A Month in Siena by Hisham Matar | A Review

A Month in Siena is an intensely moving, contemplative response to Sienese art whilst coming to terms with and moving through the motions of grief. Hisham Matar’s relationship with the Sienese School of painting began whilst studying at university in London.[1] The Sienese school of painting covers the late Middle Ages and early Renaissance (thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth centuries) Europe.

Matar challenges us to think about how we engage with art. He is not writing for a particular audience, but rather to every individual. Art can often feel like a closed and intimidating world. Matar shows how every human being can connect to art in their own unique way because art is essentially about humanity and the way we live.  

Matar lost his father in 1990, the same year he became drawn to Sienese paintings. His father was kidnapped and flown back to Libya; ‘He was imprisoned and gradually, like salt dissolving in water, was made to vanish.’ Although Matar explains that it is unclear to him why shortly after losing his father he began to visit the National Gallery in London, there is something about the quiet atmosphere of a gallery room where old paintings line the walls; figures and scenes from history daring you to engage with them – the eyes literally drawn to meet your gaze and influence some kind of feeling, an exchange of dialogue. Somehow, they allow us to draw into our selves – creating the mental and physical space to feel however we do in that moment. Matar watches paintings for hours whilst conversing both with himself and us and he also challenges us to think about how the city itself can create this space for us to feel; 

‘I had never been anywhere so determined, so full of intention and so concerned about my presence, for, no matter which way I turned, the city seemed to be the one determining the pace and direction of my walks. There and then I believed I could spend a lifetime here in this foreign city where I had, for so long and for some mysterious reason, longed to be.’[2]

The pace of the writing feels like you are walking alongside Matar, taking in every detail, every inch of Siena. Not only are we experiencing the art and rich history of this place, but the people and daily life too. The thoughts that come to mind for Matar forces us to read at a slow place, absorbing his thoughts as talking directly to us. Whilst his thoughts are deeply engaged in an exploration of Sinena’s art and history through critical reflection, this is also one long contemplation that feels both philosophical and emotionally charged with pieces of Matar’s family, youth and grief underpinning every thought; every so often coming to the surface with a memory. Matar’s thoughts almost feels like a stream of consciousness at times, weaving through historical analysis and personal memory. But it also feels like poetry, each word carefully chosen, every bit of grammar punctuating a purposeful rhythm. We move through Siena at Matar’s pace, not our own.

Furthermore, whilst he is engaging with the past, both personal and historical, he is also highly aware of being firmly rooted in the present. Matar’s approach to Siena takes on the role of a flâneur. He observes people, follows them to see them act out their daily lives. He beautifully captures what it is to be truly and utterly present in the world. Walking is a huge part of my life and as someone who lives in a city myself, I loved the sensuous language of wandering around Siena: the sights, the sounds, the feel of the temperature and encounters with strangers that can lead to random and interesting conversations, creating fond memories. This is exactly what happens to Matar when he meets a Jordanian man who invites Matar into his home which leads to an enriching conversation about their life in Jordan and the home they made in Siena, as well as some interesting history about Siena. A Month in Siena might appear to be largely focused on Matar’s relationship with painting and the city, but at its core it is a book about human connection whether that be through people past and present, paintings, or finding something that allows you to connect with your own personal history.

This is indeed an intimate and personal journey. Diana, Matar’s wife, is on this journey with Matar too. She comes in and out of the narrative at times informing his articulation and way of seeing a painting. Whilst Diana is a physical presence, she is also bearing witness on the edges, a listener and observer to a personal and intense exploration of self, and grief that is uniquely Matar’s. Reading this account of Matar’s journey, weaving together historical information, critical reflection and personal connection, we are also witnesses alongside Diana. It is incredibly moving to be witness to this as readers.

Finally, Matar weaves in the global reality of the Renaissance where the MENA region was absolutely instrumental in influencing European art. Over the past 20 years or so there has been an important growing field of study in reframing the ‘European Renaissance’ to recognise global encounters which led to a rich cultural exchange of knowledge. In 2019 I wrote a graduate essay about the encounters between Venetian, Egyptian and Syrian artists through trade during the sixteenth century. These and similar encounters were not rare. European artists were undoubtedly influenced by them, and it is impossible to have a thorough understanding of their work without them.

Hisham Matar is an extraordinary writer and one whose words will stay with you. I think about this book most days. It has shaped my own relationship to paintings and the beautifully personal experience of being truly present with them, as well as the gallery being a space to reflect.

To discover more about Hisham Matar you can read an author portrait of him here.

[1] https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/nov/09/a-month-in-siena-by-hisham-matar-review.

[2] A Month in Siena, Penguin Books (2020; first published by Viking in 2019), p .4.