We like to describe our society as a modern one. We embrace the notion of modernity by dressing in the latest fashions, buying the newest smartphones, and following every trendy ‘habba’ to an exhaustive point. We affiliate with the idea of ‘modernity’, yet we still cling to a part of us that’s no longer there. Perhaps it’s your grandmother’s voice telling you that chewing gum isn’t ladylike, or your father telling you that career in the creative field isn’t going to be a fruitful one. You don’t necessarily disagree with these voices, but you do at the same time. Change isn’t a matter of absolutes, and in Shurooq Amin’s latest exhibition titled Like Russian Dolls, We Nest in Previous Selves, we’re invited to explore the notion of modernity and its varying idiosyncrasies.
“We nest in previous selves, as we carry within us the DNA of our ancestors, and we will never escape that,” Amin began to tell bazaar, “Like Russian Dolls, we nest in previous selves, is a line from a poem by American poet Diane Ackerman. This line kept recurring, connecting mental dots for me. No matter how civilized we think we are, no matter how far we believe we have evolved, no matter how much progress we think we have achieved…we still “nest in previous selves”. In other words, there is still the DNA of thousands of years of ancestry, the seed of the barbarian within us, there is still evil inside us, if given a chance to rise from the darkness. There is the internal human struggle of good versus evil: we all “nest in previous selves” like Russian Dolls; we all work so hard on ourselves to evolve and move forward psychologically, mentally, emotionally, and physically, and yet, there remains inside us the seed of our ancestors, people we never knew, whose blood runs through our veins, whose identity shapes ours despite how much we fight it, whose history haunts us. Can we change our DNA?”
Amin first conceived the idea for her latest exhibition while traveling abroad, “On an airport bus one day, I noticed a woman standing between her three children. The two boys were dressed in jeans and t-shirts and the young girl and her mother were in plain black Abbayas, tightly raised up to cover half of the chin and sternly lowered to cover half the forehead. I realized in that moment, observing her, that she was my audience. Whenever a journalist had asked in the past: who is your audience, who are you trying to reach and influence? I had always responded everyone.” It was then and there that Amin knew that she needed to speak to this woman, and she needed to bring her to her upcoming show. She just had to figure out how.
Fast forward to two years later, and the scene is set at Kuwait’s Contemporary Art Platform. A playful, neon light installation juxtaposes the phrases “It’s a Man’s World” and “It’s a Woman’s World” in electric blue and pink. A stunning display of magnetic canvases and intricate black and white ink drawings
are complemented by intentionally hand-written messages on the walls by the artist, while three mannequins clad in black abayas and niqab are strategically posed across the gallery space, almost mingling with the show’s attendees. Amin wanted to speak to the woman on the bus, and conceptually brought her to her show. In her latest press statement, she states, “It’s my way of speaking to that woman, to communicate different ideas, to advocate for raising her children without discrimination, to question the patriarchy and instill in her a sense of empowerment. To let her know a different point of view; that you CAN maintain your traditions and conservatism, and yet still raise boys that become tolerant forward-thinking men.”
While Amin’s artistic vision took two years to materialize, she knew right from the start how it was going to look. The idea of characters sitting on their thrones, as depicted in her canvases, actually appeared to the artist three years ago, and she explains how her process is from “Z-A. I have a vision or the final show and paintings, but I work backwards. I see the end result, and the entire vision is so clear in my head, but my process evolves organically.”
From It’s A Mad World in 2012 to Like Russian Dolls, We Nest in Previous Selves in 2020, we can claim that so much has changed, yet not at the same time. The characters in her latest series are mostly perched on chairs; a metaphor for all the positions of power in every Arab state and what they stand for. A patriarchy in control, but not, and even Amin controls her characters so they listen to what she has to say. Amin’s characters are also unmasked for the very first time, unlike their previous selves circa Society Girls in 2010, “The women wore veils and the men wore white masks to cover their faces indicating the inability to speak the truth and of hiding one’s identity in a ruthless society. But this is the first time that I remove these masks: This time, my characters have evolved, they are willing to speak up for their rights and freedoms and to express themselves, but they still cannot divulge their deep truths.” In turn, Amin’s characters will try to conceal secrets, but they’re there for everyone to see.
Amin is no stranger to presenting her audience with nuanced motifs in her work. She comments on her employment of spiders and insects to symbolize the male-female relationship dynamic and the courting rituals of our society. She describes how, “Scorpions will dance around each other before they mate, the black widow spider will find her mate, make her first move, get what she wants, then kill him.” This echoes with a lot of local societal pressure, to get married, to have kids, to have the children, whether you’re male or female, she adds, “A woman without children is seen as an anomaly in our society.”
As for the ink-drawings, that perhaps many might perceive as unusual accompaniments to her, large size canvases that most viewers have become used to seeing, the artist brings out her previous self, as the last time she had worked on an ink drawing was when she was 16-years-old. “They reflect the same messages of my bigger paintings but in smaller, black and white concepts.”
We were quite drawn to the final piece of the entire series, titled The Last of The True Romantics Chakra Can. It’s the only painting that’s stripped away from symbolism, collage and is quite minimalistic. Amin says that this piece is a true portrayal of where she is in her life right now, “I feel very in tune with the universe and myself, I meditate every day, I feel right with my spirit inside my body. I feel like I’ve unlocked the secret to loving life and feeling young, as free spirit, as an artist, a human being, and a woman.” Upon completing work on the series, Amin is at a crossroads. “I’ve had this vision for two years, and I’ve been experiencing so many changes, and exploring the challenges that life throws my way. [Because] I have a lot going on in my life- it’s a bit of an anti-climax because I’m done and now I can focus on other things in my life, and now I have to confront them.”
Like Russian Dolls, We Nest in Previous Selves is both evolutionary yet reflective. Like Amin, her audience has also changed, “My audience now includes much younger, kids, teenagers, and people in their twenties, and thirties. The majority of people who came to my show were from the younger generation, and I received so many messages of support from them. I’m totally thrilled about this, as I am from an older generation, and yet I am completely relating to new generations. This means my work is becoming more relevant, and it is not antiquated. The vision that I have is relevant. My ideas have always been way ahead of my country and my culture and my people, at least I always thought so. I’m happy to speak to a younger audience to help them pave the way, as at the end of the day, I’m an older role model who is on their side. They’re amazing, brilliant, and they love the fact that there is an older role model who is brave enough to speak about things many might shy away from.”
For more information, please visit Shurooq Amin’s website, www.shurooqamin.com and follow the artist on Instagram @ShurooqAmin.
