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'Despite challenges, the Saudi Arabia art movement is growing fast'

Meet artist Halla bint Khalid whose powerful and cheeky art and children's books are pushing boundaries in Saudi society

Like all girls from privileged Saudi families, Halla bint Khalid grew up with everyone at school and elsewhere predicting her future - doctor or teacher. But Halla was creatively minded and it was clear that she would be an artist when, as a child, she painted her first sunflower. This one was a Van Gogh in the making. Today, at 47, the mother-of-five, is a popular storyteller with a surfeit of Arabic and English children's bestsellers to her name (Adventures of a Paperweight, Everywhere and Hiccups etc). "If there is a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet," author Toni Morrison had famously advised, "you must be the one to write it." As she tells it, Halla was driven to write her own children's books when she couldn't find any worthwhile on the shelves to read her kids. At heart, however, she's an artist whose powerful, witty and quirky works oscillate between her Saudi heritage, gender gap and a concern for the marginalised and social outcasts. How does she reconcile all this? "There is beauty everywhere and in everyone if we look without prejudice," she tells WKND, in a chat from Riyadh where she's based. "Halla's art stands out for its sincerity and physical beauty," says gallerist Stephan Stoyanov of Art Agency who represents her. "Gender topics are in vogue nowadays but, in her work, there is both sadness and humour and, above all, bravery."
Recently, her small-scale series called 'A Wife Is... A Husband Is' was showcased at Art Paris 2019 held at the historic Grand Palais. One of the most glamorous events on the Paris social calendar, the fair attracted all kinds of art lovers. According to Stephan Stoyanov, 'A Wife Is... A Husband Is' was a huge success there, with most of the series snapped up quickly by international collectors. Robert Lopardo, director of Cuadro Gallery in Dubai, says, "Halla's artworks have drawn a wide appeal across a diverse and informed audience, including The Los Angeles County Museum.". 'A Wife Is... A Husband Is' is a playful ode to marriage. There's a toilet (a la Duchamp), an ATM machine with a pair of blue shoes and an everyday broom for cleaning, amongst others.
Is she equating marriage with associations of ordinary objects? What's going on in the artist's mind? Let's find out.
Children's illustration and the world of children has been central to your making as an artist. What drew you to it?
I have been consistently creating art since I was 10 years old. I held several solo shows in Riyadh, the first of which was in 1991. I published my first two children's books in 1997, so I was already well-known as a fine artist in Riyadh at that time. In general, marriage and children usually hamper a woman's career. My career in art was severely affected after I entered the gilded cage due to many factors. I never thought I would end up making children's books, but when I failed to find books that conveyed a specific message for my own children, I decided to produce them myself. My father (he was Deputy Minister of Education of Saudi Arabia in the 1970s and is now a businessman) encouraged and supported me to make them available to other youngsters. The rest is history.
More often than not, your children seem to find themselves in your books.
When it comes to books, my children are my main source of material. When it comes to fine art, whether I am painting folds of fabric or a shell, I am always attracted by line and colour, history, archaeology, psychology, sociology and music. They are my chief interests. This shows up in my work. When painting people, I am drawn to what goes on behind the scenes, the unmentioned individuals like the guards and serving girls.
Does being a mother alter your art or change your perceptions as an artist?
(Laughs) Perhaps having children helped me understand that humour helps the medicine go down when you want to say something serious. It's more easily accepted and perhaps even understood if you can make them smile when you say it.
Both the Saudi heritage and culture and those on the margins, the everyday objects and the outcasts (the painting of a black guard or the working girls, for example) merge in your art.
My first art teacher, Liz Thompson, said, 'Halla, you don't need a grand subject to make a beautiful painting, even onion skin is beautiful.' This changed my life. It's almost like I was given new eyes. I began to look at the world like a big painting. Consequently, I ended up choosing a variety of subjects, connected to Saudi heritage and beyond. My art is a continuation of what Liz tried to teach me. There is beauty everywhere and in everyone if we look without prejudice. Beauty and dignity have nothing to do with wealth or status. It comes from within. Also, what Danish author Hans Christian Andersen taught us in The Princess and the Pea.
You recently wrote how our minds are preconditioned so early on in life that we learn to discriminate before we learn the alphabet. Can you explain the role of gender discrimination in your work?
Over the past three months, I have been trying to read only Arabic books to my two youngest children. For youngsters whose first language is English, defining the gender differences has not only been difficult, but sometimes awkward to explain to my little girl. For starters, when you are speaking about a group of people, if there are four men and one woman, the plural verb or adjective would be masculine. On the other hand, if there are four or even ten women and one man, the plural would still be masculine. In other words, one man outweighs all the women. As a little girl, I remember clearly sensing the gender discrimination against females simply by learning Arabic grammar. English is not exempt from this, and I am sure many other languages aren't either. Our minds are influenced and preconditioned so early on in life that we learn to discriminate before we even learn the alphabet. The gender divisions are highly distinguishable in Saudi Arabia. The contrast between the black abayas and white thawbs hits you the minute you land here. My new series, 'A Wife Is...A Husband Is' was brought on by my observation that all too often, especially when choosing our spouse, it's not about respect, love and admiration, it's about what we can get out of the other person. We look at each other as objects, or machines to be used.

What is it like to be a Saudi woman today? Certainly, the perceptions of the Saudi woman as second to man (woman's rights being an issue we read about all the time) is challenged by women by you. What's your take?
I am a fairly privileged person on every level. I don't think I am in a position to give an informed opinion. Having said that, there are many day-to-day issues that I have to deal with that relate directly to me not being of the male gender. Yet, no one can deny that there are many positive changes occurring at the moment in the country.
Expressionistic? Irreverent? How do you see your own work? What are recurring themes you have worked on all your life?
I don't think there is one theme I have worked on all my life. I get bored quickly. I have worked on a variety of subjects in various mediums. During my first solo in 1991, a visitor was standing in front of my painting Dusk at Arafat. She turned to me and said, "We pass scenes like this all the time without taking much notice, but you make us stop and observe." That was one of the best compliments ever.
What were the challenges of being an artist in Saudi Arabia?
Shortage of museums, art supplies, live models, and art schools.
Tell us a little about art in Saudi today and the relationship Saudis share with art and creativity?
From what I see, despite the challenges, the art movement in Saudi Arabia is growing fast. Yet even though we have internationally renowned names like Abdulnasser Gharem and Maha Al-Maluh, the fact remains that most families in this part of the world would not like to hear their child say, "I want to be an artist.' It is still not perceived as a "serious" profession. It is said that societies that embrace individuality and diversity and are open to change end up being more expressive and ultimately, more creative.
wknd@khaleejtimes.com