Ahmed Nosseir is an enemy of art. If he stays a willing individual, with his own egotistical purposes, he can’t be an artist. 

But insofar as Nosseir becomes an artist, by being freed from his individual will and by morphing into his favorite mediums (oils, crayons or iPad), only then the real subjects, those of true being, will celebrate their deliverance in appearing on canvases, papers or screens. 

Let’s be clear that, above all, to our humiliation and to our glory, the entire comedy of art is not here to better us or to educate us.

We are not the true creators. We should really see ourselves like pictures and artistic projections of the true creators. In that sense, us as works of art, we achieve our highest value, for only as aesthetic phenomena are existence and the world eternally justified.

In reality, our own consciousness of this significance of ours is no different from the consciousness the figures painted by Nosseir have of their conversation he represented on canvas. 

Our entire knowledge of art is completely illusory. Because as knowing people, we are not one with nor identical to those beings who, as the single creators and spectators of that comedy of art, prepare to enjoy it eternally. 

Only to the extent that Nosseir, in the act of artistic creation, is fused with those primordial artists of the world, does he know anything about the eternal essence of art. Only in that state in which, as the weird figure of fairy tales, he can miraculously turn his eyes within and contemplate himself and thus create. 

Ahmed Nosseir is now simultaneously subject and object – all at once poet, actor, and spectator.