Category: curation

Posted in 2025-2026, curation, Visit

Macklean and Kleeman

Posted on by KM

Went to visit FACT today. Jonathan recommended this exhibition by Rachel Maclean. I had heard of Rachel Maclean a long time ago, but then completely forgot about her, maybe because I had only experienced her work through Instagram. But seeing the work in person was completely different, a much deeper and more powerful experience.

It was incredible. The story, the switching between the screens and the lights, the sculptures, and the sound all made you feel part of the installation. Moving from one room to another, following sounds and light, your whole body became involved. Everything asked you to stay alert because you did not want to miss anything. I’m so grateful for this experience. It made me realise how much difference there is when you experience an artist’s work in person, and also how much curation and installation can add to the work itself. You are building an experience, not just showing a piece of work.

Macklean at FACT 2026

After that I went to work, and on my way home I stopped by the Walker Art Gallery. It was the last hour before the Walker closed, so I went to see the new group exhibition called Gender Stories, especially to see Charlie Kleeman. Charlie took part in The Right Map exhibitions and made large installations in the Port Sunlight stables. Last week they texted me saying they were coming to Liverpool, then we met after they had finished installing their work.. Charlie told me they had been invited to take part because one of the curators saw their work at The Right Map, last year.

Kleeman installation at Port Sunlight’s Stable 2025

I felt so proud and happy! Charlie lives in Glasgow, and the only time they had come to Liverpool before was last year for The Right Map. Charlie took part through Rory Macbeth. We did not know each other before then. I loved their work immediately, it’s so cool and unusual. What makes me happiest is that, through the exhibitions I organised last year, I did not just make connections and learn how to create a small programme, but that some artists also benefited from that experience afterwards, like Charlie.

At the Walker Gallery 2026

This also made me think about something Jonathan has mentioned many times. A curator might see your work and then, after months or even years, contact you because they remembered and liked it. Having an easy way to contact artists and keeping your work updated and visible is really important.

And finally, in the same room, I noticed three teapots from different times and places, each made by different artists and each carrying a different story. What I loved was that they all had a connection to women, either made by women or telling stories about women. I loved them so much, and they made me love my new teapot even more, because now I realise this isn’t the first time a woman has wanted to tell a story through a teapot!

Posted in 2025-2026, Colonial history, curation, Exhibitions, Reading, Reflection, Research

Coding Spaces and Archipelagic Thinking 

Posted on by KM

Yesterday we had an interesting discussion about coding exhibition spaces and curating. Jonathan shared some texts by Edouard Glissant and his ideas about continental and archipelagic thinking. We discussed global dialogue, where cultures meet and exchange with one another, and how these ideas could be applied within curating. We also questioned the difference between algorithmic and human curating.

My mind felt crowded with thoughts, words clashing against one another. Writing about it helped me untangle those ideas and find the right words..

So,

1- Continental and Archipelagic Thinking

First, I did not know about Edouard Glissant until Jonathan mentioned him. Before writing this, I did some research and discovered that Glissant attended the same school as Fanon during a similar period. I also found that Glissant was influenced by Aimé Césaire, the poet and politician who held important political positions in Martinique and was one of the founders of the Négritude movement.

What I found strange, however, was the name of the capital, Fort-de-France. The name feels heavily colonial and military in origin, and it made me question how much it represents the mixture and complexity of Caribbean identity that Glissant writes about. If Caribbean identity is shaped through creolisation, relation, and cultural mixture, why do many places still carry the language and structures of colonial power?

Returning to Glissant’s theory, it can sound idealistic unless we also discuss unequal power structures. What happens when one culture dominates the exchange? And who is speaking for whom?

I believe archipelagic thinking requires a degree of equality in power, position, and knowledge in order for genuine exchange to happen. People need to feel safe and respected enough to welcome openness, relation, and dialogue.

At times, I feel that Glissant’s ideas emerge from a context where it is easier to imagine archipelagic relationships, islands existing beside one another, sharing histories of colonialism, displacement, and struggle. However, in reality, relationships between places are rarely equal. If one nation or culture has greater resources, political influence, or economic power, it will inevitably shape the exchange more strongly than the other. Examples such as the UK and Ireland or Indonesia and the Philippines show how unequal power can influence cultural dialogue.

Because of this, I believe there is a responsibility not only to be welcoming and open, but also to avoid placing ourselves in vulnerable positions through a lack of knowledge, experience, or access. On a larger scale, this relates to power, science, dignity, and human rights. Without awareness, exchange can easily become influence or control by those who already hold authority.

How can this be applied to curating? For me, curating should involve both knowledge and empowerment. The curator should develop enough understanding and experience to support the work responsibly, while also empowering artists and contributors so that exchange becomes mutual rather than hierarchical. True dialogue cannot happen when one side only gives and the other only receives.

2- Algorithms and Human Curating

When thinking about algorithms and human curating, I believe that even AI is ultimately shaped by humans. Algorithms are built from data that is created, selected, and controlled by people, often within commercial or business systems. Because of this, algorithms tend to respond to behaviour patterns and visual preferences rather than deeper emotional or ethical understanding.

Algorithms are designed to please, predict, and reinforce engagement. They often agree with existing behaviours rather than challenge them, unless introducing something new becomes commercially useful. They cannot fully understand emotional complexity, vulnerability, or the human condition in a particular moment.

Human curators, however, allow space for emotion, ethics, care, and mistakes. Whether curating an exhibition, a book, a workshop, or a conversation, human curation carries sensitivity toward people and context. At the same time, curating also reflects the organisers themselves, their intentions, politics, feelings, and what they want to communicate through the work.

Curators are often the first audience to encounter an artwork, and that first encounter is important for both the artist and the curator. Curatorial work therefore carries significant responsibility. However, I believe curating should happen alongside the artist and the artwork, not over them. Also, it’s important to first experience the artwork on its own terms before being influenced by the artist’s explanation, while still maintaining a respectful and collaborative relationship.

Reflecting on all of this takes me back through the journey of the last two years, curating spaces, books, workshops, and even this blog. Technology has an important role in making processes easier, but humans still carry the responsibility of shaping narratives and telling stories.

Finally, archipelagic thinking may be an attempt to create ethical relations despite unequal histories and structures. And, from a curatorial perspective, curators must consider the needs of the artwork, including care, health and safety, protection, and the conditions the work requires within a space. Exchange between curator and artist is essential, because curators cannot exist without artists and contributors!

Posted in 2025-2026, collaboration, curation, Project, Social Sculpture

Iftar as Social Sculpture

Posted on by KM

Last year I was invited to organise a community iftar a few months after the Southport attack and the rise of far right protests. I accepted immediately, but I kept the first event simple. It felt important to move carefully. After it went well, we decided to make it a regular gathering that people in the community could expect and look forward to.

This year the project developed in three connected parts. The first was a shared reading session on the second day of Ramadan ( check previous post). The second was an anti racism cooking workshop. The third was a collective iftar meal at the library where around forty people gathered to break the fast together.

For the cooking session I invited an Iranian chef to lead a workshop where we prepared a vegetable curry. Participants from the Kitchen Library, mostly local English speaking volunteers, joined colleagues and other volunteers. People cooked together, shared food, and stayed to talk before leaving. Later that day I prepared small blessing cards for the following evening.

The next day my colleague Niamh, artist and producer for the Kitchen Library, and I went shopping for ingredients and refreshments. Back at the library we started preparing the meal. Niamh made stuffed dates for dessert. I cooked a vegan curry and bulgur while Greg and Joe helped with preparation and logistics. At the same time we rearranged the library space so it felt less like an institutional environment and more like a shared domestic space.

By the time the guests arrived everything was ready. Before breaking the fast I welcomed everyone and spoke briefly about Ramadan. I also shared this small story:

Recently I called my sister to ask how the first day of Ramadan had gone. She told me that her youngest daughter 4 yrs old  saw the dinner table prepared and suddenly asked “Where is he?” They asked, “Who?”.. She replied, “Ramadan! Everything is ready.. Why hasn’t he arrived?” 

For my niece, Ramadan was not an abstract period of time..it was a guest expected at the table!

In many ways this reflects how the month is often experienced. People prepare for it, welcome it, and look forward to its arrival. In Arabic we say Ahlan Ramadan. The phrase comes from Ahlan wa sahlan ( أهلا وسهلاً) which has been used to welcome guests in Arabic culture for centuries.

It is often translated as “welcome”, but the meaning is deeper. Ahlan comes from ahl (أهل) meaning family. It suggests that the guest is not a stranger but someone among their own people. Sahlan comes from (سهل)sahl, meaning ease or smooth ground. It suggests that the path between host and guest should be easy and open. Together the phrase expresses a form of hospitality that goes beyond politeness. It means you belong here and this space is open to you. Another common greeting is (مرحبا)marhaban. The word comes from (رحب) rahb, meaning wide or spacious. It also suggests openness and generosity. After sharing this, I invited people to say “welcome” in their own languages. We heard it in Chinese, Dari, Farsi, Urdu, German, Norwegian, and Portuguese. This small moment helped set the tone for the evening.

Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic lunar calendar, and fasting during this month is one of the five pillars of Islam. From before sunrise until sunset, Muslims do not eat or drink.. They also avoid smoking and intimacy. Not everyone fasts, children, people who are ill, elderly people, pregnant or breastfeeding women, women during menstruation, and travellers are exempt.

The fast is usually broken with dates and water. After a long day without food or drink the body returns to eating slowly. But fasting is not only about the body. It is also about awareness. It interrupts habits of consumption and invites reflection about what we need and what shapes our desires. Hunger changes how we feel and how we see the world. It makes the body more present, but it also reminds us of people who live with food insecurity every day. For a moment the difference between abundance and scarcity becomes more visible.. This can open space for empathy!

The project worked with the fragile conditions through which community is formed. Cooking, waiting, and breaking the fast together created a pause in everyday life. For a short time the library changed from an institutional space into a shared domestic space shaped by the people who were there. The iftar was not only an event. It became a temporary social form created through shared work, food, and conversation. Even small acts of welcome can change how a public space feels, even if only for a short time.

Posted in 2025-2026, collaboration, curation, Experiments, Motivations, Research, Social Sculpture, Visit

Free Workshops

Posted on by KM

Last Sunday, I spent a rewarding day with Ghost Art School and creatives from October Salon (a new collective in Preston led byHannah Browne). My aim was to organise a free workshops day, focused on sharing knowledge and skills without the need for materials or money. I offered an introductory session in British Sign Language (BSL), while Liverpool-based artists Tom Kelly and Tom Doubtfire generously shared aspects of their practices. Hannah provided the space in Preston, making the event possible through collaboration rather than institutional support.

The day had several clear intentions. Firstly, I wanted to gather with peers and begin the year in a meaningful, collaborative way, learning together and exchanging knowledge. Secondly, the event allowed us to engage with October Salon, an emerging creative group, and to demonstrate what can happen through collective artistic practice.

The programme began with Tom Doubtfire leading a discussion on the role of the artist and the relationship between art and activism. His reflections centred on disturbance, sustainability, sacrifice, and focus. The group discussed what it means for art to be disturbing, what sustainable practice might look like, how much we are willing to sacrifice and the importance of setting limits, also how to remain focused on our aims.

This was followed by my one-hour introduction to BSL. My motivation for teaching BSL stems from both personal conviction and historical awareness. The language was banned in the United Kingdom between 1880 and 1970, and despite its cultural and social importance, it still receives limited funding in education. BSL was officially recognised as a language in 2003 and granted legal status in 2022, yet it is still not included in the GCSE curriculum. In this context, teaching BSL freely can be understood as a quiet form of activism! Challenging ableism, questioning unequal access to culture, and sharing knowledge rather than gatekeeping it.

BSL is also highly visual and expressive, connecting strongly with creative disciplines. It can influence performance, filmmaking, choreography, and storytelling, functioning not only as a language but also as an artistic medium. More broadly, offering knowledge without payment can be seen as a response to the increasing commercialisation of the arts. It reminds us that generosity and collective growth still hold value.

The day concluded with a workshop led by Tom Kelly, which provided a joyful ending. His approach to clowning demonstrated that it’s not simply about being silly, but about exploring human emotions through humour and vulnerability. Through simple games and spontaneous interaction, the group communicated naturally, without preparation. There was a strong sense of care, kindness, and mutual respect among participants.

The structure of the day loosely echoed Joseph Beuys’ idea of the Free International University, an artist-led model of education independent from institutions and grounded in dialogue and shared learning. By offering knowledge freely and prioritising exchange over production, the gathering became less about outcomes and more about shaping a temporary community through participation.

For me, the impact of this day was more meaningful than any individual artwork I’ve made recently. It highlighted the importance of shared time, laughter, and informal learning within creative communities. It felt like an encouraging and significant beginning for the group, grounded in connection rather than productivity alone

Posted in 2025-2026, collaboration, curation, Project, Research, Social Sculpture

Wedding At The Library

Posted on by KM
12/12/2025

This month I co produced a Sudanese wedding ceremony at the library. The work used a familiar civic space to hold a cultural practice that is usually private, celebratory and communal, placing it in dialogue with public life. While the process was challenging, it opened the library as a site of encounter rather than quiet consumption, attracting visitors who came not only to observe but to learn and witness together.

The project emerged from my fortnightly creative sessions at the library, which I facilitate with a group of participants to support newly arrived women and children to connect, settle in Bootle, make friendships and practise English through informal and collective activity. These sessions operate as a slow infrastructure of care rather than a fixed outcome. The wedding ceremony was not pre planned by me, but proposed by the Sudanese women themselves, who expressed a strong desire to share their wedding traditions.

My favourite clip shows a library visitor dancing at the back with a child

At a time when Sudan is experiencing profound political and humanitarian crisis, my role was not to represent suffering but to create conditions for self representation. Social sculpture, in this context, becomes an ethical practice of listening, redistribution of authorship and trust. Two women developed the idea of the ceremony, another joined to perform the pride ritual wearing traditional jewellery and clothing, while a Sudanese musician volunteered to provide live music. A young filmmaker offered to document the event, and participants brought desserts to share with guests. Each contribution shifted the work further away from individual authorship and towards collective agency.

The material and practical elements of the event were equally collaborative. My colleagues from the Kitchen Library, Niamh and Greg, cooked a Sudanese ful recipe alongside one of our Sudanese participant and other regular volunteers. In an earlier session, we made tealight candle holders specifically for the ceremony. A young native English speaker asked to help, so I invited her to lead a simple workshop using air dry clay. This gesture disrupted assumed roles of helper and helped, positioning participation as reciprocal rather than charitable.

The work required shared energy and care, particularly during a period when I was navigating significant personal challenges. It would not have been possible without collective support, especially from artist Joe Goff, who co produced the programme with me. Social sculpture here is not symbolic but logistical, emotional and temporal, shaped by availability, exhaustion and trust. It asks not what is produced, but how people are held, and what it means to be human here and elsewhere.

The audience reflected a wide range of cultural backgrounds, with many people wearing traditional dress. What continues to surprise me is that white, native visitors often attend these gatherings in greater numbers than people from the global majority. Their presence is marked by curiosity and attentiveness, contradicting dominant narratives that frame cultural difference as a threat. The work quietly resists fear by offering proximity, time and shared experience rather than explanation.

This approach connects to last year Iranian celebration I produced at the library during a period of heightened political tension. Food prepared by an Iranian participant and an Iranian chef, including vegan rice and saffron pudding, was shared alongside music. Ceramic coasters I had made and later decorated by women and children were placed on the tables, functioning as both objects and traces of process. 

The music and dancing marked the most memorable moment at the end of the event. The shared rhythms of Iranian, Kurdish and Afghan cultures brought people together to dance, filling the space as others looked on with quiet admiration.

Visitors, including people from the Afghan Refugee Centre and staff from Sefton Council, expressed gratitude for the experience, not as an act of hospitality delivered to them, but as a moment of living!Within my MA research, these projects operate as social sculptures that prioritise relational labour, slowness and care. They resist spectacle and instead test how public institutions can temporarily become spaces where people are not spoken about, but speak, host and shape meaning themselves.

12/12/2024
Posted in 2025-2026, curation, Exhibitions, Experiments, Project, Reflection, Research, Social Sculpture

Last Reflection on The Right Map

Posted on by KM

As I write this final reflection on The Right Map, I can see how many threads hold this project together. There is the community garden that Tom Doubtfire leads with steady optimism. There is the fundraiser that Tom and I organised as members of Ghost Art School, with generous support in kind from The Bakery in Liverpool. And there is the final day itself, which happened only because of the effort and kindness shown by Rory Macbeth, there was no funding and no safety net, there were only people who care and people who give far more than anyone could fairly expect.

The Community Garden

The garden at the old social club-Kensington was meant to be a shared space, a place for people to grow food, spend time, and reclaim something green together. We cleaned it again and again. We cleared rubbish, made plans and planted possibilities… Yet there were days when I felt defeated. Rubbish would reappear as soon as we removed it.. Things were stolen! Many times it felt as if the effort was swallowed by indifference!

But Tom is different.. He keeps turning up with a sense of commitment that is both hopeful and stubborn. He holds a belief in slow change that I respect deeply and I’ll continue to support him, not only as a friend but as an artist I respect.

Fundraising as a Collective Gesture

The fundraiser at The Bakery was a small moment when collective energy came together. With the help of visitors, friends, and many acts of generosity, we raised £300 for Thamara Organisation.

The rooms held an installation by Tom D, inspired by the community garden. There were drawings made by children in previous workshops Tom led. There were my political ceramics. There was a tiny painting by Tom Kelly, fixed to a huge blob of blue tack. There were paintings prints by Alison Reid.

And from food sales and prints and T shirts that I printed, some showing the map of Palestine and others carrying the Ghost Art School logo designed by Rory Macbeth, along with extra donations, the amount slowly gathered. It felt modest, but it carried meaning. It was a gesture of care that reflected the spirit of The Right Map.

The Final Day: Unstable 4 

The final day of The Right Map was full of beautiful chaos.. I was working in other side at Crosby Library until the afternoon for a Liverpool Biennial event with the collective DARCH, so I arrived with no time to prepare anything special. Once again it was Rory who brought the day to a close and who held everything together with calmness and capability. I will not forget the amazing large carousel installation by Marie-Sofie Braune, who is now doing an MFA at CSM. It arrived from Germany and was too large to ship at a reasonable cost, so Rory travelled to deliver it and installed it.

As Rory described it, the event became:“Unstable 4. The final event of Unstable at Port Sunlight fully embraced instability. A broken fever dream of a fairground carousel, a car trying to get into the gallery while playing dislocated tape loops, surplus images spat out of a machine, surplus films looping, noise performed, letters to the moon, records playing off centre, photographic sculptures hiding in half light, one to one performances in a tent.”

Somehow all of this disorder made sense. It was the right ending to a project that was never about polish but about presence. It showed what happens when artists, friends, and communities choose to take action even when resources are limited, even when schedules do not match, and even when the project is held together by human effort rather than funding.

Finally, The Right Map did not map places. It mapped relationships, labour, generosity, frustration, and persistence. It mapped the hidden work that supports community spaces and the unstability that becomes a creative method rather than a barrier.

The Right Map artists: Alison Reid, Alma Stritt, Charli Kleeman, Chelsea Johnson, Chris Roberts, Colm Moore, Conner Browne, Cos Ahmet, Danielle Freakley, David W Hicks, Eleanor Capstick, Finn Roberts, Gary Finnegan, Gwendolin Kircali, Halyna Maystrenko-Grant, Hannah Browne, Harriet Morley, Igor Prato Luna, Jasmir Creed, Jessica Crowe, Karema Munassar, Lily Patricija, Mai Sanchez, Marie-Sofie Braune, Molly Lindsay, Molly Mousdell, Phoebe Thomas, Priya Foster, Ritu Arya, Rory Macbeth, Sonic Relics, Theodora Koumbouzis, Tom Doubtfire, Tom Kelly, Valentina Passerini, and Xueying Zhang 

Posted in 2025-2026, collaboration, curation, Project, Reflection, Social Sculpture

Tablecloth for a Feast at the Library

Posted on by KM

In the summer, I coated large pieces of fabric (a single bed sheet) with a light sensitive solution and left them to dry in a dark room. After a few days, I invited participants from a group of women and children to a cyanotype workshop. We used plants and flowers collected during the library’s foraging sessions led by Kitchen Library artists George Herbert and Niamh Riordan, and artist in residence Hannah Fincham, linking our work directly to the local environment.

When the fabric was laid out under the sun, the women and children carefully arranged the plants, holding them down with stones and found objects. Leaves, stems and other gathered items became areas of negative space, and the sunlight painted around them. After rinsing the fabric in water, deep blues emerged, revealing the delicate silhouettes of each plant. For many in the group, particularly those who had recently arrived in the UK, this process offered something simple and grounding. Cyanotype is slow and gentle. It does not require previous artistic training or a shared language… The sun does most of the work!

In a second workshop, we returned to the dried and cured cyanotype cloth, now covered with ghostly plant impressions. The women and volunteers stitched messages into the fabric, simple words that carried enormous emotional weight such as Love, Welcome, Root, We Are Here, along with others that expressed hope and belonging. These stitched messages felt like offerings, small acts of care placed directly into the surface of a communal object that would later host a shared meal. For many of the refugee participants, displacement, uncertainty and cultural disconnection are part of daily life. Embroidery, however, is familiar across so many cultures. Hands know how to hold fabric, how to push a needle through, how to make a mark that lasts.

Finally, last week on Friday night we had a feast in Bootle Library. The tablecloth ran along the length of one of the tables reserved for my group. It carried the plants of Sefton, the light of our summer workshops, and the stitched words of women and children who are rebuilding their lives. Seeing it in place, surrounded by food, conversation and the warm buzz of At the Library’s artists and team, was profoundly moving. I wanted to reflect on it because it is so connected to my social sculpture research and my own practice. I felt it reflected much of what we do at the library and echoed what Jonathan taught us last week about Contact Zones. The library is, for me, the clearest physical Contact Zone.

Working alongside colleagues, each contributing their own talent and care, reminded me how these projects are held in harmony by many hands. The feast was not about showcasing artwork, it was about celebrating community, connection and the slow work of building trust through creativity. The feast project by the Kitchen Library feels to me like a multilayered social sculpture. It unfolded across different times, places and relationships. Each layer held a different group of people including colleagues, refugee women, children and artists in residence, and each contributed something unique such as their labour, their stories, their presence and their materials.

The tablecloth project deepened my understanding of social sculpture and care through art. More importantly, in a time when many communities are fractured, the involvement of refugee women and children revealed how creativity can bring us together, even if only for a moment. The tablecloth is only one visible layer. Beneath it lies the invisible sculpture of conversations, gestures, learning, trust building, cultural exchange and the shared act of preparing for a communal feast. All of these intangible elements shaped the social form just as much as the physical cloth.

Posted in 2025-2026, collaboration, curation, Exhibitions, Project, Reflection, Research, Social Sculpture

Account Not Recognised- Reflection of The Right Map

Posted on by KM

Account Not Recognised at Birch in June was part of The Right Map programme by Ghost Art School. The exhibition took place in the Hamilton building, which was once a bank. This setting shaped my thinking about the title and the idea of value, exchange and belonging. The phrase Account Not Recognised came from my digital text piece and reflected both a technical error and a human condition. It suggested exclusion, misunderstanding and the unstable ways in which identities and actions are acknowledged or denied.

Co- curating this show was a process of collaboration and care. We wanted to create a space that could hold protest and rest, activism and absurdity, humour and exhaustion. The title Account Not Recognised came from the familiar digital message, but in this context it became about being unseen or misread, and about the tensions between visibility and erasure.

My own contributions included a pillow, a fragment of wall text and a digital LED display. The pillow was printed with an image found online showing a crowded boat of migrants at sea, overlaid with a pixelated speech bubble saying “HELLO”. It appeared soft and domestic, yet the image beneath disrupted that comfort. The LED panel displayed inverted scrolling red text Account Not Recognised and the wall text read “Dear Moon, The war has sto…” and referred to my Dear Moon project. It was a sentence left unfinished, a letter that could not be completed…

In the centre of the gallery stood a large boat containing soil and growing sunflowers. The boat came from the Kensington community garden project by Tom D and functioned as a living sculpture. It was both landlocked and adrift, a fragile symbol of movement, care and survival.

Other artists’ works brought further layers to the exhibition. Rory’s video showed a chicken foot strapped to his shoe, filmed during a protest in Russia on the second anniversary of the invasion of Ukraine. It was a quiet but powerful gesture that turned absurdity into endurance. Tom D’s photographs documented a Palestine Action protest at the Elbit Systems site in Oldham, where activists succeeded in stopping the production of weapons for the Israeli military. The red-stained facade of the building became both a wound and a mark of resistance.

Molly’s black and white drawings added a more abstract presence.. Lily’s film, projected inside a small metal alcove, appeared to be caught mid-edit, reflecting on itself as it played.

Two live performances took place on the opening night. Soop, by Hannah, Marie and Tom K, involved the audience in making a communal soup. It was messy, generous and unpredictable, reminding me of how collaboration relies on trust as well as misunderstanding. Xueying Zhang’s performance with her collaborator involved holding a cardboard pole between their bodies while slapping each other. It expressed the tension between cooperation and conflict, both intimate and absurd.

The work here whether documentary, performative or digital, asked what it means to be recognised and what is lost or gained in that process. It confirmed my interest in social sculpture and the politics of communication.

Finally, recognition is never simple or complete, yet within its uncertainty there is always room for empathy..

Posted in 2025-2026, collaboration, curation, Exhibitions, Reflection, Writing

The Right Map-reflection: Writing on CBS Hands’ Box

Posted on by KM

I wrote this piece after meeting a stranger at the garden, young woman and her friend. I was with my friends at an abandoned garden space, helping a friend artist Tom Doubtfire who was turning it into a community garden. We planted flowers and vegetables, cleaned the area many times, and removed piles of rubbish, even though people kept throwing more and using the space at night for drug dealing.

It is sad to see that, but also inspiring to witness how a group of artists continues to work with hope and determination to make a tangible difference. This is what I believe social sculpture truly means, making change through collective effort and care.

The piece was first written in Arabic and then translated into English as a note to myself. Later, I decided to include it in my Hands Box sculpture, inviting others to add their own words if they feel moved to do so.

I will share more about the community garden and the legend Tom Doubtfire in another post.

Kate ..

في تلك اللحظة شعرت بعجزٍ تام عن التعبير. كانت العيون وحدها تتحدث بلا انقطاع، وكأنها تفرّ من الكلام عن ذلك الذي يخيم بيننا، كأنه شبح خفي. كانت عيناها تخفيان أسرارًا كثيرة، وكنت أتجنب التحديق فيهما، إذ كلما التقت نظراتنا، راودتني رغبة ملحّة في أن أقول ما هو جوهري: “أنا قلقة عليكِ… أنتِ بحاجة إلى المساعدة، ويبدو أنك لست بخير.”

لكن عينيها كانتا تقولان بصمت: “ليس الآن”، بينما لسانها انشغل بسرد قصص عن بطولات إنقاذ الحيوانات وحب النباتات. كنت أودّ أن أخبرها بأنني أرى نقاء قلبها، لكن الكلام بدا بلا جدوى، فقد بدت شبه غائبة عن الوعي. ما كان مهمًّا آنذاك هو أن تواصل الحديث ونحن نصغي، إذ كانت تحتاج لمن يسمعها في تلك اللحظة تحديدًا.

راحت مشاعر الحزن تطوّقني، وبدأت أتحرّك مضطربة بين اليمين واليسار، بينما هي تُصرّ على ألا تُبعد عينيها عني. اجتاحني ارتباك، فابتسمت وضحكت، دون أن أدري كيف أسيطر على كل ما كان يعتمل بداخلي.

كان الحرف الأول من اسمها هو ذاته الحرف الأول من اسمي، وكانت آثار الجروح واضحة على جسدها النحيل. كانت برفقة صديق بدا هو الآخر بحاجة إلى العون…

عانقت الجميع قبل أن ترحل، ووعدت بأنها ستعود في الغد حاملةً معها بعض الأزهار.

لم أكن وحدي في ذلك المكان، بل كنت بين أناس أعزّهم كثيرًا؛ أناسٍ كلما اقتربت منهم، رغبت لو أختبئ خلفهم ولا أبالي بشيء…

In that moment, I felt utterly incapable of expressing myself. Only our eyes kept speaking incessantly, as though fleeing from acknowledging what loomed between us, a hidden ghost. Her eyes concealed many secrets, and I avoided staring into them, for each time our gazes met, I was seized by an urgent desire to say what truly mattered: “I’m worried about you… You need help, and it seems you’re not okay.”

But her eyes silently replied, “Not now,” while her tongue busied itself with tales of heroic rescues of animals and a love for plants. I longed to tell her that I saw the goodness in her heart, but words felt futile, as she seemed almost absent, barely conscious. What truly mattered then was for her to keep speaking, while we simply listened, she needed someone to hear her in that very moment.

A wave of sorrow surrounded me, and I began pacing back and forth, while she insisted on keeping her eyes fixed on mine. I felt overwhelmed, smiling and laughing without knowing how to contain the turmoil raging inside me.

The first letter of her name was the same as the first letter of mine, and marks of wounds were visible on her frail body. She was accompanied by a friend who also seemed in need of help… She hugged everyone before leaving, promising she would return the next day, bringing some flowers with her.

I was not alone in that place, I was surrounded by people I hold very dear, people whose closeness makes me wish I could hide behind them and care about nothing else…

Posted in 2025-2026, collaboration, curation, Exhibitions, Reflection

Invigilator X Artist

Posted on by KM

Someone: Should artists invigilate their own exhibition?

Me: Absolutely not!

We finally opened our first exhibition Unstable #1 on the festival’s opening day 7th of June . The works were powerful, the team was wonderful, and I learned so much from them. I remain deeply grateful to everyone who came, especially my tutor Jonathan. The exhibition brought together artists from Liverpool, London, Glasgow, Germany, and even as far as Australia.

But despite the excitement, I had a difficult experience when I volunteered to invigilate for a day. The Biennial was short of volunteers, and I wanted to help. Yet what I found most challenging was being present in front of my own work: the Sykes–Picot plates, left exactly as they had been on opening night, still holding the crumbs of cake.

When visitors arrived, I would usually begin by introducing the other artists’ works, one by one. I avoided starting with my own. I didn’t present myself as “the artist” but as someone available to guide, to answer questions. I wanted to hear honest responses without the filter of politeness.

Two moments unsettled this:

– First, a group of visitors stopped at my work, were deeply moved, and immediately linked it to what is happening in Gaza. They asked questions, spoke at length, and even wanted a photo of me with the piece.

– Then, two other visitors became emotional as we discussed the history of Sykes–Picot. They spoke of the weariness of violence, of how exhausting it is to keep watching the news. One woman broke down in tears. I felt her exhaustion echo within me, though I tried to remain composed and gently encouraged her to look at the other works.

In those moments, I realised how much people need space to voice their rejection of violence and injustice. We all long for ways to speak out, to push against the weight of helplessness or guilt.. yet, after those encounters, I knew I couldn’t invigilate again. The conclusion was clear: invigilating is not for me.