Last Day: A Short story about death

I don’t remember how I died. I just know I must have. My memory keeps rewinding back in my head. The first thing that struck me was the realization that I’m in my grave. Then I heard muffled sounds; the sound of the footsteps and voices leaving. Before that, that piece of my heart rose to the ceiling through my throat with a slight groan and a tingle starting from my feet leading up to my brain. All I kept thinking about how they didn’t lie. I floated for a while and looked at my body but couldn’t make out where I was. All of my human senses were quickly fleeting but I still had the fingerprints of humanity all over me. As I waited, I felt the weight of elastic time slowing. As unnatural as it was, it all seemed natural, as if I’ve been here before. In my sleep I awakened, realizing for the first time, while separated from my body, the elements of it. Not only a microcosm of the earth, but of the solar systems, the cycle of day and night, and all of creation. This ever-repeating pattern was encompassed in this small human form, self-abused and unappreciated. Only in leaving this vessel did I realize its significance. My lungs no longer breathing in harmony with the inverse nature of a tree, the earth's essense no longer pumping through my veins in the creation-rhythm. I felt my empty shell, which, without me will re-enter its source, combining the mud, pebbles and water of the world. The peculiar thing is how unsurprising this all felt after the initial shock of realizing that I'm no longer living, but at the same time living for the first time since before my moments on earth.

Mostly, I thought that all this time, they spoke the truth of death. That not until after death is where we will find our ultimate life and permanent existance. This was not the conspiracy that I had sometimes imagined. This was not a fairy tale passed throught he ages. The hundreds of people with this message that were born were not misguided or misinformed or crazy. This is it, I was free of the earth, I was post-human. I have no body and I am eternally present. Time is no longer moving and the past seemed like a speck of dust on a forever ribbon that is time. In the world, even when I was sleeping, I was always moving; each breath took me closer to where I am now. I was just unaware of it. Who knew that in my final sleep is when I'd finally awaken?



After some time, I watched them take my body into the box. I heard distant wailing and with every shriek I felt a pulse of pain. I tried to figure out a way to tell them to stop but I couldn’t find a voice. I only had awareness. My senses are almost gone. I began to see in another way with a different sense. I sensed faint lights in the air. Some were larger than others. All were floating with purpose, direction and intelligence. They just floated around as if they had always been there. I felt their acknowledgement of me. I suddenly started moving. I felt lowered for a second and hovered above my body. My human senses were all but gone, as a few strings only attached me to my earthly body and I distinctively heard the rhythmic sound of shoveling as I tried to block out the hurting voices.

I heard Basem, my husband call my name in a terrible groaning voice and I knew he was burying me. I tried to make some contact but knew he was far and out of reach even though he was right beside me. I continued to hear the jolts of the pain of my loved ones. Between those electric pulses, I heard familiar voices, friends and family who were nearby. All were upset. I heard Fatima close by. I didn’t hear what she was saying. I tried to tell them that I was all right. I tried to tell them to be at peace, to tell them goodbye, to tell them to stop crying. Instead, there were only the shocks and the terrible hopeless sobbing. The footsteps and voices start leaving and I was soon all alone with the dirt and wood, spots of light and dark. I started feeling the tightness of my confines and I am close to my body. I hover above it under the coffin. I feel a breath or a breeze on me and in an instant I feel space and sense of light. The vastness I felt was so intense that it was as if I had broken the surface of the water and was able to breath.

I was unrestful. I desired so badly to be at peace. My daughter's image was blazing before me and her cries were deafening. I knew that she was distraught and lost. I tried in every way to call out but I was not allowed to move. I was walled in and felt like I was chained. All of a sudden, I was released into the world of her mind. For a moment I was freed from my shackles and found myself in her thoughts. I saw her and she saw me. I tried to call her name, "Daniya," meaning "close." I might have only thought it. I'm unsure. I motioned for her to sit down and she smiled at me. I did not have permission to embrace her or approach her but I found a blank canvas and started to paint with a brush that embodied our past together. I first painted her essense that I now know of her. Before birth, she was a beautiful color, a breeze of life floating around the other world waiting to be born. Then the scene of her birth when we met for the first time. After that, the time when she was sick as a baby and I held her all night in the rocking chair. I teared up as I thought how much I love my tiny baby. That is when I most fell in love with her. She watched attentively and with every painting she appeared taller and brighter. The last painting was of me in another world, and her next to me, we are holding hands and silent. We are both the same age and we look at each other's slight lines in our faces and silently speak of our mutual knowledge and experience. There is nothing to say and we watch each other, holding hands and realizing our eternal bond. With that, my memory-brush fell out of my hands and I fell back deep into the earth again.

After a few moments, I heard voices. I heard what sounded like questions being repeated again and again. I struggled as I learned how to hone in on the sounds. They asked about my god, my book, my prophet, my religion. I understood but didn’t respond at first. I felt a tightening sensation on my soul as if I was being squeezed. It became more intense and if I still had life in me it would have vanished. I heard the questions once again. This time as if they were booming. I began to speak and the sensation eased until I answered those floating beings demanding of me. It was as if my being, no longer having any physicality answered for me. I had no brain, no ears, or mouth. They instantly disappeared and I dropped into my expanse of earth and light. I became aware of a vision or a dream in which I was totally consumed. It was pleasant and light as if I had fallen asleep underneath the shade of a palm tree. I met a beautiful little girl who reminded me of my first daughter. She was full of life and had a sweet smile. She wore a pink ribbon in her hair like the one my daughter wore when she was little. She had beautiful big dark eyes and very thick lashes that curled up to her eyebrows. She was holding half of a string of jewels in her hands and she told me that her necklace broke and asked me for help picking them up from the floor. I gladly sat down next to her and started picking up the lovely gems. I spent the rest of human eternity gladly lost in this sweet dream. It seemed like a restful night to me. I was unaware of the chaos and warring that was going on above me, which ended the world.



I woke with a loud booming sound that resounded through my being again and again. At the third sound, against my will, I stirred from my earthly home that I came to know for so long as my real home; I only lived above the ground for a fraction of a second. It was here that I lived my whole life, I thought. I felt as if I were a tree that is unwillingly growing out of the ground. Like a seed blooming, I grew my body again with my soul wrapped up in its core. I felt moist ground and couldn’t open my eyes as I traveled those few feet to the surface. I heard a dull roar of noise and stomping. I had eyes again! I had limbs, a mouth. I struggled out of the ground like a worm freeing myself from the earth. It all seemed familiar and natural. I sat weak and naked on the ground as I rubbed my eyes and tried to make sense of what was going on. I sat staring at the loud rumble of humans around me, stumbling, reaching out of the ground, pulling themselves up. Their eyes were wide in a horrible way. I didn’t know my fate any better than they did. The earth was white and bare. The sky looked broken as it had been carved into with a large knife. The sun was close overhead and pouring in, scalding and unforgiving. My skin was burning and there was no opportunity for shade. A figure trips over me and knocks me down. We look at each other in disbelief. Neither of us blinked and he stumbles away. The contagious panic crept up into me and I began to run. The bodies were reaching out and erupted at a faster pace now. I began to push aside anyone in my way and I started to run, stumble, and run again. I became dizzy and tripped over my feet. I lay down on the hot earth and all I could think of was water. I tried to utter a word. “Help” was stuck in my parched throat and was lost in the screams drowning in the sea of others. I kept moving. It felt like days but the sun never set; there was never any relief from the horror. All I did was run and fall and crawl. The whole place seemed to be a solid mass of white stone and dirt. There was no water, just more and more people. I was no longer able to move efficiently through the growing crowd. My feet were now squishing in the dirt and it was hard to walk in the white mud.



The sun never set in this horrible world. It felt like days or months went by but there was no way to tell time. I was no longer able to move efficiently through the throngs of people. I tried to stop moving but I ended up stumbling and falling. For the first time since that waking I stopped moving and noticed the liquid leaving my pores, pouring out of my body from the heat. In my delirium I thought for a wild moment: “Water…,” but then I knew I was soaking in the collective sweat of all of humanity of all time. I found a hill and half climbed, half stumbled up a part of it. I sat and cried. I was drowning in the sea of wailing. I put my head on my shaking knees and just waited.

Rank fluid kept creeping up higher and higher and I was forced to scramble up over more and more people crowding me. I realized that everyone was trying to do the same thing. Underneath me was what I thought was a squirming hand and in a moment of horror I knew that I was standing on these newly born humans. I didn’t care and kept trying to secure my ground and looked around me. There were people up to their knees in the slippery wetness and some up to their knees, and even shoulders. I looked away when I noticed the ones who were barely keeping their mouths above the stench-filled stuff.

Voices gathered over the noise on the far side of the hill. “Moosa,” I heard them scream over and over, louder and louder. I recognized the name of the prophet and was instantly filled with hope. A voice loud and clear that rang through the other noises echoed the name “Iisa.” Jesus. Horribly I knew that even the great prophets were turning to each other for help. A feeling of fear and a new hopelessness crept over me and I was once again bombarded with the suffocating, ever-growing crowd. I was fighting again to stay on the hill no longer aware of who was underneath or over me.

I had no way of knowing how much time had passed. The battle for the higher ground raged on and I had long since lost my place on the hill. I was somewhere lower and waist deep in the filth, still sweating. The crowd fell over itself over and over like uncontrolled and crashing waves. A strange dimming of the voices around me followed. I turned and no one around me seemed to notice it. It didn't occur to me all at once. I hadn't had the right mind to think about what was actually happenning. This was the judgement day that we have been told about over the ages. This was the reality that was only real during story time. This truth was settling down on the post human forms like a dark blanket covering the globe.

I couldn't think about much else other than the flashes of my life that appeared before me like a movie screen. I kept searching for soemthing good I've done in my life. I couldn't think of one thing. All that kept coming into my mind were moments of disrespect, deception, unfairness, the greed. The weight of my own untouchable and unchangeable reality was crushing. The thought of the person that I was was sickening. I started devising a bargain with whoever I would have to explain myself to. I wildly thought that whoever created all of this would certainly be able to bring me back to my past so that I can fix it.

At that moment, a path appeared in front of me through the people and the filth, where they faded away. A strange dimming of voices voices followed. I can still hear them, but I was not focused on them. There was a silence, a peace, behind me. I turned and no one immediately around me seemed to notice it. Instinctively, I walked into it, relieved to feel space around me for the first time before the dream-filled grave. I walked, along with a line of others who saw the same thing I did. I could feel the sweat dripping from my pores more obviously now that I have left the river of people. All the chaos seemed to drift away into a dark noise. For the first time, I wondered about my parents, daughters, and husband. My frailty and miserable condition only allowed me to consider their whereabouts very briefly. I continued walking in single file with the others. Eyes still fixed in a wide stare, we were all naked and writhing in the heat, still soaking the ground beneath us. No one talked with one another, the only sound that was heard was moaning. This was it; all the people whether they walked on earth or walked through this place were walking towards this reality. I walked and walked through the tunnel of bent sounds and bodies. Everyone in front of me started to look down and around. All of us gathered in a new place. We walked out into a wall of coolness. I instantly collapsed on the white ground in gratefulness. I knew that eventually I would stop sweating and that was all I can ask for now. I noticed my skin for the first time as my knees dug into the ground. It was red and blistering, and the cool sand stuck to the wetness of the boils. I stood with arms outstretched and noticed the same on the others.

Slowly, the moaning started to cease as we all gathered into this new place. We were still under the same torn sky, and still close to the blaring sun, but there was a sort of welcome shade that covered maybe millions of people in this vast new place. I heard a scream above me and looked up to see a pack of large black birds, beautiful and regal flying on top of us. People started scattering, calling out names of loved ones, at first calmly, then escalating into wild screaming and running. I found myself joining in, stumbling around, looking for a familiar face. A person in front of me stopped and stared at something in front of him. Others followed and stood wide-eyed and stood still. One by one, people started shuffling around and trying to see what it was. Then I saw him. It was the man whom I have spent my whole life trying to capture a glimpse of in a vision or a dream. This was the one who I’ve come to love through his short descriptions, and from stories that reflected his beautiful heart. He was the same person that I’ve been trying to find remnants of within everyone in my life, one by one, because I couldn’t find much of him in myself. I took a quick glance and looked away. As I faced the ground, his radiance from that one glance sunk it deeply and quickened my heart and breathing. He was beautiful, and it was impossible not to be fixed to him.

While still shocked with his presence, he greeted me with peace and I responded instinctively. I looked at him once again. He was holding an iridescent carafe that looked like it was made of pearl. He poured some liquid from it into my shaking hands as I carefully drank into my parched throat. Immediately I felt invigorated and refreshed. Even my wilted skin began to rejuvenate. I brought myself to look at him again and take in as much of his beauty as I can.

I nodded in appreciation and he smiled and moved on. I couldn't look straight at him and I couldn't stand to look away. My eyes followed him as I tried to attain him once more. He truly striking. His complexion was medium and he had black hair down to his broad shoulders. He was of average height and had gracious and kind eyes with dark brows. I spent my whole life wanting to talk to him and now I couldn't think of something to say to him. I watched as he moved around the crowd. Everyone was staring in awe and respect. Every time someone greeted him, he returned it with a longer one. I felt a great relief and comfort in my heart from his presence and proximity. He was a perfect image of softness and strength. His presence was forever burned into my memory of this time.

As I stood there, I realized that I have to find a way to be by him. I felt like I was dying as he started to walk away. I considered again the bargain with god when I meet Him. I thought about my short life. I feel like I've already spent fifty times the length of time that my previous life was. That other life seemed like only part of a day. It was a short dream that determined the eternal life of my soul. I shuddered as I thought about how unaware of all of this I was. He had followers that were able to stand by him. He had his people around him. They had marks of light on their foreheads from prayer. They had marks on their arms and feet from washing in preparation for it. They had no stains on their hands like the rest of us. They gave of their possessions and lived simply. They had faces that shone like the moon, similar to his. I could have lived my life to attain his great company, to be his companion, but I stood there, unmoving, unable to follow. It is too late and I am alone at the end of all time.

I was on the brink of the shadow unable to move. I was content but nervous. People around me started gathering in groups. There were tribes and families gathering together, seeing each other for the first time. I was still unable to move. I frantically looked around and I couldn't see a family member, a friend, or a familiar face. Next to me was a Nigerian family who was reunited and embraced each other joyously. In front of me marched a line of Turks wearing the white garb of pilgrimage chanting "Labbayk Allahhumma Labbaik," the chant of hajj. They died before they could complete it, so they have their chance now, in the hereafter. The terrible sounds of moaning were being slowly replaced with a buzz of talking. I still had no one but the birds overhead, as alone as I was. I wished I could be them and I wondered what they were and where they came from.

There was a man dressed in a robe with his following that entered. He had the second greatest following. He was beautiful and bronze, with long hair and had a humble regality surrounding him. My heart stirred inside my chest and I knew that this was Isa, the great prophet Jesus. Next to him were some women. I recognized Maryam. She had a glow that was unlike the other women. They were followed by whole eras of people of all races. He walked directly towards Muhammed. Following him was Abraham. I recognized him by ------------. His followers were a race of familiar looking people. He was radiant and glorious. He had black hair that fell over his shoulders and brown skin. His eyes were piercing and he glowed with the same light of the other prophets. Then came the rest of them. Hundreds of men and women marched through as I watched, unable to take my eyes off of them. Some walked in with no followers at all. Some with one, and some with only a few. There were women, all dignified and beautiful with followers. I wished I could know them, any of them. I wanted to follow them, but I couldn't. I just stood there in awe of them and in disgust of myself.

They were all convening somewhere far away from me, their followers surrounding them in a large circle. They were calling on each other again, like they were in the other place, on the hill. They were petitioning to start the judging. Someone wildly shouted that the people in the lower place are drowning and are begging for the Day to start. Abraham’s followers scattered as he ascended like the birds on what looked like a throne of light. He floated for a moment then descended, eyes wide, hair now white. He said that he was too afraid to go to God because he was the destroyer of the idols then said that the largest idol did it. His people said to him that he is the truthful friend of God and that God will forgive this if it was a sin. He called on Jesus. I heard Jesus and felt his light from way further than where Abraham was. Jesus was closer to Muhammed. I heard him say in a clear voice as everyone hushed that people had worshipped him throughout all of time, and he never asked them to, but for this he is afraid to meet God. His people said that they were misled and that it’s not his fault and that he doesn’t hold the guilt of all of their mistakes. He immediately went to Muhammed Al-Amin (The Truthful). He ascended like Abraham did on a cloud of light. When he came back, he looked peaceful and he was silent. He said for all to hear what he mumbled at his death: “In your glorious company.” We all heard a loud boom then as a sonic wave swept over the entire plain.

I shook with fear and felt that I had just woken up. I had a new awareness and saw everything differently. I looked up and there was the broken sun spread out in swirls. It looked like molten lava and was once again hot. The ground was hot and I felt the burn again of the atmosphere. All the people fell to the floor, my heart stopped, as I knew what was happening. The day was finally starting. The angel blew his ancient horn for the last time. He had spent eternity with it at his lips waiting to fulfill the command. It is done.

There was a loud noise coming from the sky as the birds dispersed and screeched. The sky broke once again and opened like a canvas from a painting being peeled up. There was light emanating from it. This was one of the great gates. A rush of tens of thousands of people were swept up without warning and poured into the hole. Many were children. I saw the eyes of an insane person, a baby, some essences of souls unborn yet, other people, young and old. These were the promised. This gate closed as suddenly as it opened. The sun reclaimed its position and swirled as it was. The sky looked as if it will never open again. My heart was racing and I found it hard to breath. I didn’t know what was coming next.

All of a sudden, a million animals came through a clearing in a flash, one by one receiving their penalty. The fly becomes large and kills the spider; the fawn grows fangs and kills the tiger. So on and so forth until justice has been served then they all spontaneously turn into a mountain of dust that scatters and blows away. This all happened in a matter of what seemed like minutes.

The ground started trembling. I looked around expecting to see another stampede. Everyone else around me looked around and rose up from the ground completely, eyes wide hands out, bracing themselves for what is to come. None of us have blinked for minutes. The ground started violently shaking as we fell upon each other. A large cracking sound was heard and people scattered. I scooted away from the large crack occurring in the ground beneath me. Steam escaped as well as a terrible stench. I covered my face, got up and ran as fast with a newly found energy. A woman next to me fell in and another man who was nowhere near it fell into the abyss as well. Once again, all I heard were screams. Families who have recently reunited have scattered again, everyone trying to save himself. There was a large piece of land that sprung up through the abyss that one by one people were being summoned to. I heard name after unfamiliar name. I couldn’t move any further. There were people all around me, and I was back in a sea of arms and faces. I turned in horror to the sight of the bridge. Some of the people crawled across; some of the people fell in immediately as if it was as skinny as a string. Some held onto the edge with their fingers, screaming. Some looked like they were being dragged on their faces. Others dashed across it, not even touching it. I noticed that people ascended first slightly, froze, and in a moment came back. Some came back with faces as dark as night, face frozen in worry and some with faces as bright as the broken sun was. The people then crossed the bridge. I couldn’t see the end of the bridge, just the abyss and the inescapable heat.

Then I heard it. Seham Ahmed Riad Abdala. I struggled to see her over the sea of heads. I saw her rise and freeze in space. It was really she. My mother. I haven’t seen since the night of my death. She was gone in a flash across the bridge. I tried to run as the heat seemed to increase and my breathing started to quicken. My heart felt like it was going to pump right out of my chest. I knew it was almost time. I heard my father’s name. I couldn’t look. I knew I would hear my name and I tried to run. Everyone was pushing back, away from the bridge. I just screamed and pushed. There was no escape, I couldn’t move any further. I found myself screaming over and over: “Allah!” “You are the one who loves to forgive, forgive me!” I knew it was too late for this supplication. I was wild and felt myself losing control of my limbs. My mind turned itself over to my body. I wasn’t moving my body; my body was moving me. My eyes grew wider than before, my arms stiffened and my legs started running, running to the abyss against my will. I heard Mona Tarik Mohamed Abdala. It was my turn and I couldn’t refuse. I had to submit and succumb. I rose at the mouth of the abyss and saw the bridge for the first time. It was full of thorns and spikes and close to the steam of the fire. For me it was narrow. I rose and rose and felt my heart stop. I saw a figure of wings and light before me. It was huge and spoke my name. It gave me a heavy book in my right hand. I would not have taken it if I had control of it. The command came to me while I was in shock, awesome as it must have sounded to the illiterate Prophet, “Read!” My hands opened the great book as I saw scenes from my life in front of me, shown to me by the being of light. Stealing, lying, cheating, the most horrible images were being weighed as I stood frozen in time and shamed in front of my Creator. I tried not to speak, tried not to admit my sins. Before me was a large scale. My hands, feet and mouth all spoke against me. They were witnesses, to my horror, they all turned against me. They spoke of everything, almost. A vision of the earth came before me. She said that she is my mother and I did not honor her. I felt more and more naked as I read and as I saw. It was horrifying. The Creator was still cloaked and hidden. All I saw was the light and the visions. All I heard was the voices of my hands and body. Everything paused as I tried to tell my hands to look for my greatest offenses, secrets to all but myself and to the others whom I’ve hurt. One by one, they appear. Some of whom I’ve lied to, some of whom I’ve spoken badly of, their backs rotted and eaten. I stared horrified as I realized that I did this to them. Hoping for their forgiveness. Some didn’t and some did. It was up to them whether or not I was forgiven.

My scale swung around wildly as the sins and deeds were tallied on it, some weighing heavier than I would think, and some less. As the quietness fell upon me for a moment, I looked for my greatest sin again, looked for the time it was, looked for the person I’ve betrayed, and kept searching back and forth. It was hidden and I couldn’t explain it. I stood as my entire life began to appear again scene-by-scene in front of my maker as well as the visions of the people who were affected by my actions. Some of the incidences I have forgotten about, such as planting trees and brushing snow off of a bush, some of them were skipped over. I realized that I was forgiven for my most major of sins. I was shown some of the sins that I covered for other people on earth, and this is my reward for that. I also spent my life being punished for some of it as I saw, and after the punishment was enough to pay for some sins, the misery counted on the scale of good deeds, making them slightly heavier. I saw my sicknesses, I saw myself nursing my daughter, crying from the lack of sleep and before that, writhing from the pain of labor. I saw the every cent that I gave in His name to help anyone in need, I saw the debts people had of me that I have forgiven. These things weighed heavily on my scales and I for once felt hopeful.

I returned to the bridge, scarred from the experience of seeing my life, white hair blowing in my face from the hot air blasting from under me, burning my face and feet. Trembling, I started walking. Immediately I slipped but my skin caught one of the larger thorns. Although it pierced my side, I was grateful. I continued walking, fiery air burning my face and scars. I continued, shakily on the path. I struggled to hold on, moving slowly and avoiding the thorns and jagged edge. My legs shook underneath me. My body was now trembling and I fell onto my knees. I looked at the long road ahead of my and looked back. There was no way to go except forward. I kept crawling, inch by inch until I noticed a breeze and the greatest smell I have ever experienced. I finally saw the end. I got up and ran and reached a series of the largest and most gorgeous gates I’ve ever seen. There was nothing better than this. They were all closed except one. I reached the only one that was slightly open for me. It had a name and was labeled. It was Al Rayyaan. I knew that this was the gate for the ones who fasted on earth often. I ran into it and stood still. I was overcome with the beauty and the thankfulness that I felt. I was immediately greeted by some light-beings with wings as a dweller of paradise. I must have passed out then.

I started to rise again. Then it finally happened. The meeting that I have begged for all my life. The one that I have spent a lifetime asking for to be a pleasant one and not a horrible one. I am meeting my maker. I was struck down. Instantly, space and time diminished, even more that it had previously been. I floated, I couldn’t sense anything but light. I was blind and returned to my original state of awareness and unawareness of anything else but Him. I was vaporized. I was timeless. I was struck and suspended in time for thousands of years just from that moment. That veil which was present during questioning was lifted. I was lost in divine love. The beauty of the creator of beauty struck me down as all things beautiful that ever existed seen and unseen by mankind, created and uncreated by humans knocked me further into my unconscious ecstasy. I forgot everything that I have ever known. I stopped feeling anything other than this. I never wanted to leave this home, the source of everything. Here in this state, nothing else mattered. I am enraptured.

latest show

Fri, Feb 21st Emory Convention Center, Atl, GA.

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see my work at:

MuslimFest 2008 Canada (Aug. 9-10)

ISNA 2008 columbus, OH (August 29-Sept.1)

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Islamic Awareness Week at Rutgers University presents:

Tuesday, April 15
Rutgers Student Center - Red Lion Cafe (College Ave. Student Center)
Rutgers Univ. (New Brunswick, NJ)
8:00PM (following Maghrib at the IAW tent)

I will be displaying there!

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NYC artists

Please.. if you're a Muslim artist or an artist who deals with political or religious topics and live in the nyc area, contact me pronto! there is a general lack of organization of muslims or people willing to tackle tough topics artistically. let's talk.

Muslim Painter - Basic Artist Statement

I work with oil paints, found objects, silkscreen, and graphic design. As I think about my next artistic venture, I am reminded that all art work is a process of expression and what distinguishes a visual artist from a non artist is that the artist has found some mode to express a feeling visually. When people look at artwork and feel that they wish that they could do that, what they really mean is that they wish they could evoke that feeling by simply making a visual piece of work.

When people see my work, I'd like them to learn something about themselves and the world. I begin a piece by asking myself what it is that I want the viewer to learn or understand. I then think of how is best to translate it into imagery. I primarily use religious and cultural imagery in my paintings. Islam is a huge part of my life and it is obvious when one meets me or sees my work. This is a reflection of who I am and what I have to offer to the world.

When my work is going well, I am filled with a sense of purpose and empowerment. I know a piece is done when it feels satisfied with the message and I no longer feel the urge to go back to it, when I want to show it.

What I'm working on currently is a series of images about motherhood. As a new mother of two, it overwhelms me, tires me and elates me. The feeling of these pieces should be universal and the message is the mother as the most ancient, ordinary, basic and beautiful martyr. I am also incorporating poetry into my paintings, as it feels right to do at this time.

The symbol of the olive tree pervades much of my work. It symbolizes stability, with deep and ancient roots, and it also branches out and out of a little nourishment provides nourishment for many. How similar is it to motherhood and humanity in its purist forms.

Contact:
abdala@gmail.com