Latamarte: Mr. Mansour, if we go back to the beginning, what drew you toward painting?

Sliman Mansour: I think art began when I started connecting with the world around me. I grew up in Birzeit, among the hills, fields and landscapes of Palestine. Later, I lived in Bethlehem and Jerusalem, and these places became part of my memory. From an early age, I felt the need to observe, record and transform what I saw into images. Painting was never simply a profession for me; it was a way of looking at life.

Latamarte: The human figure has a very strong presence in many of your works. Why is the human being so important to you?

Sliman Mansour: Because, ultimately, art is about people. I can paint a landscape, a tree or a building, but behind all of these things there is a human being who has lived there, worked there, suffered there and created memories. That is why I have often tried to express the human condition through the figure itself, rather than simply narrating an event.

Latamarte: Can art tell history?

Sliman Mansour: Art is different from journalism. A journalist can document an event; art does not necessarily need to reproduce the event itself. Art can express the atmosphere of a historical period. For me, a bent human figure, an olive tree, a piece of earth or an image of Jerusalem can say something about an entire historical period without explaining every detail of an event. Art becomes powerful when it moves beyond slogans and reaches human experience.

Latamarte: In your work, land is not simply a subject; sometimes the land itself becomes an artistic material. Why?

Sliman Mansour: Because you cannot speak about a homeland while ignoring the homeland itself. At a certain point, we decided to use materials that came from our own environment: earth, mud, henna, coffee and other natural materials. This was not merely a technical choice. We wanted to say that these materials belonged to this land. When Palestinian earth enters a work of art, it is no longer simply an image of the land; the land itself is present in the work.

Latamarte: What does the olive tree mean to you?

Sliman Mansour: The olive tree is not simply a tree for me. It has roots, it lives for a long time and it is deeply connected to the earth. That makes it a powerful symbol of remaining and being rooted. The orange tree also carries memories of Palestinian land and history. Gradually, we discovered these symbols and transformed them into part of our visual language.

Latamarte: One of your most famous works is Jamal al-Mahamel, or Camel of Hardships. How did this work come about?

Sliman Mansour: I painted it in 1973, when I was still a young artist. The image of an elderly man carrying a heavy burden was, for me, an image of a human being carrying the weight of his history and homeland. But what he carries is Jerusalem. His burden is therefore not merely physical. It can speak of homeland, memory, suffering and the longing to return.

Latamarte: Did you expect the work to become such a powerful symbol?

Sliman Mansour: No. Once you create a work, it no longer belongs entirely to you. The viewer adds his or her own meanings to it. Perhaps that is precisely where the power of an image lies: it can move beyond the artist's personal experience and enter collective memory.

Latamarte: Jerusalem appears repeatedly in your work. What is your personal relationship with the city?

Sliman Mansour: Jerusalem is not simply a city for me. It is part of the identity, history and dreams of the Palestinian people. That is why it appears in so many of my works, sometimes directly and sometimes as an image within another image.

Latamarte: Can we say that you created a kind of “Palestinian visual alphabet”?

Sliman Mansour: If such a thing exists, it is not the work of one person. This language comes from Palestinian culture, folk art, history, nature, architecture and the experiences of the people. The olive tree, the orange tree, the rural woman, embroidery, the land and Jerusalem gradually became words in this visual language.

Latamarte: What is Palestine to you?

Sliman Mansour: Palestine is not simply a geographical place. Palestine means security, freedom, history, love, beauty and self-respect. For me, art is not only about beauty; it is also about preserving human dignity.

Latamarte: What would you say to young artists?

Sliman Mansour: First of all, be yourselves. True identity comes from life. An artist should observe their surroundings, know their people, study their history and, at the same time, remain connected to the wider world. Good art needs both roots and horizons.

Latamarte: If you had to describe your artistic legacy in one sentence, what would you say?

Sliman Mansour: Perhaps I would say: I tried to transform into images the things that might otherwise have been forgotten.

Latamarte: And finally, what would you like people to take with them after seeing your work?

Sliman Mansour: Hope. Not a simple or superficial hope, but a hope that emerges from an understanding of suffering. If a work of art can help someone see another human being more clearly, take their history more seriously and remember their dignity, then that work has come close to fulfilling its purpose. I believe art remains alive when it keeps memory alive.

Latamarte: Sliman Mansour is no longer among us, but the conversation with his art does not end. He did not simply paint Palestine; he created a visual language for it. Perhaps that is why Camel of Hardships is more than the image of a man carrying a heavy burden. It can also be understood as a metaphor for an artist who spent his entire life carrying the memory of a homeland on the shoulders of art. Sliman Mansour has passed away, but the Palestinian artist who will never die continues to live through his work.

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