With a career spanning close to fifty years, respected multidisciplinary artist and curator Jamelie Hassan’s work has revealed neglected histories, merged creative mediums, and made space for marginalized voices. As curator and organizer, Hassan has organized exhibitions that have raised awareness of artist and humanitarian collective rights in Canada and internationally since the 1970s. Her work is both politically engaged yet deeply personal; many of her works weave her own family’s immigration history with her own travels and the changing political landscape of the Middle East and Canada.
In this interview, curator Nadia Kurd talks to Jamelie Hassan about her past work, her influences, and how she has researched and interpreted the visual traditions found in Muslim-majority nations. Not limited to a single paradigm or process, this interview seeks to discuss the issues at stake and the entanglements that her work presents.
Nadia Kurd (NK): I would like to start by talking about some of your early works, namely Bench from Córdoba (1982). This is a mixed-media work that combines a bench made with decorative hand-painted glazed tiles and plywood alongside a photo book with images of another historic bench in Córdoba, Spain. Writer Christopher Dewdney wrote that you referred to the works from this period as an actualization—an “‘actualization’ rematerialized through memory” that sets up “a kind of commerce or transactional utility with the real world.” Do you still perceive this work this way? How would you define this exchange today?
Jamelie Hassan (JH): Recently, I came across a comment from a person connected to the Hotel Viento in Córdoba, Spain, which really struck me. The writer differentiated between “tourist” and “traveller” and thanked the artist for bringing attention to this neglected park in their city by creating this work. Reading this commentary, I was completely transported back to the experience of arriving in Córdoba in 1980 by train, then walking through the park and seeing the ceramic benches that were such compelling features for me. I remember the beautiful ceramic tiles, the quotes from the Roman philosopher Seneca, who was originally from Córdoba, inscribed on the tiles, the park itself—a once cared-for place left to the ravages of time. I recall that I wanted to share the experience of this encounter when I created the bench and the bookwork. The “transactional utility with the real world” that you quote from Christopher Dewdney from his text in 1984 could refer to the functional nature of the bench, which could comfortably accommodate two people. I think there are multiple ways to interpret any work of art, but usually the work is “hands off” / “do not touch” policy in a gallery, while this work, when it was first exhibited, involved the possibility of experiencing a work of art by sitting on it and holding the book in one’s hands to go through its pages. The closed book originally sat on the bench’s tiled surface and was the same size as the tiles that I used.
NK: Much of your work also connects place, history, and architecture. For example, your billboard project Because… there was & there wasn’t a city of Baghdad (1991) drew significant attention because of its association with the destruction of Baghdad, Iraq, to more recent work, Neither from the East nor the West (2014), that incorporated a felled tree and Arabic calligraphy. When you are developing such works, what considerations are made in regards to the sites you choose? What does the use of cultural and religious signifiers mean to you?
Image description: A bench is positioned on a concrete floor in front of a blank wall. The bench, large enough to seat two people, is a solid form without armrests or open space below the seating surface. It is covered entirely by decorative ceramic tiles, hand-painted in a repeated botanical pattern. Narrow blue and yellow tiles outline the edges of the bench. In the center of the backrest, a tile reads “No se vive para si, desde que no se vive para nadie” which translates in English to “You don’t live for yourself since you don’t live for anyone”.
Above: Jamelie Hassan, Neither from the East nor the West, 2014. Guildwood Park location, Scarborough, ON. Collection of the artist. Photo by Ron Benner.
Image description: Photograph of the mixed-media installation. Nine hollowed-out tree segments are installed on grass, which is freshly cut and speckled with hundreds of tiny yellow flowers. The tree segments are smooth and curvilinear with their bark removed. Their shapes reflect the arabesque motifs often found in Islamic Mosques. Embedded inside the hollow tree segments are sheets of mirror with Arabic calligraphy printed on them.
JH: Like the Bench from Córdoba, these two works were influenced by my travels and time spent in historic cities such as Baghdad and Istanbul. It’s significant that you have pointed to these two specific works, as both had a life outside the gallery space—one a billboard, the other first created for installation in a park setting that included architectural fragments: Guildwood Park in Toronto. Both reference the space of the mosque aesthetic. The one incorporates an image of the actual dome and minaret of a mosque in historic Baghdad from a photo that I took while studying Arabic in Baghdad in 1978–9. The line, “Because… there was and there wasn’t a city of Baghdad” brings into context the traditional opening line of Arabic storytellers. The installation Neither from the East nor the West incorporates the Arabic calligraphy from the interior of the ceiling of the Hagia Sophia (also known as the Aya Sophia) in Istanbul. This iconic structure was originally built as a church, then was converted into a mosque. It then became a museum, and more recently, the Erdoğan government has designated it a mosque. Inspired by a tree that had collapsed during a storm revealing its hollow interior, I inserted photographic fragments of the calligraphy from the Aya Sophia’s ceiling. The tree’s hollow interior revealed arabesque-like forms that resonated with the calligraphy. The power of a tree and its own language is also significant, and how nature and culture intersect to create a space for each other. Significantly, I worked with the same sura Nur (The Light) using calligraphy in my installation in the library of the Great Mosque of Xi’an in China in 2014.. Xi’an and Istanbul represent the two cities on the historic route of the Silk Road.
NK: I’m glad you brought up your 2014 calligraphic installation Nur inside the Great Mosque of X’ian (alternatively the Huajuexiang Mosque). In a 2016 article on the project, writer Julian Haladyn beautifully notes that,
In the library of the Great Mosque of Xi’an we experience a convergence of many of the questions that are of consequence to Hassan, with Nur as a nexus that repeatedly signals the possibility of something more—a belief in the beauty of knowledge. This installation is an act of disclosure on her part, a moment in which she questions her present relationship to the world and to the histories she engages with.
I think the project nicely brings together the history of the Silk Road and the resulting exchange of objects and cultural influence across Asia. My question to you is: how do you see the role of knowledge and cultural production today and, most of all, your role as an artist within it?
Image description: A photograph of the interior of the library. Daylight is shining through decorative windows. The walls are lined with shelving units and cupboards. There are two round tables with backless stools near them, and a long rectangular table lined with antique Chinese scholars chairs. Installed across the grid ceiling are eight paper panels with Arabic script painted in golden yellow. The script forms thick circles, each intersecting four ceiling grid squares.
JH: Albert Hourani, in his 1991 book A History of the Arab Peoples, describes how peoples moved through a network of routes in search of not only goods, but also learning:
“Along them moved not only caravans of camels or donkeys carrying silks, spices, glass and precious metals, but ideas, news, fashions, patterns of thought and behaviour.”
In this period, the scholar-traveller was a highly esteemed visitor, and honours were conferred upon the traveller demonstrating the prestige attached to knowledge. Evidence of the significant cultural exchanges, which took place between countries from West Asia and sites in China, are found in artefacts that are in collections in museums throughout the world.
The routes referred to as the “Silk Road” are ancient, and the overland route originated in Xi’an. Trade cities and destinations included cities as far as the Mediterranean Sea and into Europe. Hourani notes that these links could also serve another purpose: “From time to time more violent movements would pass down the routes, as an army carried the power of another ruler or of a challenger to the existing power.”
Previous installation works of mine have addressed histories, both personal and public, and the architectural aspect of the installation’s space is a major determining factor. Installation works are dependent on many factors, but the site and its context are fundamental—what one might call the “hospitality” of the site to embrace the idea.
My installation, Nur, involved working with Arabic calligraphy in response to the existing grid pattern of the ceiling of the library of the Great Mosque of Xi’an. This Great Mosque is considered to be one of the oldest mosques in China, dating from 742 (Tang period). It has a quiet beauty with its Chinese architecture and gardens. Islamic inscriptions and Chinese motifs are aesthetically combined throughout the site. These dual cultural elements create an extraordinary presence throughout the city’s vibrant Hui quarter.
In the work, repeated motifs of Arabic script, on paper panels and inserted into an existing grid, are installed across the ceiling of the library. This Arabic calligraphy is based on the calligraphy inscribed on the ceiling of the dome of the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, which is from the verse Nur (The Light) in the Qur’an 24:35. In addition, two glass mosque lamps from Egypt, inscribed with the same Sur’a, are installed in the two entryways of the library. This installation continues to remain in the library, a gift to the mosque.
A project of this nature owes its existence to many people: Ron Benner and Andy Patton, artists and scholars, curators Zhou Yan, Christine Platt, and Shu Yang. Central to this installation were the dialogues that happened with the individuals that work and live in the Muslim quarter. On my research trip to Xi’an in advance of the exhibition, I was fortunate to meet Nadia Ma, the granddaughter of the renowned Imam and protector of the mosque and the Islamic quarter. Nadia, a student of English, offered to be my translator and also became an advocate within her community for this installation to be accepted. Nadia’s text, along with texts by Julian Haladyn, Miriam Jordan Haladyn, and Christine Platt, is published in the Nur catalogue that London-based Blue Medium Press published in 2015.
As I reflect on this Xi’an installation today, it seems impossible that such an installation could exist given the hostility to Muslims that we continue to witness in parts of the world including Canada: China’s repression and violations of human rights of the Uyghur population, Myanmar’s expulsion and violence of the Muslims, and the attacks of Islamophobia in Canada. Most recently, four members of the Afzaal family were murdered—a hate-crime that took place here in London, Ontario, on June 6, 2021. The victims were targeted because they were visibly Muslim. 1 The recent findings of unmarked graves of hundreds of Indigenous children and adults on the sites of former residential schools across Canada, and the realization that thousands more are estimated to be found, is bringing into focus our country’s abysmal colonial history and our government’s ongoing inability to address the injustices endured by Indigenous peoples. 2 These crimes are now being called genocide. For many, the sorrow and pain felt and shared within the IBPOC communities is building a network of solidarity that, I hope, will finally bring about the changes this country urgently needs to make in order to bring justice and equality to all peoples who live on Turtle Island.
NK: Your installation piece Conference of the Birds (1992– 3), which takes its name from the celebrated long-form poem by twelfth-century Sufi writer Farid ud-Din Attar, also focuses on site and history. Another work created during the same period, Seek Knowledge Even Onto China (1993–5), draws from a Hadith commonly attributed to the Prophet Muhammad and incorporates text and photography. 3 More recently, a photographic work draws from US writer Sarah Kendzior’s book Hiding in Plain Sight (2020). Together, these works reveal a focused study of historic texts and the written word. How do you read and engage with writing?
JH: I have an extensive library. Reading has been a big part of my life since I was a child, and my reading is across many subjects. I do enjoy the reading aspect of research, but I am also inspired by the parables of oral traditions that were passed down to us from my parents and other family members.
NK: Your work, Coupe de Chosroes (2012), is based on an artefact—a large Sassanian vessel made with gold, precious jewels, and blown glass that features the centrally enthroned figure of the ruler Chosroes I (531–579). In this work you borrow from the original pattern of the cup and insert cut-outs from various packaging and paper within the circular shapes to create a series. Can you describe the process and research behind this project?
Image description: A collage made up of recycled paper packaging cut into circles of various sizes. A central circle is surrounded by three rings, each made up of smaller circular parts. Two small circles are arranged beside this ripple of rings, suggesting this may represent a thought bubble.
JH: I was awarded the Canada Council for the Arts studio in Paris in 2012 and was doing research in the city’s museums and archives related to Orientalism. One day I passed by an Arabic language and culture bookstore near the old mosque of Paris enroute to the Institute du Monde Arabe (IMA). On the sidewalk stall I found a book—an image of this Sassanian artefact was on the cover—which was in the collection of the Bibliothèque in Paris. I found myself contemplating the coupe’s constellation and transformed the artefact’s pattern into my experience of living in the city: what I was reading, what events I attended, what we were eating. These cut-out paper fragments became the materials that I recycled into the series. In a very quotidian way, this series acted as a pictorial journal of my time in Paris. I am happy to share this series of works with you from the collected ephemera of my time in Paris, as this full series has never been exhibited. Two related works from this series were presented in 2013 in Oaxaca, Mexico.
Image description: A paper collage of circles within circles. The circles are cut out from an image of a desert scene. Sand and blue sky are prominent, and some hints of golden Arabic calligraphy are present. The collage is arranged as a ripple of rings, like sand dunes in a circular formation.
NK: You recently relaunched the Embassy Cultural House (ECH) with artist and co-founder Ron Benner and your son Tariq Gordon. This artist-run collective was originally founded and operated from 1983–90. I am interested in the impetus behind re-establishing ECH, and how working with ECH has changed.
JH: ECH’s online and digital presence began in June 2020 as an archival initiative together with my son Tariq Gordon and my partner and artist Ron Benner. The lockdown of the COVID-19 pandemic was a unique circumstance for us to begin this work, especially as we were losing people who were close to us and who had been long-time supporters of our work. Curator, writer, and art historian Bob McKaskell died on June 30, 2020, and we decided to put the catalogue from the ECH survey exhibition Bob had curated for Museum London in 2012 online. The response to this ECH online document was overwhelming. We then realized that we should use this lockdown time to reconnect constructively with artists and friends in the community. We began working with a focus on ECH’s archives. Material was scanned, and images and texts were added to the website; a team of contributing editors and an advisory circle became involved. Especially significant is the support of Western University’s Arts & Humanities Faculty. We collectively saw this project as an opportunity to build community during the pandemic and to create a platform for cultural workers across all disciplines. Many of the projects address the same issues we tackled in the programs over the years of 1983–90. The ECH projects are very intergenerational as well. The team is made up of a younger generation, together with senior contributors. Organized events and interviews on Zoom offer us a “living archive” aspect to the ECH project which is able to address many of the immediate issues of our tumultuous times.
For more of Jamelie Hassan’s work, see: http://www.jameliehassan.ca
Nadia Kurd is a curator and writer based in amiskwaciwâskahikan (Edmonton).
- See the Afzaal Family statement: https://www.embassyculturalhouse.ca/afzaal-family-tribute.html.
- See Embassy Cultural House’s statement, “Name the Children”: https://www.embassyculturalhouse.ca/name-the-children.html.
- There are debates within contemporary Islamic studies and jurisprudence on the authenticity of this often cited Hadith (sayings of the Prophet).
This article is published in issue 38.3 of BlackFlash magazine. Get this issue
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