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Your Space Or Mine

Faisal Hussain’s work alights in London: See It, Say It, Racist

From Birmingham to Berlin, by way of Manchester, Shoreditch and Hackney, Faisal Hussain’s work spans both generations and geographies, acting as a heartfelt call to arms for earnest spectators yearning for something more than just a gesture in the face of crisis. Faisal’s work now finds itself in the spotlight of East London, with two BUILDHOLLYWOOD venues showcasing a number of outstanding works, alongside a corresponding poster series in Faisal’s hometown of Birmingham.

“My story and legacy run as a theme through the work I produce,” Faisal shares, shedding light on an industrious, diasporic South Asian family history that leads to the last 65 years in the city of Birmingham. It’s a geography that sits tight in the nexus of Faisal’s work, both artistic and academic, cited as the city that hosted both prayer and rave for him in his early years. The rich cultural heritage of the West Midlands emerges in concurrent episodes of Faisal’s work to this day, from permanent collections exhibited at the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery, to, ‘It Might Be Nothing but It Could Be Something..‘, a commission in collaboration with a number of academics from the University of Birmingham and Eastside Projects.

22.01.25

Words by Elsa Monteith

Speaking to the impact of personal loss combined with what he deftly phrases as “the appropriation and omitted lived histories of the South Asian diaspora in institutions”, Faisal recognises the heavy weight of racism, classism and Islamophobia on his lived experience, and reflects on how that has influenced his work and the spaces it will occupy. Referring to the signs found in Shoreditch during the BUILDHOLLYWOOD partnership, Faisal explains that the ‘Antisemitism = Islamophobia’ signs connect Shoreditch’s “Jewish and Muslim communities who have made the area home over the last century, who have both endured racism”. There’s a shared lived experience of oppression that is united in collective resistance, and a fervid response to the attempt to divide, in favour of advocating for community honouring difference.

There’s a widely held belief (or perhaps, illusion) that artistic success is only attainable in the capital, but Birmingham, like many regional cities, is now beginning to be recognised for its artistic significance beyond the locality of talent. “It is understated as a city”, shares Faisal, “as I think I was, but now I hope that’s changing”. Despite the southern leaning of this East London showcase, the West Midlands remains central to the conversation, with a trademark BUILDHOLLYWOOD poster run of Faisal’s work appearing in Birmingham alongside January’s display in London. “See It, Say It, Genocide” remains a vital and urgent message throughout Faisal’s work, and will be at the forefront of the campaign at all points of the compass.

Thinking back to homeland, origins, and influence, how did the culture and history of the city you grew up in shape the themes you explore in your work?

My family connection to Birmingham is about 65 years old. I turned up in 1977 and we went on to do further markets, opening shops in Handsworth and Sparkhill selling clothing and then moving to the suburbs. After this, trade began declining, we had a plot at the wholesale markets, and then when the recession happened in the mid-90s, we found ourselves having to export to East Germany to survive, driving each week. In the late 90s and during university, we began a food business, which continues to this day.

Photo: The photo is of my grandfather at market with a friend of my father’s who worked on the stall, he became a nuclear physicist in Pakistan.

So my story and legacy above run as a theme through the work I produce and the subjects that I want to discuss and cover.

Birmingham has taught me a lot in terms of culture, belonging, classism, racism, and communalism in quite stark ways. For this I am grateful and I am proud that I’ve had the opportunity to be in much of my city. It is understated as a city, as I think I was, but now I hope that that’s changing. It is rich in culture but unfortunately, its arts and creativity are not valued enough.

It is the place that I went to for prayers and different functions yet also went to play in a band at the Royal George pub in the mid-90s. It was where we raved and watched bands from the US and ate kebabs from Shahi Nan kebab house on Stratford Road. 

You have permanent collections of your work in Manchester, Birmingham, and Berlin – do you feel particularly connected to these locations too?

I think staking one’s claim to different places means different things to everyone. As far as I am concerned, I belong anywhere in this country. I have a special affinity to particular places of memory and necessity, so each of these cities has ‘given me a space to be’. All have allowed me to show the work and some of my thoughts and impressions of being here and thankfully some permanency in their collections. All the cities have allowed a certain amount of legitimacy which seems to be in decline now.

Your art and practice actively challenges assumed stereotypes and sheds light on overlooked and erased histories. Was there a pivotal moment in your career or lived experience that inspired you to take this direction?

I think the loss of members of my family meant that I felt I needed to make marks on the walls to announce being here. As well as that several people came in and out of my life quite quickly which left me thinking about what I would like to intervene in and like to have remembered about me. I think that this personal loss combined with what I see as ‘the appropriation and omitted lived histories of the South Asian diaspora in institutions’, spurred something dormant in me.

Some of my life is also littered with examples of racism, some of which are the kind that isn’t seen and continues more blatantly. I’m also moved to make the work by the need of many to see a certain stereotype of people of color in art. I want to experiment with that, look at the stifling nature and acceptance of a model minority narrative… Partly, the reason for this work appearing now is that there seems to be an inherent fear in talking about the rise of racism and the contradictions that are fast becoming a normalized part of our lives. As a British Pakistani man, as I write this, it seems that I am again being framed as public enemy number one. So these pivotal moments seem to continuously, coincidently, be coming back again and again, thick and fast for me and many others.

It seems to me that archives and personal memory are really central to your artistic process. Has this always been the case within your practice?

My grandfather came to the UK, like many Pakistani men, on his own, from Punjab in Pakistan in 1964. He arrived in London and traveled with friends to work in Sheffield at a coal mine. He got very ill from mining and was hospitalized for a month. He decided to move to Brum in 1960 and then worked for the MEM group in Hall Green, living in Balsall Heath for 11 years, after which he received a gold watch. At this point, my grandmother and father had come over and said that they should start a leather business doing markets. From there he was able to rent a small factory in the Custard Factory in Digbeth, Birmingham.

I’ve mostly been inspired by the environment and imagining being in other places. I think this has stemmed from being in Pakistan as a young child too. I’ve been quite lucky in the fact that there is an under-representation of stories to do with people’s experiences of living varied lives in the UK. The research-based process of the ‘detective work’ and ‘re-remembering’ why people are here is so important for each generation. Part of the collection of oral histories from people allows new and interesting perspectives that help in that sense of belonging.

Your work is often found in unexpected places, from galleries and exhibition spaces to shopfronts and side streets. Why is it important for you to create art for everyday spaces? How does this translate to BUILDHOLLYWOOD’s 1 Quaker Street (The Sandbox) and Mare Street locations?

Part of not feeling belonging or being part of a space means that you must go where you can show things. I found this through what was called installations and then in terms of public/land art and raves when I was in Cornwall. I think graffiti work and the fact that you can get all people to see what you can do and think in the public space has always been important coming from Birmingham, particularly with artists I looked up to such as Kafiat Shah, who would hand paint shop signs, and Zuki and Juice 126 who created abstract graffiti and painted on objects as well as walls.

BUILDHOLLYWOOD is in locations surrounded by where people of many backgrounds have built their homes. I used to pick up leather jackets from Brick Lane in the 80s/90s. The first research I did was about the gentrification of the area when ‘Cereal Killer’ got vandalized in 2015, but many of the people that I spoke to were more concerned with the rise in Islamophobia which has exploded since. More recently, the redevelopment of parts of Brick Lane has been met with disdain from many who have lived and had businesses there for decades. The area has major importance for this history of many migrant communities, Huguenots avoiding persecution from France, Jewish communities escaping Russia and Eastern Europe, Irish migrants fleeing famine and the largest Bangladeshi community in the UK.

But hey, it’s more important that Tristan wants an ironic sweatshirt, a matcha latte, and a soapy IPA.*

Going back 10 years to your project F.light, you brought South Asian heritage to the high street through six lightbox signs in Birmingham. Can you tell me how that project came together and what you learned from it? Is there anything you’d do differently 10 years on?

This work was about the parallels and differences between generations living here and what stories are passed on and which aren’t. After collecting information about all these different histories from 15 people, I thought that there needed to be further action to commemorate and mark contributions in the local area.

The project sat between heritage and artwork, decolonization, and public artworks, which were also meant to have an anti-racism slant to them allowing people to see some depth in their local history on the high street.

I learned that the diversity within peoples’ stories was so varied which provided a more plural aspect to each community and that even though there were parallels there were specific, real, and varied stories. With immense respect and sacrifice of many men who came to this country which is all but forgotten.

I don’t think I’d do anything differently 10 years on apart from being a bit more adventurous in scope and putting up more. It’s not like the xenophobia and prejudice have reduced, it’s only increased tenfold, at the time I said ‘Racism is the material for the work’ I now wish I hadn’t been so brash.

How does collaboration with other artists and academics help to shape the way you approach your work? I’d love to hear more about your Contemporary Reflections on Critical Terrorism Studies and connection or relationship to other more academic written work.

I need them in my life, proper ones, solidarity is precious. If it wasn’t for the collective support and critical thought of those around me, particularly those trying to traverse difficult subjects, the work could not have been done. They are my pivotal libraries and also the catalyst for discussion around where and what the work is doing and why. The chapter I was invited to write in the ‘Contemporary Reflections’ book was to put a case forward for the works outside of art and in the realm of what CTS is, its relevance, and its use, particularly in the context of Muslim communities in the UK and Europe. That opportunity also gave some depth to the different ways and contexts the work was being seen and set.

Thinking about it is quite mad, I consult on everything from abstract graffiti to criminology, from fabrication to anti-racism traditions and archives, live campaigns to actual decolonization work in museums to new plugins for Ableton.

I’m really interested in your use of everyday materials like shop signs and bollards within your work. How do these recognizable objects help your audiences connect more deeply with your art? What’s the typical response or immediate reaction?

The works are disguises for the nefarious nature of sus-laws that have re-emerged in the last few decades. They are ‘charged’ objects just as our bodies, are in the public space. Whether that is through racism or through the spaces we frequent or are allowed to frequent. People use the sign to advertise the stock of the shop and marketplace while I also use them to insinuate and respond to stereotypes and racism with text and images. I used the lit bollard to attract attention to what authorities and planners say should be avoided or prevented from occurring, the rules of being in the public space, and who is and isn’t allowed to be there. The bollard works were part of an exhibition at Eastside Projects some years back which was named after one of the works ‘It might be nothing..but it could be something..’ and now are in Manchester Art Gallery.

You’re archiving over 3,000 South Asian vinyl records with True Form Projects which is an incredible feat. Could you tell me a bit more about the project? And as a bonus question; what are your top three records in your collection?

This is a different part of my practice associated with the unraveling of being here and the need for inquiry and marking of place through archives. The ‘East in West’ vinyl collection is part of many radical archives which tell different and varied stories. The project is essentially the creation of a resource that people will able to access and create work from or use for research. We are collecting responses to peoples’ memories of being in the UK and using the music in the collection as a starting point for oral histories, further collecting artifacts, and making new music. We have accomplished quite a lot over the last 3 years and we are currently looking to find new partners to work with UK-wide.

*Top 3 records change all the time! Currently, Jagjit Singh in Trinidad, a lot of Kalyanji/Burman stuff and Nermin’s ‘Disco se Aagay’.

The works being exhibited at Mare Street and 1 Quaker Street (The Sandbox)  are particularly powerful and speak to very current issues with a heavy history. The fonts used and olive iconography help to set the scene, but do you find that words are more impactful (or perhaps immediate) than images in cases like these?

Right now, I’m sorry to say… that when dehumanizing is normalized, I don’t know if images or words on their own are enough. As well as art we need something else…

How do the different locations where your art will be shared – Shoreditch, Hackney, and Birmingham – all add (potentially different) meanings to the works you’re showing?

All these locations have a particularly varied history of different communities who have made these towns and cities their homes. Whether it is the current gentrification of parts of London and the fact that communities have sometimes been pitted against each other, waves of migration have made these cities and found ways of surviving, sharing, and making homes and livelihoods.

Some of the signs have direct reference to the areas. ‘Antisemitism = Islamophobia’ being in Shoreditch and its Jewish and Muslim communities who have made the area home over the last century, and who have both endured racism.

‘No hate only pride’ about my home in Kings Heath where we have the ‘Queens Heath’ pride march and communities and neighbors who make up our neighborhood without the fear of homophobia. Even though there have been many attempts to divide, people have come together to defend each other and respond to these weak discords. Proud that Birmingham has had a tradition of working things out together.

Looking ahead, are there any projects, explorations, or collaborations you’re looking forward to? What’s next for Faisal?

I’m looking forward to having some time to do more work and investigate new contexts, particularly out there..somewhere…While I have been archiving and working with vinyl for the last few years, I intend to make new works from it.

In the process of archiving, it’s also allowed me to find other special and radical collections in Birmingham to which I have an affinity, Leftfoot UK and Misson Print as well as many others. I’ll be looking to bolster those ideas a bit more. At the same time, the spaces in Birmingham for artists to exist are being shut down so I hope to try and engage with that in some way.  My practice is now becoming more varied and some further exploration is required. There’s potential for a bit more performance-based work, this will most likely be audio and hopefully with collaborators. It’s where the ideas will take us now. All the work needs to be able to travel, so trying to get to new places to exhibit will be on the cards.

I shall be showing new moving image work as part of a live performance at the University of Birmingham on the 1st of March with a separate project awaiting confirmation this year as a cross-academic and curatorial work. As my own city unashamedly eats and destroys its own tiny arts infrastructure; and being a British Pakistani man seems to be in and out of the headlines for all the wrong reasons; I hope I don’t have to move, but then this I guess is also an example of migration.

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