Tucked inside a small tent in central Gaza’s Al-Bureij refugee camp, 80-year-old Palestinian artist Mohammad Zamlout sits surrounded by paints, sketchbooks, and drawings. These art supplies have become his only sanctuary since losing his home and three sons to the ongoing Israeli war in the Gaza Strip.
In this cramped space, less of an art studio and more of a survival shelter, Zamlout uses painting to confront the brutal realities of war. He channels his grief into visual messages, documenting the profound suffering of Palestinians and showing the world what it means to live under constant bombardment, displacement, and immense loss.
The elderly artist never could have imagined spending his twilight years in a tent, much less that his paintbrush would serve as a tool for psychological survival following the wartime deaths of his sons, Shadi, Ali, and Abdullah.
“The genocidal war against our people began, and during this war—unlike anything we have ever witnessed, the occupation killed my three sons: Shadi, Ali, and Abdullah,” Zamlout shares quietly, his voice heavy with age and sorrow.
Yet, despite the agonizing pain, he has never put down his brush, treating every canvas as another chance to hold onto life.
Finding Inspiration Amidst Displacement
Since the outbreak of the war, Zamlout has faced multiple displacements from northern Gaza. He moved from shelter to shelter and through various temporary camps before finally settling in Al-Bureij. It was there, amidst the grueling hardships of displacement, that a renewed relationship with art took root.
He credits the sight of local schoolchildren carrying notebooks and colored pencils around the camp for inspiring his return to the canvas.
“While living in the camp, I watched students heading to school with their notebooks and colors, drawing despite everything happening around them. Seeing those scenes sparked the idea to start painting again,” he explains.
His first piece reflected his own profound personal tragedy. Capturing the sheer scale of his loss in a deeply emotional image, he painted himself surrounded by his three martyred sons.
“That first painting was about me personally. I painted myself with my boys around me as martyrs,” he says.
But Zamlout’s work quickly evolved beyond his own grief, transforming into a visual archive that documents the collective suffering of the people of Gaza. His pieces depict tents, destroyed homes, exhausted faces, wide-eyed children, and grieving mothers. Crucially, they also capture the symbols of hope and resilience that Palestinians still cling to despite the surrounding devastation.
A Message to the World
Inside his tent, the paintings pile up. Some are drawn on simple sheets of printer paper, while others take shape on scraps of cloth or cardboard—a stark reflection of the severe shortage of artistic supplies in the besieged enclave.
Even while living with a permanent injury sustained during Israeli attacks in Deir al-Balah, Zamlout insists on painting every single day. He believes art has become his sole means of expressing his emotions and coping with the crushing weight of trauma and isolation.
“These drawings are my message to the world,” he declares. “Brushes, colors, and paintings can articulate our suffering far more powerfully than words ever could.”
For Zamlout, anyone looking at his artwork sees more than just his personal story; they witness the broader narrative of the Palestinian people and the immense sacrifices they continue to endure.
“When people look at my paintings, they see my suffering alongside the suffering of the Palestinian people. They also understand that we are a people who love peace, not war, and who simply want to live in safety and peace, just like anyone else in the world.”
As the war rages on and hundreds of thousands of displaced Palestinians struggle for survival across Gaza, Mohammad Zamlout remains seated in his tent day after day. He grips his paintbrush as though it were his final act of resistance against despair.
In a place utterly overwhelmed by images of destruction and death, the elderly Palestinian artist is striving to leave behind something entirely different: paintings that preserve the memory of his sons, amplify Gaza’s voice on the world stage, and prove that art can still blossom from the very heart of tragedy.