Notes from the North 6 2025

It’s the last Saturday in June. There is a warm wind blowing strongly through Edinburgh. Tourists and locals are sprawled out on the dry grass in Princes Street Gardens and I am with them. I am waiting to go to the opening of the exhibition celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of the Talbot Rice Gallery. 

one of the Shawky glass marionettes

Across the grass I can hear the voice of a woman speaking to a crowd which has gathered in the square outside the National Gallery. She and they are protesting the occupation, starvation and killings in Palestine. I have been out on other Saturdays lately and seen similar actions: outside St Giles Cathedral (a collection and a choir singing), outside Barclays bank (‘blood bank’ and other slogans chalked in big capitals on the pavement). I wonder how these signs of dissent and anger will be handled if the government persists in its decision to designate Palestine Action a terrorist organisation. For the moment their documentary To Kill a War Machine can still be downloaded on-line. The speaker’s voice rises, defiant and strong, above the background din of traffic and conversations. I don’t know that while I am sitting in the garden listening to her I am being prepared for the exhibition I am about to see. 

 

The Talbot Rice exhibition is showing the work of Wael Shawky, an Egyptian from Alexandria. 


Looking at the list of galleries which have exhibited him, Shawky should need no introduction but this is the first time his work has come to Scotland. It is both timely and fitting that he has been taken up by the Talbot Rice gallery (celebrating David Talbot Rice’s lifelong interest and expertise in Byzantine and Near Eastern Art). The exhibition is on until late September and entry is free. 

It is an exhibition which demands time and attention for people in the West for whom the early Medieval period of the Crusades only brings to mind vague recollections of such things as quests and pilgrimages, the holy grail, nobles on horseback, Knights Templar and Richard the Lionheart. Having studied la Chanson de Roland and various other courtly epics of that era I certainly belong in the Christian-centric category. It will take me more than one visit to gain a more nuanced perspective than the one I was brought up on.

 

Shawky has created three films of which Cabaret Crusades III, The Secrets of Karbala is the longest (2 hours). The trilogy tells the Crusade history from an Arab perspective, incorporating the writings and insights of Arab historians. The stories are told using exquisitely crafted marionettes which have been made from different materials – wood, clay and for the third one, Murano glass.


a selection of the marionettes

They tell the history of the battles between Christians and Muslims (as well as various factional fights among both sides) from the end of the 11th century to the last years of the 13th. 

Next door to the main gallery there is a 45-minute video, Drama 1882, a film showing Shawky's interpretation of the events which led to the British occupation of Egypt. To give a sense of the relevance and importance of what is being shown I can’t do better than reproduce the words in the exhibition brochure (which has lots of other useful information too, and costs nothing), 

A frame from Drama 1882

‘Wael Shawky’s relationship to historical truth is an uneasy one. His works examine pivotal moments of our shared histories that continue to impact the modern world, injecting them with counter-truths and speculative fiction, creating space for critical reflection and above all, highlighting the effect of the colonial project in the Middle East on the world today.’

 

The theme of this year’s Edinburgh Festival is ‘The Truth We Seek’. The Talbot Rice Gallery may be as good a place as any to begin the search. 

 

The wind is still blowing when I leave the Old Quad. I walk down the Bridges, wondering how much longer we will wait for that road to be back to full functioning without mesh fences and wrapped-up statues. Which takes me to another building site, now also hidden behind protective barriers. Until 1968 it was the home of the Royal High School of Edinburgh, one of Scotland’s and indeed the world’s, oldest schools (founded in 1128). The school itself has had two homes since 1968 while the building on Regent Terrace has lain empty and increasingly derelict. It grew buddleia and weeds out of crevices and roofs while the Council and developers argued over what to do with it. Finally a decision was made and work has begun. In due course it will come to life again for both students and the public as Scotland’s National Centre for Music. 




 

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