In Palestine, talent is rarely discovered in conventional ways, like a teacher being surprised by a student\u2019s drawing in class. Nothing here unfolds normally. We resemble our country in every sense. Palestine has never lived a \u201cnormal\u201d chapter in its history, and neither have its people.<\/p>\n
Mahmoud discovered his talent on the walls stretching from Beit Lahia to Jabalia during the Second Intifada in 2000. \u201cBefore Facebook and Twitter,\u201d he says, \u201cwalls were our only means of communication. The wall was the real Facebook.\u201d<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t sign his name, but over time people began to recognize his handwriting. At just 14 years old, he was writing martyr obituaries, announcing strikes, posting statements, and publicizing events, his handwriting becoming his signature.<\/p>\n
What many might find surprising is that Mahmoud had already been practicing art at the age of 12. He went from library to library, offering to draw educational posters, diagrams of the nervous system, the skeleton, and other school materials, charging half the price of professionals simply because he was a child.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wasn\u2019t ashamed of working with my talent,\u201d he says. \u201cI was only ashamed that I couldn\u2019t afford paints. Art supplies were scarce and expensive. I come from a large family with limited income, so I started working early to keep my talent alive.\u201d<\/p>\n
Art as a means of survival!<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n For Mahmoud, art was never just a hobby, it was a way to survive and cope with the harsh realities of life in Gaza.<\/p>\n He later studied design and editing at universities in Gaza, where his national and human consciousness began to take shape, and where he established his first real connection with the world. His work evolved from visual art into caricature.<\/p>\n The 2008 war on Gaza marked a profound turning point. Mahmoud lost his brother Mustafa, then his brother Hussein, and then his father, three members of his family in a short span of time. Yet he refused to let grief silence him. Instead, he redirected his pen, turning it into a tool of resistance and steadfastness, not merely artistic expression.<\/p>\n \u201cAt the same time,\u201d he says, \u201cthe world itself was changing. Social media, digital drawing, tablets, and stylus pens were emerging. Cartoonists no longer needed newspapers to adopt them. We could build an entire platform on our own pages. That\u2019s when my journey as a cartoonist truly began.\u201d<\/p>\n Cartoons: an idea before an art form<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n Asked what caricature means to him, Mahmoud responds simply: \u201cCartooning is not just an art form, it\u2019s an idea.\u201d<\/p>\n A cartoonist, he believes, must be politically, socially, and humanly aware. \u201cA good drawing doesn\u2019t need explanation, but it explains itself.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe drawing doesn\u2019t have to be technically perfect,\u201d he adds. \u201cWhat matters is that the idea is clear, bold, and able to reach people\u2019s hearts. Some of the greatest caricatures were nothing more than simple lines, but their ideas were immense.\u201d<\/p>\n His words inevitably bring to mind the work of the late Palestinian artist and political critic Naji al-Ali. His drawings were visually simple yet sharp in meaning, carrying a clear moral and political stance.<\/p>\n Who can forget Handala, the barefoot refugee child, hands clasped behind his back, turning away from the world? Handala was never a decorative figure. He embodied rejection, awareness, and an uncompromising memory, transforming caricature into a conscious, human visual language. His power lay not in form, but in the ideas that unsettled authority and spoke directly to people.<\/p>\n Europe\u2026 and a wider space of freedom<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n Mahmoud left Gaza in 2012, discovering for the first time that the world was far larger than what Gazans could see from inside their confined reality.<\/p>\n \u201cIn Gaza,\u201d he says, \u201cwe thought everyone lived like us, that electricity cuts were normal everywhere, that movement always required permits.\u201d<\/p>\n Leaving Gaza revealed to him the scale of injustice imposed on its people and allowed him to see Palestine, \u201cthe land of fog\u201d, with greater clarity.<\/p>\n In Europe, his horizons expanded. He became more connected to global struggles and more attuned to the suffering of other peoples, integrating these concerns into his work.<\/p>\n Mahmoud and I share the belief that Palestinians are among the most humane and empathetic peoples, precisely because of the pain they have endured through successive occupations. This history has sharpened their sensitivity to injustice everywhere.<\/p>\n For Palestinians, principles are indivisible. Fighting occupation at home means rejecting oppression everywhere, opposing colonialism in all its forms, and standing instinctively with oppressed peoples worldwide.<\/p>\n The freedom of expression Mahmoud encountered in Europe allowed him to raise the ceiling of his work, criticizing regimes, normalization, and government policies, not for provocation, but out of commitment to human rights. His cartoons reached millions around the world.<\/p>\n Threats and persecution<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n \u201cBut some cartoons came at a high cost,\u201d Mahmoud says. \u201cThreats, smear campaigns, and deliberate misinterpretations.\u201d<\/p>\n The most severe incident occurred in 2020, when he published a cartoon about the collapse of oil prices during the COVID-19 pandemic. The drawing went viral in Saudi Arabia, prompted official statements, and resulted in direct threats to his life.<\/p>\n Still, Mahmoud refused to apologize. \u201cAn apology would have meant admitting to a mistake I never made.\u201d<\/p>\n Genocide\u2026 and a return to humanity<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n Caricature often relies on satire and critique, but during the latest war on Gaza, Mahmoud says, satire lost its place.<\/p>\n \u201cWe were facing genocide, an army backed by the most powerful countries in the world against a defenseless people. I chose the humanitarian side.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf I don\u2019t stand with my people now,\u201d he adds, \u201cthen everything I\u2019ve done in my life would be meaningless.\u201d<\/p>\n Through his large online following, Mahmoud turned his platforms into spaces to amplify Gaza\u2019s pain, demand justice, and call for an end to extermination. Gaza, the place he left but never truly left, still carries his story on every street, his graffiti etched into its walls.<\/p>\n Mahmoud is a father of three sons and a daughter. His daughter, Reem, has clearly inherited his artistic genes. He encourages her talent, buys her art supplies, and occasionally shares her drawings online, where thousands show their support.<\/p>\n Yet he refuses to let fame consume her at a young age or allow her to create her own platforms. \u201cI want my children to grow up freely and naturally,\u201d he says. \u201cThey don\u2019t have to become artists. It\u2019s enough that they understand art can be a human position, something people believe in, defend, and sometimes pay for throughout their lives.\u201d<\/p>\n Mahmoud Abbas has never lived a life of ease, or even a normal one. From writing on walls, to war and the loss of three family members, to forced displacement due to Gaza\u2019s unlivable conditions, to persecution for his art and political stance, his life mirrors that of the ordinary Palestinian, who continues to pay the price of identity wherever they go.<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t suddenly discover myself in art, and I never woke up one day and said, \u2018I am an artist.\u2019 I simply\u2026 always drew.\u201d This is how Gaza-based cartoonist Mahmoud Abbas describes himself. He says, \u201cMy mother tells me that when I was just one year old, I would cry if I saw one of […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":3694,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[35,24],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3632","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-art-stories","category-palestinian-stories"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/palstories.ps\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/01\/\u0642\u0635\u0629-\u0645\u062d\u0645\u0648\u062f-\u0639\u0628\u0627\u0633-\u0627\u0646\u0643\u0644\u064a\u0632\u064a-1-1-240x300.png\")
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