Thank you America!
I dream of it and think about it, since the moment of my self-awareness. It has dug deep into my subconscious. I saw it in my dreams, grew up with it. I had to relive it all over again, grasp my own thoughts, gather my own experiences. I was compelled to write my own personal history. Gradually, I became aware of my fears and faced some of them, while others eluded my perception.
It is the war. It is the American fighter jets, the bombing raids, the rockets, and explosions that shook our homes every night. It is the innocent blood, the physical and psychological damage, and the shattered childhood.
So, thank you, thank you, USA.
I let it out
I emptied my heart
Cried it all out
I purified it
Cleaned my soul
I was full of doubts
I got the sign
I saw the signal
Brighter than the sun
Shines more than venus
It's become clear
That's the proof
My heart shakes
My skin is numb
My bones became bendable
The time has come
It's became clear
I forgot who I am
I neglected this mass of meat, hair, bacteria and blood, that people call "my body"
Found my soul
My soul lives
My soul dreams
I am a human
I am not a man
I am not a women
How can it be that a person feels so constricted?
Why am I restricted and you are free?
Why am I pathetic in your eyes?
And how did I become someone I actually don't like?
My blood is full of mold.
As a young person I was fascinated by everything
Everything amazed me
Little things made me happy
I swear I was happy!
Now I am thoughtful, a daydreamer, a wonderer and confused
Other times there
In the end,
I drink wine
Have you heard?
Do you know what the prophets and the people say?
But I don't know anyone who plays fun
I go up
I am going to leave
I will turn my face
Will look for solutions
I will just look for it
look at me
I am obsessed
Stunned by the things I have no control over
I am looking for peace in everything
In search of the satisfaction of nature
Looking for closeness to animals
I focus on pleasing people
As well as the others I don't know
Look at me well
I'm looking for an anchor point
You can't put out my fire
I'm looking for opportunities
Waiting for the time
That I’ll get to get over you
For the time in which I get over myself
But I have to go now
At the end
Have to go
To my soul
Waiting for me in Wadi al-Salam
Nobody knows what it is like to be "me"
Touch it, Smell it, Suck it
I was raised in a conservative Shia Muslim community in Baghdad where emotional expression was limited. Whenever community members faced difficulties in life or in holy ceremonies, they often resorted to tears as a means of coping. During such times, they would invite professional singers (Mullah/Mullahye) to their gatherings to perform religious hymns that spoke of the pain and suffering of the lost, lonely, and particularly of Imam Al-Hussein and his children.
I vividly recall how my mother and other relatives eagerly anticipated these events, longing for an opportunity to release their pent-up emotions. My mother would often express her desire for such gatherings, saying:
"I yearn for these occasions, where I can cry and engage in self-flagellation. I want to forget everything, all the lack of happiness, poorness, the ongoing war and all other family shit."
Despite the passing of over three decades, the memories of me being raped from my first ten years of life still remain vividly etched in my mind. Their haunting presence repeatedly plays in my head, causing me significant distress. These memories have had a profound impact on my teenage years and continue to affect my daily life.
They have left me with an unsettled outlook on life, making it also difficult for me to trust others. These traumatic experiences have also left me with a wounded soul, which may have contributed to the development of a permanent speech stutter and an unstable sense of identity.
In my perspective, identity is composed of a collection of experiences, memories, relationships, and beliefs. However, my own experiences have been fraught with pain, confusion, and disorientation, making it challenging for me to develop a stable and cohesive sense of self or identity.
To confront these challenges, I did this Performance-video with the goal of conveying the somber and melancholic memories of my childhood. As I reflect on my childhood Trauma, I empathize with the feeling of absolute helplessness my mother must have experienced. It seems that when faced with a problem that cannot be easily solved, crying becomes a natural response.
01:57 min (Loop Video)
"Childhood's Choir" is a performance that explores my personal experience of growing up in Iraq during the turbulent period of the war in the 1990s and early 2000s. Through this portrayal, I highlight the profound impact that a disrupted childhood can have on an individual's growth and development, leading to a void that continues into adolescence and beyond.
The poignant and evocative nature of my artwork leaves an unsettling impression on my audience, illuminating the intricate interplay between personal experience and broader historical contexts.
The Square Circle
08:25 min (Loop Video)
Having been raised in a constrictive environment dominated by "cis-males", I was compelled to live a monotonous existence with no opportunity for creative expression. Reflecting on religious experiences from my homeland (Iraq), I search for a sense of certainty amidst the unrelenting uncertainty of my daily life. I am trapped in a repetitive cycle of existence, I long for the freedom to explore new possibilities and break free from the confines of tradition.