LIBERTYPhoto Series
2022–202315 Artworks

For centuries, Yemen has been at the crossroads of Africa, Asia, and the islands that pepper the majestic seas in between. Textiles have served as a driving force of cultural, economic, and diplomatic exchange, offering a living archive of the communities they have touched. Textile motifs have migrated from cloth into architecture, design, porcelains, and story-telling, offering remembrance of the histories that they both share and preserve.

Growing up in Sana’a, Yemen, I remember my mother would always remind us that education wasn’t only what we read, but what we saw, touched, tasted, and smelled. She taught us that in order to be well-rounded we needed to be grounded in the cultures of our community, and to know and appreciate the stories we heard and told. I loved to ask questions and to share my impressions and thoughts. As we traveled and moved to different parts of the world, however, I discovered that in some places I was ignored and made to feel unwelcome, hushed, unheard as if what I saw didn’t matter. But it was different in Asia, whether at home in Sana’a, or traveling to Mumbai, Lahore, Hong Kong or Bangkok, I felt accepted, integrated, and seen. The perception of the world through my young eyes was understood to be essential, reminding elders of the cyclical nature of their existence. Children rekindle the wonder, curiosity, and amazement of discovering the world for the first time.

Many of my early memories are of traveling with my mother to these places and visiting the local markets. I vividly remember the feeling of entering into spaces where textiles were meticulously folded and layered from floor to ceiling, creating perfect walls of carefully arranged colors and textures. The merchants—and even sometimes the master artisans themselves—would insist on inviting us in, and would share with us their processes and their histories. It became very clear that they weren’t just makers and sellers, they were storytellers, entrepreneurs, and artists–and they invited me into their world.

These were my favorite people and places to visit. The process of selling was so much more than a transaction; it was a ritual that had been perfected into a choreographed dance, all parts of which would ultimately play into the final negotiations. But the most important aspect was the journey we shared together through pattern, pigment, and storytelling. There was always an elevated seating area, designed for resting, relaxing, remaining. Tea was offered as a way of showing hospitality, kindness, trust and comfort. We would commence with niceties to engage mutual curiosities and facilitate the collection of information, and soon enough the flowing of fabrics, teas, and stories would begin. It was through this flow that I developed the rhythm and timing of my own practices. I would sit there for hours, while fabrics were thrown across my legs and lap one after another, until it was no longer only the small pattern that I saw, but an element in the lexicon of ikat, and more broadly a part of the ecosystem of textile.

The word that comes to mind most when I think about the experience of searching for fabrics and garment-making is royalty. Not only for the warm reception that is part of the process, but for the textures and color that embark us upon a journey through time and place. The liberated feeling of actively reimagining one's image by defining factors of how the fabric drapes, how it pleats, how it fits together. The process of touching the finest and least fine fabrics that exist, knowing the difference between what is good quality or poor, and learning that someone else’s taste might not be my own.

It was in the markets where I learned to harness my own opinion and to develop an appreciation for what I was drawn to, rather than what I was expected to be drawn to. I didn’t learn this from being told–but rather by what I observed, felt, and experienced. I learned that cotton is the most exquisite fabric, and the finest cottons are among the finest fabrics in existence. Cotton has the capacity to both cool the body and to keep the body warm, and the potential to be worn by all classes of society. The fabric takes and radiates the richest of colors, and as a plant itself, cotton reflects the language of the natural world. Cotton is also the most difficult fabric that I have worked with thus far, because it is prone to wrinkle so significantly, even more so than silk.

It is well-known that Liberty cotton is among the finest cottons in the world. The skills required to create these couture fabrics were developed by Indian artisans over hundreds of years, and their place within British culture is a direct result of Britain's violent occupation of India. Taking the artistry as their own, the British dissociated the roots of this ancestral knowledge and beauty from its origin, replacing histories of splendor with narratives and images of suffering, victim-hood, and criminality—all under the trademark of “Liberty.” How can one copyright liberty? How can one steal the knowledge of generations, divorcing them from their ancestors and from their land, in the name of freedom?

LIBERTY (2022-24) is a love letter to those who have taught me the most about what I know of pattern, color, texture, and the expanse of the world of textile–which is the world of linguistics, constellations, cartographies, and expressions. When asked how I obtained such a knowledge, the answer is that I owe it to my mother, to those merchants, to the keepers of knowledges, to the protectors of the archives, to the storytellers, to the tea makers, to the dyers, to the master artisans, to their apprentices, to the land… This series is dedicated to all those who have generously taken time, served me tea, and invited me to root my identity in and alongside their own. To this day my wonder and amazement only continue to grow. You’ve taught me that Liberty cannot be owned, trademarked, or captioned, but must be experienced.