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“Did it leave you with a fond memory?” Brigitte Caland asks Nadine Begdache during the film shown at the opening. “My friendship with Huguette Caland is the most cherished memory of my life,” she responds.
From September 28th to October 26th, the Janine Rubeiz gallery is hosting an exhibition dedicated to the late painter Huguette Caland, titled “Huguette and Nadine: A Story of Friendship.”
Friendship stands at the heart of this exhibition — a bond that time’s unpredictable march couldn’t diminish. I ask Nadine Begdache about the secret to the longevity of this relationship. “Authenticity,” she states. As I admire two of Caland’s major works on display, her friend provides insights. “These two paintings depict Freige’s house, where Huguette and her parents lived before her father’s election as the President of the Lebanese Republic, and the Road to Damascus, portraying a divided Beirut and a little palace jewel that had to be demolished to construct the Damascus road. Huguette believed that everything began with this act of destruction, which was utterly unnecessary. She was very visionary and well acquainted with Lebanese issues. At the Janine Rubeiz gallery, she has had over ten exhibitions: in Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Paris, and Strasbourg. “Faces and Places” in 1994 and 1997; “Money” in 2000; “Introspective” in 2003; “Rossinante” in 2006; “Silent Memories” in 2009; “My Early Years” in 2011; “Retrospective” in 2013; “Bronzes” in 2015, and ’1964′ in 2018. Twenty-five years of collaborative effort were captured in this opening. This is not a retrospective but a highlight of key moments in her journey, also featuring some smaller works available for purchase since most borrowed paintings come from private collections. This isn’t a commercial exhibition meant to sell Huguette Caland’s art pieces, which are quite expensive and adorn the world’s major museums. After the gallery’s 30th anniversary, it was essential to honor the great Huguette Caland, the most recurrent artist at the Janine Rubeiz gallery for an uninterrupted quarter-century.”
You speak of her with such admiration. How did your closeness develop? What moves you the most — her art or her human qualities?
“I got to know her through my mother. Initially, there was a friendship between the Rubeiz and El-Khoury families, and she had exhibited at Dar el-Fan in 1970. When we met, we quickly connected. I admired her inherent sense of freedom and her dedication to her craft. She was a passionate individual, equal to every responsibility. She was more competent than most men. This reminds me of my mother. Anything was possible with Huguette. It’s not laxity I speak of; she was very professional and worked ceaselessly. When she wasn’t painting, she’d sketch her dresses and caftans. Yet, she was highly tolerant. Every idea could be discussed with her. She had no taboos. She had a charming personality and was a natural storyteller, narrating Lebanon’s history with flair. In 1993, I thus proposed to Huguette Caland, then in Cannes, to return, and she immediately agreed. “Shall we commit to an exhibition?” I asked. “Yes,” she replied with her infectious enthusiasm. The first two exhibitions, “Faces and Places,” centered around Huguette’s return, and all her friends were present. Here she revisited places after her exile and faces she once knew. She was ecstatic, as she loved interacting with people. She valued the opinions of clients and their feedback, always ready to offer discounts as long as no one was displeased. “Nadine, set any price you deem fit. We mustn’t turn anyone away.” She also took matters deeply to heart, even though everything seemed possible for her. I visited her three times in the US, where I was received royally. Later, in Kfarhbab, I’d frequently see her, whether she was in good health or not. At first, we could converse freely. Later, we communicated just the essentials. But her eyes always spoke, and she perfectly grasped her surroundings. It was agonizing to see her in that state, given her once vibrant personality. She had always been full of life, laughing heartily and embracing life’s pleasures. Even when she was weak, she’d serve champagne, never breaking the tradition, as if nothing had changed. I’ve never had such a fulfilling, relaxed, and harmonious relationship with an adult — neither with a mother, an aunt, or any other friend. Money was quickly glossed over, regarding what was earned or lost. She always reiterated that money does not bring happiness but has its uses. Yet, among her themes, she chose “The Money She Despised,” painting three hundred sixty-five canvases representing every day of the year when we face the necessity to use it. She could be unpredictable, but she was always consistent with herself.
How did Huguette Caland become international?
After her successes in Beirut, we attended the Dubai and Abu Dhabi fairs every year. Everyone appreciated her there, notably museum directors and collectors. The Guggenheim Museum purchased one of her pieces in Abu Dhabi. Moreover, all the major auction houses, such as Christie’s and Sotheby’s, selected her works for sale. She became highly sought after in the art markets of the UAE, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia. Lebanese and Arab foundations vied for her pieces. We collaborated with these major houses. After her death, her daughter Brigitte took over, particularly with American museums.
Do you believe that her father’s status as president contributed to her fame or opened doors for her?
In the initial years, as per her wish, we never revealed that her father was the President of the Republic, even in the US, where she spent a quarter-century and had many friends. It was after five or six years of collaboration, following her return, that I told her, “Enough is enough. Your foreign friends and American colleagues need to know that your father was a hero of independence and the first President of the Lebanese Republic.” Modesty compelled her to be known simply as Huguette, the artist.
Did her abstract painting attract a wide audience?
It’s contemporary art; one must understand what lies beneath. Huguette Caland’s works always conveyed a message. The more people attend exhibitions, the better they’ll interpret, differentiate, and appreciate them, especially art enthusiasts, even if they haven’t studied visual arts. One becomes a connoisseur by consistently exposing oneself to art and “cultivating one’s culture.” Personally, I opened every Sunday for seven years and arranged exhibitions for children with small pieces priced between 10 and 20 dollars, introducing Lebanese children to visual art and the concept of purchasing a canvas over a worthless trinket. It’s vital to establish this educational approach and take children to museums.
You collaborated with other renowned artists. Were they not loyal?
There are fifteen unforgettable and highly loyal artists. I won’t name them all to avoid inadvertently leaving anyone out. However, it’s impossible not to mention from the first generation, Yvette Achkar, Chafic Abboud, and Etel Adnan, who remained very loyal to the gallery after my mother’s passing. My goal was to bring back prominent artists who held Lebanon’s name high to exhibit in their homeland. Chafic Abboud had been expatriated for 17 years. Yvette Achkar was also a woman of strong character and was always present. As was Etel Adnan, with whom I worked extensively. She assisted me greatly in the book about Dar el-Fan. She began exhibiting at the Janine Rubeiz gallery and later gained significant fame abroad. The country was rebuilding in the 1990s, and I set a goal: to bring back those artists I term “essential” for the cultural renaissance. The second generation includes Hanibal Srouji, Leila Jabre Jureidini, and Bassam Geitani.
What are the differences and similarities between you and your mother, Janine Rubeiz?
I extensively discuss my mother in the book Dar el-Fan, and there have been numerous articles about her in the daily An-Nahar. We both have strong characters, but naturally, during my adolescence, I would oppose her. My mother urged me to assist her in managing Dar el-Fan. I handled the accounting and invitations, but I preferred to remain behind the scenes. Initially, I got married; then I had other interests, like managing our mineral water factory and teaching at Louise-Wegmann College. Later, my mother resided in the Majdalani building, owned by my architect father, located opposite the Raouché pigeon cave. Upon her death, I felt a compulsion to continue her legacy, albeit differently. Janine Rubeiz had already organized numerous debates, artistic activities, and conferences on women’s rights and status, secularism, and cultural dialogues; she was a visionary. I decided to honor her by naming the gallery after her, ensuring she receives the recognition she deserves. I must also acknowledge Ghassan Tuéni’s consistent support.
You haven’t said much about yourself, despite your strong character. You’ve paid tribute to your mother and your friend Huguette Caland without emphasizing the “I.”
After my passing, people will judge what I’ve accomplished and the exhibitions I’ve curated. There’s the media, art critics, and time itself. If you wish to delve into the “I,” the most important thing to me is the artist’s human value, their authenticity. People say I get upset quickly, reflecting my integrity and candidness. I call a spade a spade without offending others. People are free to either appreciate my directness, which detests duplicity, or resent it. Regrettably, today, I’m deeply disappointed in our country. Artistically, they’ve destroyed and sacrificed vast spaces ideal for retrospectives, like the Beirut Exhibition Center, for greed and speculation. We have prominent Lebanese figures worldwide, like Amin Maalouf, but look at the mess we’re mired in. In France, one cannot become a minister without having written books. Do our ministers even read the newspaper? We’re far from enlightenment. Reading is confined to a small elite. We need a significant revolution. What can we tell the protestors who had their limbs mutilated and their eyes gouged out by militia hordes? The revolution needed to persist, but people were caught off guard by the plundering of their bank deposits and payments for schooling and hospitals. They were preoccupied scrambling for emergency medications to save themselves and their families.
So, do you currently see things in a bleak light, despite the unyielding optimism that defines you?
Extremely bleak. Yet, my optimism drives me forward. Recently, I organized a competition for emerging artists who haven’t exhibited in galleries yet. A hundred and fifteen individuals seriously met our criteria, presenting projects across various artistic disciplines before a demanding jury, including Juliana Khalaf, director of the new Bema museum; Sandra Dagher, director of a major foundation deeply involved in art; and Tarek Nahas, a photo collector. The jury selected twenty-five winners who showcased their works to the public at the Janine Rubeiz gallery during the Encounters 2023 exhibition and at the Beiteddine festival. It was a tremendous success, with some artwork purchased by collectors. Today, I place my bets on the qualified Lebanese youth and new talents.
