MILWAUKEE (CBS 58) -- "At a time when people are so desensitized about what is human, I'm interested in reminding them."

David Najib Kasir is a father, an artist, and an activist. He's also the son of immigrants -- his father, Iraqi, and his mother, Syrian.

The work he's become known for was originally created in response to the devastation he saw at the onset of the Syrian civil war, but the figures he paints have come to reflect the stories of families impacted by conflict across the world.

His paintings reveal universal truths about war and displacement, grief, loss, and the impossible choices faced by civilians and refugees forced to flee neighborhoods decimated by violence. They emphasize our shared humanity, offering viewers the chance to put themselves in the shoes of Kasir's subjects and focus on the common threads that connect us despite all perceived differences.

'A perfect storm of chaos'

Having a profound personal connection to his mother's country, Kasir found himself deeply impacted by what was unfolding in Syria in March of 2011.

The Arab Spring protests began at the same time US operations were winding down in Iraq, and as the United States doubled down, insurgents fled to Syria, creating what Kasir calls "a perfect storm of chaos."

With all eyes on Iraq, Kasir says Syria wasn't getting the media coverage it warranted, and he wanted to draw attention to what was happening in his second home.

"Syria is like my other home country, you know, which I've lived in and visited throughout my childhood and early life," Kasir says. "So Syria meant a lot to me."

"I was seeing what was happening… on the streets where I would play as a kid…I'm watching people flee, and all the violence starts to happen, and the bombings. Just, you know, militants after militants. And it became…a very sort of complex situation. One side against two other sides, and really there were no good guys. Only the people and the civilians in the middle. And I was trying to get people aware of that."

He also wanted to challenge a dangerous stereotype he saw spreading throughout the United States, labeling Arabs- especially Arab men- as the enemy.

"I have an understanding of growing up in this country, as part of assimilating into this country, that Arabs are always viewed as the 'bad guys,'" Kasir says. "Which is obviously not true."

Using Arab designs and a style of tilework called zellig, he started painting the faces of the human casualties of war -- civilians caught in the crossfire, families grieving and holding their babies -- hoping to counter false narratives by showing both the beauty of Arab culture and the cost of conflict.

"I want the viewer to understand the humanity behind each figure…have an understanding of who they are and see the way they're trying to protect their children, or their loved ones…where you would feel in that situation, you'd be no different," Kasir says. "Whether it's being a refugee, moving from one safety zone to another… the idea of desperation and doing whatever you can to keep your family safe and guarded in times of chaos."

'We are no different than they are'

When he began this series more than a decade ago, Kasir kept his figures' faces void of color or detail.

He says originally, he was trying to see them as American. He'd been raised at a time when assimilation was highly encouraged -- a time when the idea of being "very American" was "good," and anything that wasn't, was "bad."

"I felt like if I put a color to them, people would be more dismissive of who they are in their humanity," Kasir says. "But at some point, I realized I had to trust my audience and force them to see them as who they were."

Within the last year, he's started painting more realistic figures.

"I was talking to somebody not too long ago, about the idea of just how much I've unpacked subconsciously while moving through the work," Kasir says.

Recently, he's focused heavily on the tragedies taking place in Gaza, painting structures and neighborhoods reduced to rubble.

"I was seeing what was happening in Palestine, and I was seeing all the destruction…that looked a lot worse than anything I've ever showed in my paintings," Kasir said. "And I realized at one point that I'm not sure that society's ever going to afford me to stop talking about it in my work…that I'm always gonna have to remind people that we are human, and we are no different than they are."

As a father, Kasir says it's been especially gut-wrenching to see the lives of innocent children lost.

Minus My Son (2024) David Najib Kasir

In an Instagram post, he shared a painting of a demolished building titled "Watermelon Voices Divided by Small Legs Buried Under Fallen Shelter." A close-up shows children playing amid the destruction. With it, he wrote, "When I look at these kids that we are seeing, I wonder how long have they last had anything to eat? How much longer can they go until they do? How can anyone knowingly keep them from food or water? Can you imagine seeing kids and seeing aid trucks and making sure that they didn't get to it?"

"Being a father at a young age and seeing what it takes to create and build children into who they are...the idea of somebody else's actions taking that away from a parent just destroys me," Kasir says. "I just want people to see the humanity in all that."

'Louder on canvas'

Drawing inspiration from artists like Käthe Kollwitz and Diego Rivera, Kasir believes in art as a documentation of time.

"The idea of really documenting the moment...trying to be a document of their people and telling it from the humanity perspective...I feel like that's the purpose of art," he says. "I think art's supposed to be about humanity."

You can find several of Kasir's public pieces in the Milwaukee area -- he has a mural in the Harambee neighborhood, on Keefe and Richards, a piece in Black Cat Alley on the city's east side, and work displayed in the Baird Center.

He also has pieces at the Wisconsin Museum in West Bend, and murals in both Chicago and New York.

"There's this joke that me and my family make, as Arabs…we joke about being loud people," Kasir says. "But I always feel I'm louder on canvas. I always feel people listen to me a lot more on canvas."

David's solo show, entitled "David Najib Kasir: Math of Four Minute Warnings" debuts on March 7 at ARC gallery in Chicago.

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