When is it Enough?
 

The arduous, labor-intensive physical work entailed in Hannan Abu-Hussein's creative practice remains visible throughout her works, alongside patterns formed through repetitive, cyclical actions. This repetitiveness expresses the futility of an endeavor that has no beginning or end, the passage of seasons, and the circle of life. For instance, the wool screen that greets us at the entrance to the gallery is associated with the tradition of unraveling blankets, mattresses, and pillows, taking out their wool filling, loosening and airing it, before restuffing and restitching the bedding ahead of every winter. This Sisyphean task, while productive, has no end in sight and is destined to repeat itself over many years.

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There is something about repetitive practices that offers a sense of mental comfort, like chanting a mantra, praying, or engaging in a meditative act that frees the mind from intrusive thoughts. They also establish consistency, rhythm, structure, and even a sense of control and self-discipline. On the other hand, repetition can also be an expression of uncontrollable or unstoppable compulsion, a manifestation of an unsettling obsession.

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The excess and multiplicity generated by the repetition overwhelm us with maternal warmth and existential angst alike, momentarily immersing us in an experience of suspension before abruptly inducing claustrophobia and a desperate urge to find the nearest exit.

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Abu-Hussein works mostly with basic, everyday materials fraught with historical, gendered, and cultural associations, like the plumbing pipes and fittings that make up the work The Destruction of the Father VII. These materials, which suggest “dirty” masculine manual labor, are used here to create a three-dimensional drawing that fills the gallery with a labyrinthine and all-encompassing presence, which at the same time remains light and airy. One can easily get lost in the forest of pipes taking shape in the gallery, without ever losing line of sight of the outside, the refuge that lies beyond this plumbing mashrabiya.

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In contrast to these “masculine” materials, Abu-Hussein also works with “feminine” materials, as seen in the piece made of buttons and embroidery threads — inspired by her mother, who used to sew — whose exaggerated scale evokes a surreal sense of threat. Similarly, the spiral of mini baby dolls, rather than serving as a girl's toy intended to foster maternal behaviors, triggers a sense of unease and pain through the sheer numbers, harsh joinery, and the treatment of the doll as a genderless element.

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The works are presented as one of many possible versions, since by their very fractal nature they hold the potential to continuously expand, evolve, and transform. The fractals form organic patterns that add layers of meaning to the whole, introducing questions about our place in society: What makes one individual meaningful within a collective? What significance does one's existence hold within the crowd, and what happens if the individual removes themselves from it?