home – Karema

2025-2026, Books, collaboration, Moon, Reading, Social Sculpture, Writing

Second Edition- MA Show and Future plan

Posted on May 23, 2026May 24, 2026 by KM

Holding the second edition feels incredibly special and precious. I can see years of effort gathered within its pages. Looking through the photographs and reading people’s letters has been deeply emotional, and it also makes me long for the years when we sent personal handwritten letters instead of quick text messages.

Perhaps this is why I still treasure the letters from my own childhood, safely kept in a small box. They are funny, emotional, and incredibly valuable to me, especially when I think about where everyone has ended up in life and how relationships shift and change over time. Handwritten letters hold traces of people that digital communication often loses.

Mixed of letters from 90s and early 2000-2003

As an artist with hyperactivity, and as someone who uses art as a survival tool, I made two interconnected bodies of work: a book and a tea set. I feel there’s something comforting and timeless about reading books while drinking a cup of tea.

Dear Moon is the main work I have developed over the last two years, and I believe it should be the piece I present in the final exhibition. More than a book, it has become a form of social sculpture, a collective artwork shaped through care, participation, and exchange. It includes the names of 57 participants alongside anonymous contributions and my own letters woven throughout the pages. I eventually removed my name from each individual page because it felt unnecessary to repeat it so many times, especially when my presence already exists throughout the project as its organiser, editor, and contributor.

The book is 184 pages long, rich with different stories, voices, languages, and histories. Some texts date back to 1974, while others were written as recently as May 2026. Several contributors chose to write in their home languages, which adds another layer of intimacy and authenticity to the work. People continue to engage with the project and send new letters whenever I exhibit the letter box, allowing the project to remain alive rather than fixed or complete.

This year, I also spent much more time refining my moon photography, both while taking the photographs and later through editing, especially in relation to light and colour. The images feel more resolved and intentional now, and together with the letters they create a stronger emotional atmosphere. For these reasons, I feel Dear Moon deserves to be shown at Central Saint Martins. I’ll display two copies of the book on two different stands at different heights, one lower for accessibility and one at a standard height. I’ll also include the black letter box with paper and pens.

Copies of the book will also be available to borrow through Sefton Libraries in Crosby, Bootle, and Netherton. I also have a digital version prepared, although I’m still undecided about uploading it to my website. Part of me feels I should wait until every participant has received their physical copy first.

I’m also planning a shared reading session at Bootle Library this summer, where contributors from Liverpool will be invited to read and celebrate their work together. I hope Chris Day, the eldest participant, will attend and share the beautiful story she wrote about the moon in 1974. Another participant I would love to attend is Belinda Ludlow, another mature participant who studied English Literature some time ago. She told me she has always found it difficult to publish her writing because she tends to approach it from a highly analytical perspective. Hopefully, her letter to the moon will become the first step towards restarting her writing journey.

What I love most about Dear Moon is that it carries a genuine sense of community, care, and mutual respect. It reminds me that art can hold people together across generations, languages, and experiences.

Next month, I’ll deliver a Dear Moon workshop as part of the come back programme, in collaboration with the Arab British Centre and Longsight Art Space in Manchester. This will be the first Dear Moon workshop outside Liverpool.

https://www.arabbritishcentre.org.uk/whatson/as-we-are-creative-exchange-day-the-comeback/

The programme supports adults who have taken long breaks from creative practice, or who always wished they had the opportunity to study art. My workshop will focus on building connections, encouraging confidence, and demonstrating that art does not require expensive materials or complicated equipment. Art begins with stories, and every person carries a story worth telling.

Another meaningful part of this experience was being asked by the Arab British Centre to create a very short 30 seconds video for social media. Their request was inspired by something I had spoken about previously: how, after having children, I rediscovered creativity by making art personal rather than treating it as a chore, something meaningful that didn’t depend on money or expensive materials.

At first, I thought, “This is even harder than the 3 minute video Jonathan asked us to make” I asked a filmmaker friend whether 30 seconds could truly hold a story, and she replied “Plenty of time!”

So, the first thing I did was write my words and record my voice so I could understand the rhythm and timing. I removed unnecessary sentences and focused only on the essence of what I wanted to communicate. Afterwards, I asked a friend to help me film footage at St George’s Hall.

I made the video in Arabic because the programme hopes to reach Arab participants, but I also included English subtitles so everyone could feel welcome and included. The process felt surprisingly natural, and I realised how much the short film assignments from the course had prepared me for this experience. It showed me how learning within an educational structure can become a practical tool in the real world.

Also, in July, I’ll be running a family creative session as part of the Liverpool Arab Arts Festival 2026.

Looking ahead, I can already see Dear Moon continuing to grow through more workshops, new letters, exchanges, and future collaborations. In particular, I’m planning to publish Dear Friend in 2027, a book that will carry replies from the moon.

I’ll also be co-producing Turkish Day at the library in December 2026 and helping organise a Community Iftar at the library in February 2027.

So rather than feeling like the end of the MA, it feels like the beginning of a much longer conversation, where all this knowledge can continue to grow and live within my work and everyday life.

With lots of gratitude,

karema 😊

2025-2026, collaboration, Exhibitions, Moon

Home and Away

Posted on May 13, 2026May 21, 2026 by KM

Home and Away exhibition is open to the public until the end of this month. It was a great opportunity to collaborate with women who share similar experiences of migration and displacement. The artists came from different countries, including the Philippines, Venezuela, Poland, Croatia, Sudan, and Argentina.

The process felt empowering for all of us, creating space for conversations, shared memories, and reflection. We also spoke about how the exhibition could continue to develop and potentially be shown in other places in the future.

This experience became an important reflection for my MA and good practice before the final show. It also opened doors for future collaborations with both the artists and the venue.

I also received more moon letters, which made me realise that the project has the potential to continue for as long as the letter box remains part of the exhibition. People still feel drawn to writing and sending physical letters, even without expecting a reply. The project reflects a sense of trust and connection between people, which feels especially meaningful today. This experience also encouraged me to think about how the project could keep evolving over time through future collections and publications.

Another important thing I learned was how I can present pages from the book in different formats. The book itself can exist as one form, but larger pieces can also work well and catch the viewer’s attention.

Home and Away is open to the public until the end of this month, and it has already attracted attention from Liverpool’s websites. Promotion was not something I initially wanted to focus on, but one of the fellow artists was very enthusiastic about spreading the word, and she did a great job. It was also a valuable opportunity to observe and learn from other artists, and to recognise how we might use and support each other’s skills in future collaborations.

https://explore-liverpool.com/home-and-away-art-exhibition-at-st-georges-hall/

https://liverpoolcityhalls.co.uk/events/event/home-away-exhibition-one-belonging-place-and-memory/

https://liverpoolnoise.com/arts-and-culture/home-and-away-workshops-exhibition-st-georges-hall/

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

Coding Spaces and Archipelagic Thinking

Posted on May 6, 2026May 6, 2026 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!

2025-2026, Books, Ceramic, Reading, Research, Uncategorized

Teapot #1

Posted on April 21, 2026 by KM

The bone-dry teapot and cups still waiting, as if holding a story yet to be told. The tea set idea emerged from the story of a Yemeni translator, Omar Bahabri, which led me to delve deeper into the history of beverages, particularly tea. I was already familiar with the history of coffee, its origins in Ethiopia, its early cultivation and consumption in Yemen, and its spread along pilgrimage routes to Mecca, then through Muslim traders to Turkey, and onward to Italy and the rest of Europe. However, tea carries a different, more complex, and more painful history.

In Yemen, tea exists in multiple forms: Adeni tea, influenced by Indian chai, and red/ black tea in the Turkish style. This diversity reflects Yemen’s social fabric, shaped by non Arab communities of Indian, African, and Turkish origin who have both contributed to and been shaped by Yemeni culture, particularly its cuisine. Yet, despite this richness, my focus is not on tea in Yemen. Although the idea began with Omar’s story, I instead return to tea’s original homeland, China, where the narrative unfolds differently.

In its early history, tea in China was a simple drink associated with medicine and daily ritual. By the 17th century, however, it had transformed into a globally desired commodity, particularly after being embraced by Britain, where it became central to social life. As demand grew rapidly, Britain faced a significant economic imbalance. It was importing vast quantities of tea from China without having sufficient goods to offer in return.

To resolve this imbalance, Britain turned to the opium trade, cultivating opium in India and exporting it to China on a massive scale. Opium became a tool of domination. Its spread led to widespread addiction across Chinese society, causing profound social and economic harm. In response, the Chinese state attempted to halt the crisis. The official Lin Zexu confiscated and destroyed large quantities of opium in an effort to protect the population. This act became the spark that ignited the First Opium War from 1839 to 1842. Britain with its superior naval and military defeated China and imposed the Treaty of Nanking. This marked the beginning of a period of political and economic subjugation. Chinese ports were forcibly opened to foreign trade, heavy reparations were imposed and Hong Kong was ceded to Britain.

In the Second Opium War from 1856 to 1860, Britain and France launched another campaign against China, advancing as far as Beijing and burning the Old Summer Palace, one of the country’s most significant cultural landmarks. China was then forced into further agreements that expanded foreign influence, legalised the opium trade, and granted extensive privileges to foreigners within its borders. These events deepened the weakening of the state, eroded economic control, and contributed to the eventual fall of the Qing dynasty.

This era is known in Chinese history as the Century of Humiliation, a period marked by repeated foreign intervention, internal fragmentation, and a profound loss of sovereignty. The impact of these wars was not only immediate but long lasting, shaping modern China’s political consciousness and its complex relationship with the West. In this context, tea is no longer just a drink. It becomes an entry point into a layered history of colonialism and coerced trade. A simple cup of tea conceals networks of power, economics, and violence, where demand alone was enough to ignite wars and reshape nations.

For this reason, I chose opium as the motif to be carried on the teapot and cups, so I experimented with pen and watercolour, searching for a visual language capable of expressing this narrative.

Then I realised that my project required a deeper level of research, which led me to visit the Victoria Gallery and Museum. As a space I’m already familiar with, particularly for its ceramics and china collection, it offered both a point of return and a site for re-reading objects through a more critical lens.

Upon entering the gallery, I experienced an immediate sense of recognition, I was drawn to the Willow pattern. Its storytelling operates as a form of visual fiction circulated, repeated, and widely accepted, yet detached from its cultural origins. The blue and white aesthetic, often perceived as timeless and decorative, began to reveal itself instead as a coded visual language shaped by histories of translation, imitation, and appropriation.

This encounter also sharpened my awareness of Liverpool’s historical entanglement with colonial trade. The city’s material culture cannot be separated from these conditions.. I became particularly interested in the development of transfer printing the process that enabled the mass reproduction of ceramic which was pioneered locally at the Herculaneum Pottery.

Extending this research, I visited few antique shops, observing ceramic objects more closely in terms of form, surface, and wear. These encounters grounded my understanding of how such objects exist not only as historical artefacts but also as carriers of layered narratives. I documented these visits through photographs and began a series of blue pen drawings as an initial visual response, testing how line, repetition, and colour might translate into my own practice.

I’m drawn to the seed capsule as a central motif, the origin of opium, and a form that holds both fragility and consequence. Its presence operates quietly, yet it carries a dense network of associations: trade, addiction, control, and empire… It functions as a more precise and restrained symbol, resisting overt representation while still holding critical weight. The decision to work with blue and white visual language reinforces this tension between surface beauty and underlying histories.

At this stage, I feel prepared to begin planning my final design. What feels significant is how this research, which initially seemed distant and external, has gradually folded back into both local history and my own practice. During my BA, I used a teapot for assembled sculpture featuring a Willow pattern titled Gossip. Revisiting this work now, it reads differently, less as a formal exploration and more as an early, intuitive engagement with themes of narrative, circulation, and miscommunication.

This process has also deepened my awareness of the responsibility embedded in design choices. Selecting what imagery appears on the tea set is not merely aesthetic, it’s conceptual and political. The act of placing an image becomes an act of framing meaning. I think of this as similar to cutting beetroot: the more carefully and precisely it’s handled, the more it stains.. The mark is unavoidable, just as histories do!

2025-2026, Books, collaboration, Exhibitions, Moon, Social Sculpture, Writing

Dear Moon,

Posted on April 20, 2026 by KM

When I arrived in the UK, everything felt strange and new, but your face was the only one that remained old and familiar…

Today, I led a moon workshop at St George’s Hall, after weeks of preparing for the upcoming exhibition Home and Away, organised by artist Mariana Sequera. The project explores ideas of home, displacement, and migration. It’s a concepts that seem simple at first, but quickly unfold into something more complex the moment you invite others in.

Recently, images from Artemis II showing the Moon’s far side, pulled me back to the letters. I found myself rereading them, and with that came a quiet but firm feeling: it’s time to finish the book, and to stop collecting more.

While sharing the open call for Home and Away and encouraging people to participate, I noticed how easily themes like displacement are interpreted in narrow ways. There is often an assumption that such experiences belong only to certain groups, and not to others. This made me reflect on how art spaces frame experience, and how belonging is often defined, sometimes invisibly within those frames.

Since last year, I’ve chosen not to rush the second Dear Moon book. I’ve learned that timing is not separate from the work. Showing something in the wrong moment or context can mean it’s overlooked, or misunderstood. This awareness is shaped by my position as a woman, a mother, and a Muslim, identities that are often underestimated, even by those close to me.

I’m learning to resist two opposing pressures: the demand to remain constantly visible, and the quiet acceptance of being marginalised. Somewhere between these, Dear Moon has become a space of its own. Writing to the Moon creates a particular kind of room, it allows for distance, but also intimacy. The letters themselves hold so much. They open memory, reflection, and connection. There is something therapeutic in that, but I try not to reduce it to therapy alone. Each contribution carries its own layers.

C, a retired nurse, shared a story she wrote in the 1970s, along with a receipt showing she was paid £8 when it was broadcast on Miri Mawar, a programme on Welsh HTV. Including her work now brings different times into conversation with each other, raising questions about value, recognition, and whose voices are remembered. In contrast, A’s drawing of the Moon’s phases offers another way of understanding participation. As a child with severe physical and learning difficulties, his contribution gently disrupts expectations of what artistic expression should look like. The Moon’s cycles, appearing and disappearing feel like a quiet reflection on resilience and change.

Through all of this, I’ve started to think of trust as a material within the work. People are not just contributing content..they are offering something personal. That comes with responsibility: to hold these contributions with care. As the book nears completion, I feel both excited and uncertain. I want to hold it, but Im still thinking about how to share it. In previous exhibitions, Dear Moon often felt unresolved, shaped by time pressure, or by divided attention.

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

Iftar as Social Sculpture

Posted on March 15, 2026 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.

2025-2026, Reading, Reflection, Research

Assimilation and Accommodation

Posted on February 6, 2026 by KM

On Tuesday, during a strong presentation session, while listening to the last talk about dérive and virtual spaces as alternatives by Pritish, I found my mind returning to a learning theory I had studied many years ago. I could not immediately recall whether it was Vygotsky or Piaget, and this hesitation made me unsure about sharing the thought at the time. Afterwards, I searched…and yes! It was Piaget’s theory of assimilation and accommodation, the idea that learning happens either by fitting new information into existing schemas or by adjusting those schemas when new information does not fit.

Reflecting on this, I began to think about how virtual spaces function in a similar way. Even when people experience digital or alternative environments, their feelings and reactions are still shaped by accumulated past experiences and knowledge. Any first encounter within a virtual space is built upon pre-existing cognitive and emotional structures. So, virtual spaces act more as a mimic or extension of reality rather than a replacement. This process can apply not only to places, but also to human relationships, attachments, and the way knowledge itself is formed. For artists in particular, engaging with new media or environments becomes less about abandoning reality and more about negotiating between what is already known and what is newly encountered.

Artists can be understood through Piaget’s concepts of assimilation and accommodation, where creative practice becomes a continuous process of negotiating between existing internal frameworks and new experiences. In assimilation, artists adopt new media, theories, or environments while maintaining their established emotional language and conceptual concerns. The tools or platforms may change but the underlying schemas remain consistent.

On the other hand, accommodation occurs when new encounters challenge existing schemas and require deeper transformation. This is often where significant artistic shifts emerge, when identity or the understanding of presence itself is reconsidered. This change is not merely stylistic but structural and art education environments sometimes encourage this level of critical adjustment.

Virtual space also reveals how artistic perception is shaped by memory and embodiment. In digital environments, artists still rely on bodily memory, cultural conditioning and early play patterns, while also borrowing physical metaphors such as walking, entering, meeting, or distancing. Virtual space often mirrors or exaggerates reality rather than escaping it entirely, showing that cognition and imagination remain grounded in lived experience.

Play therefore persists as a fundamental mechanism within artistic practice. What begins as childhood experimentation evolves into adult creative inquiry, where testing rules, breaking structures, and negotiating imagination against reality become methods of continuous learning and re-formation.

Below is a short child observation, with an image and a video, which for me explains the theory mentioned above:

The child is my nephew, my brother’s son. In the first image he was two years old, in August 2024. We were at a farmhouse with cousins and aunties. I introduced him to drawing with charcoal that we found the day after a barbecue. We made a few marks on the ground together, and he didn’t stop playing with it, continuing to draw small circles and lines.

Last summer, in August 2025, in the second video, we returned to the same farmhouse with the same family gathering. The next day my nephew found small pieces of charcoal and began making circles again. When the charcoal finished, he picked up a small stone and continued drawing on the floor. This happened without my involvement or guidance, I was simply nearby watching him play outside. What amazed me, and what I could not resist recording, was the moment he began showing his cousins what to do and teaching them. They were all having fun, and I was quietly enjoying this very human moment at a child’s level.

2025

This observation functions as a small case study of assimilation and accommodation in everyday life. The first encounter with charcoal represents assimilation, where the child integrates a new material into existing playful behaviours such as drawing circles and lines. The second encounter, one year later, demonstrates accommodation, when the charcoal is no longer available, the child searches for an alternative and selects a stone, adjusting both the tool and the physical effort required while maintaining the same intention to draw. The act of later teaching other children reinforces this learning socially, showing how knowledge becomes shared rather than individual.

In an artistic context, this example illustrates how creative practice is not only about materials but about cognitive continuity. The surface, gesture, and intention remain consistent while the medium changes. This mirrors how artists adapt to new technologies or environments without abandoning their internal motivations. The child’s behaviour reveals that creativity operates through repetition, substitution, and social exchange, suggesting that artistic development, much like childhood learning, is a cycle of experimentation rather than a linear progression… which this also can relate to the cyclicality that mentioned in Eleanor’s presentation.

2025-2026, Books, Reading, Reflection, Research, Translation, Writing

Translation #2

Posted on January 6, 2026 by KM

After reading Translation, I found myself asking what I would add if I were given the chance to contribute more pages to the book. Three came to mind: Omar Bahabri the translator, Arnaud Balard’s Deaf Flag, Adriano Celentano’s Prisencolinensinainciusol, and Wanderer by Rory Macbeth particularly after What Is a Minor Literature?//1986 by Deleuze and Guattari page.

The first story is a Yemeni tale set during the period of British occupation in southern Yemen. Omar Bahabri was a Yemeni tea merchant who spoke English through his work with foreign traders. At a time when the British struggled to communicate with the local population due to the lack of Arabic translators, Omar was called upon to help. The British asked him to translate pamphlets intended to win the trust and loyalty of the Yemeni people. Omar translated their demands into Arabic, and pamphlets were printed and distributed by aircraft across the country.

Some time later, a British general visited Aden to inspect the situation. He was familiar with Arabic, so he picked up a handful of the pamphlets and read them. He asked the officer in charge about their purpose and was told they were meant to encourage public support for British rule. The officer explained that the pamphlets called on people to join the Allies and support them. The general replied that the pamphlets read “Buy the finest tea from Omar Bahabri” . And here only reference I found in English: https://www.jstor.org/stable/48752006

Whether the story is true or not is hardly important here. What matters is how brilliantly it portrays the fate of outsiders who believe they can exploit local language and people for their own ends, only to find those intentions quietly undermined in favour of distinctly Yemeni interests. It also led me to reflect on the fact that the British occupied Aden for 128 years, from 1839 to 1967, yet hardly any of them learned Arabic. From this, it becomes easier to understand why the French aggressively imposed their language in colonised territories, and how English was forced upon Indigenous populations in North America, Australia, and New Zealand. This reinforces my belief that language is essential to the survival of culture and heritage.

Photos credit: https://www.gettyimages.co.uk/photos/aden-colony

Thinking about this story alongside Translation, I realised that what draws me in is not accuracy, but refusal. Translation here is not a neutral act. It becomes a space of misalignment, humour, survival, and agency. Language appears to serve power, while quietly redirecting it elsewhere.

So yes, I already know what my next ceramic piece will be.. A tea set! A familiar site of hospitality, negotiation, and politeness. Cups that sit between people, holding conversation, holding silence or things that are never quite said…

2024/2025, Assignments, Reflection

Unit 1 Assessment

Posted on February 23, 2025February 24, 2025 by KM

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 artwork s.

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.

Exhibitions, Motivations, Research, Visit

Farah Al Qasimi’s Everybody was Invited to a Party

Posted on February 23, 2025 by KM

Yesterday, I stepped into The Bluecoat and found myself transported back to my childhood in Dubai. Farah Al Qasimi’s work immediately struck a chord, filling the space with images, sounds, and moments that felt intimately familiar. In this exhibition, I wasn’t just observing, I was reliving something personal, something nostalgic. I laughed, paused, and travelled back home through her lens.

Al Qasimi, an artist from the UAE, weaves humour, memory, and language into a beautifully immersive world. Her film, Everybody was Invited to a Party, takes inspiration from Iftah Ya Simsim, the 1980s Arabic adaptation of Sesame Street. Using hand-sewn puppets and a playful approach to translation, the film highlights the fluidity , and at times, the struggles of communication.

One of the moments that resonated most with me was the pink Arabic-speaking monster struggling to order food in English. The monster’s eventual decision to learn English felt both humorous and deeply familiar. Another example was the book puppet with text saying “I made a book to help me say the right things”. That line lingered with me. It felt so aligned with my own practice. Using language as both a tool and an obstacle, playing with its structures while trying to express something truthful.

Her use of puppetry and humour in dealing with linguistic struggles felt particularly relevant to me. I have always been interested in how objects and visual storytelling can reveal the nuances of human communication. Seeing her work has sparked new ideas about how I might further explore these themes, especially in my MA research and upcoming projects.

This exhibition reminded me that language is never just about words, it’s about memory, culture, and the ways we find (and sometimes lose) ourselves in translation. And in those moments of uncertainty, there is humour, resilience, and the power to create new meaning.