Composed of hand tufted and woven pieces that are anchored, grounded and suspended, this immersive installation references archival and current photographs of Wadi Feiran and Wadi Bin Hammad, tatreez embroidery patterns, and arrangements of communal gathering and dwelling amidst forced displacement and historical erasure.  Unfortunately, It Was Paradise invites viewers into a dwelling place and a majlis. 

Wadi Feiran and Wadi Bin Hammad are oases that exist within desert landscapes. The English word, oasis comes from wahe or ouahe [Demotic Egyptian (c. 650 BC – 5th century AD)], which means a "dwelling place." Functioning as relational art, in this dwelling space, handmade carpeted dwelling spots are installed at varying heights on and low to the ground. 

As viewers are invited to sit within the installation, they commune with each other in a grounded way as if sitting on rocks in the wadis or in a majlis. The layered patterns on the seats reference tatreez embroidery symbols and encoded iconography found in and near the wadis. This communal gathering space is one where people can anchor and reground themselves. Simultaneously, it is a space on the cusp of nostalgia and comfort as we witness current events unfolding. Ultimately, though, this installation beckons ancient realities, grounded in the earth.

This work is activated by communal engagement. The Arabic term majlis comes from the root ja-la-sa, which means to sit. It literally means a sitting place and in the Islamic tradition it also means council. It is a way to describe various types of  gatherings. Across the region and diaspora, it’s designed in different shapes and forms. However, historically, it is a place of hospitality; of conversation where communities gather to celebrate together; where we resolve issues and exchange ideas and news. It could be in someone’s home, or created onsite. Here, the work is activated by the presence of community; the act of communing together is the art.

As part of the work, I also did tatreez workshops, performances and henna sessions.

This series of "textiles" explores questions of value within global power structures that have been shaped by exploitation, forced enslavement, and colonial and imperial violence as a means to obtain power. Purchasing Power Parity (PPP), an economic theory and method used to compare the economic purchasing power of currencies, is also a theory often inadequately aligned in the real world, with deviations in exchange rates. What’s more, like history and context reported by people in positions of power and privilege, inaccurate information and comparisons PPP purports are steeped in power structures. 

The tapestries, inspired by the intricate designs on money and texiltes, have been hand woven, naturally and resist-dyed, embroidered, printed and painted with handmade dyes. Through the deliberate choice of slow, historic artistic processes of weaving, natural and resist dye work, embroidery, and sewing – processes which have been labeled as craft as a deliberate means to devalue labor – the work aims to reinstate and reassert its inherent value and explore questions of value. 

A Grain of Wheat

Bread holds significance in economic terms. In aiding understanding of exchange rates and drops in value in currency, a common marker of value is by showing how much money one piece of bread costs. For example, in 1920 one bread would cost one bill. In 2000, one bread would cost 10000 bills and in 2020 one bread would cost 100,000,000 bills. In Gaza, this has been frequently cited to help people understand current economic disenfranchisement. Exorbitant prices reflect the extreme scarcity of flour and fuel due to ongoing blockades.

Bread is also considered sacred and most households across the region will not throw bread in the garbage, opting instead to leave it in bags tied to fences for passersby who may be hungry.

This series is part of a multi-year project (2024 - 2034) documenting cultural workers from the Arab world. In 2024, I started the research process in preparation for a book and series of mixed media paintings. My interest in this stems from my own experiences living in diaspora while witnessing the continued current events as well as media reporting focused on wars and uprisings in Southwest Asia and North Africa. I start by selecting people in my community, who I have built a relationship with over time through art and cultural communities. My process for the portraits involves multiple preparatory meetings to understand the person’s life work, passions outside of their creative work, and their family and migration history. Then, I interview and conduct photoshoots that can serve as reference materials for the mixed media works and book. This particular series aims to both bring dignity to their lives and work and to archive their careers so that they are not erased. Each portrait brings in a unique sculptural element - whether recycled skateboards, acrylic fiber rugs, embroidery, naturally dyed fibers, acrylic caulk, or mosaics.

So far, these include Palestinian, Syrian, Lebanese, Egyptian, Yemeni, Iraqi and Sudanese artists, an Arabic calligraphy master, chefs and restaurant owners, mothers, grandmothers, teachers, etc. Most of our realities extend across multiple lands due to repeat forced migration and as a result many of the people featured are now based in Baltimore, DC, Jordan, and Germany (to name a few places). Cultural workers featured to date include Hussein Al Azaat, Laila El Haddad, Naji Al Ali, Mo Amer, Salua Moussawel, Ramy Youssef and Heba Ella Amara.

Acknowledgement embraces concepts of abstraction, codes, and the right to opacity. Abstraction is utilized here both as a stylistic choice, and as a reflection of how history, culture, and identity are encoded within us and thus recognized on varying levels. The title comes from one section of John Coltrane’s four part suite, A Love Supreme. The installation lay out follows the second line of the score of Coltrane’s Acknowledgment. Jazz, as a musical genre full of encoded knowledge and an embrace of complexity and movement.

Here, viewers who skate recognize that the predominant material is skateboards; viewers who embroider recognize the cross stitch patterns; viewers who look at the news and computers identify the aerial maps component. I refurbished 43 recycled skate decks to give them new life as relief works and sculptures.  These works  reference tatreez embroidery patterns and Arabic marquetry techniques, exploring the hierarchies and systems of labor associated with craft and fine art. Embroidery and marquetry are labor intensive - referenced through these works through a slow labor intensive process of creating fine details and patterns with the physically "hard" material of skateboards that took countless hours to refurbish. Several of these works were sold as a fundraiser for 7Hills programming in refugee communities in Jordan.

In Flood Pulse, Hannah Atallah combines vibrant color, paper, canvas and refurbished skateboard decks into an immersive meditation. Inspired by the migratory freedom of aquatic life and the organic rhythm of flood plains, Atallah invites us to contemplate flow, rest & joy amidst fluctuation & change.

Atallah  programmed a diverse series of workshops and events throughout Flood Pulse’s debut at Lost Origins Gallery featuring performing artists, live music, yoga, flash tattooing, film screenings and a fundraiser for the 7Hills // AlRaseef153 skatepark and art space in Amman, Jordan.

These are murals I painted in Baltimore, DC, New York, and Jordan. Typically, my murals feature local residents, themes requested by the community, native plants and symbols. They often go through multiple iterations based on conversations with community stakeholders. Ultimately, I aim to interweave local historical and present contexts with vibrant energy and sacred motifs.