Strokes of genius

What is an engineer doing with a paintbrush and colours? Well, if it's Mounir Lakkis, chief engineer of the Burj Al Arab, then he is busy giving finishing touches to yet another of his masterpieces. Lorraine Chandler meets one of Dubai's best-known artists who is also the public relations director of the Dubai International Art Centre (DIAC).

I think I've heard too many stories about artists starving in garrets. So when I meet Lebanese painter Mounir Lakkis at his spacious Jumeirah villa, I am a little alarmed to find him neither starving nor other-worldly.

Instead, I meet a spry, canny little man who looks somewhat like Ben Kingsley in Gandhi in a bald, bespectacled and wiry way.

But the 56-year-old isn't likely to starve too soon, since his smallest paintings market for just under Dh20,000. When I guess "100,000" for an elaborate Arabesque work, he raises one eyebrow and enquires, "$100,000 (about Dh368,000) you mean?"

I just nod, sagely.

Judging from the hundreds of finished and unfinished canvases littered around the house, Lakkis seems totally absorbed by his art.

Indeed, he freely admits that he doesn't have any hobbies other than painting and reading philosophy. And he can only lay claim to three close friends, two of whom are painters.

While he works full-time during the week, he spends many evenings at his easel, in addition to about 20 hours of painting every weekend.

He works on several pieces at any given point of time, depending on his mood. When I ask him what paint he uses, he smiles enigmatically and says it's a secret.

His paintings are a riot of vibrant colour, conveying energy and mystery. He has so many that I'm tempted to ask for one. I hint that I like them very much, but Lakkis is too much a businessman to give away his work.

For someone so passionate about art, it seems strange he has a day job as an engineer, but Lakkis declares he loves his job but needs to be active all the time. That's evident when you talk to him; he constantly moves around, going from standing to sitting then back again.

Despite being interested in art from a young age, he decided not to study fine arts. "How would I have survived?" he asks. "Even now, the market's not mature enough for me to rely just on my paintings."

After a misguided year studying physical education, Lakkis did a technical degree in interior architecture in a higher technical school in Beirut between 1969 and 1974.

The troubles in Lebanon began in his final year and escalated into war in 1975. He was then left alone, as his parents went on an extended visit to his brother, who was living in the US. Like many other Lebanese, Lakkis decided to leave the country that year and he ended up in Sharjah, where he lived until 1979.

After working for a construction company for 11 months in the middle of a boom period, he decided to set up his own interior design and construction company, Moni.

Looking back, he admits he didn't have enough experience. "I'm not much of a businessman and I hate dealing with money," he says.

A decline in business in 1978 and 1979 encouraged him to leave the business. At the time, his neighbour, Mr Alami, was the CEO of the Hassawi Group, which ran the iconic Chicago Beach Hotel.

In 1980, he offered Lakkis a job as the hotel's chief engineer. When the lease reverted to the Royal family in 1990, the hotel's staff was retained and Lakkis continued working there until it was demolished, at which time he moved to the Jumeirah Beach Hotel.

In 2001 he shifted to the Burj Al Arab, where he is chief engineer.

In his early years in the UAE, Lakkis didn't find time to paint, due to the pressures of work, marriage (at 26) and the birth of two sons: Assad, 30, and Rami, 22.

Yet while working as an interior designer, he was commissioned by an Ajman company to do about 20 paintings.

In 1977, he moved house and was obliged, as he recalls it, to paint some works for his new home. This led him to hold his first exhibition at the InterContinental Dubai in 1981-1982.

Over the years, his work has featured in 15 solo exhibitions in Dubai, Lebanon, the US, the UK and Germany and in 10 group exhibitions in the UAE.

Lakkis says he no longer exhibits his work in galleries as he has a database of 1,500 art collectors (I hadn't realised the art world had gone so high-tech!). Every time he finishes a work, he scans it and e-mails the image to the collectors. Then he waits to see what offers he receives.

Of course, that's in between being commissioned for works. He has completed some major art works for the Burj Al Arab and Dubai World Trade Centre, in addition to a number of other businesses and hotels.

It's rare to meet an artistic genius in Dubai, but it's even rarer to meet one who knows how to market himself and his work. Hats off to Mounir Lakkis.

I
I like exclusivity in my work and that's why I don't do any prints. If someone is paying Dh20,000 for a painting, I don't want him to see the same image for Dh5. It's a matter of respect for my client. When I'm as famous as Van Gogh, then I'll consider doing prints.

I see commissioning as a way to fill the stomach and the pocket, but no one can really dictate (terms) to the artist.

I believe in the human being and what you do in life, regardless of your race or colour. God created us as the cleverest creatures, so we exist not just as bodies but as brains too.

I fight with my canvases to create what I want. Sometimes I leave a paintingand come back to it after a while. I go to sleep and wake up sometimes with new ideas, when I see things in my dreams. As soon as I can, I sketch my ideas on paper.

I think my paintings are not mine. They come through me but they are not of me, to adapt a quote of the famous philosopher Khalil Gibran. I'm a medium for my work.

Me
Me and my sons I got married in 1975 when I was 26, but (my ex-wife and I) have been divorced for eight years. I'm close to both my sons, and we feel we're not father and sons, but friends.

Assaad, 30, is a sound engineer with MBC (at Dubai Media City) and he composes jazz music. He recently launched a CD of fusion jazz. He has a very strong personality.

Rami, 22, recently graduated from the American University of Dubai. He's a freelance graphic artist and is also a bass guitarist. He knows exactly what he's doing in life.

Me and my roots
I was born in Beirut, but my real roots are in Koura - often called ?the green Koura' - in the north of Lebanon. My late father, Assaad, was in politics in Beirut but in around 1960 the family moved back to Koura, where he became head of the municipality.

I loved the village I lived in - Deddah. Only 10 minutes' (drive) from Tripoli, it is nestled on a hill overlooking the beach. Neither too hot nor too cold, it affords you a view all the way from Tripoli to Cheka.

We used to sit on the hill and look down at the rocky beach, with the fishermen hauling in their catches.

My late father had been in the French army, so he could be a bit of a disciplinarian at times. My mother, Naibeh (82), was very soft with us, as most mothers are.

I have a brother, Robert, who has been living in the States for more than 40 years. My sister, Berta, used to teach French in Belmont University in the US, but now she has retired.

I'm the youngest.

Me and my art
My father used to do some technical drawing - for example, for building an extension to our house - so I suppose I (inherited) some talent from him.

At 7, I won my first international art prize in Beirut. As a child, I was always drawing; I even used charcoal and mud as we didn't have markers or crayons.

Some days I used to paint a lot and at one stage I decided to cover the walls of my room with paintings of famous international figures, such as Gandhi, Socrates, Nietzsche and Khalil Gibran. My mother was quite proud and used to bring her friends in to show them.

At school, I received a lot of encouragement from my teacher, Nicolas Saliba, who later went on to become a well-known icon restorer.From the age of about 13, people started to commission me to do portraits and pictures.

I didn't have much money so I usually did them in black and white. It all started when a boy in the village asked me to draw a portrait of his father. Last time I went (to Deddah), it was still hanging in their house.

In the summer I would do more portraits. Right from the beginning, I liked to illustrate poetry and philosophy. I admired Khalil Gibran, who had grown up in a village not far from mine.

While sometimes I paint in the evening, I generally paint for 20 hours every weekend. I'm happy working full-time too, but I know I will have something to do when I retire.

Me and the city
When you ask me about Dubai, it's like asking Romeo about Juliet because Dubai is my love.

When I arrived here, there was only one place to frame pictures; a store called Al Abbar on Naif Road. It had glass, mirrors and a few frames. After that a British guy came and set up a place in Zabeel, but now there are more than 100 galleries and framing shops.

I love the way the city is growing and developing ? every day there's a big surprise about some new plan. When

I heard they were planning to do a space station, I was really amazed - where else would they think of something like that?

As an artist, I appreciate the tremendous creativity of the city. It requires a lot of imagination and courage to continue to come up with these fabulous concepts.

Me and the Dubai International Art Centre
I've been a board member of the DIAC almost from the beginning - it was founded in 1976. Initially it was just a small group of art lovers and artists but it has grown to about 1,500 members. I'm the director of PR and I try to help the centre to expand.

Every human being has a responsibility to the society he's living in. We came to Dubai and got jobs here, so it's our duty to give something back to the community. Dubai is my home, and I do feel a responsibility towards it.

Myself
They say all painters are a bit mad.

Do you agree?
I believe an artist has a wider vision; he sees the whole thing (the ?big picture') and picks up what he wants to project in a certain way. This is why they often say painters are crazy, because they don't always see things the way other people do.

He (a painter) lives in a dream that is mixed with reality, but for him his imagination is reality. There are no (boundaries) to his creativity.

Art is often perceived to be for intellectuals. Sometimes Joe Public is intimidated, particularly when he doesn't understand modern art.

What would you say about that?
You would be surprised at the sort of people art can appeal to. I had an exhibition here (at home) once and every night I used to see an old man come in.

He looked (like) a construction worker and he used to have a battered old plastic bag with him. He would look at every painting and then leave.

One night I asked him (where) he worked. He told me he was working on a villa nearby and sleeping there too. I asked him why he chose to come to the exhibition every evening. He told me that he was illiterate but he liked paintings.

He said, "I like looking at paintings but I don't really understand them." I asked him if he liked my paintings, in particular, and he told me no; he liked all types of art. Anyone can (be attracted to) art. You don't have to be a graduate to appreciate it.

But what about when we see a picture and don't understand what it means? People often feel more comfortable with traditional art, where they can understand what they can see.

(Anyone can understand a painting) on some level, even if you're not conscious of what you perceive.

Art is communication between an artist and the viewers. There might be one painting in a gallery; 100 people pass it by and only one person likes it, but that's still communication.

You don't have to understand exactly what the artist had in mind, (but a work of art can still) mean something to you. It's well known that great works of art are often created when the artist is miserable.

Do you think it always has to be that way?
No, I don't think you have to be sad to create great art. However, sadness is more memorable than happiness and even if it lasts the same duration, it seems to last longer because of the deep impression it makes.

But there's no happiness without sadness. There is a duality because you can't know what one is unless you experience the other.

How do you think your background has shaped your work?
I write and I paint. Being Lebanese is a great advantage for me. Reading Arabic is great, because the language is so rich and the poetry contains so much music. I love doing works of calligraphy. Also, because Lebanon has four seasons, I think this helped both my body and mind develop.

What do you think is the true role of art?
Art is like medicine and just as necessary. If you look at Dubai (in the past) we had just a few hospitals, but now we have many.

In the same way, art is developing here. Art gives shape to the soul. A human being, clever
or not, who exists without a soul is just a shadow walking.