I had never seen her before till last week in January 2021. This is my Granmother's mother, Radieh. She was a peasant in her village of Abboleen, and worked her own land her entire life. My father is currently selling our family home in Baltimore, after my mother and his split. It feels amazing to see such strength in my ancestor, the human resilience is there in my hand.

For A Language to Come
"Our interests in art practice lie in the notion of an asymmetrical relationship between content and form that highlights political notions that bring about critical discourse. In “For A Language to Come” we wanted to explore semiotics through a directness that avoids aestheticizing a political subject. Stripping subjects of their politics is a dubious notion in art practice since it creates a generic version of the oppressed. We collaborated with Ahlam Khamis who worked with ASHTAR theater group in Ramallah. She explains to us her experience there and highlights notions in her discourse about oppression, power, and privilege."
Hyesung and Kelman Duran
For link to the published page click the button below.
Nostalgia as Preservation
My relationship to my father's homeland is fragmented. One way I continue to explore my Palestinian identity is through family photos from past visits to Palestine. When this photo was taken, I remember that it was very important to help my Grandmother feel good. One way I was able to do that was through touch, because my spoken Arabic was not fluent. Now, when I look at photos such as this one, I feel that I preserve a small part of an ever shrinking Palestine. 

This is from the summer of 2013 when I saw my Grandmother last before she died. We were all  going to a wedding that night, so she enjoyed the pampering. As my brother says, I was "preparing Teta for the turn up."

Another relic found as we pack away the family home. I remember writing this to the president on the floor of our first place in Baltimore, post 9/11.

By Travers Jacobs, our camera man for a documentary about theater in Palestine by Rebecka Jackson and me. We have yet to finish the film due to a series of sad deaths and personal reasons. Rooftop in Ramallah, 2011.

My Grandfather is on the left here. This photo was taken before 1948, and all the men pictured were village peasants who hoped to protect their farmland. They were outgunned.
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