Iraqi American poet Alise Alousi speaking at the opening event of Al-Mutanabbi Street Starts here.

DEARBORN — When a bomb ripped through Al-Mutanabbi Street in Baghdad in 2007, the pages of the street known as a hub for booksellers were drenched in blood; 30 people died. But the carnage did not spell the end of the street, which continued to be a realm of ideas and turned into an international symbol for the connection of humans to culture— a statement against violence. 

“Al-Mutanabbi Street Starts Here”, an art exhibit paying tribute to the esteemed avenue, opened at the Arab American National Museum on March 6. Iraqi American poet Alise Alousi, who is coordinating the project, hopes the exhibit will help the audience feel an attachment to the street and what it represents. 

“Unlike the U.S. soldiers who die in this conflict, the names of most Iraqi victims will never be published, consigned to the anonymity that death in the Iraqi capital brings these days,” wrote then-Washington Post reporter Anthony Shadid after the bombing in 2007. But the late journalist refused to let the name of one bookseller on the street be forgotten. Shadid wrote a compelling profile of Mohammed Hayawi, who died in the attack. The eulogy resonated with a bookseller on the west coast of the United States who felt personal grief for Hayawi’s death.

The “Al-Mutanabbi Street Starts Here” project was founded shortly after the bombing when San Francisco bookseller Beau Bosolleil, who was in opposition to the Iraq war, sensed a personal responsibility to pay homage to his fellow booksellers in Baghdad. 

Al-Mutanabbi Street Starts Here. It is endless. 

“Beau realized that if he had been in Baghdad, he would have been on that very street,” Alousi said. 

Bosolleil kicked off the campaign by displaying 130 letterpress broadsides that feature poems relating to the stricken street. 

The project turned into exhibits in cities around the world, including San Francisco, New York City, Boston, Portland, Brussels, Cairo and now Dearborn. The art initiative also features artistic messages in book covers and large prints of text and graphics. 

One artifact is a scroll displaying lines of Arabic poetry, musical notes and a soldier holding a machine gun. “Make books, not war,” reads a broadside. A book on display is cut in the shape of a hand, with a partly burned finger that reveals another page, another layer. 

There is also an anthology of poetry reflecting on the Mutanabbi Street.

Alousi became involved in the project when a printing company in Brooklyn asked to display one of her poems on a letterpress broadside. 

The Iraqi American poet applied for a Knights Arts Challenge last year and received a $20,000 matching grant from the Knight Foundation to bring the showpiece to Detroit. 

She said the project was created in response to any attack on literary culture, where people gather around books, art and ideas. 

Alousi also said she wants visitors to find a deeper connection with the Baghdad street through the art.

Speaking passionately about the time she spent in Iraq during her childhood and her anti-sanctions and anti-war efforts, Alousi said she would like “Al-Mutanabbi Street Starts Here” to be a medium for Americans to witness the struggles of Iraq, for which their own government is partly responsible. 

“What’s unique about this project is that there is a stubborn unwillingness to move on,” she said. “I’ve always felt frustrated by the lack of connection in this country to what’s going on in Iraq. This project is asking people to take one day— one bombing— and use it as a lens to examine what happened before it and after it; and what is continuing to happen in Iraq now.” 

She added that the exhibit also touches on a variety of other subjects, including censorship and academic freedom.

Alousi cited a book in the exhibit that was created by three local artists as a response to shutting down and underfunding libraries in Detroit. 

Alousi lived in Iraq at a young age and last visited the country in 1999, when that country was suffering economically from U.S.-imposed sanctions that crippled its economy and pushed people to the verge of starvation.

She said that in addition to books, Iraqis at that time were selling everything on Mutanabbi Street, which is named after a renowned 10th century poet.

Alousi explained that the project speaks against the attacks on culture in Iraq today.

ISIS terrorists have been destroying ancient artifacts and waging war on all forms of art in the areas they control. Last month, they destroyed priceless ancient artworks at the Mosul museum.

“There was the Iran-Iraq war, and then there was the Gulf War and then the sanctions, and then the second Gulf War; I don’t think anybody predicted ISIS,” Alousi said. “Nobody predicted that this would be the end result after so many years of devastation and hardships and suffering. It’s extremely difficult, like your worst fear come true.”

Holding back the tears, Alousi said she did not watch the video of the terrorists’ desecrating the museum. She said the only slight glimmer of hope is that the Baghdad National Museum, which was looted during the U.S. invasion in 2003, opened early in response to the attacks in Mosul to send a message of defiance to terrorists. 

Alousi said the heart of the project focuses on highlighting art and literature as victims of war. 

“Any time you have a culture that’s literate and connected beyond four walls to a greater society, to imagination, to dreams, to hope, that’s a threat against war, against oppression, against violence,” Alousi said. “Groups like ISIS do not want people to read and be empowered and have a deep connection to their own souls and own history, because to have that goes against what they’re saying— that [ISIS is] responsible for telling you how to live your life.”

The exhibit will remain open until July 12. The initiative includes a book-making workshop on March 28 at 2 p.m. and a writing workshop for high school students on May 16 at noon.

The exhibit opened with a poetry reading by writer Dunya Mikhail, who recited poems about loss and nostalgia manifested in her Iraqi American experience.

“As an Iraqi, I remember things in fragments,” Mikhail told The Arab American News. “Memories come as if they are scenes cut from different movies. Memory is your life experience. The art in this project is great, but the message is more important. It tries to collect the fragments. It is a desperate attempt to recapture the memories.”