I’ve found that when I make art about my lived experiences, it becomes more than just storytelling—it becomes a form of truth-telling that resists debate.
Form and Friction: Acts of Resistance and Reverence | Saj Issa
Saj Issa is an artist whose work is shaped by her upbringing between Missouri, USA, and the West Bank, Palestine, reflecting the complexities of living between East and West. Through her work, Issa reclaims agency by focusing on expressing personal truths beyond storytelling.
Issa’s art embodies reverence by acknowledging the interconnectedness of all beings. While society often expects art to “save” or “fix”, her work serves as a personal act of self-preservation. Guided by the belief that creating offers a way to navigate through complexities, her practice becomes a means of moving through these layers.
Your work is deeply informed by your upbringing between Missouri, in the US and the West Bank, in Palestine. How has growing up in the in-between between East and West influenced the way you reflect culture and lived experiences within diasporic and/or displaced communities?
I’ve found that when I make art about my lived experiences, it becomes more than just storytelling—it becomes a form of truth-telling that resists debate.
In so many other disciplines, especially when it comes to Palestine, our narratives are constantly questioned, politicized, or forced into justification. But through art, I can reclaim agency. The work becomes a personal offering, not an argument.
Art allows me to shift the focus from proving to expressing. When a piece is rooted in personal truth, it invites empathy rather than defensiveness. People are often more receptive to a story they can emotionally connect with, rather than to didactic or overly academic frameworks that may feel detached or inaccessible. For me, art opens a space where complexity can live, where nuance matters, and where the human experience can speak for itself.
Ceramics are a central medium in your work. How does the ritualistic and repetitive nature of working with ceramics influence your artistic process?
Ceramics play a central role in my work, and the ritualistic, repetitive nature of the medium deeply influences my artistic process. Repetition is both therapeutic and a practice in patience—especially in moments when urgency or frustration might otherwise take over. Rhythm is essential to my practice because it allows me to find harmony in composition and form. Each of us has our own definition of what “perfection” is, and I believe that through repetition, I get closer to my own ideal version of that.
Reverence is the deep respect and acknowledgement of the interconnectedness of all beings, recognising the value and significance of every story, culture, and experience. Do you consider your work a reflection of reverence for these connections, and how does that shape the stories you tell through your work?
The atrocities I witness every day feel deeply personal—impossible to ignore or detach from emotionally. In the midst of this, I often return to a quote by Gerhard Richter: “Art is the highest form of hope.” That resonates with me, especially when so much in the world feels beyond our control and the prospect of peace feels increasingly distant. In my practice, the tension between instinctive brushstrokes and the intentional manipulation of color creates a kind of self-reflective energy—something that keeps me grounded and compels me to keep going.
I think society often places an enormous expectation on art to save or fix everything. For me, the only expectation I hold is that it helps save myself.
