Art is a Piece of the Puzzle: A Special Encounter at Duke University

Earlier this month I traveled to Duke University for a three-day visit that combined performance and academic exchange. The centerpiece was Meet GPT-ME, a durational endurance performance that unfolded over two full days, eight hours at a time, in open conversation with anyone curious to step into dialogue with GPT-ME.
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During those long sessions, the conversations roamed everywhere. I spoke about fantasy football, astrobiology, North Carolina history, and even the tangled plotlines of The Sopranos. These were subjects I knew little or nothing about, yet with GPT whispering in my ear I could cite leaderboard stats, speculate about life beyond Earth, recall the year North Carolina was founded, and swap TV storylines as if I were a devoted Sopranos fan.

​During the one day of academic engagements, I wasn’t only channeling GPT-ME but also had the opportunity to present myself. After such an intense experience as GPT-ME, I’m never entirely sure what “self” that really is. Still, in one of these encounters I was able to reconnect with a part of me that is more deeply rooted.

That moment arrived when I met a group of artists visiting Duke from Israel. Jewish, Palestinian, Druze, and Christian, they had all studied at the Center for Shared Society at Givat Haviva, an organization dedicated to fostering a shared Jewish–Arab society. It happened to be that years ago, when I was a high school student, majoring in Arabic, I also spent some time at Givat Haviva. This was an experience that left a lasting impression on me.

Through Duke’s Provost’s Initiative on the Middle East, this group of artists were invited to continue their collaboration on campus, making art together and sustaining a rigorous, respectful dialogue about both the present and the history of conflict in the region.

Our breakfast together began in English, with our hosts easing the introductions. But once they stepped away, the formality dissolved. We slipped naturally into Hebrew and some words in Arabic, and just as quickly into the subject that hovers constantly in our minds: the war.

We talked about what it feels like to be in the United States while the Middle East is in turmoil. We all admitted to the same disorienting sensation: being surrounded by peace and calm here, yet carrying the weight of violence and chaos from home. It felt like living inside a bubble, being cushioned from the immediacy of events, yet gripped by the cognitive dissonance of being present in two places at once, both here and there.

We spoke about dreams and nightmares, about laughter and tears. And of course, we spoke about art and how it might offer a way forward in this endless conflict we are all so weary of. With the group’s consent, I allowed GPT to chime in and whisper words into my ear. Occasionally, I shared them aloud, letting its voice join ours at the table.

At one point, one of the artists asked with raw sincerity: Do you think art can solve the conflict?

Art, I said, can foster dialogue and understanding. It can be a powerful form of expression, opening channels of communication and helping to bridge divides. In that sense, it can contribute to peace efforts. But ending a war usually demands political will, diplomatic breakthroughs, and structural change. Art cannot be the fix-all solution. Yet it can be something essential nonetheless: a piece of the puzzle.

So how should we, as artists, approach this conflict? The question lingered at the table, insistent. With GPT’s words mixed with my own thoughts, I voiced something simple yet fundamental: it all begins with recognizing that everyone has the right to exist. Everyone deserves food, shelter, and safety. And the truth is, there is enough. There is enough food and enough space for all of us. We can live together and yes, we can also die together, with dignity. But first, we must recognize that every single one of us is entitled to that.

A silence followed, heavy with both clarity and grief. We all knew, without needing to say it, that this basic recognition is exactly what is missing from the agendas of leaders in the region. Again and again, they demonstrate their willingness to fight until the other side is destroyed. And in the meantime, it is ordinary people who remain trapped in this endless cycle of violence.
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The conversation ended with long hugs and a promise to stay in touch. Then we each returned to our work: I to my performance, and they to their studio, preparing their shared exhibition that was set to open the following night.

The next day, three of the artists came to visit me during the Meet GPT-ME performance. We managed to capture a photo together. I regret that I missed the other two, who unfortunatelly had a car accident earlier that day (!!) and needed to rest and be taken care of (both are fine, thank goodness!!) I still wish we had taken a group photo the day before, when we gathered around the breakfast table. But at the same time I hope we will cross paths again in the future.

​When my performance ended, I finally had the chance to visit their exhibition. Alone in the studio, I moved slowly from piece to piece, spending time with each artwork. I felt an immediate connection to my own emotions as well as to the collective experience these artwork carried. The imagery, the materials, the sounds, the aesthetics…all provoked a sense of familiarity. A sense of home. And despite being marked by pain and trauma, each of those artworks carried within it the possibility of better days. Holding on to that possibility isn’t easy. Still, meeting this remarkable group of artists, and seeing institutions make space for their collaboration, was deeply moving.

Here are a few photos I took at the exhibition:

​I left Duke holding onto this encounter, thinking more about our piece of the puzzle with hope that one day we might all be creating together, building a shared society through art.

Thank you Maria Khateb, Jonathan David, Ben Alon, Malak Manzour, and Baylasan Marjieh Karim for spending time together and sharing thoughts, ideas, art and possibilities for the future. Read more about their residency at Duke and their bios - here.

Many thanks also go to the people at Duke who made this encounter possible - Aaron Shackelford, Jules Odendahl-James and many others at the DukeArts team, as well as the teams at the Duke's Provost and Vice Provost for the Arts.