Coordinating The Right Map for the Ghost Art School artists was intended as an act of support for others. But in the process, I found myself unexpectedly charting new ground in my own practice. What began as a curatorial and facilitative role gradually unfolded into a deep personal enquiry, one that significantly shaped my ongoing research in social sculpture.
I began to notice shifts in my own thinking. Supporting artists to articulate their intentions, reflect on their choices, and ground their practice compelled me to ask the same of myself. It was not a passive role; it was active, dynamic, and generative.
Interestingly, throughout The Right Map, I found myself increasingly drawn to the curatorial aspects of my work more than the making itself. It’s not just about presenting artworks, it’s about orchestrating experiences, holding conversations, shaping encounters. I became fascinated with how frameworks are built, how meaning is constructed around and through art. In many ways, the coordination itself became a form of social sculpture.
This shift is not about stepping away from being an artist…it’s about understanding the expanded field in which I operate. Curation, facilitation, research, and community-building have become a core tool kit in my practice. Through coordinating The Right Map, I gained new confidence in embracing this hybridity. I no longer see it as fragmented, but rather as a cohesive and intentional mode of working that reflects my values and voice.
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.
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.
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.
As part of my ongoing exploration of communication, I recently created a series of childlike drawings for an upcoming exhibition in Glasgow, documenting my journey to Auchingarrich Park for the Pitch 2024 Ghost Art School exhibition.
Childlike drawings carry a unique authenticity and emotional impact. They are often raw, unfiltered, and filled with a sense of honesty. By using this approach, I aim to challenge traditional notions of what serious art should look like.
My practice has always focused on breaking down barriers and fostering meaningful connections, and this childlike style is a way to make art more accessible to a wider audience.
One of the key aspects of my practice is questioning hierarchies within the art world. By choosing a childlike style, I’m challenging the idea that only refined, technically skilled works are valuable. Instead, I’m highlighting that artistic value lies in the ideas, emotions, and dialogue that the work generates.
The simplicity and playful nature of these drawings highlight themes of innocence and exploration. In the context of my journey to Auchingarrich Park, this approach allowed me to convey a sense of wonder and curiosity, encouraging viewers to reflect on their own memories of childhood and play.
As I continue to explore this style, I look forward to seeing the book in the exhibition and observing how people will interact with it next week.
Again, Al-Mayida! The dining table is part of the DRUDENHAUS collective’s exhibition at Bridewell Gallery and Studios, Liverpool. This event includes a fundraiser for Medical Aid for Palestinians, adding a meaningful purpose to the show.
For this iteration, the work was set on a larger table than planned, shifting its dynamic. Though designed for two people, with fewer plates, and the tablecloth still bears marks left behind from previous exhibitions. The exhibition features both new and familiar artists, creating an interesting mix of perspectives.
Every curator brings a unique vision. The DRUDENHAUS collective’s decision to give the table more room to breathe was a contrast to previous presentations of Al-Mayida. This shift made me realise how flexible the work is, how it can adapt to different environments and be shaped by different interpretations.
One of the most meaningful aspects of this exhibition is its purpose as a fundraiser for Medical Aid for Palestinians. This adds weight and significance to the show. The dinner table, a place traditionally associated with hospitality, care, and conversation, becomes a symbol of solidarity. It reminds me that art doesn’t exist in isolation, it has the power to engage with real-world issues and bring people together in support of urgent causes.
Our last session of Art for Earth’s Sake Peer Learning, was a powerful experience exploring the intersection of creativity, sustainability, and community action.
Key Highlights:
1- Leading by Example: We discussed how artists can practise sustainably, acting as role models for others by reducing their carbon footprint and promoting eco-friendly approaches. This includes minimising the use of fossil fuels and exploring innovative tools such as digital carbon offset initiatives like Ecology.
2- Art as a Vehicle for Transition: Art has the power to shape people’s decisions and inspire social and environmental change. We explored how slow, mindful processes can create space for reflection and dialogue about the future we want to build.
3- The Role of Heart and Mind: It’s not just about being an artist but about raising awareness and fostering learning. We emphasised the importance of balancing rational thinking with heartfelt creativity to address environmental.
We took inspiration from artists such as Rebecca Chesney and Anthony Hall, and projects like the Soil Exhibition in Somerset. Additionally, ideas from thinkers like Stephen Covey’s “Three Spheres of Influence” helped us focus on what we can control, what we can influence, and what we need to let go of as individuals and as a collective.
We are encouraged to continue organising events, engaging the community, and taking part in initiatives like the Engage. By working together, we can use art as a catalyst for positive change in the world.
Stephen Covey’s concept of the Three Spheres of Influence is a framework that helps individuals focus their energy on what they can truly affect. This idea is derived from his book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. The three spheres, also known as the Circles of Concern, Influence, and Control, are a way to prioritise actions and efforts effectively. The Three Spheres Explained:
1. Circle of Concern:
This represents everything you care about, including external issues such as climate change, world events, and things you have no direct control over. While it’s important to be aware of these issues, focusing too much energy here can lead to feelings of helplessness.
2. Circle of Influence:
This sphere includes aspects you can influence, such as your local community, workplace, and people around you. By focusing efforts here, you can make a meaningful impact even if you can’t solve global issues. This is where actions like raising awareness, inspiring others, and leading by example can make a difference.
3. Circle of Control:
This is the smallest sphere, encompassing only what you can directly control, your own actions, decisions, mindset, and responses. By focusing on this sphere, you ensure that your efforts are grounded in what you can actually change.
By prioritising your focus on the Circle of Control and the Circle of Influence rather than the Circle of Concern, you can channel your energy more productively, avoid burnout, and create more positive impact. This approach is particularly valuable in projects related to sustainability and social change, where large-scale problems can feel overwhelming.
In the context of “Art for Earth’s Sake” understanding these spheres can help artists and activists focus on what they can do, such as creating art that inspires action, practising sustainability in their own work, and building local community initiatives that promote change.
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 