SELECTED EXCERPTS

 

I follow in the footsteps of my father who was an ardent believer in Gandhi, who once told him, “I dreamed of devoting my life to Peace.” I have dreamed of devoting my life to the Art of Peace and that is my destiny.

​

My storyline is embedded in the DNA of my ancestors. It is an epic story, a mythological, heroic story, where the dark forces combat the light, as it meanders through seven decades and three continents.

​

Surviving several near-death experiences that included facing a firing squad in the Thar Desert, Pakistan, I immigrated to America in 1973 with $300 in my pocket. Striving to persevere and survive, and find my place in the New World, my moment of clarity and mission came in 1976 when my father passed. At that time, I had a series of exceptionally powerful and mystical dreams, which inspired me to my new vocation Art & Peace.

​

Empowered by these dreams, I created more than 30,000 original pieces of artworks to date, which is one of the largest collections in the world by a single artist. I innovated several new techniques including painting with my feet, authoring my style Mystical Expressionism, which has changed the landscape of painting.

​

The American art institutions exhibited an undeniable, strikingly prejudicial posture towards my art contributions when the distinguished Rizzoli International Publications, Inc., published two defining monographs celebrating my style and its evolutionary role in contemporary art history. Art collectors world-wide ­– especially American collectors – have enthusiastically and overwhelmingly embraced me, and I have become one of the most collected artists for original artworks in the world. As the American brand of institutional racism continues to play out its ironic and paradoxical role to Mystical Expressionism its influences are spreading far and wide.

My story looks to the future. It looks to a new path based on my dream for Art & Peace, even as the saga continues, I am optimistic about our future.

​

This, is my Journey of Hope.

​

~

​

We are not lost. We are not forgotten in time. The chains connecting husband to wife, father to son, mother to daughter, will not be broken in the annals of time. Our stories are written in the stars and will live on long after I am gone.

As I come to the close of this story, I want to pay tribute to my son. In time, he will carry forward the name Jamali and will continue the long lineage of Jamalis.

​

As he grows into a young man, he will lead the invisible armies alongside the River of Peace. He will enter the Halls of Art and take up the ethereal sword of the Warrior of Light and Courage that has been passed down through our family; and he will lead his army into the new ages of enlightenment. He will cultivate the sacred landscape of Mother, Father and Child…and the Art of Mystical Expressionism.

He will continue my mission of Art & Peace in his own style as he nurtures the oneness of mankind. He will define his mission the way I did mine as he continues in life.

~

It is early in the evening. I let myself drift out past the trees, and carefully sail over the water on a moonlit night. I see the crows fly beside me and hover in a sky of stars. I hear their song, as they sing for me, Karen, my son, and for all mankind. And then I am enveloped in a white-blinding love as art is beside me and all around me. I see Elijah smiling at me and congratulating me on my beautiful life. Mr. Ahmadi is there, too, telling me, “I knew you were going to become a great artist. Next time, I’ll get it right and be right there beside you.” And Mickey is right beside him.

​

He embraces me as I drift out into the galaxy. “I understand what you always tried to tell me, Jamali…thank you, my brother, my friend. I will see you again.” I see numerous Jamalis who came before my life…strong, ancient men who possessed the power of humility and the power of peace. And I see the Warriors of Light and Love in their own magnificent ways.

Finally, there is my heart. Ba, Duree, and Mum, shining in that aura of golden light that sparkles like fractals, pouring more love and light from their hearts than I can behold. And I am forever humbled.

 

​

Peace

By my son, 8 years old

You will find

My tomb

In the peace

Of my soul

​