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We are pleased to present the films of Survival of the Artist, a one day symposium of talks and performance which asked how art and artists in the Arab world can survive and respond in times of conflict and censorship.

The symposium was curated in association with  Shubbak Festival 2017 and was divided into three sessions looking at the themes of censorship, artists at risk and heritage destruction. The full list of speakers and individual descriptions of the sessions can be found here.

Watch the full lectures here:


Survival of The Artist: Strictly Prohibited from The Mosaic Rooms on Vimeo.

Survival of The Artist: Representing the Artist from The Mosaic Rooms on Vimeo.

Survival of The Artist: Displaced history from The Mosaic Rooms on Vimeo.


Mahmood Mamdani: Justice Not Revenge – Examining the Concept of Revolutionary Justice.

We are pleased to present the film of the 2017 Edward W. Said London Lecture by internationally renowned academic and author Mahmood Mamdani. Professor Mamdani examined the concept of revolutionary justice to a sell out audience at this lecture in London at The British Museum on 31 March 2017.

In the lecture Professor Mamdani looks at how South Africa’s transition from apartheid could be examined as a critique of the lessons on international justice that have been drawn from the Nuremberg trials. He reflects on the writings of Aimé Césaire on Haiti and of Nelson Mandela in southern Africa to explore notions of revolutionary justice.

Watch the full lecture here:

Edward W Said London Lecture 2017 – Mahmood Mamdani: Justice Not Revenge – Examining the Concept of Revolutionary Justice from The Mosaic Rooms on Vimeo.

The lecture was followed by questions from the audience, chaired by Ahdaf Soueif.

Edward W Said London Lecture – Audience Questions to Mahmood Mamdani from The Mosaic Rooms on Vimeo.

The 2017 Edward W. Said London Lecture was presented by A.M. Qattan Foundation/The Mosaic Rooms, the Southbank Centre and London Review of Books. We are grateful for the support of our venue partner, The British Museum.

Engagements with the photographic archive – Bruno Boudjelal in conversation with Katarzyna Falecka

Bruno Boudjelal, Scrapbooks, 2009. © Bruno Boudjelal and Agence VU

Bruno Boudjelal, Scrapbooks, 2009. © Bruno Boudjelal and Agence VU

Bruno Boudjelal is a photographer and member of the VU photography agency in Paris. Born in France and of Algerian extraction, Boudjelal’s work has focused on his complex relationship with Algeria. Through photography, he ceaselessly investigates his own identity and memory, triggering larger questions surrounding the contested history of French colonialism in Algeria. Katarzyna Falecka curated an event about archival photography and contested archives for The Mosaic Rooms in November 2016, as part of the programme of events for The Mosaic Rooms’ exhibition What Language Do You Speak Stranger? by French-Algerian artist Katia Kameli. Bruno Boudjelal was originally programmed to speak but was unable to attend. In this interview for The Mosaic Rooms he speaks to Katarzyna Falecka about his practice.

You first travelled to Algeria in 1993, in the early years of the civil war. What were your motivations for this journey?

I grew up in France with the sense of a double identity: my mother is French and my father arrived to France in 1954, at the beginning of the Algerian War of Independence. Often, he would hide his true heritage from friends and claim to be of Italian descent. In 1993, I decided to find out who I really was and meet my Algerian family. But immediately after I landed in Algiers, I realised how terrible the political situation was. The violence and fear were unimaginable. I was arrested numerous times and was told to go back to France. Nevertheless, I decided to continue my journey and travel to the area of Sétif where my father’s relatives lived. However, I took some time to travel around the country first, despite the danger. I took a certain ‘detour’ you could say. I needed this time to gain some distance to what was an already highly emotional experience.

Two days before my departure to Algeria, a friend gave me a simple analogue camera. But I was not even interested in photography at the time. However, the camera helped me to keep a distance from the chaos that was evolving around me. I continued to photograph and later became a member of the VU photography agency in Paris.

Bruno Boudjelal, Scrapbooks, 2009. c) Bruno Boudjelal and Agence VU

Bruno Boudjelal, Scrapbooks, 2009. © Bruno Boudjelal and Agence VU

Archival images have played an important role for you in the process of understanding your own heritage. This is made particularly visible in your series Scrapbooks (2009), a travel diary which includes your birth certificate, photographs of your Algerian family, your own childhood photographs and the images you took in Algeria in the 1990s and 2000s. In what ways have family photographs helped you understand your own identity and how would you define your relationship to this ‘archive’?

It is difficult to get hold of photographs of family members predating 1962 when Algeria gained its independence from France. One of my aunts who lives in Sétif gave me some photographs when I first visited. She also asked me to send photographs of my life in France to her. We continue this exchange until today.

For example, I have two photographs of my grandfather Amar, as well as his birth certificate. The images were included in his identity cards, issued by the French for surveillance purposes. Another photograph is a mugshot showing my uncle Hamid who was a member of the National Liberation Front (FLN) in Algeria. He was imprisoned, tortured and killed by the French army under the suspicion that he delivered food to the partisan camps. The mugshot shows him with a board and the number 80 written on it. However, the family memory is blurred and thus there are many uncertainties surrounding the photograph too. I was not able to clarify my uncle’s role in the FLN. He is simply hailed as a great ‘moudjahid’ (fighter) by my family.

When my aunt dies, the memory will die with her. Other family members are not too concerned with the past. This is symptomatic of a general amnesia about the war in Algeria. For me, finding out where I come from and who I am was crucial. But there are many people in the country and abroad who do not yet have this knowledge.

In fact, I am going to show Scrapbooks for the first time in Bangladesh this year. I have never shown them before, despite numerous offers. I think that they are in some way too personal to be shown in France or in Algeria, where memory of the shared past is still highly contested. My story is a small one, but perhaps it can acquire a more universal meaning for an audience in Bangladesh.

One of the diary entries published in your photobook Disquiet Days, describes the efforts to find your family after arriving in Algeria. But this was no easy task and you quote an official who asked ‘why do you think we’d know this family? We’re not machines. The records from the French times aren’t here’. He referred to the fact that following independence, records relating to colonised Algeria were transported to France. As a consequence, Algerians lost access to their own recent history. In what ways do you think has this influenced the ways in which history and memory have been mediated in Algeria since 1962?

Algerians need this access in order to counter the overwhelming amnesia which rooted itself in the collective consciousness. This can only be cured through working closely with archives, photographs, testimonies and other documents. However, there is little emphasis on building collections or archiving in Algeria today. This is an explicit political choice of the government who benefits from peoples’ limited awareness of the historical developments of their country.

Bruno Boudjelal, Frantz Fanon series, 2009-2013. c) Bruno Boudjelal and Agence VU

Bruno Boudjelal, Frantz Fanon series, 2009-2013. © Bruno Boudjelal and Agence VU

Your engagements with archival photography move beyond the family album. For a series devoted to Frantz Fanon, you re-photographed an iconic image of the FLN leaders Mohammed Khider, Mustafa Lacheraf, Hocine Ait Ahmed, Mohamed Boudiaf and Ahmed Ben Bella following their arrest in 1956. You re-photographed it in a way that both Khider and Ben Bella were cut out from the image. The photograph is also entirely blurred which resonates with the use of blur throughout your practice. Can this image be seen as a comment on post-independence Algeria?

The photograph is part of the Frantz Fanon series which I started in 2009. Fanon was a Martinique born French-Algerian psychiatrist, philosopher, member of the FLN and writer whose work influenced decolonial thinking. He lived for years in Algeria, working as a psychiatrist in a hospital in Blida. I felt it was important to retrace his legacy at a point when the country was approaching its fiftieth anniversary of independence.

Working on the series was a challenge. For example, I never managed to enter the hospital where Fanon had worked. A friend who accompanied me there was arrested and interrogated by the police. Even when we visited Fanon’s mausoleum, 80km south of Annaba, military checkpoints and constant surveillance made shooting photographs difficult. Photography is still considered with great mistrust in Algeria. I found it easiest to photograph on the go, constantly moving, never standing still.

I find that there is a persisting difficulty in making works about the past in Algeria. The cropped and blurred image speaks about this too. All of the FLN leaders have now died but they have been absent from the history of the country for a while now. Since independence, a constant confiscation of memory and history has been taking place. What Algerians are left with now is a State sanctioned narrative and it is almost impossible to counter or criticise it openly. My alterations on the iconic photograph embody these manipulations and shifts. Today, few young Algerians know who Ait Ahmed was. Ben Bella, the first Algerian president, lasted for three years before being overthrown in a military coup in 1965. These people are no longer present in official memory. One of the things I regret today is not taking portrait photographs of Ait Ahmed who was a friend and who asked me to do this a while ago…

Bruno Boudjelal, Restless Days: Algeria from East to West, 2001-2003. c) Bruno Boudjelal and Agence VU

Bruno Boudjelal, Restless Days: Algeria from East to West, 2001-2003. © Bruno Boudjelal and Agence VU

The blur has been a defining feature of your practice. During the civil war it was an outcome of the danger and the actual inability to photograph in public spaces. However, you have kept the blur even after the conflict came to an end in 2002. What is the value of blur in representing Algeria today? 

When I first visited Algeria, I had no specific agenda. I thought it would be my only visit to the country. When I came back some years later, I made the conscious decision to keep photographing but always used simple cameras in order not to be recognised as a photographer. I realised that you are fine in Algeria if you keep moving and act as if you knew your way around. The minute you stop, you get into trouble. Of course, even if blur was not a conscious aesthetic choice at first, it still carries a lot of meaning. To some extent, it registers the invisible, that which is suppressed and occluded. I have not been able to find another way to photograph Algeria nor to produce a focused image. Perhaps the blur speaks of my own failure to frame Algeria through the camera lens.


Katarzyna Falecka is studying for her doctorate at University College London. Her doctoral research looks at the ways in which photographers and artists have engaged with photographic archives from colonial Algeria, with a focus on visualisations of conflict produced during the Algerian War of Independence (1954-62). She was involved in the production of the ‘The End of the 20th Century. The Best is Yet to Come’ exhibition at the Hamburger Bahnhof Museum, Berlin in 2013, where she assisted Professor Eugen Blume. She has worked as researcher for the Jewish Museum London and is currently completing a Secondment at Tate.

On The Palestinian Novel with Bashir Abu-Manneh


Palestinian writer and activist Ghassan Kanafani.

In this inspiring introduction to modern Palestinian literature, Bashir Abu-Manneh speaks to Razia Iqbal about the work of four key Palestinian writers. He considers Palestinian literature produced after the Nakba, and asks what the Palestinian novel reveals about the Palestinian experience. Through discussing the work of Jabra Ibrahim Jabra, Ghassan Kanafani, Emile Habibi and Sahar Khalifeh, Abu-Manneh looks at the changing ways in which Palestinian writers have responded to and written about the struggle for freedom and justice.

In the question and answer session which follows the talk, discussion moves on to contemporary Palestinian literature and film and to the challenges facing the Palestinian struggle in the context of the current political situations in other Arab countries.

This talk was recorded at The Mosaic Rooms on 30 November 2016. The event marked publication of Bashir Abu-Manneh’s new book The Palestinian Novel.


Image details: Photograph of Palestinian writer and activist, Ghassan Kanafani (1936 -1972). This image was obtained from http://www.al-akhbar.com/files/images/p12_20070707_pic1.full.jpg

Marwan Kassab-Bachi 1934 – 2016


Image: Marwan speaking at The Mosaic Rooms, 2015. Image copyright The Mosaic Rooms.

It is with great sadness that we hear of the loss of the great artist Marwan Kassab-Bachi. Only this time last year we presented the first solo exhibition of his work in London, showcasing a sample of the vast breadth of this incredible Syrian artists work from the 1960s until present day. It was an absolute honour and privilege for us to have this opportunity, and for audiences here to see examples of his work over such an extended period of his practice. The works were all very kindly loaned from the artist’s studio.

I have very fond memories of visiting him there to select the works we were going to show. He welcomed me with such warmth and openness. There were no requests by him for specific work to be shown, instead he left me with the time to look and select whichever work I was interested in, helped by his son Jason. I recall being so struck by the sheer amount of work he had there, how much he had produced and kept producing throughout his life. It seemed his exploration and love of paint, form, materials was limitless as he constantly worked with its potential to evoke the immaterial, the depth of human experience. We are so glad he managed to give an artist talk here during the exhibition with Professor Jörn Merkert.

Marwan’s presence will be greatly missed in the art world, but his work will live on and we hope more audiences internationally will get the chance to experience this inspiring artist’s work.


Marwan, Not Towards Home, But The Horizon. Exhibition at The Mosaic Rooms, 2015. Image by Andy Stagg.





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