The Lighter of Light

I began my studies at the Higher Institute of Dramatic Arts in Damascus in 2007. In my graduation year, the Syrian uprising and popular protests broke out across cities and neighborhoods of the country. As the revolution intensified—its victims children, women, and civilians—collective punishments became an inseparable part of daily life. On one side, there were arbitrary arrests and killings in the regime’s prisons; on the other, extremist militias emerged, killing civilians along sectarian lines.

Daily existence was shaped by a wide range of restrictions and punishments: long hours of power cuts, water shortages, frequent internet and communication blackouts, high taxes on modern phones, a ban on importing new cars, limits on importing certain types of food, and the indefinite extension of military service. These measures affected nearly every household in Syria, turning life into a scene of waiting and suspended motion.

As a student of stage lighting design, I often faced these challenges firsthand. I was about to complete my graduation project when power cuts repeatedly interrupted our work—the setup of lights and projectors came to a halt, for the arts of light cannot exist by candlelight alone.

During that time, a small golden lighter became a common object in every Syrian’s pocket, smoker or not. It was no longer just a tool to ignite a cigarette—it had become a symbol of the first emergency solution in a life full of restrictions. From that thought, I created this image: a small bulb placed above a lighter, its shadow reflected on my study table in Damascus, with sunlight as my intentional and only source of illumination.

This photograph became my artistic gesture of solidarity with the Syrian revolution. I signed it on the date of its beginning — March 15, 2011.