In the installation Patience, Emirati artist Maitha Hamdan presents a series of handwritten letters that contain some of her most private thoughts and desires. None of those secrets, however, are evident. At least, not yet.
The letters have each been encased in a block of red wax. Topped with wicks, they are intermittently lit as part of her solo exhibition at Alserkal Avenue’s FN Designs. The wax melts against the flame and drips in long strands to the floor, slowly baring the handwritten pages in the process.
There is no telling how much of Hamdan’s written secrets will be revealed once her exhibition, titled … I Kept Holding, concludes on February 21. Perhaps that anxiety and resolve is part of the work. Nevertheless, for Hamdan, the secrets Patience contains is secondary to the poetics of the piece, which reflect upon the concept of transformation against time, of learning and unlearning.
Hamdan saw wax as a fitting medium to explore this theme. The material is the basis for most of the works in the exhibition. The show is the conclusion of her year on the annual Tashkeel Critical Practice Programme, which offers artists in the UAE the space to develop work, along with mentorship and guidance.
The experience, she says, was a process of experimentation and building upon artistic concepts she was interested in. More than that, however, it was an exercise in “unlearning”, of letting go of personal and societal certainties and expectations. For that, she needed wax, specifically red wax.
“The beauty of wax is that it is a solid object, but when it melts it tends to find new form, with its own fingerprint, completely unique to itself,” Hamdan tells The National. “It will find the form it wants to, and on its own time. And that’s what I wanted. There’s freedom in wax.”
As to why she picked the colour red for her wax, Hamdan says it is a paradoxical hue that is loaded with symbolisms that are often contrary to one another. “It expresses so much,” she says. “It expresses festivity, but also sadness. Blood and love. Birth and death. I wanted to pack all these meanings within the works, so that when a person looks upon them, they can impart their own definitions of the colour. It is depended on your background and your perception.”
The photographs reflect the gamut of emotions that Hamdan is trying to evoke. The images show her holding a set of lit candles. In some works, she seems serene and at peace. Others are loaded with more sombre emotions. The photographs have been textured with white candle wax, while the rest of the images are tinted red.
The photographs are titled In a Room with No Windows, from a line of a poem Hamdan wrote years ago, which read: “In a room with no windows, I chose to be free.” Hamdan says she wanted to see how the images would “interact with the wax”, adding: “The exhibition in its entirety is actually a process of experimentation.”
Another installation, For your Own Security, also presents handwritten letters, this time a romantic correspondence. However, instead of being encased entirely in wax, words are redacted, like those in classified documents, with strips of red wax.
“Classified documents are redacted for the security of the country,” she says. “In this case, I wanted to bring that concept to a more personal realm. For the security of the sender and receiver.”
The largest work in the exhibition is also its centrepiece. I Cried, but I Kept Holding is a 10-minute video screening in a dark box and only visible through a peephole in a locked door. The video echoes Hamdan's photographs, showing her interacting with a set of candles. The work, Hamdan says, is an embodiment of female stoicism, and a reflection of how women across time and cultures were cautioned against expressing themselves.
“It is a struggle that for us women, you don’t see it except through closed doors,” she says. “I wanted the work to be seen through a peephole, so that you get the feeling you’re not supposed to watch what is happening.”
Hamdan says she feels grateful to have taken part in the Tashkeel Critical Practice Programme, under which she sought the mentorship of renowned Emirati artist Mohammed Kazem.
“The programme was an opportunity to practise with any medium that I want,” she says. “I had worked with wax in the past, but then concentrated on textiles. I came back to the medium because I was drawn to the idea of construction and destruction, learning and unlearning. And this was my journey, unlearning everything that I had learnt.”