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‘I Am Still Alive’: The Gaza genocide told in ink and paper by Palestinian artist Maisara Baroud
Amid the destruction of Gaza, artist Maisara Baroud turned to paper and ink to document the genocide, capturing the pain, survival, and defiance of his people
Giovanni Vigna
18 February, 2025

Israel and its US and European supporters are engaged in a desperate propaganda attempt to paint the destruction of Gaza as self-defense and a justified response to the Hamas attack of October 7, 2023, while much of the rest of the world (including students on college campuses) calls the onslaught for what it is — genocide. But the ethnic cleansing of Gaza is part of a national program that began in 1948.

“I moved during the war, fleeing the death machine. I was moved from place to place, over fifteen times, from Gaza City to the centre of the Strip, all the way south. We asked the Israeli occupation forces if we could leave Gaza City and head south, thinking it would be safer, but each time we ended up in a fiery pit. Death was getting closer and closer, but we survived.”

These words were spoken by Maisara Baroud, a visual artist born in Gaza and one of the most prominent figures in the Middle Eastern art scene.

Holding a bachelor’s degree in fine arts from An-Najah National University in Nablus and a master’s degree in fine arts from the Faculty of Fine Arts in Zamalek, Cairo, Maisara has organised seven solo exhibitions and participated in over fifty group exhibitions across countries including Palestine, France, the United States, Japan, and Italy. His latest show, I Am Still Alive (2024), was held at Zawyeh Gallery in Ramallah.

Speaking from the home of one of his relatives in Deir al-Balah, in the centre of the Gaza Strip, Maisara shared his story with The New Arab.

Survival by chance

Like thousands of other Gazans, Maisara has lost dozens of friends, relatives, neighbours, and colleagues to Israel’s genocide, which lasted for over a year.

As he puts it, his survival was purely by chance.

“As chance would have it, my time had not yet come,” he shared, adding, “This has nothing to do with my ability to cope with death or my intelligence. I just tried to survive without giving up.”

Speaking about the art he created during the genocide, Maisara said, “In the midst of so much destruction and during a mass genocide, it was difficult to talk about the luxury of art, aesthetic perception, or pleasure.

"The war forced me to create something specific through simple lines. The forms became sharper, the lines straighter, the structure more direct, and the visual language more condensed.”

With limited resources, Maisara used inexpensive paper and ink pens to document daily life in black and white. “I managed to capture many moments, scenes, emotions, and feelings on paper in a series I called I Am Still Alive. I post these drawings daily on social media.”

For Maisara, the I Am Still Alive series became a way to reassure his friends and let them know he was still alive, amid challenging circumstances and communication breakdowns caused by the collapse of the internet.

“The planes, rockets, and shells destroyed everything,” Maisara explained.

“The face of my city became pale and disfigured. But this didn’t stop me from continuing to pursue my passion for art with the strength and tools I had.

"Drawing became my message to challenge the siege, mass destruction, holocaust, and genocide,” he added. 

With the documentation of the genocide comes the intertwined and complex meanings carried by each of Maisara’s drawings: pain, hope, defiance, determination, thirst, hunger, displacement, cold, death, life, patience, and resilience.

“These works are a message and a living testimony to the massacre, far from propaganda and official rhetoric. They are a message that transcends borders and barriers,” he explained.

In saying this, Maisara recalled some of the difficult moments during the genocide, sharing that on the second day of the war, bombs destroyed his private studio. By the third day, planes had levelled his five-story house.

“The bombs destroyed my dreams, my production, my artistic experiences, and my personal library,” Maisara said, clearly distressed. “These events brought deep pain and tragedy that affected me in ways I cannot describe.”

Dreams turned into dust

After the Gaza ceasefire deal, Maisara revealed that while searching through the rubble of his sister’s house, he accidentally found some of his works but was unable to save any of his personal belongings or the drawings he had left at his own home.

While sharing this, Maisara reflected on whether fear had given way to hope after the ceasefire, responding, “Fear will remain until the war is truly over. We must not indulge too much in hope until there is a collective will to stop this machine of death.

"The drums of war are still beating"

Maisara Baroud: Instagram

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