NASO Interviews: Mays AlMoosawi
On Narratives of Womanhood, Home & Togetherness
"I'm not fighting against anything; I'm simply a woman sharing my feelings and emotions. When I engage with someone and hear their story, I express how it impacts me. It's all about conveying my thoughts and sensations through my artwork, not about battling or trying to explain myself to anyone."
On Beginnings:
As our conversation takes root, I ask about the pivotal moments that shaped her artistic identity. "Honestly, I never had that epiphany moment where I thought, 'Oh, I'm going to be an artist!" she smiles, a warmth radiating from her. "It was more like a gentle calling —an innate understanding, shaped by the artistic women around me."
Growing up in a family of artists, including her mother and numerous aunts, creativity was woven into the very fabric of her existence.
"Galleries, workshops—those were just part of my upbringing," she reminisces, flipping through the pages of her memory. "Even in school, my notebooks were filled with sketches. Art chose me, really."
As we pivot to her educational journey, I inquire about how her time at Coventry and Chelsea College molded her as an artist. "Oh, I was a completely different person back then," she admits, laughter hinting at her realization. "At 17, I had no clue what I wanted. Here [in Oman], we don't receive enough education about art, so I was like a fish out of water, lost in the ocean of possibilities."
Choosing to pursue illustration and animation at first, she soon discovered that animation didn't fuel her passion. "Turns out, patience isn't my virtue!" she chuckles. Despite initial confusion, her return to Chelsea for a Master's in Fine Arts proved transformative. "I went back after four years in the field, and it was like stepping into a new world— everything clicked."
"I want people to connect with my work on an emotional level. As an artist, I aim for my paintings to resonate, especially with women, making them feel understood in their experiences. I want every woman to realize that we share similar struggles and that they are not alone. It brings me joy to see them connect with my art in this way. Through my exhibitions, I've noticed that most of my clients are women, and that's a testament to this shared understanding."
On Theme:
Our discussion transports us to the essence of her work-the female figure that graces her canvases. "From the get-go, sketching was my sanctuary. I experimented with animals and characters, but then, one day, I found myself painting figures. It just felt right," she reflects, diving deeper into her creative psyche. The narratives of the women in her life-grandmothers, mothers, aunts—-whisper through her work. "As an Arab female, I grew up surrounded by those stories-insecurities, beliefs, experiences. I realized women often feel unseen. That resonates in my art," she explains, her voice imbued with compassion. "It's liberating, but honestly, I still don't fully understand why it comes out this way. It just does."
On Oman:
"Whatever I create will inevitably reflect my heritage, simply because I am a woman from Oman expressing myself through art."
In a heartfelt moment, she contemplates the intersection of her heritage and artistic practice. "Does my heritage need to be explicitly shown in my work?" she asked herself during her studies. But a professor's words reassured her, "Whatever you create inherently carries your heritage as you are expressing your identity through art." Then, we dive into the emotional depths of her creative process. "I start without a plan—it's more about the vibe. I sketch ideas that pop into my head, but I need space, solitude," she shares. "When my mind is free, the flow comes naturally. Some pieces take time; others, I finish in a day."
On Milestones:
"It was my first solo show in London and I was doing my master's at the same time. It was huge and it proved to me that I can do it."
As we traverse her artistic milestones, she beams with pride while recounting her first solo exhibition in London—a whirlwind of emotions, surprises, and hard work. "It proved to me that I could do it, even when juggling a master's program!" she exclaims, a sense of determination shining through.
Looking ahead, she shares plans to exhibit closer to home. "I want to connect with my community. My upcoming show in Dubai is a step toward expanding my audience in the region," she mentions excitedly. "It's where my story resonates most."
As our conversation nears its end, I ponder her artistic evolution. "Would you ever explore a different medium?" I ask, curious. "Absolutely! I get bored with one medium; sculpting became a form of meditation for me. I want to continue exploring materials while deepening my understanding of womanhood," she reflects, a spark of curiosity igniting.
On Artistic Identity:
As our discussion winds down, I am struck by her approach to life and art-navigating experiences without the heavy burden of pre-defined purpose. "You know, many seek sense before they dive in," I comment. "But you seem to let life unfold."
"I embrace the flow, making sense of it all afterward. It feels like a more organic way to create."
Mays is an artist who, through her creative journey, invites us to reflect on our own stories and emotions, reminding us that while art can often be a solitary endeavor, it blooms from the roots of shared experiences and connection.