Artistic inspiration from the Edge of Arabia

Updated 10 October 2012
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Artistic inspiration from the Edge of Arabia

A Palestinian astronaut plants the national flag on the moon and then floats away into space. These sequences, based on iconic images from the US moon landing and Stanley Kubrick’s ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’, are at once startling and moving because they express both profound hope and sadness. The images, from the short film, ‘A Space Exodus’, are the work of the Palestinian artist, Larissa Sansour, whose name made headlines last year when the high end clothing company, Lacoste, forced the withdrawal of her shortlisted photography artwork from a competition being held at the Elysee Museum in Lausanne, Switzerland. Her work was apparently considered ‘too pro-Palestinian’. In response to the censorship, the museum broke off relations with Lacoste, the corporate sponsor, and canceled the competition that carried a first prize of £21,000. The story of the censorship made headlines across the world, and Sansour and her Danish husband found themselves at the center of a media storm, which proved both uplifting and exhausting.
The censored work, Nation Estate, which has since been developed into a futuristic short film, places the Palestinian people in a skyscraper, supported by the international community, with each floor representing a city — Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Ramallah. The citizens in this luxury development can move about freely, via elevators, (no checkpoints), but it is a sterile environment affording ‘freedom’ within the confines of an artificial construct. The skyscraper has views over the Dome of the Rock of Jerusalem — so the inhabitants overlook the real Jerusalem forcing them to face a painful reality of exclusion and separation.
Speaking from her London apartment, Sansour said she and her husband are taking a much needed rest after completing the film version of Nation Estate, which took nine months of intense work. Ironically, Sansour had wanted to win the Lacoste Nation Estate photography prize because she needed funding to make the film. In the event, the publicity that ensued from the ban raised her profile, and she was able to pour the resulting profits from sales of her work into financing the high end production film made in Copenhagen.
Sansour was born in Bethlehem; her parents met in Moscow where her Palestinian father was studying mathematics. Her mother is Russian and worked in radio in Moscow. Upon returning to Palestine, her father was invited by the Vatican to found Bethlehem University. The family home, recalled, Sansour, was like an unofficial embassy, full of leading thinkers and political discussion. As a child she drew instinctively and her father encouraged her precocious talent by finding her art classes to attend.
She remembers her childhood as ‘sunny’ but punctured by disturbing moments. “When I was seven I remember Israeli soldiers pointing their guns at me when I was walking out of school. It was frightening. I think what it does psychologically, and you can’t shake that off, is that you feel that not all humans are equal. As a kid that sends a very strong message — ‘You’re Palestinian so you will be treated like dirt. It becomes cemented — this dehumanization — from a very early age.”
As a Christian she recalled that religious divisions were not notable during her childhood, but that a different atmosphere prevails today. “I do feel that a tension is building up between religions but I think Palestinians are still united against the occupation. But what’s starting to happen is that religion has got conflated with fighting for justice. I think that happens when you’ve reached the end of your tether; where you are trying to make sense of things, and sticking to a belief is what makes people feel stronger in that fight. It really happened once the Intifada started because I don’t remember it being like this,” she said.
When she was 15, her family life with parents, brother and sister, was harshly disrupted with the onset of the First Intifida, a Palestinian uprising against the Israeli occupation of the Palestinian Territories which lasted from December 1987 to 1993. Her parents, in their efforts to protect her, sent her to boarding school in England, where she studied for her ‘O’ and ‘A’ levels. Her memories of this time, she said, are full of gloomy grey skies and a feeling of alienation. Those years sowed the seeds of an aversion to London which she has only recently overcome. She now loves the international buzz of the city with its vibrant cultural scene.
After returning to Palestine for High School, she then set off for the United States, studying art first in Baltimore and subsequently in New York, where she completed her Masters.
She continued her Fine Art studies in Copenhagen, Denmark, where she met her husband, a writer, who works with her on the film scripts. The couple, who moved to London three years ago, have a five month old daughter, whose joyful arrival has meant a shift in priorities.
Talking to Sansour you get a sense of a calm intelligence and a keen awareness of her Palestinian identity which shapes her art.
Her film ‘A Space Exodus’, is currently showing at the Edge of Arabia ‘Come Together’ Exhibition in the heart of London’s East End. Artists from across the Middle East are showing contemporary work using a wide range of mediums expressing powerful, fresh ideas. At the press preview some of the artists spoke about their work. For Saudi Arabian street artist, Abdullah Mohammed Alshehri, who comes from Riyadh, this is his first visit to London. He explained that his stencil image of the Saudi Olympic runner, Sarah Attar, had been seen by the Edge of Arabia director Stephen Stapleton, who subsequently invited him to participate in the exhibition.
Alshehri’s image of Attar running is an expression of his admiration for her brave efforts in the London Olympics, where she received warm applause at the end of the 800 meters track race. She came in last, but her participation was a first for Saudi Arabian women in athletics, and lights the way for others to follow.
Alshehri said, “I support her — I made this image in the street of her running. Some people liked it — some not. People are not so familiar with street art — it’s something new.” Alshehri said of London: “It’s very beautiful — so international — I’ve met a lot of other artists. This experience can give you inspiration and information you didn’t have before.”
Edge of Arabia co-founder and director, Stephen Stapleton said, “Saudi Arabia has an exciting arts scene and it’s very authentic. It’s a lot of really great local people taking initiative — artists, people setting up a gallery, or young Abdullah taking his art to the street.”
He added: “Art boils down to you or me being creative. It’s about people with passion and imagination. If you can encourage that, the rest will take care of itself. It takes hundreds of years to develop it. That’s OK, we don’t need to rush.”
He noted the initiatives among local artists in Qatar led by people such as Tariq al Jaidah, founder of the Waqif Art Center, and the new Qatar Arts Center.
The founding partner and sponsor for Edge of Arabia is Abdul Latiff Jameel Community Initiatives.
The exhibition features a striking artwork called ‘The Capitol Dome’ by Saudi artist and Edge of Arabia co-founder, Abdulnasser Gharem. It is a replica of the Capitol Dome in Washington; when you peer into the Dome you see that the interior resembles a mosque. This triggers questions about western based democratic systems being fused with Arab cultures.
Edge of Arabia is unique in engaging directly through educational programs with the local East End community where the exhibition is staged. This approach is appreciated in an area of London where after years of social deprivation a burgeoning arts scene has given a new lease of life to the once run down streets, but left many residents feeling excluded. “We’re proud to be the education partner with Edge of Arabia,” said Narull Islam, co-founder of the Mile End Community Project.
“This is probably the first exhibition that has really engaged with the local community. They have got the young people involved; that’s really refreshing. It gives our young people confidence to meet renowned artists.”
This view was echoed by local tribal artist and sculptor, Muhsin Ahmed, and graphic designer and licensed graffiti artist, Mohammed Sadek. They were delighted to meet Riyadh artist Alshehri.
“This exhibition inspires me because of the way people from the Middle East are coming here and bonding with each other’s communities through their art work,” said Mohammed Sadek. “They see our art work on the streets and we see their work in galleries, and it is really inspiring to see the two coming together.”
French-Algerian post-conceptual artist, Faycal Baghriche, talked about his exhibit, ‘Blue Globe.’ “It is a globe spinning so fast that you can see no continents, countries or borderlines. This is how I see the world today — moving very fast — with such intense circulation of people through immigration that we don’t recognize who is coming from where,” he explained.
Iraq born multi-media artist, Sama Alshaibi, whose family fled Iraq during the Iran-Iraq war, spoke about her work, ‘Vs. The Brother’. This video depicts on a split screen the images of a female aerial artist spiraling around on a cocoon of silk rope which gradually envelops her, and a young man spinning in frenzied circles, or donuts, in his sports car. At first sight, the young man seems freer than the woman — but on reflection both are trapped and circumscribed in their actions. “When you look at them you realize they are both trapped in a cycle of expectation — the man to prove his masculinity through aggressive behavior, and the woman gradually to withdraw into domestication and become removed from the public sphere. There is an equilibrium of grievances there and boundaries for both,” explained Alshaibi. Now based in the US, she has lived in Saudi Arabia, the UAE and Jordan and her work continues to take her across the Middle East and North Africa.

— Edge of Arabia ‘Come Together’ Exhibition is showing daily at the Truman art space, 81 Brick Lane, London E1 6QL, from Oct. 7 – 28.
E-mail: [email protected]


Saudi-supported ‘Front Row’ screens in Toronto

Updated 07 September 2024
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Saudi-supported ‘Front Row’ screens in Toronto

DUBAI: Algerian filmmaker Merzak Allouche’s family dramedy “Front Row,” supported by the Red Sea Fund, screened this week at the 49th Toronto International Film Festival.

Allouche’s 19th feature tells the story of two matriarchs, Zohra Bouderbala and Safia Kadouri, who find themselves in conflict during a day at the beach. Zohra, accompanied by her five children, arrives early to secure a desirable spot, but tension arises when the Kadouri family is placed directly in front of them by a beach attendant.

As the two families engage in a passive-aggressive battle, teenage romance quietly unfolds in the background, adding to the drama.

The film stars Fatiha Ouared as Bouderbala, Bouchra Roy as Kadouri, and Nabil Asli as Hakim, the beach attendant.


Riyadh-based UK artist Simon Mortimer delves into Saudi pop culture 

Updated 06 September 2024
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Riyadh-based UK artist Simon Mortimer delves into Saudi pop culture 

  • Simon Mortimer’s mixed-media works exploring Arabic imagery and language are currently on show in Doha 

RIYADH: Inside his apartment in Riyadh, British artist Simon Mortimer experiments with images that explore Saudi Arabia’s current period of transformation. His vibrant creations are filled with references to contemporary Saudi culture through high and low art, with an abundance of Arabic influences.  

In one of the artist’s recent works, a realistic painting of a typewriter on light blue, gray and yellow background is encircled by various signs and symbols from everyday Saudi culture, including an evocative Saudi-based multinational Sharbatly fruit label showing a young boy wearing a red hat. At the top of the work is what appears to be a phrase from another advertisement in Arabic, translating to “For those who don’t know.” On the left-hand side of the typewriter, which Mortimer explains represents the idea of communication, is a cartoon-like depiction of a red falcon with its beak nestled ever so slightly on the machine and a small yellow crown over its head. 

Simon Mortimer. (Supplied)

Mortimer, currently working in Riyadh as an art teacher, is showing works in a new exhibition at the Media Majlis Museum (mm: museum) at Qatar’s Northwestern University titled “The limits of my language are the limits of my world.” It’s a mixed-media exhibition exploring the Arabic language, its historical and contemporary context and questions surrounding its future existence. It runs until Dec. 5. 

Many of Mortimer’s recent works incorporate Arabic writing and the imagery he selects is often repeated throughout his works (the falcon, the Sharbatly logo, coffee pots, and more). He doesn’t speak Arabic, but he says he is “fascinated by the forms of the letters, the culture and the language” and likes to use words with meanings that reflect the subject matter of his pieces. 

“I love to explore the popular culture of a place,” he tells Arab News. “You immediately see these interesting images, logos and adverts. I love the visuals and the aesthetics, and I often don’t understand what they mean, especially when the labels are in Arabic, so I go onto Google Translate to get a better sense of the meaning.” 

'Learn' by Simon Mortimer. (Supplied)

Mortimer moved to Riyadh around a year ago from Doha, where he lived for five years. In the Qatari capital he was an artist-in-residence at the Fire Station, one of Qatar’s leading contemporary art spaces. He has lived in a number of other countries, including the Philippines, Greece and Spain, and has exhibited his work in the UK, Greece, Indonesia, the Philippines and Qatar. 

“I love being a foreigner,” he says. “I love living in different countries and exploring local popular culture. It is interesting whatever country I am in,” explains Mortimer. “Everyday images are combined with text, and the ambiguity that this can lead to reflects the misunderstandings that sometimes arise when living in, or learning about, other countries and cultures. 

'No Limits' triptych by Simon Mortimer. (Supplied)

“I enjoy layering and creating texture with a wide range of media, as well as challenging the concept of ‘high’ and ‘low’ art; traditional ways of mark-making such as oil paint and etching are brought together in the same artwork with modern media such as spray paint and marker pen,” he continues. 

Mortimer’s creative process involves literal and metaphorical layers. He incorporates images and references from Saudi pop-culture, as well as Arabic script, and then merges them in a mixture of traditional oil painting, acrylic, stencils, photocopies, and spray paint. In essence, Mortimer’s works offer the reflections of a non-Arab on present-day Saudi society, as well as his desire to better understand Saudi contemporary culture. 

'Right to Left' by Simon Mortimer. (Supplied)

The new exhibition in Doha invites visitors to explore and celebrate Arabic’s rich history and influence of the Arabic language and to reflect on its place in the future. It revolves around four key themes: “Always another side?” which introduces Arabic and its complexities, challenging negative connotations of the language through beautiful representations; “An influential and powerful language?” exploring how Arabic has shaped politics, science, religion and culture worldwide; “Does media representation matter?” examining the portrayal of Arabic in the media; and the final theme: “Is Arabic a language of the future?” exploring efforts to preserve and protect the language in a world where the ubiquity and dominance of English — particularly in the digital realm, poses challenges. 

Mortimer’s works in the show explore these themes from the viewpoint of a non-Arabic speaker.  They incorporate images from contemporary Arabian society — particularly drawing from his recent experiences in Saudi and Qatar — and Arabic proverbs to explore language, multiculturalism, and education from the perspective of a non-speaker. 

'Round Puff' by Simon Mortimer. (Supplied)

Incorporating local imagery and language into his work allows Mortimer to immerse himself more fully in local culture — and learn something of the language. He says he also learns from, and is inspired by, the Saudi high school students he is teaching.  

“They tell me about the cartoons and the sports they watch and introduce me to popular culture in Saudi and discuss the changes taking place in the Kingdom,” he says. “I’ve learned so much through them.” 


Highlights from Ahaad Alamoudi’s ‘Moving Mountains’ at Hayy Jameel

Updated 06 September 2024
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Highlights from Ahaad Alamoudi’s ‘Moving Mountains’ at Hayy Jameel

DUBAI: Here are three highlights from Ahaad Alamoudi’s ‘Moving Mountains,’ which runs until Oct. 26 at Hayy Jameel in Jeddah.

‘Moving Mountains’ 

The title work from the Saudi artist’s exhibition is a short film that “continues Alamoudi’s expansive exploration of rapidly changing social and cultural environments, situating Saudi’s natural and urban landscapes as sites of possibility — punctured by effort and powered by fantasy,” according to the gallery.  

‘What is This?’ 

The latest iteration of Alamoudi’s ongoing video series that features two talking falcons — which have, the gallery says, “in some ways acted as a temperature check as they react loudly to their changing surroundings” — has them facing away from each other on back-to-back screens exclaiming “I don’t remember this being here,” and “Do you see what I see?” 

“I Was Told Ice Wouldn’t Melt in Heat” 

In this video, a detail of which is shown here, a man in a white thobe circles a large block of ice in the desert for four hours trying various ways to prevent it from melting in the blazing heat. “Although driven by a delusional belief in what he was told, the feat ultimately proves impossible,” the gallery caption states. 


Saudi-supported Egyptian film wins big at Venice Film Festival’s Final Cut

Updated 05 September 2024
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Saudi-supported Egyptian film wins big at Venice Film Festival’s Final Cut

DUBAI: The Red Sea Film Foundation-supported film “Aisha Can’t Fly Away,” the feature debut of Egyptian filmmaker Morad Mostafa, became the first Egyptian film to win the La Biennale di Venezia Prize at Final Cut in Venice on Wednesday. 

The award, given for a film in post-production, is worth €5,000 ($5,546).

The film, which got a total of five awards during the festival, tells the story of a Somali woman caring for her elderly parents in Cairo while witnessing the tensions between the different ethnic groups who make up the city’s society.

This year’s jury included Wayne Borg from NEOM, Monica Ciarli from Minerva Pictures, and Dennis Ruh, the former director of the European Film Market.

In their statement, the jury labeled Mostafa’s story “powerful and authentic,” adding: “Despite being a first feature film, it showcased confident direction and a distinct cinematic voice. The film’s gritty realism, attention to detail, and impactful storytelling left a strong impression on us.”

Three other films supported by Saudi Arabia’s Red Sea Film Foundation also won awards at Final Cut: Egyptian filmmaker Mohamed Siam’s “My Father’s Scent,” Lebanese director Nadim Tabet’s “In This Darkness I See You” and Mosotho screenwriter and film director Lemohang Jeremiah Mosese’s “Ancestral Visions of the Future.”

Final Cut in Venice offers filmmakers a platform to showcase their works-in-progress to global industry experts, helping with post-production support and market entry.


Saudi contemporary artist Sultan bin Fahad discusses his favorite works 

Updated 05 September 2024
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Saudi contemporary artist Sultan bin Fahad discusses his favorite works 

  • ‘My medium is storytelling,’ says Sultan bin Fahad

DUBAI: The Riyadh-born, New York-based contemporary artist Sultan bin Fahad has been creating artworks since childhood. But, he says, he didn’t know that’s what he was doing for a long time.  

“I always felt like I had a certain creativity in me,” he tells Arab News. “I was making what I called ‘things.’ But it was a hobby, you know? I thought it was like interior design — decorating my room. I didn’t know it could be considered art.” 

At the time, bin Fahad was focused on building a career in the navy and on taekwondo. He had realistic hopes of competing in the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona, he says. But a series of injuries put paid to both of those dreams, and left him wondering what to do next.  

He ended up studying business in San Francisco, where his accommodation was close to an art academy.  

(Supplied)

“I’d pass by and see their work; that was the first time I was exposed to modern and contemporary art. And I realized, ‘Oh. So whatever I’ve been doing is probably considered some sort of art.’” He laughs. “That’s how I became aware of my ability to create artworks.” 

He has become known particularly for his intricate and colorful beaded works, often created by artisans from the Hausa tribe in Nigeria.  

“They have an interesting story,” he says. “They are Muslims, they study the Qur’an. But they kept the language of their tribe. They know all about Saudi. You can actually find descendants of the same tribe in Jeddah and Makkah. Back in the day, they travelled or went for Hajj and they never left. They stayed there for three or four generations.”  

Beyond the physical side of his work, however, he says the most important thing is that each piece tells a story.  

“I always say my medium is storytelling. I hate it when you show someone something and they say, ‘OK, what am I looking at?’ That means you definitely failed to show any emotion in your work. Like, I still make abstract paintings, and there is basically nothing to say about them. But people forget that there is an emotion when you look at something: you might feel happy, you might feel sad, you might be attracted to the colors. But if you look at any piece and you don’t get any idea in the first 10 seconds, then I failed.” 

Here, bin Fahad talks us through some of his most significant works. 

‘Delights III’ 

This series, “Delights,” came about during COVID lockdowns. I collect a lot of found objects, because they inspire me. I’d found these small gift boxes that used to have candy or nuts in. They come with different phrases on them, like, “May your day be filled with happiness and joy.” And there’s always a picture of shaking hands. The handshake is a universal gesture. And during COVID, we didn’t have that. People didn’t shake hands. Some people didn’t even see anyone. It was a dark time. So I thought, “OK, what if we had something in people’s homes, to give joy and a little hope?” First of all, I did a series of beaded works, and they were shown in an online art fair. Then this friend of mine who is a carpet maker had the idea of making carpets designed by artists from the GCC. And they chose me to represent Saudi. So, I designed this carpet. It’s this whole concept of hopeful, beautiful work that you can see every day and can give you good energy. It’s not an artwork; it’s part of the house. It’s living with you. 

‘Desert Kite’ 

This was created for Desert X AlUla. AlUla is so beautiful. You can’t compete with it. So I wanted something that would basically separate you from the environment; something with walls, so you don’t know what’s around you and you can basically listen to the environment — to silence. 

I have this fascination with history and heritage. There are these very interesting structures around the north west of Saudi and the south of Jordan: desert kites. The first time they discovered them was, I think, during World War Two. They were flying over them. You only can see them from above. And I wondered what their purpose was. Some people say that they’re prehistoric animal traps from thousands of years ago, so my intention was to create something telling that story, so that little blue-green object inside? That’s like the bait — food or water. That makes the animal go inside. Then they’re trapped. And inside the sculpture (on the walls) are a lot of mythical animals: the Medusa, the eagle, the Sphinx — and they’re all trapped in there too. And inside you can sit and actually listen to silence, which is very unusual in a place that is open like that. It’s very interesting. 

One thing I really liked with this work was people’s interpretation of it. A lot of people said it looked like a keyhole — so it was the key to another culture or civilization; or it was the key between the sky and the Earth. I liked how people became their own curator. I’m happy to have people interpret my work the way they see it — as long as they get something out of it.  

‘Window’ 

This was for my project “The Red Palace.” It’s one of my dearest projects. It made me comfortable with what I’m doing. This was my first real installation work, and my first time really doing something conceptual — almost like theater. And it was my first project with the Hausa artisans. And it’s dear to me because it’s a building I was really inspired by — I always used to walk past it as a kid and I always loved it. It defined architecture in Riyadh and it’s central to the history of Saudi Arabia, whether as a royal palace or as a government building. Everything from the Forties or Fifties to the Nineties was run from that palace.  

The whole idea started with Diriyah Season. They wanted to do an exhibition, and I had this idea of doing a performance called “The Royal Dinner.” During that time, King Saud had three chefs, and they’d have a set menu. People think that, in Saudi Arabia at that time, it was all Bedouin. But no, we had sophistication. But nobody talks about it, and it’s not in in books. So I wanted to recreate this royal banquet to celebrate those behind the scenes; the labor that people don’t know about. I submitted this idea to the Ministry of Culture, and they approved it. So then I went and visited the palace, and I was like, “OK, this is much bigger than my idea, why don’t we expand it?” So we did a lot more, including “Window,” which has actually now been acquired by the Guggenheim Abu Dhabi. It’s another dear work to me, because each window was reclaimed from a region of the Kingdom. And it’s backlit, so it shows you how beautiful it would feel to be in those houses with those windows. And it unifies all the regions into one. Like a lot of my work, it’s also nostalgic. When you see those windows, you think back: “Oh, I remember the time when we were kids and playing here and there.”  

‘Trust’ 

These chairs were thrones for my “Red Palace” project. When I was looking into doing some beaded work — I wanted to do something in Africa, generally — I didn’t know how to get a contact. I saw I had an Instagram follower from Nigeria. I had no idea who she was. I just DM’d her, and asked if she knew anyone who could make beading work in Nigeria. She said she didn’t, but she could look into it. And she found someone. I showed them what I wanted to do — this was for “The Red Palace” — and while I was doing that, she messaged me and said: ‘Can I ask you a question? Why did you trust me to do this?’ I said, ‘Well, if you want something done, you have to trust someone.” Otherwise I’d have to have travelled myself, you know? When I told the curator this story, she said, “We have to call that piece ‘Trust.’” Because that’s what it was based on. This collaborative work we did, with workmanship like this, they don’t know how to create something new; they just work on what they know — they bead chairs traditionally. I needed to see if they could do it the way I wanted it to be. But that first collaboration led to a lot of other pieces, because they were open to the idea of doing it in a different form. That’s where the trust came from.  

‘Masallaci’ 

This work is very dear to me. It’s a giving-back-to-the-community work. It’s a beautiful story. During the time when I was doing “The Red Palace” and “Trust,” the Hausa people that were working with me, they work in a village next to Abuja in Nigeria. When they have work, they travel there from their villages and they rent part of the place they’re working in for accommodation. I asked them where they prayed. It kind of made me feel like responsible, like I needed to support the community that was working for me. So, I asked them to decorate part of the place they were working in as a mosque — in their own way, their own traditions, their own language; the writing you see is the Hausa language, not Arabic — in exchange for me renting the space for them, to pray and live and work, for a whole year. Everything inside the mosque is beaded, except the floor. Even the furniture. And they sent a turban for me — you can see it in the picture, a little white turban. The imam of the mosque in Nigeria wears this turban, so this was their gift for me. It’s one of my favorite works. And it was really a collaboration; they designed it themselves, I just gave them the idea. 

‘Laser’ 

This project was called “GWPOW” — which stands for Gulf War Prisoners of War. It’s about the Gulf War, but it’s also relevant to what’s happening now in Gaza. It’s about how life is stolen from kids who become soldiers when they’re supposed to be playing and living. They don’t take the decision, somebody else does.  

I was 19 during the first Gulf War. I wanted to volunteer but I couldn’t, because of my injuries — I’d just had my second knee surgery. So I ended up volunteering as a translator. I went and saw the prisoners of war. Some of them were younger than me. They were, like, 16. They didn’t know what they were fighting for. They were just pushed into the war.  

So this project was about the war, but it’s also thinking about those kids. They were supposed to be playing, not fighting. So I was thinking, ‘How can I portray those kids living during that time, in the desert, waiting to fight or to be killed?’ So this project became, like, a playroom for grownups. A recreation center in a war zone — everything is kind of childish. This is one of maybe six paintings I did as part of it, along with beaded works. It’s a pencil drawing, but there’s some collage on it, and some abstract painting, and some ink, so it’s mixed media. So the guy holding the lightsaber, that helmet looks like Darth Vader, but it’s not. It’s the helmet of Saddam Hussein’s Fedayeen corps. And I imagined these kids thinking of being a superhero.  

‘Possession’ 

I saw these people at the Prophet’s Mosque in Madinah. At certain times they open it for women, and they allow people to go privately. I was there with my mom and my family and there were screens, and there were these ladies touching the screens. And to me, it felt like, for them, they were in the highest stage of being possessed by religion, in a good way. Feeling invulnerable. They felt like they are connecting with the Prophet. I mean, I don’t know what it meant to them. I don’t know why they were doing it, but it felt so passionate. And it touched me. I felt like, if it gives them satisfaction, let them do it. It felt surreal to me — but I felt their passion.  

‘Once Was A Ruler’ 

This is a combination of different antiquities that were in the National Museum. I was working there at the time. I wanted to talk about something that is taboo. A lot of people think that these pieces are statues of gods. That’s why they’re hidden away. But at that time, these civilizations were not making big sculptures of their gods, they were making them of themselves. They were a sign of power. So I made it look like an X-ray, and I put human bones on it to show that they are human. They were once a ruler, yes, but a person, not a god.  

‘R III’ 

“R III” means Ramses the Third. I did this in Egypt, at the Pyramids of Giza. Like with AlUla, this is a place I am in awe of. Like, I can’t compete with nature or with history, so I tried to work with it, complementing the place without actually trying to put my force or my creative energy in it. I was humbled in these places. So, I can’t compete with the Pyramids, but I tried to make something inspired by them. When you look at it from above, you see it has the seal of Ramses the Third. That seal has been found near AlUla, and that means he was probably there — not for fighting, but probably exploring, looking for copper or something — because the pharaohs wouldn’t usually let their seals be carried by others. So I wanted to show this bridge between Ancient Egypt and Saudi Arabia.