Biography
"We don’t need more walls. We need more bridges. I paint to build them." — Chawky
Chawky Frenn is a Lebanese-American painter, author, and professor whose work confronts questions of justice, democracy, and human dignity. His paintings are deeply tied to his own history of migration and survival, carrying the weight of war and displacement while holding fast to the possibilities of art as a space for empathy and truth. Born in Zahlé, Lebanon, in 1960, Frenn grew up in a family that valued resilience, education, and community. Zahlé, known for its vineyards, river, and hilltop views, was also a place where cultural and religious diversity lived side by side. His early years were shaped by family bonds and a close-knit environment that impressed on him the importance of belonging and collective responsibility.
When the Lebanese Civil War erupted in 1975, Frenn was still a teenager. The years of conflict left an enduring mark on him, as everyday life was reshaped by instability, violence, and uncertainty. He has often described those years as formative, not only in their hardships but in the way they deepened his sense of what it means to survive and to witness. These experiences stayed with him when he emigrated to the United States in 1981, where he sought both refuge and a future in art. The dislocations of war, migration, and adaptation gave him a lifelong sensitivity to the struggles of others and a conviction that art must engage with human realities rather than escape them.
Frenn studied painting at the Massachusetts College of Art and Design, where he earned his BFA in 1985. The program offered him a strong classical foundation, introducing him to rigorous technical training in drawing, anatomy, and composition. At the same time, he encountered debates about representation and meaning in art, which pushed him to think critically about his role as an artist. Painting became a way to bear witness, a perspective already rooted in his memories of Lebanon. He continued his studies with an MFA at the Tyler School of Art, Temple University, in 1988. A formative year in Rome expanded his engagement with European art and history, grounding him in traditions of figuration while sharpening his awareness of art’s power to address the present.
Since 2000, Frenn has taught at George Mason University, where he is now a professor of art. Teaching has become as central to his practice as painting itself. He stresses to his students that art cannot be detached from life, and that technical mastery is inseparable from moral clarity. In the classroom, he encourages young artists to look closely at the world around them, to ask difficult questions, and to see their work as part of a broader human conversation. His recognition with the university’s Teaching Excellence Award reflected not only his skill as an educator but also his commitment to mentorship. For Frenn, education is a dialogue that guides students to discover their own voices while understanding the responsibilities that come with them.
Alongside teaching, Frenn has continued to write about art and contemporary practice. His publications do not simply catalogue artists or trends but situate art within the ethical challenges of the present. He argues that art must resist indifference and instead call attention to human dignity and suffering. For him, to write about art is to argue for its importance in shaping how societies remember, reckon, and imagine.
Frenn’s paintings reflect these convictions. His canvases are grounded in classical figuration and chiaroscuro, yet he uses oil paint as a material witness: layered pigments, scraped passages, and compact brushwork create surfaces that carry the weight of memory and struggle. Figures often appear distorted or bruised, their bodies shaped by the urgency of paint. The texture itself becomes testimony, embodying the impact of history on flesh.
One of his earliest major works, Your Silence, I Suffer, 1989, makes these concerns visible. Executed in oil, the painting shows twisted figures in bruised flesh tones, reds, and ashen blacks. Their contorted bodies and clenched hands convey anguish, while the heavy brushwork presses against them like a physical weight. The work is not simply about violence but about silence. The silence of those who watch without acting. Here, painting becomes a direct confrontation with complicity, insisting that to remain passive in the face of injustice is itself a form of harm.
Later series extended this inquiry. Ecce Homo, 2000 to 2002, explored themes of mortality and spirituality, while Missa Pro Pace, 2007, turned toward questions of peace and reconciliation. Across these projects, Frenn consistently returned to the human figure as the central site of memory, impact, and resilience. The body is not abstracted but present, marked by history, carrying both suffering and endurance.
Today, Frenn lives and works in Virginia, where he continues to paint, teach, and write. He remains closely tied to Lebanon, returning when possible and drawing on its memories, landscapes, and communities. His art reflects both a personal journey and a broader concern of how individuals and societies confront violence and how they might still affirm dignity in the face of injustice. Above all, his life and work demonstrate his belief that art is not an escape from reality but a form of truth-telling, a bridge between people, and a practice of hope.
Works
Between Us and them , 2008