling lives, hand in hand with our melancholy, holding on to the illusion of joy and success.

Basking in the glory of this absurdity, this comedy we call life.

Without leaving our table.

For Syrian artist Ghylan Safadi assures us that to each his own table.

And if we are lucky enough, we might find it.

As he says in his gentle manner:

"Perhaps. Perhaps".