Sliman Mansour: Being Palestinian Beyond Religion?

Sliman Mansour, a Christian artist born in al-Bireh in 1947, is one of the most authoritative voices in contemporary Palestinian art. Raised in a community deeply connected to the land and to memory, he transformed his painting into a language that safeguards the collective identity of his people. After studying at the Jerusalem Art Academy, in the 1970s he became one of the founders of the “New Vision” movement, which sought to oppose the occupation through the power of culture, creating symbolic images of resistance.

His daily life is divided between Jerusalem, where he lives, and Ramallah, where he works—a journey marked by checkpoints, walls, and restrictions that are part of what Mansour himself calls the “everyday violence.” This experience has given him a particular sensitivity toward Gaza, which he describes as an “open-air prison”: a wound he carries with him even when exhibiting in Europe or the United States, reminding audiences that art cannot stop bombs, but it can preserve memory and humanity.

Works such as Camels of Memory or his celebrated portraits of peasant women have acquired iconic status. His female figures embody resilience and roots, becoming guardians of the land and of hope. In particular, his images of women with children delicately reinterpret Christian iconography: not merely Madonnas, but universal symbols of motherhood and family, representing refuge and vital strength in times of pain. In this way, religious tradition becomes for Mansour a bridge toward a secular, shared visual language.

At the heart of his message is the idea that being Palestinian does not mean belonging to one single faith. As a Christian in a land with a Muslim majority, he himself embodies a Palestinian identity rooted in land, memory, and shared history. To be Palestinian is to carry the scars of exile and the longing for the future, beyond religion. This plural dimension, often forgotten, re-emerges in his paintings as a thread that ties together different generations.

“I cannot stop the bombs,” he said in a recent interview, “but I can preserve our humanity.” Here lies the strength of his work: offering the world a vision that does not reduce Palestine to conflict, but presents it as a living culture, capable of beauty, memory, and peace. Mansour reminds us that art is not an escape, but a form of moral resistance and a universal invitation to recognize in the other a face, a story, and a right to dignity.

Sabino Maria Frassà, 2nd September 2026