Wait-less Weight
The project discusses the politics of material — what it carries, its history, agency, labour — through two artists Jonah Hoffman; a painter working with natural pigment and Gabriele Risso; a sculptor currently working in stone.
In this section you can learn about the first case study of the research. We interviewed artist and heritage conservation researcher Samaher Bashamakh to learn about her practice and the challenges she faces in artistic production.
About Samaher Bashamakh: A heritage researcher and Interior & Furniture designer, with a masters in heritage management. She has experience in facilitating workshops with Zawiya97 in Albalad and is an Instructor at Wrth in the traditional building arts diploma. In her work, Samaher uses natural minerals sourced from different regions of Saudi Arabia and the world to mix pigments using traditional techniques and create traditional arts, including coasters, furniture pieces, and ornamented mirrors. Her work features patterns inspired by her research of the Hejaz region’s material heritage. Samaher’s relationship to material extends to wood carving, norah carving and analysis of traditional patterns. Samaher often takes on field trips to deepen her understanding of local crafts and sustainable practices and implements her findings in her work.
Listening to Materials: Pigment, Provenance and Craft Heritage in
the Hejaz
An interview with Samaher Bashamakh by Noor Albar
How did your interest in pigments and traditional mixing practices begin?
My interest began with exploring Al-Balad’s historical houses. I was especially drawn to the ceilings decorated with hand-painted wooden panels. Some of these houses were more than 400 years old. I was impressed by the level of skill, because craftspeople and artists back then had far less developed tools than we have today. The interest grew, so I took a diploma in traditional building arts at Wrth (Saudi Arabia), focused on these techniques. I also took a course with the King’s Foundation School of Traditional Arts (Saudi Arabia) on making pigments. It fascinated me to learn how colour is extracted from rocks and plants, and I wanted to understand how powdered pigments could be made to bind to wood.
When you start working with a pigment, what does its appearance tell you about its history?
Pigments range from the sea to the land. The hue tells you where a pigment comes from. Natural browns and beiges that look like sand, for example, usually come from the land, such as desert areas. They reveal the layers of the land, and that tells us where they come from.
Is it difficult to source pigments in Saudi Arabia?
Yes. Locally it’s difficult unless you find the pigment as a rock, and even then you have to process it from scratch and mix it with a medium to make paint. There are local pigments, because we have mountains in the country. It is mostly popular in AlUla, where people champion pigments and work to share them globally. They produce them as liquid or powder, but you can only buy small quantities, otherwise you need a licence, which is difficult for an artist to obtain.
Pigments are not available in Jeddah. You would have to go to the mountainous regions to collect the material yourself. It would be easier to source ready-to-mix pigments in Egypt or Morocco, because there is a market for ceramics, which created a need. There are not many experts in the craft here. In the end it is a passion.
Some of your pigments come from AlUla in Saudi Arabia, and others from much farther away. Does a pigment’s distance from its source change how you think about it or use it?
Yes. When a pigment travels further it costs more, because of customs and taxes. But when you have a vision you want to carry out, you work towards it regardless of the challenges. I always lean towards locally sourced pigments when they are available.
Many cultures have influenced Jeddah, and that shaped the resources we have. In the Banajah House, for example, there is a unique decoration where pigment was painted on plaster, a fresco. That was surprising, because in the Hejaz region you will only find pigment on wood. I looked into it, and some members of the Banajah family told me they remember their grandparents hiring craftsmen from Europe. This layering of histories arriving in Jeddah is why I feel obliged to champion our heritage and culture and to preserve these practices for future generations. After all, if you do not know your history, you do not have a future.
Do you feel a material has a say in what you make? How does that shape your process?
Anything natural, made uniquely by God, we must learn to understand its behaviour. If I use wood and go against its nature, the piece will not respond well. The more you respect wood, the better the results it offers. With pigments, if you use five colours in one painting, for example, natural pigments create an independent and effortless harmony, unlike man-made and processed ones.
If you work in a craft and you feel angry, the materials you handle absorb your negative energy. You learn patience with handcrafts that you may not find elsewhere. It is a listening relationship.
Your patterns draw on Jeddah’s architectural and design heritage. What has studying it taught you?
Jeddah’s architectural language is the most complete and best preserved among the Hejaz region’s architectural remains. It is the only city with all the elements of Hejazi architecture, which makes us search for the secrets of how this art developed and how to preserve it. It is inspiring to learn how people worked with basic tools and still created such intricate designs. Even designs that appeared simple sometimes took weeks to decipher. It was a journey into the way these craftspeople thought.
Do your students ever ask about the ethics of sourcing materials?
I personally have begun taking care to ask about the sourcing of my pigments after our earlier conversations. My students sometimes have great awareness and are eager to learn every detail, but the question of ethical mining and safety rarely comes up.
However, I once had a unique encounter with a man from Alwajh, a city on the same coast of the Red Sea as Jeddah, who worked in mining. As he spoke, I couldn’t help noticing that he was blind. I read that many people working in mining lose their vision because of the gases released and the accidents. I asked how he was able to continue mining without his sight, and he told me he follows his gut, simply because he loves the practice. It was a shame to see this, because these practices also need to be sustainable and safe.
Do you see interest in these crafts growing among younger generations?
When people see something new, they either become curious and want to discover it, or they reject it and move on. Some people are moving towards culture and architecture with Vision 2030. People are moving away from modernism and minimalism and prefer more personalised elements in their homes, which creates a market for local crafts.
This historical identity is foundational to our future. We cannot discard it and move on, but must carry it into our present through a contemporary lens, rooted in the needs of our time. I see this with my students in the workshops. No matter how good or bad the outcome, people always take the pieces they make home with them. There is an entanglement, a connection to the work they make, and that connection is identity.
What is an urgent question about the sourcing of materials that you think deserves more attention?
The most urgent need here is awareness. When people have awareness, they will create the solutions needed. In my workshops, people sometimes ask where to source materials so they can keep practising. Unfortunately, I still end up directing them to buy online from Europe. If people have awareness, we will be able to resolve this.