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

The Right Map Reflection: Communication Through Hands

I showed a new work in the group exhibition Slip Stream at CBS Gallery 1st July , curated by Phoebe Thomas. The curatorial framework set us an unusual challenge: each artist was given a 50-word anonymous biography of another contributor. Without names, without identities, we had to respond to these fragments and create a work that became, in some way, a conversation.

My response was a sculpture that invited people to communicate through their hands. The idea began with a conversation I had with my tutor, Jonathan, about how deafblind people often use touch as their primary language. That image stayed with me, of words transformed into hand movements, of dialogue carried through the skin.

I worked with a carpenter to build a wooden structure, box-like and slightly absurd. In fact, he thought it was a lab project at first, not an artwork. It has two circular holes on each side, just large enough for a hand to slip through. Inside, participants could meet in the middle, fingertips searching for another human presence.

What unfolded was fascinating. Some people laughed, finding the whole set-up comical. Others hesitated, uncertain about the strangeness of touching an unseen hand. A few lingered, holding on quietly as though the box had suspended time and language. I loved how the responses varied, awkwardness, tenderness, curiosity, even vulnerability.

For me, the sculpture is about the fragility of communication. We take for granted the ease of speaking or looking, but when those channels are removed, what remains? What does it mean to reach out when you cannot see or hear the other person? In the gallery, the box became a stage for these encounters: funny, intimate, and unsettling all at once.

This work revealed something important about my practice. I often circle back to questions of language, misunderstanding, and how people find ways to connect across barriers. I came to see how even the simplest gestures can be at once symbolic and deeply tangible. In its awkwardness, the sculpture echoed the curatorial task we had taken on blindly, while also reflecting my interest in co-production: an exploration of indirect connection, partial knowledge, and the fragile space between concealment and encounter.

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

Invigilator X Artist

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.

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

The Right Map – My wild Summer 

For more than three months this year, my life was consumed by The Right Map. Coordinating and organising eight shows ( Unstable 1,2,3,4, Account, Account Not Recognised, Slip Stream and In Search of Swallow and Amazon show/fundraising event) across Liverpool was a huge undertaking logistically, emotionally, and artistically. It was intense work: curating, communicating with artists and collaborators, solving problems on the spot, and carrying the responsibility of holding so many different voices together in one programme.

During the summer, I couldn’t write about it.. The pace was too fast, the demands too many, and on top of that, family responsibilities and personal challenges were pulling me in different directions. I was tired, grateful, overwhelmed, and very often carrying mixed feelings that left little room for reflection.

Looking back, I see the full image: what worked, what I loved, what was difficult, and where I grew. Writing from this distance feels possible, even necessary. I realise that part of my practice is not only in the making or the showing but also in reflecting.

The Right Map reminded me of this: the gaps, the tensions and the silences were as important as the works themselves. The experience was more than making artworks. It was about what happens when we work together, recognising where we succeeded so we can carry that forward, and where things did not work so we can avoid them in the future.

In the next posts, I want to unpack some of the moments that stayed with me: the artworks that resonated deeply, the tensions that tested me, the negotiations and miscommunications that revealed the realities of working collectively, and the unexpected joys that reminded me why I do this work.

I needed time to arrive here. To allow the intensity to pass, and to feel ready to write. Now, I can see The Right Map not only as a demanding project but as a turning point in how I think about curation, collaboration, and care in my practice..

The Right Map was a series of exhibitions presented by Ghost Art School as part of the Independents Biennial. Emerging from the spirit of Ghost Art School, it celebrated artists who move between margins, who learn in the cracks, who map their own routes when none are given.

Here, the map was never fixed, drawn in gestures, erased by time, redrawn in conversation, in defiance, in care. The Right Map asked not where we are going, but how we move… and who gets to move with us.

The Right Map 36 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 Drawings, Exhibitions, Experiments, Project, Reflection, Writing

Crash Test

Earlier this month, a group of us, friends/artists gathered at Birch Studios & Gallery in Wirral, for a one-night experiment we called Crash Test. Half exhibition, half crit, half scratch night. Crash Test was a place to try things out, to test-drive new work and unfinished thoughts in a space where feedback was as valued as the visuals.

The idea was simple: set up something raw, something you’re unsure about, and invite others to respond. The name Crash Test seemed fitting, not just for its visual punch, but because it captured the risk, the speed, and the impact of trying something unpolished in public.

I brought along some child-like drawings, experimenting with simplicity, ambiguity, and humour. The feedback I received was encouraging, people connected with the looseness, the absurdity, and the layered messages behind the bright colours and crayon lines.

That said, for the upcoming Show ‘Unstable’ as part of the Independents Biennial, I want to develop something more dynamic and expansive, something less stable and more open-ended. I’m thinking of revisiting the Moon Litters idea. There’s something about the unpredictability of that work, the way it can shift and change over the exhibition’s duration that feels right for where I’m at now. It allows space for other voices, movements, and moments to enter.

My work 😬
Posted in Experiments, Moon, Project, Reflection, Research

Becoming an Audience to Our Own Work!

19 artists from across the country and beyond, working across different disciplines, were selected for Open Eye Gallery’s Socially Engaged Photography programme. The session began gently with an icebreaker to help us introduce ourselves and connect, opening into a space full of layered questions and open dialogue.

One phrase stayed with me: “Becoming an audience to your own work.” It’s the idea that the artist creates a framework for others to shape, leading to outcomes unknown even to them. This made me reflect on Dear Moon, a book project I designed. By the end, I felt less like its author and more like its audience. The photographs simply held space—the real substance came from the contributors’ words. Their voices carried the project forward.

In breakout groups, we explored definitions of socially engaged practice. From using art as a collaborative tool for justice (Sholette & Bass) to fostering shared understanding and personal growth (Matarasso), the emphasis was clear: this work is about people, not product. It’s about ethics, active listening, and creating conditions for transformation.

I feel genuinely grateful to have been selected for this course and to be mentored by Elizabeth Wewiora. I look forward to continuing the journey and exploring how it might help shape my research around social sculpture.

Posted in Exhibitions, Experiments, Moon, Reflection, Research, Visit, Writing

Trusting the Process.. Interim Show 2025

Since October, I’ve been immersed in the making of Dear Moon. What began as a simple idea grew into something layered and full of meaning. Over these months, I’ve learnt so much, not just about putting together a book, but about myself. The skills I’ve had to call on managing, organising, communicating, publishing, sharing all came with challenges. I had to practise patience.. I had to listen. And more than anything, I had to trust the process!

There were many moments when I didn’t know exactly where it was heading, but I allowed myself to follow the rhythm of the work, and something beautiful came through. I’m especially grateful that the work is expanding being read, being held and I’ve been watching it with a sort of quiet pride.

Still, I have to be honest. Sharing Dear Moon in public spaces hasn’t felt completely right. I tried presenting it in a vibrant setting, but I could feel the book asking for something else, something slower, more still. It asks the reader to sit, pause, and take time. And that’s hard to find in environments filled with movement.

So, although I didn’t quite succeed in the way I had imagined, I don’t see it as failure. Instead, I see it as another learning. The challenge now is to explore different ways a book like this can live in public space. How do I present it in a way that honours its pace and stillness? How can I guide people toward it gently, instead of expecting it to compete for attention?

I’m still learning, and I’m open. I’m proud of Dear Moon, and I know it will keep finding its way as long as I keep listening.

Posted in collaboration, Moon, Project, Reflection, Research, Writing

A Collaboration on Dear Moon (Service Point JNG)

Working on Dear Moon has been one of the most personal and expansive projects I’ve ever taken on. While the words came slowly, shaped by honesty and quiet reflection, the visual form of the book took a different kind of journey, one that became stronger and more meaningful through collaboration.

I had the pleasure of working with Jiayi and GG, two recent MA Graphic Design graduates from the university. They took on the challenge of designing Dear Moon and brought their own vision to it. Where I had initially imagined something simple, quiet, and almost invisible in its design letting the words do all the work they brought something else entirely: depth, elegance, and boldness in aesthetic.

Their design sensibility was so different from mine. I approached the book with simplicity, wanting to preserve the gentle rhythm of the letters and photographs without interruption. I didn’t want the visuals to overpower the messages within. But what Jiayi and GG brought was not overpowering it was enhancing. They introduced a poetic visual language: deep blues, moonscapes that speak for themselves, layout choices that echo the movement of tides and emotion. They weren’t just decorating; they were interpreting.

Looking at the final book now, I see a true collaboration. It’s no longer just a collection of letters; it’s a designed experience. A conversation between stillness and form.

Collaborating in this way has taught me the value of letting go. Of sharing creative control. Of trusting others to hold your work with care and transform it with love and intention. I feel Dear Moon is stronger because of this process, and I’m grateful to Jiayi and GG for reminding me how powerful cross-disciplinary work can be.

https://www.instagram.com/p/DHa-GsDKStV/?igsh=MWVza3g4eGFrZ2g0bw==

Posted in 2024/2025, Exhibitions, Motivations, Reflection, Writing

First Review in Art in Liverpool

I recently received my first review (which I see as feedback) in Art in Liverpool, written by Patrick Kirk-Smith, about my Al-Mayida installation as part of the Drudenhaus Collective at Bridewell Studios & Gallery. Seeing my work in print, positioned within a broader reflection on history, conflict, and artistic response—has given me space to consider how this moment connects with my ongoing practice.

He writes:

“In the centre of the main room at Bridewell Studios & Gallery is a table, set for two, with plates reading ‘Sykes-Picot 1916’. It offers little by way of introduction, and even less of an invitation. No chairs. No spare crockery. Just two places, set for Sir Mark Sykes and François Georges-Picot, who in 1916 drew up boundaries for the division of the Ottoman Empire without regard for the citizens of any of the new countries they were dividing…”

This review captures the essence of Al-Mayida, how history’s decisions linger in the present, shaping lives and political realities.

As I navigate my MA, this review serves as both encouragement and reflection. It affirms that my work is engaging with complex socio-political themes in a way that resonates beyond the gallery. It also challenges me to refine my approach, how can I sharpen these conversations while maintaining the poetic, unsettling subtlety that Al-Mayida holds?

The Drudenhaus Collective’s fundraising for Medical Aid for Palestine (MAP) adds another layer to this. Art, for me, has always been a site of action as much as expression. This project reinforces my belief that creative practice can exist in solidarity, bringing history into the present not just for reflection, but for tangible impact.

Posted in 2024/2025, Assignments, Reflection

Unit 1 Assessment

Learning Outcome 1:
Formulate, describe and implement a challenging and self-directed programme of study, relating to your Study Statement. (Assessment Criteria: Enquiry):

My work explores topics of communication, connection, and collective experience through projects such as Al-Mayida, Letters to the Moon, asemic writing, and childlike drawings. Each project looks at how art fosters debate, narrative, and inclusivity. Interviews with Pedro Reyes about social sculpture, White Pube’s new book, and Axis’ Artists That Write have all inspired me. Furthermore, the Art for the Earth’s Sake initiative stressed the importance of adopting an ecocentric perspective to social practice. All of these influences have shaped my self-directed method, in which I investigate and learn from literature and artists, as well as my own artworks.

Learning Outcome 2:
Implement appropriate working methods for building an independent and effective self-organisation that enables the critical engagement with practice-based research.
(Assessment Criteria: Process):

In projects such as Al-Mayida, I experiment with diverse curatorial approaches, but in Letters to the Moon, I prioritise participant interaction. My process-driven approach accepts ambiguity and improvisation, which is consistent with Jonathan’s reflection in action research. The final session of Art for Earth’s Sake was especially powerful, as we discussed how artists can practise sustainability, set a good example, and utilise art as a tool for social and environmental change. 

Learning Outcome 3:
Communicate a critical understanding of your developing practice.
(Assessment Criteria: Knowledge, Communication):

My work is a type of social sculpture, an ever-changing discussion that connects personal and collective experiences. Projects such as Al-Mayida focus on unity and history, whereas Letters to the Moon promotes communication and community involvement. My efforts with asemic writing and childlike drawing disrupt art’s traditional hierarchies, emphasising authenticity and accessibility.

At last, I want to utilise art to promote social interactions and spark meaningful discourse about sociopolitical and environmental challenges. Through documentation, reflections, short courses, and visits, I hope to create work that promotes connection, dialogue, and communal action.

Feedback requests:

I would appreciate feedback on two experiments I’m currently working on: Asemic writing with translation and childlike drawings. Both approaches are new and quite different from one another.

Posted in Lectures 2024/2025, Motivations, Reflection, Research

Reflections on Professionalism and Unprofessionalism

I missed the last lecture on professionalism and unprofessionalism due to family circumstances. Ironically, missing out on topics that interest me most. But watching the recording was still a rich experience, listening to the discussions and the different perspectives people brought to the conversation. 

I read the article How to Be an Unprofessional Artist by Andrew Berardini, which Jonathan shared in the lecture. And, I think the word “unprofessional” carries a certain weight, often with negative connotations. It reminds me of how the word “steal” is used provocatively in Steal Like An Artist by Austin Kleon, or how “disabled” can be perceived in different ways, negative for some, yet embraced by others as a form of identity and empowerment. Language is powerful; it doesn’t just describe the world, it shapes it. It influences how we see ourselves, how others perceive us, and what opportunities are available to us.

A key point in the discussion was how professionalism is often framed by rigid, exclusionary standards, ones that can erase individuality, lived experience, or even care. But does professionalism have to mean conforming to a narrow, predetermined image? Many so-called unprofessional traits: honesty, vulnerability, and unconventional approaches are actually strengths. They challenge existing systems, create space for new ways of thinking, and foster deeper engagement.

The tension between professional and unprofessional seems to lie in whether professionalism is dictated by external standards or defined through integrity, care, and dedication to one’s practice. If professionalism means respect for oneself, for others, and for the work, then it doesn’t have to mean suppressing individuality or creativity. I see professionalism not as following a strict rulebook, but as a commitment to craft, ethics, and meaningful engagement.

As a mother of a child with special needs, I’m particularly aware of how language shapes perception. In different contexts, the term “disabled” can be either empowering or limiting. Could “unprofessional” also be reclaimed? Maybe, but only if doing so truly empowers rather than undermines.

My own art practice naturally resists traditional notions of professionalism. Coming from multiple backgrounds, embracing mistakes, and working in multidisciplinary ways, I see value in experimentation and non-traditional approaches. Rejecting conventional professionalism doesn’t mean rejecting care, commitment, or quality. It means refusing to be boxed into a system that wasn’t designed for people with diverse experiences and ways of working. Above all, rejecting traditional professionalism can be an act of resistance, challenging exclusionary structures that dictate who belongs and what is deemed acceptable work.

I navigate between institutional and freelance work, moving fluidly between structured and independent spaces. Working with institutions while maintaining my own perspective allows me to challenge the system from within while also creating alternative ways of working. It’s about understanding the rules but choosing when and how to break them in ways that are meaningful.

This ability to shift between spaces sometimes fitting in, sometimes disrupting gives me agency. It also allows me to act as a bridge for others who feel like they don’t fit into traditional structures. This is something I see in my work, whether through Moon Letters, Creative Peers, or other social sculpture projects.

Rather than seeing professionalism and unprofessionalism as rigid opposites, I see them as fluid. True professionalism, to me, is about care, respect, and meaningful engagement, qualities that don’t require conforming to outdated norms, but rather, reimagining them.

Somewhere in Oxford…