10 Questions with Hani Amra

Hani Amra, born in 1981, had his first exhibition at the French Institue in Palestine at the age of 14, and later he then obtained a grant to study Arts in France. Hani's photography was successfully exhibited around the world, including Copenhagen Art week, and winning competitions, including Pipeline annual photography competition. Through his relentless quest for freedom, his practice of photography shifted to painting, which allowed him to expand his explorations. Today he still resides in Jerusalem and remains a very active practitioner.

haniamra.com | @hani_amra

ARTIST STATEMENT

Hani's intrinsic work is about digging into the surface of reality and searching for unexpected answers to open questions. Having started with photography, his main subject of study revolved around the processes of transformation, in relation to the context of the ongoing state of the city of Jerusalem, which is similar to a never-ending construction site. In his new work, he introduces three Sufi concepts to decode his process of creation and applies them using everyday construction material on the surface of a stretched canvas.

INTERVIEW

First of all, when and how did you start getting involved with visual arts and photography?

I accompanied photographers during what was called the first Palestinian intifada and observed how they set up exhibitions. This gave me a first taste of art and composition. Then I accompanied my mother to complete her studies in London, I spent a lot of time in museums and Art galleries. I was 12 at the time.

You had your first show at 14, and you have been working and exhibiting since then. What moves and inspires you in your artist work? And how do you keep your interest and motivation?

I think there is a form of personal fulfillment and a desire to always go further. It must be a personality trait. When reality reminds you that you have to confine yourself to a more conventional work through social, family, or political pressures, well, the artistic practice persists anyway. It must be fate, no doubt. There are things that happen despite the circumstances, or better, because of them, but which one cannot explain. I decided to fully embrace this fate. Of course, I couldn't survive without having a few jobs, but in the end, nothing could replace or prevent Art from being my main focus.

You started with photography, and later shifted to painting. What prompted this shift?

Photography as a mode of expression fascinated me. Going from black and white to color was a personal choice. The transition from photography to painting was a natural evolution. After all, in both cases, it is about composition and personal expression. The borders between the two are easily crossed. 

Let's talk about your work. It seems to be deeply rooted and connected with Jerusalem and its social and political state. What message do you want to convey with your art?

Yes, there is a desire to free oneself from the weight of the city and what is taking place in it and to fill a gap. To regain a human meaning, a certain dignity, a right to exist and to be free while being able to thrive, and not to be the victim of circumstances. Maybe that's the message. It is a city that is experiencing drastic changes, division, and a deaf and insidious violence suffered by a population. There is something Kafkaesque in this city; when you are Palestinian, you are guilty until proven innocent. It is imperative to be able to free oneself from all this, above all through an inward work, then in my case, through Art.

Can you explain what is your main idea behind this series and how you are working on it?

The starting point was to translate and explain certain Sufi concepts and to make the bridge with contemporary art. Concepts I found useful in life in general. But they also allow me to set a structure and a restrictive framework in my artistic practice. The practice will always tend to go beyond formal concepts, of course. The goal of the Sufi is to achieve what is called Fana or dissolution of the ego, also called Ja3, union. But the genius of this literature is to have created conceptual pointers to help us hit the target. My work also consists in actualising some of these concepts and exploring how they can translate into contemporary practice.

Where do you find inspiration for your work, and what is your creative process like?

Inspiration comes from what I see. When I was a child, I often played on construction sites. I am no longer a child, though this is to be verified, but Jerusalem is a construction site. There is also the destruction, of course. So I turn it all into something positive. In my creative process, the first stage consists of what I call Talbis in Arabic, or coating, dressing, adding, and feigning. The second step is to remove, peel, and get rid of all the excess, in Arabic Tajrid, commonly translated as abstraction. The whole process must lead to a union that comprises both opposites, being and non-being, in one unity.

Why do you use this visual language? And how does it help you convey your message?

There is the language of pure intellect, logic, and reason, but then there is the language of the heart. This art expresses the language of the heart.

Is there anything else you would like to experiment with?

Of course, there are many things, music, for example, and other forms of human interactions; today, there is the creation of content on social media. It is an interesting evolution of our relationship to reality, and my current work seems to be going towards sculpture since I use similar tools in the second stage of my process described previously.

What are you working on now, and what are your plans for the future in terms of new projects?

At the moment, I am working on visual material in relation to masonry and construction. The rest will take shape naturally. What matters is to give the present experience its full scope without worrying about the future. 

Finally, do you have any upcoming shows or collaborations you are looking forward to? 

Yes, I will probably have an exhibition around September, which will perhaps be part of a cultural week devoted to Sufism, but it is under construction.