Damascus is the place where my visual language began. Not at a specific moment, but in everyday life—between language, sound, writing, and smell. Today I live in Vienna. Distance changes perspective, but it erases nothing.

My artistic practice moves between drawing and printmaking. I work with a reduced color palette. This development came over time—away from painting toward line, surface, and repetition.

For me, repetition is not a technical process but a way of thinking. A sign appears multiple times, changes, loses its original legibility, and becomes part of a new order.

In many of my works, Arabic poems appear that I write myself. Language detaches from meaning and becomes rhythm, form, movement.

I develop installative and conceptual artistic works in which personal experiences come into contact with political and social aspects.

Some fragments rise beneath dust fleeting yet insistent. They are images that carry history within them; a state that moves, breaks open, and remains. Their traces appear in forms that sometimes emerge from the familiar and pass on as an echo into new meanings. Nothing is explained; instead, it is observed, shifted, repeated. Some contents appear openly, others remain restrained.

For me, art is not a place for finished answers, but for open questions—about what was, what remains, and what cannot be clearly named.