Page 177 - Genius

rather than simply the exterior
manifestations of the human
figure. His people wear not only
their hearts, but their egos and
their dreams on their sleeves.
And so in some unspeakable
way we are able to identify
with them - or at very least to
recognize them as members of
our own tribe, so to speak.
The only contemporary artist
it seems possible to compare
rafat Mey to is Canon, a French
autodidact whose drawings
are similarly unconcerned with
conforming to current fashion,
so deeply embroiled are they
in a private world. like Canon,
rafat Mey seems to sustain his
creativity in a rarefied sense
of isolation that nourishes
his imagination. Indeed, how
else could he produced such
images as the painting in the
present show of what appears
to be a st ylized peacock
metamorphosing into a vase of
brightly colored flowers?
In another work, equally strange
in its own manner, three women
in flowing hats and identical
long braids appear themselves
to be morphing into exotic plant
forms. In yet another untitled
painting a whimsical geometric
torso figure cavor t s in a
landscape just as schematized,
yet pastorally sug gestive
nonetheless.

Indeed, it is rafat Mey's
unequaled ability to present us
with the outlandish projects of
his fertile - perhaps it would be
more accurate to say teeming
- imagination and make them
inexplicably believable that
makes his work so thoroughly
enjoyable.

"The Fabulous Personages of
germany's rafat Mey-Elahy"
by bernard katz
177