Interviews

Amna Elhassan

Amna is a Sudanese painter—her work mixes mediums, but her messages about women's empowerment stay steady throughout.

Can you tell us a bit about an average day for you? Is it mainly in the studio? And what’s your studio like?

I wake up very early in the morning. I actually spend most of the day in the studio, and I also teach architecture online for Khartoum University. My studio is a room in my family’s house, which they gave to me. It has a surface of 12 square meters. It also has a bed and a big cupboard along one of the walls. I am so thankful for my family for doing all they can to support me. I normally work from 6 AM to 3 PM. During my breaks, I usually chat with my mother in the next room. My mother thinks the women I paint look like her. Sometimes, my father is so excited that he makes suggestions for my paintings. I tend to concentrate on my artistic work in the morning, as I feel more energized both mentally and physically. In the late afternoon, I like to relax and do house chores. 

What materials do you use most often? Why do you think you gravitated towards them?

Back in 2017, I participated in a printmaking workshop with the amazing Sudanese artist Daralnaim, who taught me how to make stamps from materials that are readily available in our kitchens, like potatoes or rubber. That was my introduction to printmaking and I got interested in it, but over time I found myself wanting to make larger pieces and I realized it was difficult to find the required equipment to produce that type of work in Khartoum. So I had to consider other alternatives and mediums, and oil painting seemed like a suitable option since the tools and materials are easier to find in Khartoum. A few years later, I enrolled in a 3-month oil painting course at the Khartoum Arts Training Centre (founded by artist Nouman Gaafar) with artist Hatim Koko. He taught me how to use only four colors to create my palette, and I fell in love with oil painting. I was just fascinated by the relationship between colors and textures in that medium. I also recently started to explore acrylics. To make a long story short, I think I see resilience in the tools and materials that I use in my work, in the sense that I can sustain myself by using what’s available around me. In a way, not being able to find all the materials I needed for printmaking was both a curse and a blessing: if it had not been for the lack of materials, I may have never discovered my passion for oil painting and my interest for other types of mediums.

The way you use paint creates a lot of depth and versatility. It almost looks as if you use a sponge to dab oil paint onto the canvas. Can you speak a bit more about your oil painting process?

On the first day of my course with my mentor Hatim Koko, he told me to think of oil painting as being similar to cooking a dish. He told me that just like cooking, oil painting is a process that requires a series of stages: you need to wait for the paint to dry before you can add a new layer. Over time, I developed a specific method that allows me to bring my printmaking experience into my oil paintings. I try to create textures on the canvas by pressing objects and tools on it, just like when I do printmaking, and I get the transparency I need by adding more liquid oils and driers. It took me approximately one year to come up with my printmaking process, so I did a lot of mono printing, Lino cut and rubber stamps. I like the flexibility of oil painting, the way it allows me to incorporate a wide variety of mediums, while also giving me the possibility to expand my printmaking abilities. I like to focus on the transformations in the surfaces: I can use just any tool to create rhythm and excitement and to engage the viewer with my work: sponges, brushes, rollers, plastic bags, and so on. For me, textures and surfaces have the same value as shapes and lines. 

Favorite sources of inspiration, both artistically and otherwise?

I feel inspiration is a complex thing to land on. But I mainly get inspired by the resilience of the women in my community. I feel like I owe them so much. I used to live my own experience only. But now, as I celebrate women in my community every day in my studio, I feel like I live with them. And as I live with them I learn from them. It’s about having an active mind all the time. Very often, the ideas come to mind in random places, so I sketch them down immediately.

 My art is also influenced by everyday conversations with people in my community: I find inspiration in storytelling. I especially love spending time with the elderly, because they have so much experience and wisdom to share, and I think it is a good way to stay humble. Also living in Khartoum, a capital that is always in transformation, I think of it as a city that is full of fantasy, so every day people have new stories. Talking about cities, I cannot go without mentioning my hometown, Shambat Elhila, where I was born and raised, and where I still live today. Its farms lie on the east bank of the Nile river. I think I got my organic lines from it. So in my work you can find traits linked to the land and agriculture. I also lived in Rome for nearly a year while I was doing a master’s degree in Architecture. It was like living in an open museum, it was such a unique experience. 

When it comes to other artists, there are so many I admire and take inspiration from. Their work attracted me at one point or another during my journey. For example, for printmaking, I love the work of Keyvan Mahjoor, Mohammed Omer Khalil, Hatim Koko, Enas Satir and Daralnaim. Through my oil painting journey, I’ve admired the work of Salah Elmur, Kamala Ishag, Mutaz Elemam, some American artists such as Tschabalala Self, Jorden Casteel and Henry Taylor. Some of them are far from my practice but it still lends a lot to my work. I also get inspiration from other forms of art such as cartoons and animation.

We know your mentor Hatim Koko is a big part of your story. Can you tell us a bit about what you’ve learned and the relationship there? 

Hatim Koko was my art teacher at Khartoum Arts Training Centre and then he became my mentor. He is the one who taught me how to hold the brush and stretch the canvas, but what I have been trying to learn from him is to always open my eyes and heart. I have learned from him the power of art and how art can make humans visible to each other. He worked with me to build a great connection with my community through art. He is like a father to me. I met him at a time when everyone I knew either had left the country or was planning to leave. He convinced me that I could thrive from here and just start from what I had. I want to thank him for giving me hope in a time of hopelessness. He also helps many young people, not just artists, to find purpose in life. Meeting him was a life changing experience.

Does your background in architecture have any influence on your art?

My work is all about building a world, a structured one. I plan my work and I do research before starting. I think this is definitely something that I took from my architecture studies. Another thing is the power of the vertical line, which you can easily see in my work. You can also observe that the domination of space and the figures are the main elements in my work and the most visible ones. I saw a documentary on Youtube where architect Zaha Hadid was talking about how she got inspired by the work of Russian artist Kazimir Malevich, and suprematism in general, and it resonated with me. 

I feel like it’s one ideology that I can apply to anything, really. I cannot separate art from architecture, which is about the relationship between humans and their environments. For me, both human bodies and buildings have functions. I deeply study and bring things to their roots, lines and shapes. Now, I paint, but who knows what other type of art I might pursue in the future! The energy I derive from art can take many forms. 

My mother thinks the women I paint look like her. Sometimes, my father is so excited that he makes suggestions for my paintings.

Can you speak a little to how you learned to “play” and how your art became an extension of your self-expression?

I am really grateful to my grandmother for protecting me and allowing me to play more as a child. I loved playing so much, both by myself and with others, but I preferred physical activities like exploring my surroundings and climbing trees. What resonates with me now? My mother’s voice saying to me “Amna, you are never tired of playing!”. When your parents are engineers, the house always needs to be very tidy and clean. Climbing our house’s high wall was my favorite way to escape. I remember the joy I felt when I landed on the other side: it is the same joy I feel when starting a new painting. I think it’s the joy of freedom. I see my work as an extension of my childhood. I remember my mentor once told me that if I wanted to create real art, I should go back to playing because that’s what art is all about. In my studio, I can be myself. It is my own space where I am allowed to play far from the people’s gaze. This is why, in my work, human bodies are represented in a way that rejects the expectations other people might have about them. 

How long does an average painting take you? Do you ever throw it out and start over? 

It depends on the size of the paintings and which medium I am using. For instance, prints can take a week or less. Oil painting requires more time because I have to wait for the paint to dry, so depending on the size of the piece, it can take from 20 days to 2 months. The acrylics require less time, maybe 10 to 15 days, also depending on the size. 

Sometimes I get [blocked]. When that happens, I leave the painting aside and then come back to it when I am relaxed and have more ideas and solutions to add. So, to answer your question, I don’t throw anything out. I feel like I learn from my failures and I am grateful for the “bad” paintings just as I am for my “good” paintings. Total freedom in art can be good but also intimidating, and my failures help me stay on track by minimizing the alternatives. 

My failures help me stay on track by minimizing the alternatives. 

Dream project?

My dream project is to tackle Sudanese women’s core issues and struggles so that my work can have a long-lasting impact on today’s society. I want my work to be a reflection of women’s perspective on their own life, and to accurately represent their views of themselves and their bodies.

What can people around the world do to help support political activists in Sudan? 

I think those who deserve help are those people like Ahlam Khidir, whose son Hazaa was killed during his peaceful demonstration in my neighborhood. The real loss is the loss  of those families. Those are the ones who really need help, since they became activists because their loss forced them to enter [politics]. They are ordinary people who have turned their loss into humanitarian goals, not affiliated with political parties. Those people are the superheroes who inspire me, the people I stand with. Helping them achieve their goals is an important endeavor. Those are the ones that politicians usually ignore after the revolutions.

As for ways to help, I do not represent them. It is better to sit with them and find out what they actually need. But Ahlam always talks about her desire to gain justice first for her son, so I think a good first step would be to find out about their stories, to acknowledge them and to share them to as many people as possible to raise awareness about their situation.

See Amna’s portfolio.