This is happening on Thursday (7pm) this week! Watch ‘Return to Sender: Women of Color in Colonial Postcards & the Politics of Representation’ for free, on Zoom, at the Arts + Change Conference
I will give a thought-provoking intro to the film and we will also have a post-screening discussion. All you need to do is to register for the session.
It’s cold outside but we can have a vibrant community event online. Hope to see you then!
so about the film ‘conclave,’ which is generating oscar buzz. i was excited to see it when it came out because of the cast – ralph fiennes, isabella rossellini, stanley tucci, john lithgow – all actors i like. the setting of the film is interesting. most of the action happens during a conclave – an assembly of cardinals who self-segregate until they’ve appointed a new pope. remember the smoke rising from the sistine chapel, signaling that the next pope has been elected? that selection comes out of a conclave.
as i’m watching the film, i’m thinking to myself how wonderful it is to see this thriller with these masterful actors set in a completely different context, constructed with meticulous replicas of the vatican and full of elaborate costumes and rituals. v catholic of course.
towards the end of the film, there is an explosion in the midst of the conclave. there’s a hole in the building where the voting is taking place, with debris and pulverized dust everywhere. the camera begins to shoot at an angle, ralph fiennes is hurt, we feel disoriented.
my first thought is: it’s a dream. fiennes is under stress so he’s imagining the end of days. no such luck. this is actually happening. we soon find out that this is a terrorist attack – a suicide bombing to be more exact – which triggers a disgusting islamophobic rant from one of the cardinals: “we can never work with muslims, they are animals.”
at this point i say to myself: “this can’t be. they will probably reveal that the attack was the work of some christian sect or extremist group. they’ll flip it.” nope. the bombing is immediately assumed to be a muslim thing and that gut reaction is proven to be right.
now i’m thinking: “there will be strong pushback, this cannot be allowed to pass.” in fact, there is some pushback by one of the cardinals, but it’s not political. it’s simply meaningless generalities about not hating anyone (even suicide bombers).
for a film about catholics, taking place in the vatican, where the central theme is the election of a pope, this bit of last minute anti-muslim racism is so arbitrary. or is it? in the midst of a live streamed genocide of mostly muslim people, with propaganda deployed to invert reality and turn the killers into victims, perhaps every film that comes out has to fulfill a certain quota of islamophobia, even if it’s a side story randomly added at the end. my husband and i paid $20 per person to see this bs at a movie theater. it’s hard to tell what’s what when we are picking films. there are racist traps embedded in every bit of western culture.
As many of my friends know, I’ve been working for a while now on ‘The Injured Body,’ a feature length documentary about racism in America inspired by Claudia Rankine’s book of poems called ‘Citizen: An American Lyric.’
Well, I’m back on the project and already have a date for the film’s premiere – November 14th at Cinema Arts Center in Huntington, NY!
For years, friends and colleagues have urged me to contact Claudia Rankine and tell her about the film. It made sense. Yet I kept procrastinating.
I am not impressed by celebrities, politicians or rich dudes, but I’ve always been starstruck by Ms. Rankine. The beauty and brilliance of her mind, the simplicity and precision of her language, the ease and lyricism with which she captures the subtleties in our day to day interactions with each other, are all extraordinary.
Now that I have a deadline and am pressed for time, I found Ms. Rankine’s email (her assistant’s to be exact) and asked if I could use some of her words as text in the film. My work is interdisciplinary and so it crosses many boundaries between art, literature, politics, and philosophical writing. ‘Citizen’ is at the heart of this film. I didn’t overthink and just sent the email along with a link to the trailer.
Today I got an email from her assistant telling me how wonderful the film sounds and saying, “Of course, Claudia is willing to have her words used in this way.” No fees. No need to contact the publisher. Just “quoted with the permission of the author.”
Are you kidding me? Is this for real? I’m so excited for this project!
[Photograph of Ayni Ali by Arleen Thaler]
Going to Lahore for three weeks in February, but one needs a lifetime to explore its rich history and culture. It was the capital of the Mughal Empire under Akbar and later, like Paris, became home to some of South Asia’s best known writers and intellectuals. They would congregate at Pak Tea House, the birthplace of the Progressive Writers’ Association and its left wing politics. Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Ibn-e-Insha, Ahmed Faraz, Saadat Hasan Manto, Sahir Ludhianvi, Amrita Pritam, Munshi Premchand, Krishan Chander, Ismat Chughtai, Muneer Niazi, Ahmed Nadeem Qasmi, Habib Jalib, Kaifi Azmi, Intezar Hussain, Rajinder Singh Bedi, Ustad Amanat Ali Khan and many more. What would it have been like to live in Lahore in those days.
Watched a beautiful video of NCA by @maliknaveedpgotography:
Different Views of National College of Arts in Lahore
The institute was originally founded in 1876 as the Mayo School of Industrial Arts and was one of the two arts colleges established by the British in British India. It was named in honor of the British Viceroy Lord Mayo. Kipling became the school’s first principal and was also appointed as the first curator of the Lahore Museum which opened the same year in an adjacent building. In 1958, the school was renamed the National College of Arts and Mian Barkat Ali was appointed principal. [The brilliant NYC-based artist Shahzia Sikander is from NCA]
Excited that Rochester Museum & Science Center has created a map documenting their historic exhibition, Changemakers: Rochester Women Who Changed the World (in which I had the honor of being featured). This interactive map is now available as a digital interactive at RMSC on the second floor, Patricia Hale Gallery, but you can also access it online.
My location pin is near Liberty Pole by East Street, between Chestnut and Main, because of the Highfalls Film Festival. Thank you Farhana Islam for making me aware of this wonderful map <3
As we approach the end of 2024, a big shout-out to @pyaari_azaadi and her brilliant Hicksville-based project (supported by a fellowship from @huntingtonarts) which hopes to bring South Asian feminist creatives together on Long Island. It’s a powerful idea about solidarity, kinship, art, politics, language, and intent. Honored to be on this journey together – look forward to collabs and lots of fun. Here we are in Pyaari’s enchanted sunroom earlier in December <3
A couple of weeks ago I saw Elizabeth Catlett’s work at the Brooklyn Museum. I had already seen ‘Target’ as part of the exhibition ‘We Wanted a Revolution: Black Radical Women, 1965–85’ in Buffalo, in 2018. It’s a beautiful bronze bust of a Black man, his distinguished face seen through the crosshairs of a rifle scope made of metal and drilled roughly into the wood block that holds the sculpture. Fierce.
‘Elizabeth Catlett (1915-2012) was an avowed feminist, a lifelong activist, and an astutely observant artist. Spanning 75 years of diverse production, Catlett’s career was guided by her bold creative artistry, rigorous practice, and deep commitment to social justice and political activism.’
The first thing one sees in Brooklyn, as one enters the exhibition, is an exquisite terra cotta sculpture of a woman’s head. I was completely overcome by the delicate beauty of the piece.
In 1946, Catlett moved to Mexico as a guest artist at the printmaking collective, Taller de Grafica Popular. It was in Mexico City that she learned the terra cotta technique she later employed in her work (building a hollow shape from coils of clay) from the artist Francisco Zuniga. This indigenous technique, which allows the gentle definition of features, was in use long before the Spanish invaded and colonized. ‘Tired’ which depicts a physically depleted Black woman claiming a moment of respite and ‘Mother and Child,’ a smaller piece which brims with tenderness and the sense of safety we should all be allowed to feel in our parent’s arms, are stunning. The mother’s muscular legs seem to be rooted in the soil beneath her and reminded me of Soviet monuments and Diego Rivera’s murals.
‘While ultimately becoming a Mexican citizen, Catlett never lost sight of the Black liberation struggle in the United States. She embraced a political radicalism that merged the goals of the Black Left in the United States with the lessons of the Mexican Revolution and international feminist movements. Her transnational identity fueled a critical understanding that Black Americans and Mexicans were linked with other oppressed people around the world in a struggle against poverty, racism, and imperialism. As a result, she developed a rich visual language through which she articulated her solidarity politics across various media.’
Her sketches, lithographs, woodcuts, lino prints, watercolors, and sculptures bridge the gap between aesthetics and politics.
Catlett’s work will be on display at the Brooklyn Museum until Jan 19, 2025.
Bapsi Sidhwa has passed away. She was a national treasure. I read ‘The Crow Eaters’ when I was in college. My friend Najeeb had just finished reading the book and was kind enough to lend me his copy, with much enthusiasm. What I loved most about the book was its location – the vibrant, bustling, mythical city of Lahore, the city of my birth. The story took place during British colonial rule and focused on the Parsi community, a Zoroastrian community settled in the Indian subcontinent since the 7th century. The writing, in English, was sharp, colorful, bawdy. I had never read anything like it before, least of all from a Pakistani woman novelist. The bright intensity and earthiness of her work stayed with me. I read ‘An American Brat’ soon after I moved to the US in my 20s, and it spoke to me loudly – as an immigrant trying to find an emotional anchor to a new home and a young woman configuring and reconfiguring the various pieces of her identity. Later I read ‘Ice Candy Man,’ the book about the partition of India that inspired Deepa Mehta’s film, Earth. Many consider Sidhwa’s book to be an important intervention in the telling of the partition story. Countless papers have been written about its decolonial approach, its feminist lens, its centering of minorities, its understanding of spatiality, its hyphenated perspectives, and polyphonic narrative experiences. It’s a book that’s semi-autobiographical and shows how the violent tear of the partition was multi-tiered and enduring. Sidhwa had been living in the US since the 1980s. A true pioneer. May she rest in peace.
So happy to attend NEW QUEER CINEMA FROM LONG ISLAND yesterday evening, a celebration of independent queer cinema at @cinema_arts. Three genre-defying short films created by three filmmakers of color from Long Island (Grace Zhang, Jard Lerebours, and Devon Narine-Singh), curated by the wonderful Grace Zhang, and supported by Huntington Arts. More of this on Long Island pls!
psyched to welcome the iconic shawn dunwoody and his beautiful wife bella to our home this morning! equally psyched to announce that we are working on a project together which will include an art exhibition and a film screening – coming up in jan and april 2025. loved how shawn asked me some provocative questions that helped define the contours of the exhibit and its central themes. an extraordinary artist and curator. thank u so much shawn and bella <3
I am flattered that the wonderful George Payne has written a beautiful piece about Muslims in America (in the form of a dialogue between two friends) and has chosen to use my film, The Muslims I Know, to structure his thesis. It’s no coincidence. In 2016, George along with my friend Judith Bello, organized a screening of The Muslims I Know at the Irondequoit Public Library. The screening (sponsored by Metro Justice Peace Action & Education, the Fellowship of Reconciliation’s Rochester Chapter, and Gandhi Earth Keepers International) led to a productive discussion which could easily continue today given our present political context. Thank you George for writing so beautifully about the film. My views on/ approach to anti-Muslim racism have changed over the years, but it’s a documentary that’s very much part of my evolution as an activist filmmaker.
From George’s piece:
“Yes, the resilience is extraordinary. And I think that’s what The Muslims I Know does so well. It shows us the real, lived experiences of Muslims — not as statistics or abstractions but as full human beings with hopes, fears, families, and aspirations. It confronts us with the fact that Islamophobia is not just a political or ideological issue — it’s a deeply personal one that affects real lives. The film captures the tenderness, strength, and grace with which people navigate a world that often judges them unfairly.” More here.
The brilliant Batool Abu Akleen, whose poems we have read for the Warp & Weft, is publishing her first book! Pls pre-order and support her astonishing work.
48kg.
By Batool Abu Akleen
Translated from the Arabic by the poet, with Graham Liddell, Wiam El-Tamami, Cristina Viti & Yasmin Zaher
A debut collection from the Palestinian poet—Modern Poetry in Translation’s Poet in Residence, 2024—a bilingual assembly of forty-eight poems in which each work accounts for a single kilogram; a body’s mass; a testament to a sieged city; a vivid and visceral voicing of the personal and the public in the midsts of unspeakable violence.
You can pre-order your copy here.
was in nyc for just one day but got to see ‘walden’ with emmy rossum at the second stage theater, had dinner with arseniy (a dear friend from back home in rochester), spent time with my daughter, walked around battery park, and had palestinian food at ayat (the new location in manhattan) where the muhammarah is simply out of this world. walden is a play about the future, a time when climate catastrophe is being used as an excuse to colonize other planets and EAs (earth advocates) are seen as these bizarre people who continue to be invested in planet earth, oppose colonization and the destruction of indigenous life, suspect technology, stay away from screens, and are committed as a community to reducing their carbon footprint. there is a love triangle in the forefront of the story but the backdrop is hyper pertinent. out of all the emotions i felt throughout the play, the one that hit me hardest was when we witness some kind of dangerous geomagnetic storm that can damage humans, animals and plants. it felt too close. it was frightening.
Last night I finished reading Isabella Hammad’s Recognizing the Stranger: On Palestine and Narrative.
The first section of the book is based on her speech for the Edward Said Memorial Lecture at Columbia University in September 2023. It’s a speech that’s remarkably erudite, as Rashid Khalidi has said, with references to the work of Edward Said of course but also Aristotle, Freud, Kanafani, Wynter, Lindqvist, Darwish, Ferrante and many more. The tone is calm, analytical, cerebral. I felt immense joy reading it for I was privy to an extraordinary process of sculpting with words, carving ideas and connections ever so gently until a flawless shape is achieved.
From Between the Covers Podcast: ‘[Hammad] looks at the middle of narratives, at turning points, recognition scenes and epiphanies; which explores the intersection of aesthetics and ethics, words and actions, and the role of the writer in the political sphere; and which complicates the relationship between self and other, the familiar and the stranger.’
Certain paragraphs brought tears to my eyes, as there was a shock of recognition. For example this: ‘Rather than recognizing the stranger as familiar, and bringing a story to its close, Said asks us to recognize the familiar as stranger. He gestures at a way to dismantle the consoling fictions of fixed identity, which make it easier to herd into groups. This might be easier said than done, but it’s provocative—it points out how many narratives of self, when applied to a nation-state, might one day harden into self-centered intolerance. Narrative shape can comfort and guide our efforts, but we must eventually be ready to shape-shift, to be decentered, when the light of an other appears on the horizon in the project of human freedom, which remains undone.’
The speech was delivered a few days before October 7th, before the genocide. Earlier this year, in January 2024, Hammad wrote an afterword to the speech, which occupies a third of the book. The style of writing has changed, it’s now direct, urgent, political, based on numbers and dates. It’s full of questions. She sees the proximity of humanism to European colonialism and colonial violence. It’s as if Hammad has reached her own turning point, her own scene of recognition. I was choked with emotion as I read the last part of the book, I took many notes so I could re-read paragraphs like this:
‘In his essay on Shatila, [Jean] Genet speaks extensively of the beauty of the Palestinians, who remind him of the beauty of the Algerians when they rose against the French. He describes it as “a laughing insolence goaded by past unhappiness, systems and men responsible for unhappiness and shame, above all a laughing insolence which realizes that, freed of shame, growth is easy.” The Palestinians in Gaza are beautiful. The way they care for each other in the face of death puts the rest of us to shame. Wael Dahdouh, the Al Jazeera journalist who, when his family members were killed, kept on speaking to camera, stated recently with a calm and miraculous grace: “One day this war will stop, and those of us who remain will return and rebuild, and live again in these houses.”’
Last Friday I had the honor of spending some time with the brilliant (and extremely generous) @briannalhb who gave me a private tour of “Reclaiming Death: Art, Ritual, and Advocacy at End of Life, a group exhibition featuring Jeremy Dennis, Jenie Gao, Brianna L. Hernandez, Jonathan Herrera Soto, Resham Mantri, mk, Nirmal Raja, Denise Silva-Dennis, Adrienne Terry, and A young Yu in collaboration with Nicholas Oh. Each participating artist presents personal and culturally significant methods of relating to grief and death in ways that are healing and connected to heritage.” The exhibition challenges western ideas of death and mourning. In Brianna’s words, as the exhibition’s curator: “In a social atmosphere where death is primarily avoided or otherwise presented through platitudes and euphemisms, translating death from heritage and lived experiences is vital in honoring the vastness of end-of-life practices and our inextricably tied humanity.” Reclaiming death can be seen until November 30. Pls contact the venue to arrange a viewing. It’s at Ma’s House & BIPOC Art Studio, a communal art space led by Indigenous artist Jeremy Dennis and based on the Shinnecock Indian Reservation in Southampton. Here are a few images but one truly needs to be immersed in this important exhibit.
