That's
what Armenian asylum seeking painter and activist Narek Aghajanyan
told me at the opening of his 8th exhibition,
held last week at a small pizzeria located outside of Gävle,
when I asked him what he would do if the Swedish Migration Board
rejects the new asylum request he made after his second child was
born one month ago. When I posed the same question to his beautiful
and giggly wife, she told me
she is so tired of this thought and
doesn't want think about it anymore, especially on that special night
when her husband is showcasing his works. Narek Aghajanyan, a young
and up-and-coming painter, was everywhere, attending his two kids and
making sure that his visitors felt at home. However, nobody but
asylum seekers and refugees could notice that mix of eerie
self-doubt, anxiety and stress all over his face masked by big smile.
Just
in the middle of the room (turned out to be the “gallery”), an
empty chair sits behind a pair of shiny black shoes and a T-shirt
with two big holes and stained with something like a blood. Narek
said this art installation is meant to mark the fifth anniversary of
those 10
people who
were massacred following the unrest in connection with the 2008
presidential election in the Armenian capital Yerevan as well as to remind
everyone that the Armenian government is still in power and nobody
has been charged or tried for the killings of innocent protesters.
Aghajanyan fled his country in 2010 after Armenian authorities denied
him to organize an exhibition in memory of the 10 protesters on the
same spot where they were ambushed, which resulted in threats from
the police and his paintings were shattered by unknown men.
What's
wrong with you Sweden?
Aghajanyan
was forced to leave his country with his wife and daughter when he
couldn't take the death threats and harassment from the police
anymore. Nevertheless, the Swedish Migration Board didn't buy his
story and told him to leave the country based on a premise that his
art isn't “politically critical” enough to worthy him of asylum
protection. It is all to believe that the milk is black, or that case
officers at the Migration Board live on a different planet. Otherwise
they can just Google the name Ai-Wei-
Wei and
eventually realize that cases like Aghajanyan's are not random
phenomena. He was doing his PhD on art before he fled to the wrong
country; he could have been welcomed with open arms as an asset on
his arrival at the airport by countries like Canada,
Australia and
given the opportunity to give back all his knowledge, talents and
skills to the community but unfortunately he doesn't have the
passport to go to those countries. He humbly turned down my
appreciation when I expressed my disbelief that those paintings were
actually made by a guy who is under a lot of stress to take care
of
his young family with little or no resources.
Somebody's
trash is someone else's treasure
Leave
alone for undocumented family guy like Aghajanyan, Sweden is one of
the most expensive countries for any person with good income; being undocumented asylum-seeking
painter is just a luxury to say the least. However, if there is a
true devotion
and
commitment there's also a way. It bleeds my heart when Aghajanyan
showed me some of the paintings he made on a discarded cardboards from
a pizzeria where he, his pregnant wife and daughter were hiding for
some time before their son was born. Sadly, Aghajanyan's is just one
of tens of thousands undocumented
asylum
seekers in Sweden whose skills, talents, knowledge and years of
experiences are being flushed down the toilet.
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