Today, I led a session at Bootle Library with my usual cultural group of ladies, joined by my colleagues from Rule of Threes, a representative from Liverpool Biennial, and artists from Darch Collective. It was a special gathering, as we’ll be contributing to their work for Liverpool Biennial: Bedrock 2025.
The session had a wonderful turnout, and I received 15 more letters for The Moon Letters project. I’m so grateful to everyone who has taken the time to contribute, and I can’t wait for the moment when I finally hold the book in my hands.
There’s something deeply personal about letters. I find myself attached to each one, treating them as precious objects. They arrive in different ways: through messages, emails, and in person. Each carrying unique thoughts, emotions, and perspectives. People respond in their own way, and I appreciate every word, every feeling that has been shared.
This project is becoming more than just a collection of letters, and I’m excited to see where it leads and to share these stories with a wider audience.
The first session of Art for Earth’s Sake by Engage:
Peer Learning Programme was both inspiring and thought-provoking. This initiative, designed by Engage members, brings together diverse voices to explore how visual arts can respond to the pressing environmental and ecological crises of our time. The online session created a dynamic space for connection, exchange, and collective learning.
Art has long served as a powerful medium for addressing complex issues. During the session, we reflected on how art can function as a “place” — a vital space for connection, communication, and fostering belonging. This concept resonated deeply with me. As an artist, I believe meaningful change begins when we create spaces for open dialogue and shared experiences.
Today’s headlines—be it Gaza burning under human conflict or wildfires ravaging Los Angeles—serve as stark reminders of our interconnected crises. Climate change, political instability, and violence are all deeply entwined. As humans, we bear the responsibility to make a difference, no matter how small. Saying “no” to war, violence, and greed is critical before the Earth pushes back. This realisation drove me to join this programme, especially as a producer working with refugees and students eager to learn about socially engaged art around themes of politics, migration, and the environment.
A recent discussion at Liverpool’s “ghost art school,” which I co-organised, reminded me of the importance of shared spaces. A fellow artist remarked, “Living is a way of research.” I would add that living with others—and fostering environments where people feel safe and free—is essential for authentic collaboration and growth.
One of the most compelling topics from the session was ecocentrism—a philosophy that centres Earth and its ecosystems rather than humanity alone. This approach challenges the anthropocentric mindset dominating contemporary thought.
Ecocentrism is not a modern idea; it has been integral to indigenous cultures for millennia, embedded in their traditions and laws. This was a moment of profound clarity for me. To genuinely tackle the climate crisis, we must transition from a human-centred worldview to an Earth-centred one.
The session also showcased artist-led projects that weave ecological concerns with social engagement. One example was Scotland’s Deveron Projects, which has been creatively connecting people with the land for over 30 years. Initiatives like their “soil spa” and a dance project inspired by the land demonstrate art’s capacity to reconnect us with nature in meaningful ways.
This session reaffirmed my belief in art’s ability to inspire dialogue and action. By embracing ecocentric perspectives and fostering collaboration, we can address the ecological crisis holistically and inclusively.
In my ongoing exploration of social sculpture, Letters to the Moon stands as a testament to how art can shape social spaces through collaboration. Rooted in Joseph Beuys’ concept that everyone is an artist and society itself is a work of art, this project reflects the interconnectedness between individuals and their collective contributions.
The project is inherently collaborative. By engaging artists and the public, I aimed to dissolve barriers between “individual” and “community” artmaking. Each submission becomes part of a greater whole—like letters sent to a shared destination, carrying unique perspectives yet contributing to a collective narrative.
This process mirrors my research interest in social sculpture: how creative practice can transform not just physical objects, but relationships and shared understanding. Letters to the Moon creates a social space where people from diverse backgrounds, ages, abilities, and styles co-exist, their works forming an invisible conversation with one another.
At its core, my work often explores the complexities of communication. In Letters to the Moon, the art itself becomes a form of communication—visual “letters” that reflect feelings, thoughts, and experiences. By curating these individual voices into a unified book, I aim to highlight how creative gestures, when shared, can transcend the limits of language and hierarchy.
Social sculpture is about more than the artwork itself; it is about the relationships, processes, and transformations that occur along the way. Through Letters to the Moon, I have witnessed how this project fosters a sense of belonging, participation, and emotional resonance. It invites artists to engage in a collaborative process and, in doing so, creates an artwork that is as much about the process as the final outcome.
Photo credit: Donald Takeshita-guyDear Moon,
I know why you are called the Moon–because you say ‘mo’ and ‘on’. By Arwa (6 yrs old)
Letters to the Moon is a social sculpture that explores how art can connect diverse experiences, emotions, and perspectives, fostering meaningful dialogue between art and the wider public.
To bring this vision to life, I invited family, friends, artists from Creative Peers, members of Ghost Art School, MA classmates, and the public. Donald kindly extended the invitation and offered people some brown paper bags to write their letters on. This act of kindness touched me and made these letters more special as they are handwritten. Each participant receives a unique moon photograph, carefully selected from a collection of 670 images I have captured since 2018.
The responses have been both inspiring and humbling. People with distinctive styles and personal voices have contributed works that reflect a broad range of emotions and narratives. A key aim of this project is to ensure that people outside the art world feel encouraged to take part, breaking down the barriers that can make creative engagement feel intimidating.
This project, while still ongoing, has already reminded me of the importance of artistic variety and community. While numbers have been promising, I hope they will continue to grow as more people see themselves reflected in this vision. I look forward to the next steps—curating these works, weaving them into a book, and creating something that speaks to the complexity of art as both a personal and collective process.
Today, I attended an engaging online workshop, Thinking Through Social Practice, facilitated by David McGoven. The session offered a reflective space to explore social practice. What made the workshop especially rewarding was its small, interactive format, allowing participants to share their practices, collaborate on tasks, and develop manifestos that resonate with their creative values.
What Is Social Practice? Social practice, as discussed in the session, is rooted in the idea that art’s value extends beyond objects—it lies in relationships, conversations, and the transformations they inspire. Pablo Helguera, in Education for Socially Engaged Art, defines it as work dependent on social interaction as a key factor of its existence. Unlike traditional conceptions of the artist as a visionary or critic, social practice views the artist as a collaborator working with society in a professional capacity.
One of the workshop’s highlights was crafting personal manifestos to articulate our roles and responsibilities as socially engaged artists. Here’s my manifesto:
1. My work remains private while in progress and becomes public once complete.
2. I am the creator of the idea and responsible for its execution.
3. You, as a participant, are a valued contributor to this social work.
4. Your submission remains your intellectual property.
5. By contributing, you agree to its use in this project’s context.
6. This project prioritises collective learning and dialogue.
7. It is non-profit and exists as a form of social sculpture.
This manifesto reflects my ongoing exploration of collaboration, ownership, and the boundaries between individual and collective creativity.
The workshop reaffirmed my belief that social practice is about relationships—not just between people, but also between ideas, disciplines, and systems. As an artist, I am constantly navigating these relationships, finding ways to balance personal vision with community needs.
The Thinking Through Social Practice workshop was a powerful reminder that art is not just about creating—it’s about connecting. It’s about asking questions, challenging systems, and imagining new possibilities alongside others.
The interview between Pedro Reyes and Cara M. Jordan is a fascinating exploration of social sculpture and its potential for societal impact. Reyes presents a compelling perspective on social sculpture as a medium where human relationships become the material, transcending traditional artistic boundaries and incorporating tools from diverse fields such as theatre, therapy, and rituals.
Reyes’ reflection on Joseph Beuys as a foundational influence further enriches the discussion, particularly through his project Palas por Pistolas, which transforms weapons into tools for reforestation—a direct homage to Beuys’ 7,000 Oaks. This project exemplifies dynamic, living art that evolves over time, reflecting the transformative power of human collaboration. His appreciation for Beuys’ humour and dedication to socialism underscores an optimistic yet critical vision of art’s role in addressing complex social issues.
Reyes’ commitment to accessibility is especially notable, as he advocates for art that transcends traditional audiences and creates transformative experiences regardless of participants’ familiarity with the art world. Collaborative projects like Sanatorium and People’s United Nations (pUN) highlight his dedication to co-creation and role-play, fostering a sense of ownership and shared authorship among participants.
His belief in the transformative power of materials is equally inspiring. The act of turning rifles into flutes, for example, embodies his philosophy of relational objects—artifacts that catalyse social encounters and spark psychological shifts. This approach strongly resonates with my interest in social sculpture and the symbolic potential of everyday materials.
This interview has deeply influenced my practice, offering inspiration for integrating participatory frameworks, addressing sociopolitical themes, and ensuring inclusivity. Reyes’ approach aligns with my focus on creating art that bridges communication gaps and meaningfully engages audiences, providing valuable strategies to advance my work.
This summer, I had the opportunity to showcase Al-Mayida (The Dining Table) at Birkenhead Central Library, an installation exploring the universal and symbolic significance of the dining table. And recently, the work was selected for Hypha Studios and Dispensary Gallery’s group show in Wrexham, adding a new layer of meaning by placing it in dialogue with other multidisciplinary pieces in a 15,000-square-foot exhibition space. With its vibrant, community-centered focus, Al-Mayida became a platform for discussing culture, peace, and the shared human experience of gathering. Moving the installation from Birkenhead Library to the larger venue in Wrexham taught me to consider how an artwork’s message and impact evolve with changes in environment and scale.
The dining table holds a unique, cross-cultural significance, serving as a setting for family meals, heartfelt conversations, and shared memories. With Al-Mayida, I aimed to capture these moments by creating an immersive, interactive experience that emphasises gathering, storytelling, and unity. Drawing from a blend of artistic mediums—ceramics, textiles, and Arabic calligraphy—the installation celebrates the act of coming together, inviting audiences to reflect on what it means to share a meal, both literally and symbolically.
On the final day of Al-Mayida, I introduced a dinner set, with each item inscribed with the Arabic word for peace—سلام (Salam). “Peace,” as a concept and a word, transcends borders, symbolising our shared humanity and fostering dialogue around unity and understanding. This white ceramic set, with its minimalist design, carries a calm, contemplative energy, resonating with the installation’s message of harmony.
As a closing touch to the exhibition, I crafted three large plates inscribed with references to the Sykes-Picot Agreement, the 1916 colonial pact that divided the Middle East into spheres of influence and reshaped its geopolitical landscape. This historical reference acknowledged the dining table not only as a place for personal stories but also as a platform for global reflection. These plates became symbols of resilience, encouraging visitors to consider how history shapes our identities, our relationships, and our ongoing quest for self-determination.
The presence of these plates alongside the Salam ceramic set introduces a compelling tension—a juxtaposition between the ideals of peace and unity and the complex legacies of political history. I hope these pieces spark conversations about the ways past injustices continue to impact the present, inspiring a shared commitment to a more peaceful future.
Reflecting on Al-Mayida, I see a pathway forward that embraces community involvement, broadens cultural exploration, and deepens historical reflection. This work has laid the foundation for a practice rooted in dialogue, shared experience, and the powerful simplicity of gathering around a table.
Karema 