Two years ago, sitting in the back of a car, I made eye contact with a man whose words would propel me to write this now. 

When our uber driver arrived, my mom and I exchanged greetings with him as we found our way into the backseat of his car, his name was Kamal. About 2 minutes into the ride, I made eye contact with him through the rearview mirror. At this time in my life I was known to adorn my face in symbols with black or red liquid eyeliner as a form of self-expression. This particular morning while getting ready, I had an impulse to draw two horizontal parallel lines bookended by vertical dots on the bridge of my nose. Upon meeting one another's gaze in the mirror, Kamal asked me if the symbol on my face was a tattoo. I responded, no, that it was makeup; to which he replied, “do you know that symbol signifies healing?”. He went on to explain that in Berber/Amazigh culture (his wife’s culture) the particular symbol I had drawn onto my face that morning was a kind of omen for healing. He knew this because his wife’s grandmother had the same one, in the same place (bridge of nose). 

He then explained the significance of facial tattoos and their symbolism within the culture, and that, although his wife did not have any of the traditional tattoos (having become less common as a result of the rising influence of Islam post Arab conquest of Maghreb, modern social stigmas, and other political, cultural, and social factors), her grandmother did. The Berber are a group of people indigenous to Northwest Africa who predate the muslim conquest of Maghreb. Culturally, tattoos on a Berber/Amazigh woman's face signify rites of passage, protection, beauty, health, and significant life events as a form of storytelling; as if each woman's traditionally tattooed face were a map of familial histories, tribal affiliations, and connections to land/nature/self.

Thus, to think that I had marked myself with this traditional symbol representing healing served as a kind of confirmation to me. As, only two days prior to this interaction, I had been discharged from a month-long stay in the hospital which entailed an intense near-death experience. Given the life-threatening nature of the situation, my mother had flown out to London from California to be with me during my hospitalization. Up until then, I had been living on my own in London for about a year while working towards a master's degree at Imperial College. Thus, I hoped for the chance to take my mom somewhere special to me in the city despite the circumstances surrounding her arrival; it was her first time in London and she had been confined to the hospital and my flat for a month. So, once I was healthy enough for outpatient treatment, I took her to Portobello Market (one of London’s most beloved and historical street markets). I would usually take the tube/walk, but given the state of my health my mom and I decided to order an uber. This is the uber that led to the interaction with Kamal. 

Thinking back on this interaction and its parallels to my artistic practice, I come to meditate on the fact that I don't always understand in the moment why I feel the urge to create the things I do, or engage in certain ritualistic behaviors. Yet, my bodily impulses seem to grasp what my conscious mind has not yet evolved to comprehend; just as the signal from my unconscious mind to my hand expressed a need for a topical adornment marked by healing as my body was recovering from physical trauma. Increasingly, I find that in drawing connections between nature and ancient cultural ideologies/symbologies/spiritualities, I am better able to make sense of these personal experiences. In turn, the work organically ripens into cultural, spiritual, and ideological bridges between nature and the collective human psyche. 

Within this system of creation, I regard my work as vessels through which people can come to reflect on their own experiences and emotions. Considering my work in the light of a cultural archive, each piece becomes both  window and mirror. A window, each piece is situated within cultural, ecological, or cosmological contexts that can be further unpacked in light of an overarching story. A Mirror, within each piece the viewer may find a piece of themselves lingering, waiting to be understood, acknowledged, appreciated, seen. 

Reflecting on this significant interaction with Kamal and the insight it offered me, I was inspired to further research Amazigh symbology, aesthetics, and history to incorporate into my pieces for The Place of Duality.