EPITAPH

A MAN CARRYING A PAINTING STOOD NEXT TO ME WAITING FOR A LIGHT TO CHANGE 

Now I have eight of Jaber's works: Here are two.

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He was particularly fond of donkeys for their humility and patience.

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After his death some of his works were exhibited at the entry of the museum for "outsiders' art," Halle Saint-Pierre:

More appear here and here (for both, please scroll down to end).

Jaber al-Mahjoub could hardly read or write and had schizophrenia. Those handicaps contribute to the strength of his works, hallucinations with the inner logic of dreams and words with the power of symbols.

He lived in a small, dark room without electricity, and painted by candlelight. He'd go out next day and sell his joyful works for almost nothing.

Despite innumerable exhibits (please click) and presence in museums and collections, he refused to take himself seriously. He had no interest in money, infuriating gallery owners by his habit of giving works away, even on the street to people he did not know.

Jaber died in 2021, aged 80. 

I miss him.

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Now cross the street and walk through

 the grandiose courtyards of the Louvre.

We leave the ramparts and their imprint,
because on the right bank 

 most traces of the Middle Ages have disappeared:

The chapter on insurrections explains why. 

End of this section.

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Next section,

II.1.5.

Palaces: glory and demise