Beyond slogans, Palestine’s art scene reveals a deeper story

A journey to Palestine can begin with a lesson in how movement itself is controlled. Travelling from Türkiye to Ramallah requires entering through routes controlled by Israeli authorities, since there are no direct flights from Türkiye to Ramallah, Jerusalem or other cities in the West Bank. The journey can involve flying to Tel Aviv or travelling overland through Jordan, while permission to proceed ultimately remains subject to Israeli authorities. For the traveller, the political reality of Palestine becomes apparent before reaching Palestinian territory.

A journey interrupted in Athens

The journey to Ramallah began through Athens, where the traveller was stopped shortly before boarding a connecting flight. Officials said they had not received approval from Israel’s Population and Immigration Authority concerning the travel documents and therefore could not allow boarding. Although the required visa, passport and ETA documentation were in place, the decision was being made elsewhere.

The traveller was eventually moved to a later flight, leaving several hours to explore Athens. There, Palestinian slogans and messages of solidarity appeared across walls and shop shutters, contrasting with the positions of governments. A visit to the National Museum of Contemporary Art Athens, or EMST, also offered an unexpected parallel. The exhibition “South by Southeast: Re-Orienting the Collection”, curated by Katerina Gregos, shifted the museum’s focus toward the Balkans, Türkiye, the Middle East and North Africa.

When distance is measured by checkpoints

After arriving in Tel Aviv, the journey continued toward Ramallah. Reaching the West Bank may be possible through established routes, but movement between areas can be complicated by checkpoints, road closures and changing access conditions. A journey that appears short on a map can therefore become considerably longer in practice.

Ramallah itself offered a view that differs from the images through which Palestine is often encountered abroad. The city, which serves as the administrative centre of the Palestinian Authority, has experienced rapid urban development while retaining elements of its local architectural character. Its proximity to Jerusalem, roughly 10 kilometres away in a straight line, is nevertheless deceptive. For many Palestinians living in Ramallah, access to Jerusalem has been severely restricted. Some residents in their 30s and 40s have visited the city only a handful of times, while others have never been able to reach it through regular routes.

Mahmoud Darwish and the language of posters

The main purpose of the visit was the opening in Ramallah of “Posters for the Olive Tree in Exile”, an exhibition prepared with artist Yusuf Aygeç and curated by the writer of the account, with support from Türkiye’s Turkish Cooperation and Coordination Agency (TİKA).

The exhibition had previously been shown at P21 Gallery in London and in Konya before reaching the Mahmoud Darwish Museum in Ramallah. Its 20 works draw on the visual tradition of Palestinian resistance posters from the 1960s and 1970s. The works were painted by hand before being reproduced as signed, limited-edition prints.

For the exhibition, the poster was treated not simply as graphic design but as part of Palestine’s cultural and political history. Several works incorporated passages from Mahmoud Darwish’s poems, speeches and prose, making the poet’s museum in Ramallah a particularly significant setting.

Even the artwork faced restrictions

Getting the works into Ramallah proved difficult. A package sent from another country to a recipient living in Tel Aviv was stopped by Israeli customs and eventually returned damaged. The experience illustrated how the movement of cultural objects, like the movement of people, can be affected by restrictions and decisions beyond the control of those sending them.

The Mahmoud Darwish Museum, situated on a prominent hill overlooking Ramallah, preserves personal belongings and manuscripts that present the celebrated Palestinian poet not only as a national symbol but also as an individual. The museum’s collection also includes a complete three-volume edition of Darwish’s poetry, prompting hopes that a similarly comprehensive edition could one day become available in Turkish.

Art reveals another side of Palestine

The exhibition opening was attended by the Palestinian Culture Minister, who highlighted the significance of a Turkish artist and Turkish curator producing work about Palestine and of Türkiye’s support being expressed through culture. Without TİKA’s assistance, the exhibition would not have been able to reach Ramallah.

The exhibition also raised a question sometimes heard in Türkiye: why present Palestinians with images of experiences they already live through? The answer offered by the organisers was that the purpose was not to explain Palestinian suffering to Palestinians, but to demonstrate solidarity. A poster depicting Jerusalem became particularly meaningful in this context. For visitors in Ramallah, the city shown in the artwork was not simply a subject of art but a place only about 10 kilometres away that many could not freely reach.

Ramallah’s cultural institutions

On a free day in Ramallah, the journey continued through the city’s contemporary art institutions, beginning with the A. M. Qattan Foundation. For audiences who primarily encounter Palestine through political reporting, the scale and activity of its cultural sector can come as a surprise.

At the foundation, Amin Alsaden curated “Loss Marginalia”, an exhibition that examined loss without reducing it to an image meant simply to be consumed. Another exhibition, Bashar Khalaf’s “The Field of Dreams”, presented paintings marked by open spaces, colour and expressive brushwork. It was Khalaf’s first solo exhibition, and plans were made to continue the conversation in Istanbul.

The visit also included Palestinian artist Nabil Anani, who acknowledged Türkiye’s support for the Palestinian cause while pointing to the limited recognition Palestinian artists receive in Türkiye. Political solidarity, he argued in essence, does not automatically translate into familiarity with Palestinian art history. The flags and slogans may be widely recognised, but the painters, sculptors and artistic traditions behind them remain far less familiar.

At Zawyeh Gallery, preparations were underway for Khaled Hourani’s “1030+”. Drawing on contemporary photographs from Gaza, Hourani’s work shifts attention away from smoke and destruction and toward people and children suspended among clouds, creating a visual space for those who have been lost.

The olive tree as a cultural memory

Olive trees appeared repeatedly throughout the journey. One stood in the garden of the Khalil Sakakini Cultural Center, planted by actor Richard Gere in 1993. Others appeared around Ramallah, including at the Mahmoud Darwish Museum and along roadsides.

For Palestinians, the olive tree carries a cultural meaning that extends beyond its physical presence. The “olive tree in exile” referenced in the exhibition title became connected with the trees encountered throughout the city, linking landscape, memory, displacement and artistic expression.

The journey did not include Nablus, despite the intention to visit. Restrictions on movement ultimately shaped the itinerary. In that sense, the experience of Palestine was defined not only by the places that could be reached, but also by the places that remained inaccessible.

For a traveller, that absence can become one of the strongest impressions left by the journey: a city only a short distance away, yet separated by restrictions that turn kilometres into hours and neighbouring cities into distant worlds.