Every two years, Egyptian artists and art lovers prepare themselves for a feast of world art at the Cairo International Biennale. The event offers a rare chance to see what is going on in art around the globe without having to go to Paris, London or New York. It also gives us the opportunity to see our local artist in a different context, juxtaposed with works by artists from abroad.

This year’s event officially ended on January 31, but it is still possible to view the works for the first few days of this month. A total of 127 artists from 57 countries showed their works at Qasr El-Funoun (Arts Palace), the Museum of Modern Egyptian Art at the Cairo Opera House, and the Gezira Arts Center in Zamalek.

The bulk of the work is at Qasr El-Funoun, and this is where I have come to see what is new and exciting in the art world. The Palace is designed to showcase different forms of art — be it installation, painting or sculpture — in the best light and environment, making for a thoroughly enjoyable visit.

As I start to view the work of the European artists, there is one trend I see cropping up again and again: Simplicity is all the rage. Most of the European artists participating in the Biennale strive to convey their message through the simplest means possible. The maxim that ‘the shortest distance between two points is a straight line’ is their motto. For an art lover who often has to struggle through layers and layers of paint, viewing this type of work is as refreshing as a cool breeze in August.

A number of Italian artists have taken over the foyer area. Of the most famous is Sinisca. Born in 1929 in Naples, the artist currently lives in Rome and gives exhibits as a painter, photographer, sculptor and scenographer. His work can be seen in 69 museums all over the world.

Walid Aouni’s installation protests Israel’s Separation Wall in the Occupied territories.

Sinisca is showing three works in gravure on canvas — an unusual combination— at the Biennale: a seascape, structures in space, and the Santa Margherita Tower (the tower is one of UNESCO’s “Messengers of the Culture of Peace”). The thin black etchings, together with the sturdy canvas material, create an interesting effect. The works are airy and light, but what makes them most interesting is their sheer simplicity.

This simplicity can also be seen in the work of a much younger Italian artist, Danillo Bucci. In a tribute to Egypt, 28-year-old Bucci does paintings based on the Fayoum Portraits. Using charcoal, chalk and acrylics, Bucci’s portraits maintain the spirit of the ancient profiles without ever emulating the originals. Like the ancients, Bucci keeps the magic in the eyes. The effect is mesmerizing — Bucci draws you in and arrests you. Amidst hundreds of works, Bucci’s portraits manage to shine.

Another young Italian artist is Alessandro Cannistra, born in 1975. What is most captivating about his landscape-like art is his use of a very unusual medium: smoke. The smoke leaves interesting shapes on his canvas, which the artist then paints over. The result is fascinating, giving the works a weightless quality. It is as if Cannistra is painting with clouds, a sense that he further amplifies by painting row upon row of mountaintops.

Adnan El-Hajj Sassi of Tunisia is another artist worth keeping an eye on in the future. His contributions are abstract works in black and white. Using simple, thin lines, Sassi’s pieces show a lot of depth and body, the artist himself displaying none of the problems of many Arab artists participating in this Biennale. Generally, you look at their work, and you feel that you have seen it before — and not in the sense that it strikes a chord or is something you can relate to. You often feel that it is recycled art that tries too hard to be original.

Spanish artist Francesca Marti combines painting, music and video in her installation.

Sassi, on the other hand, is a free spirit. His work is new, without trying too hard.

On the other hand, I am baffled by what Laila Gomaa of the UAE has to offer. The three blown-up, jumbled faxes on display are just that: blown-up faxes. No interference from the artist is apparent. I really do not get it.

Although I can’t find much to say about Gomaa’s offering, I can’t enthuse enough about the Spanish wing — Spain was awarded the Best Pavilion award for good reason. The black-and-white paintings of Antonio Martinez Mengual, for example, demand a prolonged look.

Mengual’s 100-plus small works recall a section of Homer’s Odyssey. Each is an abstract work in its own right, but juxtaposed with the other pieces they create a complete visual story. You can stand back and view the work as a whole, which merges to present a unified work. It all depends on the viewer, where he chooses to stand, what he chooses to focus on.

Omar Mohsen Spanish artist Francesca Marti combines painting, music and video in her installation.

Francesca Marti offers up an experience that is completely new to our eyes. Is it video art, is it painting, is it photography, or an ingenious mix of all three media? A number of Egyptian and Arab artists have taken up video art with satisfactory results, but Marti’s work is different. It defies all attempts at compartmentalization.

Marti’s work takes up a large section of the second floor, the viewer walks in to see abstract works in bold black, white and red. The music, which I had thought was provided by the palace for the enjoyment of viewers, starts to make sense here. The music was chosen by Marti to help bring her work to life.

Marti has painted over zoomed-in photographs of nude bodies — the paintings/photographs take up two of the inside walls of her space. The third wall is taken up by a huge horizontal painting. The artist captures the movements of a man on film, transferring them onto canvas, adding painted silhouettes of the same man. You almost see the man moving and dancing, and the music adds another dimension to it all. The overall effect is similar to performance art, yet it is frozen in time.

But then you turn to look at the fourth wall, taken over by five white panels, all displaying the same black line, giving the big painting its drama and movement. Suddenly, as you focus your eyes, you realize that the man in the painting on your left has come to life, and is moving from one screen to the next. You can see an illusive shadow, light as gossamer, which turns the white screens into living, throbbing, works of art. With each new movement, a different painting unfurls in front of your very eyes.

Marti uses every medium at her disposal: photography, video, painting, drawing. Is it too much, perhaps? Definitely not. The combination is perfect. It is a journey into the soul, a complete and rich visual and audio experience that demonstrates the importance of art.

I must admit that before I realized the moving figure was part of the exhibit, I felt chills as I thought someone was stealthily walking behind me.

I was soon to experience an even bigger scare, when I walk in on Daniel Joseph Martinez, or rather, the rubber figure of Martinez. In a stark white surrounding, a man lies on the ground staring into space. He is dressed in white, and appears to be dead. The minimalism of the display is its most effective feature, possibly what won the American the Hathor Prize. At the entrance, Martinez writes: “The Fully Enlightened Earth Radiates Disaster Triumphant.” The artist is likely trying to issue a statement against war. But while the message may not be clear, at least to me, the art itself certainly has a powerful impact.

I’m generally not impressed when artists try to become political analysts, or when they try to tweak some kind of deeper meaning out of their art. Art should be about art — it does not have to be a manifesto. This may be why I have a problem with many of the Arab artists participating in the Biennale.

While I fully understand that Jordanian and Palestinian artists have a message to tell and that the war in Iraq is casting its shadow on Arabs and, of course, Arab artists, trying to say this through art is another thing altogether. The art always suffers. That’s the pitfall Iad Kanaan from Jordan falls into with his installation of white, vacuous torsos embedded in sand.

Yes, war is bad, we get it.

Latifa Youssef of Palestine is more subtle about it. She uses newspaper cuttings with headlines about the peace process and the atrocities going on in Palestine to good effect. Looking at it from a distance, her work is a good example of meaningful abstract art.

Hoda Hiary from Jordan was able to escape the vicious circle altogether, which is probably why she won the Biennale’s Best Work award. Her installation of tens of red tarabeesh (fezzes) is a statement against the sexism of Arab society. A video plays in the background, focusing on the rouged mouth of a smoking woman. Hiary writes: “In all her states, whether she is a beautiful woman, or creative, or a prostitute, she only sees tarabeesh.”

But it is not only women who see nothing but tarabeesh. It is just about everybody who lives in this part of the world. Our art is as shackled and weighed down by chains as the citizens of the Arab world — a realization that lingers with you as you leave the Biennale.  et