NASO interviews: Huda Jamal
On Tactile Memory & Tender Irony
“Both [art and architecture] involve setting a mood, crafting space. In art, I use that same language of atmosphere—but with emotional weight.”
On Irony and Identity
Bahraini artist and architect Huda Jamal moves fluently between mediums, themes, and emotional registers—but always with a fierce commitment to atmosphere. With a growing regional presence and recent appearances in exhibitions across Bahrain, Saudi Arabia and United Arab Emirates, her practice is one of deep introspection and cultural resonance. From haunting interior scenes to wryly humorous allegories, her work reflects a thoughtful negotiation between personal experience and collective memory.
On a Self-Taught Evolution
Art was never a conscious decision for her—it simply was. “I don’t even remember living a life without art,” she says, reflecting on her early years drawing in school notebooks, catching the attention of both classmates and teachers. Though largely self-taught, her pursuit of excellence led her to experiment with a wide range of materials, seeking to “understand the usage of each material, to understand proportions, figures, portraits,” before ultimately developing a distinctive visual language.
Her formal education in architecture—studied in Bahrain—added another layer. “Architecture taught me to set a scene,” she explains. “You’re constantly reminded you need to craft a world for the occupant, much like a filmmaker. That’s exactly how I approach my art.” Today, her paintings bear the compositional discipline of an architect and the emotional resonance of a storyteller.
On Articulating the Intangible
Much of her recent work explores the relationship between human presence and emotional space. Drawing influence from Francis Bacon and Philip Guston, she blends existential dread with tonal irony—what she calls a form of “dark humor.” Faces are rendered with eerie detachment, rooms buzz with quiet tension, and colors—often pastel pinks—betray the melancholy they contain. “It’s 100% intentional,” she says. “I like to play with extremes. Either something feels very sad or very humorous—but never in between.”
This duality comes through vividly in My Last Wish (2024), a painting that emerged organically but ended up distilling something profoundly reflective: “It’s about a person’s desire to return to their childhood home—the smell, the mood, the memories. It’s a painting about longing.” In contrast, her series The Wrong Place, Right Timing—a blend of conceptual sketches and narrative absurdity—takes a more ironic approach to life’s dislocations. “It’s about being in the right moment, but in the wrong place. That paradox really fascinates me.”
On Context, Culture, and Contemporary Bahrain
Despite her rising regional profile, she remains deeply committed to creating art that reflects her lived reality as a Bahraini woman. “I don’t want my work to be generically international,” she explains. “I want it to carry a stamp—a cultural fingerprint.” Rather than falling into nostalgic or orientalist tropes, she emphasizes modern Bahrain’s complexity: a diverse, urban space shaped by regional histories and global influences.
That ethos shaped her contribution to a recent exhibition in Saudi Arabia, where she explored the cultural symbolism of the rug as a communal anchor. “A simple rug can create a third space in the middle of nowhere,” she says. “It’s something that brings people together—especially in Gulf culture.”
While her art once ventured into political and environmental themes, she now prefers the terrain of personal experience. “I want to step away from overt social commentary. Not because I’m afraid—but because I want to focus on inner worlds, on intimacy.”
On Experimentation
In her current phase, she is actively experimenting—testing out new compositions, techniques, and palettes that diverge from her earlier work. Her recent piece We’re Having Cow for Lunch marks a tonal and technical departure. “It still carries my humor,” she says, “but it’s different. Less about interior spaces and more about the human figure. I’m still exploring composition layering.”
This willingness to remain in flux speaks to an artistic maturity rooted in discipline and curiosity. She works from a home studio—her brother’s old room, now a creative enclave—and keeps detailed sketchbooks, concept maps, and written reflections. “I never just start on a canvas. It has to be thought through,” she says. “But inspiration can come randomly—on a drive, listening to a song. That’s how Cupid’s Curse was born.”
On Architecture and Emotion
Even while balancing a full-time career as an architect, she continues to refine her painterly practice. The two disciplines, she insists, are symbiotic. “Both involve setting a mood, crafting space. In art, I use that same language of atmosphere—but with emotional weight.” Films and cinematic scenes often inform her compositions. “Directors think like architects,” she adds. “And we both think in emotion.”
Her architectural precision, combined with an artist’s vulnerability, makes her work uniquely resonant—especially in a region where contemporary art is growing in visibility but still negotiating its public voice. Despite occasional criticism or confusion from audiences, she is undeterred: “Some people approach me with negativity, especially during openings in local exhibitions—but it doesn’t matter. That’s just part of putting your voice out there.”
On the Road Ahead
As she looks toward the next chapter, her focus is twofold: producing new work and remaining rooted in her identity. “I want to create more art that reflects my reality, not someone else’s idea of what Gulf art should be,” she says. “I want it to feel honest. To feel like me.”
Her trajectory—marked by curiosity, experimentation, and fearless emotional depth—promises a continued evolution. And for audiences across the Gulf and beyond, her work offers an intimate window into what it means to make art in a moment of cultural transformation.
