These curves, emphasized both aesthetically and spatially, do not merely highlight the subject as a woman. They extend to spatial angles and colors, as though each one of us, or something within us, bends gently to embrace what remains of the wound, of Palestine, and of Gaza. Gaza itself becomes a mother, as described by a Gazan writer.

Noteworthy in Elhasani's works is the recurring presence of fish, evoking the art of Matisse and Klee, where fish frequently appear, particularly in pieces inspired by the East. In Elhasani’s paintings, these small fish sometimes take the artist beyond the realm of his previous works, offering new meanings to a world drowning in turmoil. The fish reveal the hidden depths he carries as a person and an artist from Gaza, using his brush to infuse life with the meaning of true salvation—a vision of how beauty drowns within us.

The sea, of course, never leaves the Palestinian narrative. In Fayez’s paintings, it appears as a symbol, with fish filling some scenes. These fish become miniature ornaments of memory, speaking to a city facing the world. They are engravings of existence emerging from the depths, representing Gaza’s sea, its shores, and its refugee camps.Elhasani’s paintings, which he often describes as reflections of himself, assert that identity in art confronting annihilation necessitates delving into Canaanite and Arab heritage. Through this exploration, he mirrors the image of our wound as he perceives it—as an artist deeply rooted in his place, his city, and his homeland.

In the destroyed artworks published on  ArtZone Palestine, spanning from 1981 to 2021—a significant and extensive period in the artist's journey—sorrow is present in all its emotional and historical stages. It accompanies his canvas, represented not only in shades of purple or blue but also in the contraction of bodies, huddling together to form a single entity. This is also reflected in the drooping features of the eyes.

Undoubtedly, history also played its role during this period, which preceded the First Intifada. The artist's impressions remained unchanged after the Intifada, as seen in his painting "Children of the Stones" (1988). Even his earliest work, titled "Love Letter" (1981), seems to capture the artist's genuine reactions to existential themes. In it, he portrays pain through the image of a woman carrying a dead body on her head. This woman, unlike those depicted in many other paintings, appears distinct. Despite the burden of death on her head, she does not seem broken. Her wavy, flying hair suggests that she is a dreamer. Fayez Elhasani does not paint this woman as a mere symbol. Instead, he captures the emotions flowing from her eyes and heart to express profound meanings for words and feelings that have shaped the lexicon of Palestine: sorrow, pain, return, Intifada, farewell to the martyr, lost peace, and more. Thus, a genocidal war cannot erase the meanings this experienced artist has conveyed through his brush. 

Remarkably, in his works after the Oslo Accords in 1993—a disappointing turning point for Palestinian revolutionary aspirations—the artist seems to continue his personal revolution. This stems from an unwavering belief in the Palestinian artistic project, which encapsulates the idea of resistance through new methods. These approaches preserve the legacy of forebears who began the arduous journey of establishing revolutionary symbols. At the same time, his paintings maintain a vision of a future contrary to the illusion of peace promoted by Oslo. This vision is vividly evident in his work "The Lost Peace" (2000), where a horizontal path confronts a vertical one. The vertical path seems to split the moon or sun into two halves, prompting us to ask whether these paths symbolize the Palestinian revolutionary experience, perhaps splitting our sun into illusion and reality once again. The artist's annihilated paintings remind us of how mature his questions were at that time.

Fayez Elhasani's lost artworks, which extend into recent years, summarize his personal narrative. In his 2021 paintings, we see him return to the roots of the story, tracing its continuity to this generation of heroes. His painting "From the Ancestors to Descendants" portrays a child on his grandmother's shoulders. The grandmother's presence is critical here, diverging from the tendency to always depict women as young. The grandmother appears as a parallel to the past (the compassionate) or as a memory that inevitably becomes a book embracing new children. The child, meanwhile, seems to be on a journey, as if taking a stroll on the back of his grandmother, whom I call here "memory," inseparable from him despite what he encounters during his travels.

Amid sorrow, however, the final painting, "The Palestinian Wedding" (2021), offers, through its title and colors, a unique radiance and joy. It is a painting absent now, both artistically and realistically. How we dream, along with the artist, of seeing its realizationon the ground—as both a painting and a reality named Palestine.