52 WEEKS IN REVIEW : 2023

This is the typical time of year where we(?) start to review what happened over the last 52 weeks. I wanted to leave this until after the new moon as a way to let some dust settle while reviewing. I started this year with one word. Hope. And I’ll be walking out with it. 

What a year, what even happened? The first seven months were physically stagnant but spiritually, the word isn’t awakening (that happened again later in the final 6 months), the word I’m looking for is, developing. That’s right, spiritually developing, into this human who learnt to trust herself, rely on less, and get to work. The later 6 months saw me witness multiple personal deaths, deaths in my family, deaths on a global scale, a huge permanent shift in my family structure which enabled me to take a few reins for myself. All while painting, writing, protesting, debating, exploring, making, exhibiting, collaborating, praying, applying for schools and funding. Inshallah it all comes through and more. Growth. This is what you’ve witnessed, exponential amount of growth. I am not the same woman you saw 12 months ago. Alhamdulillah a million times over.

Kaecen Launch, 11/23. Pictured with The Flesh, 2023. Oil on canvas.

Before I continue into the deepness of it all, here’s a few beautiful things which happened this year included a few prayers answered. I met a lot of my people, I discovered chemical peels and proper use of vitamin c (it’s the small stuff). My paintings and writing got better. My publishers is waiting for me to sign a form so my book will actually get published next year. I was able to spend a wonderful amount of time with my family. I participated in 10 shows, 2 solos which are still running and my first perfume collaboration. I was in 8 bits of press, I won 3 awards, I became the chair trustee of a charity championing Bengali arts and heritage, I had work go up for auction for Gaza, I had work get sold, I signed to an agency. I got given a fully sponsored residency, I apologised for things, I loved more. I was vulnerable and I healed. I connected with my faith more. I started praying 5+ times a day alhamdulillah. I’m planting a lot of seeds for my future, and I’m starting to see a few crops flourish. I met more of my people. I found more of my voice. I became more beautiful than I’d ever imagined I could have been, subhanallah.

For anything to really get going or progress, the mask would have to drop and truthfully I didn’t know there was a mask. I was keeping it together or keeping things hidden, maybe even so uncomfortably. Not recognising everything I needed already here, and instead the society I am born into has taught me - and I let it to a point guide me for a while, that I had to accommodate something different. I was cutting away and hiding context because after all, this is an artist speaking and sharing her work, wanting to communicate in a language which does not hinder. However, when the context of your work partly embodies purpose gifted from previous generations and a faith you hold so dear to your soul, the challenges you’ve witnessed and succeeded in, there is no way to silence what your work is saying. My life is precious, far more precious than the unwitting opinions or desires, yes desires of others and how they want to see me. So take ownership of it and sing.

Studio 11/23

The mask fell this year and the strength I have in me to not bother about hiding my world is something else. Bring it out above the horizon. This year saw me delve into Sufism more and my brain relinquish a different community. Sure this new life comes with having to deal with its own set of fears, fears I’ve never tended to, but I am, I don’t want to use the word strong, I want to use another word that encompasses a bigger energy that I can’t find right now. With the fear comes far more calm. I know that I’m more than capable of going through these experiences fate has written for me and I know I’ll continue to thrive. Maybe the last 3 months of this year freed a few of us from things. 

This year was hard and necessary, a blessing. I use that word a lot because everything truly is a blessing. I found myself saying sorry a few times and being told I’m loved maybe a little more. The rhyme and reason for everything, even the sourness in this world. I think back to the timing of things not happening this year and I know now, I would have been too scared, too vulnerable in a different way to show up at even 70% of who writes this now. I would have ruined a few things, but I guess we do this regaurdless. We pick up the pieces, we learn and we continue. Amma (mum) would always say to me, us women (in my family) were not raised weak. Rightly so, I was raised by strong, sharp tongued, protective, resourceful women. It’s not to say I wouldn’t have eventually been here as you’re reading this without all this year’s catalysts, but what a lot to put onto a person, in these moments. I’m still vulnerable, however in a willing way which looks the target through the centre and harbours strength. This feels more like a beginning.

I’ve owned not liking the spotlight, not all the time anyway. We’re talking maybe 15-20% of the time. I was still present with my time in this spotlight and will continue to be so. With every photoshoot, I became more relaxed, my clothes had more movement, my hair grew out darker and longer, conversation became more fluid. I recall writing to you a few weeks ago on the protection of my practice, stating I did not want to be uncovered all of the time. So often we talk about hijab as a physical cover but here it’s a mental boundary. So many have known it as a tool of oppression which says a lot about the different societies and faiths we all have the joy of witnessing. I however, see the sheltering of your peace a blessing. And there’s that word again.

I created some beautiful work. I’m still painting with green. I fully dove into my ethereal world. And a request from last year, I started painting in oil and now the room feels like it’s on fire. The work at the beginning of the year felt like it was searching or pushing for something. The work now feels content in its own body, constantly. Constantly content. Constantly fearless. Constantly serving itself.

For A Sailor 2023. Oil on canvas. For Henry.

If you look at my practice, you’ll realise I hardly perform my poetry. I’ve been told recently I sound like my soul has exhaled, and I can’t say enough of how my heart feels clear, or how the chest feels open. There is a whole underlying theme of my work and it’s this connection to other realms which are naked to the everyday eye. My paintings have never lied. Given this context, purely reading out some poetry is not only a drop in the ocean of this person you’re reading emerge from the mask, but someone who knows just performing poetry is not the medium of use here. And why is this important you ask? Quite simply there are other ways to explore without going straight to the things expected of us and I am ready to explore, to find it and bring it home.

The Million Man March for Palestine, 11/11/2023.

There are many things I no longer want to do and a few I can’t go on living without doing. This year my audience saw me become more politically outspoken again. But tell me when are artists with a similar background and heritage to myself not political? There was always a veil of support I’d show, the world always needed it after all. And come the last 3 months of this year, who am I to stay quiet when I’ve been afforded the privilege of ‘waking up secure in their property, healthy in their body, and they have food for the day, it is as if they were given the entire world.’ - quoting Hadith (replacing ‘he’ with ‘they’) from our beloved Messenger ﷺ,

Me with my privilege of being able to grow up, get educated, go out into the world, have no threat against my life, be given a spotlight and have time to continue educating myself on philosophy and discuss world matters all because my own family resisted, survived oppression, famines and genocides. May I never shut up again. May I always keep learning. May I always have courage when it matters most. May I always have optimism and may that optimism continue to drive my soul.

Poem from Between Two Lips, 2023. Oil on canvas.

So what are the things I want from next year broadly speaking? Well, I realised I’d never quit being an artist. It’s not possible. Those days are gone and there’s no way back. Therefore, I want the art to continue finding its people and places. For my practice to grow from strength to strength, expanding further given the context of my own growth which I’m ridiculously excited for. Everything in this currently feels possible. I want to be ready to take the leap when my Rabb requires me to and I’ve been asking him to get me ready for such moments. I want to continue nurturing and keeping the connections that matter close. I want to travel a little more, eat more foods in different lands, experience more art, look after a few more plants, sleep a little earlier, continue learning and embracing the deen. Learn to love cooking a little more like I used to. Cook more for people I love. Build out some more personal space and time for some personal people or person (maybe) and things. Continue on my own terms. Stick to my own terms. Read more philosophy and physics. Read more in general. Continue being brave. Continue with an open heart. Continue knowing I am supported. Continue with optimism. Fortune favours the brave.

This was by far one of the hardest, most challenging years of my life and I owe it to a select few that I am physically able to be here, in London, making the work I’m making and typing such words at 4:15am. As trying as it has been and continues to be, I learnt, I grew, I spent a year understanding who I am, what I need, where I belong, where I’m going, who matters, why I really matter and last but not least, optimism. Sheer optimism which returns. So all in all, this year feels like a victory. 

I could not go without saying, Viva la Falasteen and Joy Bangla.

Sincerely, a Bengali Sufi Poet.