On Munira Al Kazi: Fragments of Legacy
Introduction
Within the realm of Arab Gulf artists, painter and printmaker Munira Al Kazi stands out as a prominent figure. Born in 1939 with Saudi-Kuwaiti descent, her artistic prowess has gained widespread recognition and secured placements in prestigious institutions. Delving into the depths of her life and art is akin to embarking on a quest through enigmatic corridors. The scarcity of documentation and the absence of video footage capturing her essence leave us reliant on fragments of her legacy scattered in a few archives. With only a limited number of her works available for public viewing, our understanding of Al Kazi’s emotional connection to her art is hindered without specific historical anecdotes. By establishing a comprehensive timeline, we can better discern the influential circumstances in which she found herself, intentionally or subconsciously.
As I embarked on this paper, I confronted the challenge of objectivity, realizing that unconventional approaches are necessary to unveil her story. By adopting the roles of biographer and storyteller, and considering her life from an artist’s perspective, I began to form a deeper understanding of Al Kazi’s life, her artistic creations, and the influences that shaped her. This preliminary biography and contextual background offer a fresh lens through which I attempt to interpret Munira’s artworks, in close collaboration with her family and acquaintances. In doing so, we acknowledge the significance of personal memories and individual narratives, which transcend institutional perspectives, in constructing an artist’s enduring legacy.
The First Female Exhibition
To begin, I reached out to the director of The Sultan Gallery, Farida Al Sultan, whose connection to the artist allows for a deeper glimpse into her elusive life. The Sultan Gallery, founded by Ghazi and Najat Al Sultan in 1969 in Kuwait City, had an impactful existence before its unfortunate closure in 1990. In 2006, Farida, the younger sister of Ghazi and Najat, revived the gallery, carrying on its legacy by supporting local artists and hosting exhibitions featuring both Arab and international works. Additionally, Al Sultan preserves the archive of its previous iteration, safeguarding its historical significance.1
Al Kazi not only played a pivotal role in the inaugural exhibition of The Sultan Gallery, but stands as a presumptive trailblazer — the first female artist to grace a gallery in Kuwait with an exhibition, a claim yet unchallenged. Under the curation of Ghazi and Najat, the gallery dismantled a cultural norm where exhibitions were predominantly by male artists. Despite Kuwait having the oldest modern art movement in the Arabian Peninsula — granting scholarships to Kuwaiti artists since 1936, nurturing pioneers like Mojib Al Dosari, who gained regional recognition and later established the first gallery in Kuwait in 1943,2 and facilitating the first solo show in Kuwait by Khalifa Al Qattan in 19533 — The Sultan Gallery emerged against this historical backdrop, distinguishing itself as the first professional Arab art gallery in the Gulf region. Moreover, it etched a mark as the first space to prominently showcase a female artist.
Situated within the unassuming gallery storefront in the city center during that era, Munira’s print exhibition embodied her exploration of symbolism and layered techniques. Torn canvases within her creations revealed fragments of various elements, dynamically interacting with the textured backdrop of the gallery’s walls, constructed from a dense weave of jute. This interplay gained additional emphasis from the chequered floor tiles, characteristic of the time, suspended below eyeline and centered with the wall, offering a distinctive and intimate visual experience.4
Farida Al Sultan offers an intimate connection to Al Kazi’s exhibition outside the online archive by sharing precious black-and-white images.5 Among these cherished visuals, one embodiment captivates the imagination — a whimsical moment frozen in time. In it, Al Kazi assumes a defiant posture with a smile, as if pushing against the confines of a box meticulously drawn around her with a marker pen. Yet, upon closer observation, her posture has an ethereal quality, evoking the sense that she is on the cusp of a Hopak performance or maybe a boxing match. “She was very eccentric,” commented Al Sultan.6 Her attire, adorned with influences from various cultures, distinguishes her from the other women depicted in the remaining images.
The gallery archives also hold a document with handwritten amendments by the co-founder Najat. The text is divided into subheadings: “Kuwait’s Reaction to Munira’s Work,” “Her Views of the Status of Art in Kuwait,” and “What is Art? How Did it Start?”7 Al Kazi’s poignant reflections shed light on the state of the arts in the country, where she mourned its neglect and the resulting loss of potential among individuals. She passionately advocated for a cultural shift, urging the stimulation and facilitation of artistic endeavors across various realms, from theatre and local crafts to the unexplored possibilities of cinema. As I delve into her insights, I resonate deeply with her perspective. Although it may come as a surprise given the context of Kuwait’s Golden Era, I find myself sharing her sentiments, even decades after she expressed those views.
Al Kazi also recognized that art should not be confined to canvas alone but should permeate every facet of life. She lamented the prevalence of poorly designed imported products that replaced the inherent beauty of art in everyday objects. In her eyes, Kuwait possessed the untapped potential for new artistic directions where art could flourish and transcend boundaries innovatively. According to Al Kazi, modern art is the fusion of function and aesthetics. From the intricate carvings of primitive tribes on utensils to the self-expression found in art as humanity turned inward, she saw contemporary art as a return to nature, a rekindling of the union between beauty and purpose after a period of detachment.
The Inner Circle
Through a conversation with Munira’s niece, Dr. Lubna Al Kazi, the rich tapestry of the artist’s life and journey finally came to life.8 We embarked on a mesmerizing voyage, tracing Munira’s footsteps from her beginnings in Puna, India, to her transformative experiences in London, Beirut, Ibiza, and Kuwait. Munira’s artistic aptitude and indomitable spirit were nurtured by her parents, Hamad and Mariam, who held a steadfast belief in the power of education. Growing up alongside six siblings, Al Kazi’s formative years were a harmonious blend of independence and familial unity. The family’s journey took a momentous turn when, at the tender age of eight, Al Kazi and her loved ones relocated to Karachi, Pakistan, in the aftermath of the Indian Partition in 1947.9
They eventually settled in London, where Al Kazi entered her late teens or early twenties. It was during her time in the city that she had the opportunity to immerse herself in Arabic literature and culture through homeschooling. The Al Kazi family, it seems, is a stronghold of artistic talent. Dr. Lubna confirmed this observation, divulging that Munira’s brother, Ebrahim, left an indelible mark on the Indian art scene. “My uncle was a renowned theatre director and the first director of the National School of Drama,” with his wife Roshan collaborating as a costume designer for his plays.10 The couple’s vision led them to establish the esteemed Art Heritage Gallery in New Delhi, where Munira found a platform to showcase her paintings.11 Their children, Amal and Feisal, carried on the family’s artistic legacy, making their mark as accomplished theatre directors. Additionally, her sisters Faiza and Lulwa pursued creative endeavors, with Faiza becoming a jewelry designer, and Lulwa engaging in embroidery, skillfully depicting various scenes.12
In the Central School of Art and Design in London, now known as Central Saint Martins (CSM), Munira honed her skills as an artist. As I searched deeper into the connections within her artistic circle, I stumbled upon an intriguing discovery, an etching from 1960.13 This abstract artwork, devoid of a title, carries a dedication that reads, “To Nevine – With Love,” and originates from the private collection of Nevine Holmes. Holmes was a jewelry designer, printmaker, and presumed friend of Al Kazi, having also graduated from CSM. I found an image of Holmes’ work, which incorporates matte and gloss effects to showcase an abstract brooch adorned with rubies and emeralds.14 Comparing the results of both artists, an undeniable connection emerges, evident in their shared affinity for abstract aesthetics. They both employ techniques like shading, hatching, and the absence of overt subjects while exploring forms through lines, circles, and mysterious motifs.
In the inaugural exhibition of The Sultan Gallery in 1969, Munira participated in a joint show with Iraqi artist and architect Issam Al Said, whose artistic philosophy, akin to hers, seamlessly blended traditional craftsmanship with contemporary aesthetics. Both Al Kazi and Al Said, residents of London, shared a bond nurtured through their association with Najat and Ghazi. The expansive network of friends connected to the siblings included artists and architects from India to Beirut, Baghdad, and London. This intentional curation of artists underscored the gallery’s manifesto, dedicated to featuring the works of emerging Arab artists and bringing them to prominence within their region where their artistic contributions were previously unrecognized or overshadowed.15 Despite both artists enjoying international acclaim, it was through the interconnected relationships within this close circle that Munira’s work found its homecoming.
Delving Into Familial Themes
In exploring Al Kazi’s body of work, I became increasingly captivated by her exploration of familial themes across various mediums. Among her notable pieces is Mother (1963), an important inclusion in the Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A) collection.16 Through the meticulous techniques of dry-point and mezzotint, Al Kazi demonstrates her masterful craftsmanship. The artwork’s composition is anchored by elegantly etched lines, where two curved lines in the upper section evoke the form of breastplates. Another line stretches horizontally, creating a captivating T-shaped void. Intricate crosshatching takes center stage within the composition, depicting two converging arrows. The upper arrow points downwards, featuring an empty circle at its apex and a smaller black circle at the center of its head, suggesting a symbolic navel. In contrast, the lower arrow is truncated and devoid of explicit symbolism.
Al Kazi’s artistic repertoire includes another etching entitled Mother and Child (1962), which found its buyer through Dubai’s Meem Gallery.17 This print showcases two abstract figures that symbolize the mother and child relationship, exploring familial and gender dynamics. The mother figure looms behind the child, adorned with an intricate headdress and a gown embellished with leaf prints. The child, presumably the son, takes the foreground, devoid of decorative elements but marked by a series of dark crosshatchings descending from the chin. This artwork presents an uncanny portrayal of the familial bond, with both subjects lacking facial expressions, their features reduced to mere slits for eyes and lines for noses. However, in a subsequent work from 1968, employing oil on canvas, Al Kazi achieves a heightened sense of definition while evoking a familiar tone, possibly paying homage to the influences of Gauguin and Picasso.18 Another piece worth noting is Untitled (Family) (1965), an oil on canvas painting within the collection of the Barjeel Art Foundation that combines techniques from the artist’s previous works.19 It resembles the 1962 print but introduces a father figure and simplifies the decorative elements.
The portrayal of the mother-child relationship has been a recurring theme in art history, explored by renowned artists like Klimt, Bouguereau, Cassatt, and Elshareif. While Al Kazi’s exploration of this theme seems deeply personal, it intriguingly converged with the contemporaneous Pan-Arab modern art movement at the time. To avoid undue speculation, I inquired about Al Kazi’s marital and parental status to understand the motivations behind her exploration of the mother and child trope. Her niece confirms, “No, she never married, but she shared a profound closeness with her parents. She even created prints depicting her mother seated in her favorite chair, using a photograph as a reference.”20 She further elaborates that the series I am focusing on represents Al Kazi’s visually “dark” body of work, while her overall oeuvre is characterized by vibrant colors and a sense of joy, particularly when she lived in Spain.
Ibiza, Beirut, & Kuwait
In the early 1970s, Munira visited Ibiza, an island that captivated her with its stunning landscapes and serene atmosphere. She acquired a house, immersed herself in the local culture, and mastered the language. Her niece explained that Ibiza became a fertile ground for Al Kazi’s artistic exploration, wherein she eloquently captured the essence of the island through her vibrant and expressive paintings. “During that time, she incorporated numerous pigeon motifs, which eventually became her signature,” noted Dr. Lubna.21
Delicately arranged on Dr. Lubna’s couches, I was introduced to a myriad of Munira’s digital prints, with most reflecting the picturesque landscapes enveloping her in Ibiza. Through open wooden windows depicted in some prints, our gaze extends over a diverse array of townscapes and expansive natural vistas. The sky in these artworks is alive with the blurred silhouettes of birds and pigeons, some gracefully perched on foreground elements like fences, windows, and landmarks. Dr. Lubna fondly reminisced, “She used to always feed the pigeons on her balcony in her apartment in Kuwait.”22 The prints evoke echoes of David Hockney’s vibrant digital drawings. While Al Kazi’s prints predate his, similar techniques emerge due to the inherent constraints of hand and eye coordination from the computer mouse to screen. Despite a notable departure from Munira’s earlier abstract works, the intricate mark-making endures, manifesting in squiggly lines, dots, blurs, and hatchings.
Shortly after her juncture in Ibiza, Munira and her mother lived in Beirut, only to be swept up by the Lebanese Civil War that erupted in 1975. Beirut holds a special place in Munira’s heart, likely linked to the city’s allure during the liberal attitudes prevalent in Kuwait during the 1960s. The Kuwaiti elite sought refuge and indulgence in Beirut’s vibrant culture, investing in holiday homes and embracing the city’s glamorous and cultured lifestyle. Her niece sheds light on the family’s connection to Beirut, revealing that Munira’s mother owned an apartment that possibly served as a summer haven for the family, and her older sister, Noora, relocated there from India in the early sixties with her husband and children.
Al Kazi also held a solo exhibition in 1965 at Gallery One, a former beacon of modern and contemporary art founded in 1963 by Helen and Yusuf Al Khal in Beirut.23 In addition to selling artwork, the gallery also functioned as a vibrant cultural hub, fostering cultural and regional unity. Therefore, including Al Kazi’s work in its second year holds significant importance. The value of Al Kazi’s artistic contributions in Gallery One is further illuminated by its inclusion in the exhibition Beirut and the Golden Sixties: A Manifesto of Fragility at the Mathaf: Arab Museum of Modern Art in 2023.24 Positioned at the periphery of the display case amid catalogs, booklets, and assorted posters, the 1965 Gallery One exhibition poster stands in stark contrast to the vivid orange inlay. Featuring a black-and-white image, possibly an etching or mixed media on canvas, it resonates with the stylistic elements observed in her work, The Icon (c. 1960s), housed within the Barjeel Art Collection.25 Below this visual depiction, one finds her name, the date, and the gallery’s pertinent details. The absence of a specific title for the exhibition seems to align with the prevailing trend of that era, where solo shows often chose to forgo explicit headings.
Seeking stability, Al Kazi eventually settled in Kuwait, where she would spend the rest of her life. A deepening bond between her and Najat Al Sultan evolved during her time there. Her relationship with her niece also developed during that time, when Al Kazi played a maternal role by offering unwavering support and encouragement. Dr. Lubna fondly remembers her aunt as her wailing wall, a godmother, saying, “She was everything to me. God rest her soul.”26 In Kuwait, Al Kazi showed extraordinary compassion for stray cats, rescuing and caring for them. “Ah, the feline quandary! Those were times of cat conundrums,” Dr. Lubna exclaimed, her eyes alight with memories. “They were feral, you see, but to Munira, they were her brood.”27 Dr. Lubna generously shared with me a variety of Munira’s Ibiza prints. Upon scrutinizing the landscape, I discerned several subtle incarnations of Bellal, Munira’s beloved black cat, a whimsical nod to a “Where’s Waldo” escapade.
During the Gulf War in 1990, her niece also observed the artist’s gradual withdrawal from the world, especially after the passing of Najat Al Sultan in 1997, where Munira sought further solace within her creative cocoon. In that period, Al Kazi’s artistic style reflected an eclectic mix of influences, including her fascination with Sufi dervishes. Inspired by her time in Beirut, these prints showcase a delicate interplay of semi-impressionistic nuances and subtle surrealism. The series includes two striking blue paintings, each depicting a shelf adorned with five candles in candlesticks. In one, the candles glow brightly, while in the other, their light gently fades. Above the shelf in both paintings, a framed image captures the graceful twirls of dervishes, each evoking a distinct sense of movement and mystique.
Despite her growing social seclusion, in the late 1990s and early 2000s Munira embraced digital art within the confines of her own home. She rearticulated her techniques using various software and brought them to life by printing them on canvas. As new mediums emerged, Al Kazi, like other artists, began to implement the latest developments of society in her work to expand and utilize contemporary means of evolving her practice. Her desire to share her art led her to collaborate with her niece, who facilitated the distribution of her digital work to various institutions. Some of her works found a home in the orphanage’s walls in Kuwait and adorned the ceilings in the form of a mural above patient beds at the Sabah Al Ahmad Cardiac Center, providing solace to those in need. Additionally, Al Kazi actively participated in charity auctions, generously contributing to relief efforts in Yemen and Palestine.
Conclusion
Munira Al Kazi’s death in Kuwait on March 20, 2023, profoundly impacted the regional art world, resonating within my art circles and among female relatives. While much of her life remained shrouded in privacy, her artistic legacy continues to flourish in the public sphere. The Barjeel Art Foundation, recognizing her prowess, embarked on a tour showcasing her work across seven uniquely curated group exhibitions around the globe.28 Her Mother and Child (1962) etching earned her a well-deserved place in the Khaleej Modern: Pioneers and Collectives in the Arabian Peninsula exhibition at The NYUAD Art Gallery. Placed prominently in the exhibition’s opening room, Al Kazi’s artwork underscored her significance and emphasized artistic communities’ inclusive and global nature. Curator Aisha Stoby, in her remarks, reflects on Al Kazi’s art as a testament to the diverse perspectives and artistic exchanges that transcend regional boundaries.29
Within the depths of Munira Al Kazi’s legacy lie untold stories, mysteries that I have endeavored to capture within this piece. Through these fragments, fleeting glimpses of her essence, we embark on a journey of speculation rather than certainty. Her body of work reveals a myriad of artistic achievements, whether it be delving into the pages of her solo exhibition catalog from the New Vision Centre Gallery in London (1964) at the Tate Library, grappling with the longing to witness her poignant print Mother (1963) firsthand within the archives of the V&A, or catching glimpses of her celestial ceiling installations at the cardiac center.
In this quest for understanding, I find myself contemplating existential questions that inevitably arise when confronted with the life, potential legacy, and ultimate mortality of not only the artist herself, but also of my own existence. Yet, amidst these introspective musings, solace emerges from my brief encounter with Munira’s niece, whose presence offers reassurance. For it is often within the realm of family that the torch of an artist’s legacy is lovingly carried forward, as they bear witness to the artistic process and immerse themselves in its surroundings. How we long to be remembered, how we yearn for our reputation to be safeguarded and woven into the arc of history, often hinges upon our inner circle — the fortunate few institutions, but most profoundly, our family.
This essay is part of Written Portraits: Arab Women, Art, & History, a series that focuses on the lives and works of Arab female artists, authored by Arab female researchers in collaboration with the Barjeel Art Foundation.
To access the works cited & endnotes, download the full report.
The statements made and views expressed are solely the responsibility of the author and do not represent Fiker Institute.
