Quotes of the Day

Bashar al-Hroub gouges a square of chipboard with a chisel until the image of a woman's genitals emerges. The 27-year-old Palestinian artist is making prints for an exhibit that will highlight "things that are forbidden in our society," he says. Denounced in his own village near Hebron as immoral, al-Hroub came to this town of more than 100,000 citizens to join a new generation of artists whose focus is surprisingly free of the nationalism and violence for which Palestinians are usually noticed.

The relative freedom of expression in Ramallah has fueled a major revival, since last year, of the cultural capital of Palestine — and is transforming Palestinian art in the process. While most Palestinian towns remain as ghostly quiet as they were during the curfews of the intifadeh, Ramallah has a lively nightlife, new theaters, a cinema and a flourishing music scene. "When people come to Ramallah, they taste culture," says Munther Jawabreh, 29, an artist from a refugee camp near Hebron. "Instead of the Israeli occupation, they can think about beauty."

In Ramallah, there's plenty to think about these days. Since Palestinian leaders announced a halt to the intifadeh in February and Israel's tanks pulled back, Ramallah has seen a burst of creativity. In July, a $5 million Palace of Culture, funded by the U.N. and Japan, opened with performances by local poets and musicians. Israeli conductor Daniel Barenboim brought his orchestra to the town in August. Ben Kingsley screened a version of Gandhi dubbed in Arabic to promote nonviolent resistance. The town's cinema — the only one in the West Bank — reopened, and musicians founded a school to teach classical Arabic music in Ramallah's Old City.

Even as the town's art scene revives, artists run into expectations that they'll play a role in fighting Israel. For decades, Palestinian art has been highly political, with creative activists often prominent in the Palestine Liberation Organization; artists spoke of "the poetry of the gun." For many ordinary Palestinians, disillusionment with political corruption and grand slogans has led to a desire for leaders who want merely to secure a better economic future. Artists similarly discontented with politics are turning to more personal themes. "The old period of nationalist art was a big lie," says Khalid Hijazi, a painting instructor at An-Najah University in Nablus who mentors many new artists. "The political picture in Palestine is confused, so artists take refuge in their personal concerns."

The new style doesn't appeal to older artists. Karim Dabbah, a 68-year-old painter from Ramallah, argues that Palestinian political art "defended a noble idea. New artists are affected by sick art from Europe. It is against Palestinian values." The debate is more than simply aesthetic: Ismail Shammout, a leading Palestinian artist who lives in Amman, was refused permission to open an art school in Ramallah last year because he declined to paint a portrait of Yasser Arafat. Early last year, the board of Hakawati, the Palestinian National Theater, canceled The Last Hour, a play in which a prisoner newly released from an Israeli jail holds a dialogue with his own impotent penis — a far cry from the typical heroic portrayals of prisoners in previous Palestinian art. The playwright, Mazen Saadeh, describes the fate of his play as a prime example of the conflict between political oldsters and the new generation. "This new movement is another door to our country," says Saadeh, 45. "I don't watch the news. I don't keep an eye on Hamas or [Palestinian President] Abu Mazen."

But Hamas keeps an eye on the artists. The Hamas-run municipality in Kalkilya, a West Bank town, banned a poetry and dance festival in July because men and women wouldn't be separated. A mural commissioned for a public park in Nablus was barred by the city engineer because it "constituted idol worship and is not allowed in Islam." And sometimes the conflicts turn ugly. The town's rebirth extends to the culinary arts: Ramallah has 20 top-class restaurants, all better than anything else in the West Bank or Gaza, including five that have opened just in the last six months. But restaurateurs can't always shut out politics. Darna is a popular, traditional Middle Eastern eatery, where bow-tied waiters serve loyal customers, including top Palestinian Authority officials. Last April, local gunmen who wanted to show their discontent with the government charged into the restaurant during a busy dinner period. As diners fled, the gunmen shot the restaurant to pieces. Even in Ramallah, sometimes violence trumps civilized life.

• MATT REES / Ramallah
• The end of the intifadeh has triggered an explosion of creativity — and controversy