NEWS FROM WORLD: An Interview with MALIKASABAA of Etsy

My SF Etsy group that I belong to had a great idea of doing a feature swap where 2 team members interview each other and feature the other member on their blog. I got paired up with my new friend Saba Gaffur of Malikasabaa. Her artwork is so unique and full of meaning. So I was happy to get the chance to ask her what it meant to her. She has had quite an interesting life. Please stay and get to know the path she has traveled.

Q - Where did you study art or are you self taught?

Throughout my childhood, I never really showed any great artistic skills. My parents, although scholarly in their own right, were very creative and wonderful artists. By the time I was 13, my mother had passed away, my father moved my sister and me to Texas, and not but 5 months into our newly founded residence, my father found out he had latent colon cancer. After he had his surgery, I cared for him. He was on a myriad of meds and so he had odd sleeping hours and during this time, I began to draw, why, I don’t know.

After my father passed away, I took three classes in high school, one of which was an AP art class. I thrived in my AP class, drawing children’s portraits. I selected my pictures from national geographic, all of which captured a child’s true emotion. I suppose I selected such pieces because I had lost both my parents by the age of 15 and art was my true escape. I was fortunate enough to have my work presented at Northern Arizona University, but my focus changed as soon as I entered university. I went with the intentions of studying art and architecture, but I ended up only taking one semester of art. During my first and only semester in an art class, the student aide, teaching the class, denigrated my artistic style and my work. She told me, “Your work reminds me of Diego Rivera, and I hate, Diego Rivera!” Her words stung and I gave up. I did not touch a single pencil, ruler or anything related to art.

About two years later, while everyone at university, was partying and having a wild time, I decided to draw and I, for some ineffable reason, decided to draw butterflies. I sometimes wonder if subconsciously, I felt that butterflies represented my own interminable metamorphosis. Fast forward to present day, I now have stepped away from working on butterflies, but on my Women with Wings.

Q - What does the butterfly symbolize and how is that different than the Woman With Wings series?

As aforementioned, my butterflies represent a metamorphosis. I am forever changing and learning more about myself. My butterflies, I suppose, are the catalyst from which I was able to crate my Women with Wings.

Q - I noticed the women do not have faces, why?

My women do not have faces because I want the viewer to see herself in the piece. I have created many women, different in style, color and shape, hoping that one will speak truly and directly to the viewer.

Q - Do the pregnant women represent the metamorphosis that butterflies go through or visa versa, explain.

I wanted to play around with the concept of Women with Wings and so I thought to show the connection we women have with our bodies, with our babies and with nature.

Q - Does feminism play a role in your paintings? If not what does?

I never intentionally started drawing with feminism on the mind, but I can and will say that yes, feminism is reflected in my work. My artwork is a representation of who I am now and how I see, not only myself, but women in general. I was born in Baghdad, Iraq and there have been many things said and written about Middle Eastern women and about their struggles.

As it seems, there are many Middle Eastern women in the United States, that like many women in the Middle East, deal with a myriad of struggles, perhaps not nearly as grave, however, not to be undermined.

I have been unveiled for twenty-eight years. The veil, otherwise known as the hijab, abiya, or rupte, has often been seen as an instrument that subordinates Middle Eastern women, incarcerating them, making them feel inadequate, detestable and inferior. We are made to feel that our bodies are demonic because they provoke men and stimulate their sexual impulses. We learn to hate and despise our faces, bodies and ourselves. I too was taught to hide myself from my body. I was taught to fear my body and disregard the flesh. But these thoughts weren’t ones that I chose to accept. They were pitted against me at an early age and I had no choice but to succumb to my culture.

Although I have not worn the veil throughout the twenty-eight years of my life, I have felt that I should hide my body and despise it. However, I cannot only blame my Arab culture for impeding my personal thoughts or my identity. I have lived in four countries—Iraq, England, America, and the Dominican Republic—all influencing me and my own self-perception. For a long time I was negatively affected by my sub-American culture. Although I want to say that it doesn’t negatively affect me even now, I would be wrong in denying that it bothers me when I fill out an application for a Masters degree or a job I am just considered a box, a box that says “other.” I would be wrong in denying that in America I have been influenced by the female American paradigm—blond hair, blue eyes, tall and white skinned—because it has warped my self-image. In America there are certain standards, and whether these standards deal with culture, religion, color, body image, education, dialect or language, they all come with paradigms that create a sub-culture, one that builds borders for the hybrid.

And perhaps, saying all this provides another reason why my Women with Wings do not have faces. My women have straight hair, curly hair, thick hair, thin hair, afros, afro curls, short hair, long hair, and some are bald. I think it important to always remember that no matter what we look like, we are beautiful.