ENTER THE STUDIO
Artist studios are defined by their isolation. A glimpse inside offers insight into how the cogs of creativity turn inside the artist’s mind.
By Anna Seaman
Photography By Christophe Viseux
“Someone once asked me, ‘without a studio practice, are you even an artist?’ and I replied that sometimes I don’t even like being in my studio,” Stephanie Neville explains before breaking into laughter. Neville, whose studio is a purpose-built structure at the back of her home in Al Yarmouk, Sharjah, is a textile artist who spends many hours on painstaking and repetitive tasks such as embroidery or needlework for her pieces.
She describes her studio as “a thorn rather than a rose”; a place that she has to come to rather than an escape. “It sometimes feels like ‘going to work’ rather than the more enjoyable practice of art-making and I have a love/hate relationship with it for that reason,” she says.
Nevertheless, she is very protective of her space, where she stores the fabrics, wools and materials that she hoards. “I might be able to work without a studio, but then I might be without a husband,” she laughs. “He’s a neat freak, and I’m a mess. My studio is definitely my own private space where I am allowed to be as messy as I want to be.”
Opening image: JUMA AL HAJ’s work is inspired by texts that resonate with him—religious texts, personal diaries, notes or letters. Through his work, he dissolves grammatical structure and leaves nothing but the conceptualisation of the words they symbolise. Above: KHALID AL BANNA’s work is shaped by his study of architectural engineering. Like an architect, he starts with a flat surface and builds works that are conceptually and materially storied. His formations, influenced by the principles of design, also seek to subvert them.
Also located in an outbuilding, this time on the grounds of his family farm in Al Falah, Khalid Al Banna has a more methodical practice despite also working with reams of fabric and swathes of textile. Inside his calm, quiet space, Al Banna sits at a simple table to cut collages. Around him, completed artworks hang on the wall, giving a sense of studio and gallery in one. It is also a sanctuary for the artist, somewhere he can get away from life. “I feel free inside my studio, with no limitations and obstacles to producing new artwork,” he says. “It is a place for reading and improving my skills. Also, it is an intimate place for gathering friends and discussing art.”
The studio for any artist forms an integral part of their practice, but it doesn’t have to be a physical space. An artist is always creating, so in that sense, the whole world is their studio. But, seeing inside an artist’s working space can often bring insight into their work and personality.
Wael Hamadeh retreats to his studio, a room piled high with paints, canvases, rolls of paper and other materials, to access what he calls divine inspiration. “Actually, my studio is my brush mediation room,” he says. “I develop a relationship with my brushes that is like a long friendship. When I work, it is like meditating with the brush and it will take you to new dimensions. For me, it is like a euphoria to access a link to this divine source of energy.”
Top: A South Africa-born contemporary conceptual artist, STEPHANIE NEVILLE works with textiles. She employs traditional handmade techniques to express a feminist identity, and delves into the complexities of diaspora, memory and absence. Her work is often confessional. Above: Born in Lebanon in I969, trained in Edinburgh College of Art, and living in Dubai since 1995, WAEL HAMADEH’s paintings and sculptures are greatly influenced by the colours, folklore, and rich heritage of his homeland.
Hamadeh, whose studio is in his home in the Al Taawun area of Sharjah, close to the Dubai border, says that sometimes this connection to his materials calls him to his studio without his control. “It may sound strange but if I can get to a stage where nothing else distracts me, I can create anything I see in my mind. The world is so beautiful, a reflection of God’s creation.”
This spiritual and almost sacrosanct connection with the studio is something that Shrutika Gosavi relates to. “My studio is a sacred place for me. People who visit my studio always say that the place has amazing vibes, that it is very calm, and I think it’s because I have spent days and nights working and putting all my energy there,” she says. Her space is also strictly off limits to anyone else because of this delicate energy balance. “I even want the air inside to stay as it is, the way I have left it.”
Top: SHRUTIKA GOSAVI’s art is contemporary figurative using elements of symbolism and surrealism. Inspired by the human body, nature, spirituality, identity and perception, faceless human forms with exaggerated body parts and gestures often fill her canvases. Above: Born in Iran, ELHAM SHAFAEI pursued her master’s and PhD in Malaysia. For the latter she examined the role of melancholia in creative life. The notions of melancholia and loss continue to be integral to her artistic temperament. Photograph of Gosavi by Christopher Pike.
Elham Shafaei, a multidisciplinary artist who works from her living room in her apartment in Al Khan on the Sharjah corniche, says when she makes art she has to find a place of silence. “My works are about my experience as a human being, so they come from deep inside. The act of silence is important to me in my studio; it allows me to filter my thoughts.” Often using the floor as her space to produce, Shafaei’s workspace is an extension of herself, a place she describes as her “meaning of life”.
Juma Al Haj also works from a home studio in the Halwan suburb, but unlike Shafaei he only gets to use the space at weekends. His work is related to journaling and most of it is text-based, so he is able to begin the creative process from anywhere. However, it is when he gets to his studio that he becomes fully functional. Inside his space, which is light, airy and voluminous, there are things that trigger his nostalgia. “I’ve intentionally furnished my studio with pieces from my childhood, from which I find inspiration. My studio space is like a time capsule of cherished memories.”
Top: For Emirati artist and curator NASIR NASRALLAH, art is about experimenting with and synthesising materials, be they physical objects, ideas or theorems. His work is a personal response to his environment and the people and places he encounters, notably the objects he collects. Above: Since 2017, German artist and academic TOR SEIDEL has lectured in the Fine Arts programme at the University of Sharjah. He has exhibited in Sharjah, Dubai, London, Miami and Berlin, among others. Previously he worked as a commercial photographer.
Artistic practice, however, is not always an individualised process. Some artists prefer to work in communities. In 2019, Nasir Nasrallah, an experimental artist, founded a group studio called Marsam Al Sahel, in an old villa in the coastal area of Al Rifaa. It is not only a place for work but also for discussion, social gatherings and impromptu critique sessions. “For me, it is important to be surrounded by others as it encourages experimentation,” Nasrallah says. “The studio also allows me to be messy and playful, which is crucial for my practice.”
Conversely, Tor Seidel, a German artist, photographer, filmmaker and author, has a utilitarian attitude to his studio. He previously rented a unit in an industrial zone, and having enough space to support his photography practice was most important. He is a professor at the Fine Arts College, University of Sharjah, where he now uses the lab and studio. “I have worked in many places. The atmosphere, of course, determines the attitude of how you work. But in recent years I’ve become more disciplined, and a place to work has more of a functional meaning, so I have to get things done.”
