Ruins of Two Cities: Mosul and Aleppo, 2020
Polyester resin, 800 × 600 cm (24 m2) × 15 cm (depth)

­­Thousands of years old, Mosul and Aleppo are known for their richness and contributions to the artistic history of the Arab world, creating social and cultural ties due to their geographical location and economic wealth. But this has also meant that these cities, frequently won by the sword, were destroyed and rebuilt many times throughout the ages armies passed through them and fought within them. As with all cities, they were sometimes subject to the desires of rulers who tried to make their mark on history and met with a humiliating downfall, their funerals held in the rubble. Some of these corrupt rulers entered legend through inherited tales that sing a long history of sorrows and perdition. More recently, these two cities have been completely destroyed—not by invading armies or airborne enemies during times of open war, but by their own sons, who were recruited by external forces to join fanatical factions within an endless political and sectarian conflict. 

Mosul and Aleppo have long been distinguished by the neighbourly spirit within their walls; the traditions of their closed societies and the secrets of their inhabitants are as impossible for a stranger to navigate as the labyrinthine roads themselves. One street is indistinguishable from another, marked only by the presence of some mosque, shop, or the remains of homes, or the aroma of cooking drifting from one house to the next. Some streets lead nowhere at all.

The cities of Mosul and Aleppo are like dreams made of human desires and fears, history and traditions. It is easier to look at their destruction from a bird’s-eye view, without touching the ground, for fear of touching the ruins that are mixed with the ugliness of what man does to his fellow man. 

Image: Dia al-Azzawi, Ruins of Two Cities: Mosul and Aleppo (detail), 2020, polyester resin, 236 1⁄4 × 314 15⁄16 × 5 7⁄8 in., courtesy of the artist, photo: Mohannad Khamra