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2024

Mixed media installation; reclaimed dead trees, dried flowers, naturally dyed textiles, 
volcanic rocks and ceramics, (3m x 5m), developed during the MMAG artist-in-residence.

Presented at Lives Orbit in Mourning, MMAG (2024) and
Inside the Belly of the Beast, Durjoy Bangladesh Foundation (2025).



“ I had hoped this day would never come, but here I am. I am your shadow, your resistance, your complicity, your guilt, your rage, your grief, your monster, the trees, the rocks and the flowers. I have eyes too, I saw what they did. Do not be afraid of me. I am here to remind you that your rage is sacred, your shadow is love, and love is resistance.

Even when they cut down my flowers or trees, my children, my men, my women, I will grow back in threes… “






THIL is an iterative body of work that began during my residency at MMAG. Surrounded by grief—both from the genocide and my own personal battles—while simultaneously experiencing the profound return to my homeland after nearly a decade away, I found myself caught between adjusting to new concepts of time and research. I was in search of acts of resistance in my daily life- and dismantling any ties I had to a Gregorian calendar and anything that did not originate from these lands.

In March 2024, at the onset of my residency, I spent weekends traveling across Jordan. This was an act of return, but also a way to reconnect with the wild flora and fauna of the land. The intensity and beauty of spring felt almost ironic- how could it be so stunning, while there was so much grief, violence, famine and death in the air? In nature, I sought answers to the questions that seemed unanswerable in the human world. I turned to the liminal moments of the season, invasive plants, and seasonal fruits, seeing them as bearers of knowledge.

Alongside this, I looked to regional mythology, the Holy Quran, and imagination—not just as sources of hope, but as frameworks to consider their relevance against the backdrop of immense suffering.

In my artistic practice, I surrendered to what I had previously resisted, working intuitively and without the frameworks that had once constrained me. Each day at the studio, I began by drawing on a scroll, hiding it away, and continuing the following day. This 10-month process, akin to an Exquisite Corpse game, became the blueprint for Thil. As the drawings unfolded, I began to see their connection to the myths I was exploring and the natural environments I was immersing myself in.

At the same time, I became fascinated by shadow narratives embodied by communities of resistance—and by the shadow within myself. I began to accept my own shadow, to feed and nurture it. No longer shaming myself for my anger, I recognized how sacred and necessary rage could be.



I owe much of the form this work has taken to two fellow artists-in-residence. Waed Khaled, a painter, saw my scroll—something I typically kept hidden during studio visits. With her, I felt less vulnerable and more courageous to unravel it. She encouraged me to translate these drawings into a body of work on naturally dyed textiles, lending a sense of permanence and bringing the work closer to the surface that felt most aligned with my practice.

Abdullah Al-Assadi, through a workshop, invited us to work with dead trees native to the land. It was not my first time working with trees, but I had resisted using them in their natural form. However, when I placed one of my textile drawings onto a tree branch, it immediately came to life, taking on shape and meaning.

As the news grew darker and more hopeless, my faith in humanity waned. I began to feel that nature itself was bearing witness to us in disgust. This feeling fueled a narrative in my mind, leading me to imagine what it might be like if الأرض تنشق وتبلعنا—an Arabic phrase meaning “may the earth split and swallow us all.”

Thil is an embodiment of grief, sorrow, resistance, anger, and hope. It is an assemblage of natural elements—volcanic rocks, remnants of invasive and native tree branches, dried flowers—collected throughout my travels, all enveloped in the textile drawings. Installed against the windows of MMAG, Thil’s scale is overwhelming; its fragility and ghost-like form make it feel both light and heavy, as though suspended between worlds.

In its next iteration, Inside the Belly of the Beast, Thil will travel to Durjoy Bangladesh Foundation in Dhaka. There, I will present a menu of foods that expand Thil’s narrative. Bangladesh, my motherland, has undergone its own stages of liberation and the dismantling of oppression. The culinary research I am undertaking seeks to bridge the foods of the Arab world and the subcontinent, with a focus on wild and indigenous plants. Thil will be installed in such a way that allows guests to sit within its guts and belly, immersing themselves fully in the multiple dimensions of this complex work.

PROCESS













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