Ramzi Mallat’s relentless journey of discovery, rediscovery and self-reflection

The descriptive term ‘diasporic artist’ is one with which we are probably all familiar, understandably, given the number of creatives that have left their country of birth over the decades, either voluntarily or otherwise.

And, while many of those working in the visual arts naturally find themselves drawn to their homeland and heritage for inspiration, it could be said that the Lebanese-born, UK-based multidisciplinary artist Ramzi Mallat takes digging into his cultural ancestry for research to a whole other level. 

Based between Beirut and London, Mallat’s yearning for knowledge about the Middle East’s rich history is matched only by his desire to transfer what he discovers about the region and, in turn, himself, into Art and share the interpretations of his findings with others.

Whether it’s exploring what makes the Lebanese people tick, reflecting on the impact of regional unrest and local tragedies, or delving into age-old customs and symbols, Mallat is on an unabating quest of discovery and rediscovery. 

Over the years, he has channelled this desire to find out more, both about his cultural roots and inherited histories, into an increasingly diverse range of media, moving away from painting towards sculpture, drawing, film and installations. 

In many ways, Mallat’s ceramic coffee cup ‘wall’ installation, titled ‘We Are What We Know’ (2018), represented a coming together of these aims, after he decided to travel back to Lebanon, having finished his graduate studies, and undertake what he recognised was much-needed, on-the-ground research there.

“There was a void I needed to fill in relation to my knowledge of Lebanon’s history that was eating away at me,” he admitted. “I also knew I was becoming isolated in my studio, not engaging with people or the sociopolitical climate, so it felt like the right time to take my artistic practice to the streets.”

Using what he described as a guerrilla methodology for the project, Mallat decided to go out onto Lebanon’s streets and strike up conversations with people about their everyday life, while offering them coffee from a set of identical cups called ‘shaffe’, which are synonymous with Lebanese heritage, and reading their fortune. He then took the used cups, stained with ground coffee, back to the studio to preserve and assemble them into a grid-like structure.

“I decided to make the wall concave in shape, to enable audiences to become immersed in the installation and experience the sense of community that sits at the heart of the project,” he explained. Each of the one-thousand coffee cups displayed was wiped clean of lip stains and fingerprints to reinforce the clear separation between the private interpersonal conversations and the final work produced in collaboration with these communities. However, when presented collectively, there was a real sense that the wall offered a snapshot of the social and political discourse currently taking place on Lebanon’s streets.

Mallat, who has a Bachelor’s Degree in Fine Art from Lancaster University and a Master’s in Sculpture from the Royal College of Art, London, is keen to point out that while the project is rooted in Lebanon’s cultural heritage, he hopes that as an on-the-street snapshot of contemporary conversations, it will contribute to a broader archive of Lebanese life for future generations.

This juxtaposition of past with the present and focus on the future is a key hallmark of Mallat’s process and a thread that is woven through many of his works, including ‘Not your Martyr’ (2023), a project that was created following the August 4th Beirut Port Explosion of 2020. The work consists of 270 pieces of glass - mirroring the number of people who died in the tragedy. Mallat, who was in Lebanon working on a documentary when the blast happened, explained that he gave a great deal of thought to both the material and shapes he chose for the pieces. 

“Glass has so many connotations with the theme, both positive and negative. We knew that glass caused many of the injuries in the explosion, including fatal ones. And yet, glass as a material is fragile, while being endlessly recyclable,” he said. “I felt that this somehow gave it an association with rebirth and hope for the future, which is why I also used bright, uplifting colours. I wanted people who lost loved ones to have something symbolic and suitable for commemorating their nearest and dearest, but in the form of a work that would also help them to celebrate their lives. I also wanted to create a memorial that would, more broadly and collectively, bind the Lebanese people through shared grief.” 

Similarly, the thought of families and friends coming together, reflecting on and remembering their loved ones on special occasions gave Mallat the idea of creating his works in the shape of traditional ‘maamoul’ pastries. “These delicacies are enjoyed by people across religious and cultural divides,” he said. “They are a symbol of hospitality and friendship, something positive that brings people together.”

Symbolism is undoubtedly a key focal point for Mallat in his work, including the Arabic language. In ‘Shock and Awe’ (2022), for example, calligraphic lettering provided him with a vehicle to explore some of the negative Western perceptions of the Middle East and its people. Created as a neon sign and a series of prints, these pieces are a thought-provoking play on words, in which the well-known Arabic phrase ‘The Magic of the East’ becomes ‘The Magic of Evil’ through the removal of the letter ‘ق’. A red finish gives what Mallat terms this ‘shock doctrine’ a lurid, somewhat seedy look, alongside connotations ranging from fetishization to bloodshed. 

Conflicting messages or irreconcilable viewpoints related to cultural symbols are another common thread throughout Mallat’s art, including the evil eye, which has long fascinated him. “The evil eye is seen as a protective talisman but also has associations with violence,” he explained. “As someone who gets anxious about being observed or scrutinised, I was keen to explore these apparently opposing standpoints.”

As a nature lover, Mallat has routinely sought refuge in Lebanon’s mountains when anxieties from city life took hold, and it was in these landscapes that he found himself reflecting on the evil eye’s seemingly positive role. “I often felt that the mountains were watching over me,” he admitted. 

Against this backdrop, when the mountains in the southern areas of the country came under attack at the end of 2023, Mallat felt inspired to explore these combined concepts in his work. “When the mountains were being bombed with white phosphorus, it felt like they were looking down at me and weeping, screaming even,” he said. “I felt an urge to reciprocate some of the protection they had given me - a desperate attempt to defend the land - and somehow, the idea of the evil eye presented itself to me as a motif, but this time for its safeguarding role.” 

Titled ‘Vista Visions’ (2024), these works depict mountains with undulant curves and slopes adorned with the instantly recognisable evil eye motifs in a hallmark shade of bright blue. Born out of powerful feelings of helplessness and anxiety, this major series of wax drawings expressively translates these felt tensions on paper through the overabundance of aggressive pencil strokes.

The evil eye and its conflicting representations also provided the inspiration for a collection of pieces by Mallat currently on display in a joint exhibition, titled ‘Emotional Territories’, a duo solo at Marie Jose Gallery, London, which also features the work of fellow artist Sara Chaar.

Mallat explained that the sculptures, which are cast in bronze and then patinated, are modelled after ancient stone artefacts discovered in the Eye Temple Complex of Tell Brak in Syria, which he first encountered when visiting the Nabu Museum in Lebanon. Like the original relics, his figurines, or ‘Constellations of Protection’ series, have two large-scale vacuous eyes that give the pieces an almost cartoonish, grotesque appearance - a characteristic that was inevitably a draw for Mallat.

“When I saw these pieces on display, I was fascinated by the openness of their gaze. I also felt the pull and power of their legacy and a need to carry it forward,” he admitted. 

Aside from supporting his desire to familiarise future generations with an intriguing snippet of history, Mallat also found that as he crafted these artworks, he was learning through making and acquiring deeply visceral knowledge. “I found myself thinking that perhaps, the evil eye talisman is not necessarily sending out conflicting messages, rather those messages are open to different interpretation and dependent on the circumstances,” he mused. “For example, in my work titled ‘Billow and Behold’, as you move around a room, the evil eyes become distorted, which made me think that we, too, see many aspects of life in a skewed or one-sided way. The reality, I think, is that rather than everything being about an inherent good and bad, it’s much more about differing perspectives.” 

And this is what informs so much of Mallat’s artistic practice.