“The result is not a fusion but a conversation.” — Mariam Haji in conversation with Khaya Ronkainen

Interview by Khaya Ronkainen on behalf of Finnish-African Society

The Artist & Art

Photo Credit: Brian Downie

Mariam Haji is a Bahraini artist based in Finland whose practice moves across drawing, performance, and community engagement. Working between the Gulf and Nordic countries, her work holds Arab symbolic storytelling and Nordic aesthetic restraint in dialogue; not as a fusion, but as a conversation. She represented the Kingdom of Bahrain at the 55th Venice Biennale (2013) and became the first Arab female artist to exhibit in the Crypt of Helsinki Cathedral. Her works are held in public and private collections, including the National Museum of Bahrain and the Ministry of Culture, Beijing.

Her current exhibition, Origin Story, at Kulturhuset Grand, Porvoo, Finland (9–31 March 2026), continues her long inquiry into mythology, faith, and the moral imagination through monumental drawings of horses and swans. Following a period working under the name Meri Helmi — an exploration of how Arab cultural identity is translated for Western audiences — she has returned to her original name, and to the questions that have always driven her work. Visit Mariam Haji’s website, https://www.merihelmisarkka.com/ to learn more abour her work.

ONE PRACTICE, MANY FORMS

Khaya Ronkainen: Your bio mentions “intertwined personas forming a single conceptual continuum”. But when you introduce yourself at a dinner party, what do you actually say you do? 

Mariam Haji: I often say that I am a Bahraini artist based in Finland, working with monumental drawing and spatial experiences. My work explores the meeting point between Nordic architectural restraint and Arab symbolic storytelling.

Over the years, my practice has moved through several artistic identities. But they all belong to the same research process that examines how culture, faith, and migration shape the way we see and inhabit spaces. Today, I merge this work under the framework of ScandArabian Art, which brings together drawing, ceramics, installation, and performance into a single spatial language.

KR: You’ve described yourself as “experience-based, community-centered, and collaborative”, which feels like a deliberate shift from the traditional solo artist model. When did you realize your practice needed to encompass teaching, performance, food as an artistic experience, and visual art-making rather than choosing one lane?

“What interests me most is not producing objects, but producing situations.”

— On the purpose of art

MH: Quite early. My work has never been comfortable staying within one discipline. Drawing, movement, food, and teaching are simply different ways of creating encounters between people and meaning.

What interests me most is not producing objects, but producing situations: spaces where people gather, move, reflect, and connect. The practice became naturally multidisciplinary because human life itself is multifaceted. Drawing anchors the visual language, but the work expands into performance, hospitality, and community engagement because people live culture through many forms.

For me, art is an act of service, and the audience’s experience is integral to my creative process. I also dance — though solo public dancing is not always culturally acceptable for an Arab woman. So I channel this through workshops that combine movement with drawing and painting, sometimes incorporating therapeutic elements for immigrant women and people living with chronic illness.

Service, hospitality, and care are central values in Bahraini culture, and they shape how I approach art. I don’t subscribe to the Western idea of the artist as a solitary genius. I’m drawn instead to the communal spirit of folk culture, where art belongs to everyone. This grounding in shared humanity and a higher order keeps us from reducing life to struggles for power.

KR: Does the art world—galleries, institutions, grant applications—pressure you to simplify or categorize what you do? How do you navigate this?

MH: Yes, absolutely. Institutions and funding structures often prefer artists who fit a single category: painter, performer, or educator. But real artistic practice rarely fits neatly into those boxes.

I’ve learned to translate my work depending on the context: emphasizing visual language for exhibitions, participation for community programs, and spatial thinking for architectural collaborations. Food and gathering are also part of my practice, though I resist over-intellectualizing them. Hospitality isn’t a conceptual framework; it’s simply how we live as Bahrainis.

For a period, I worked under the name Meri Helmi. This was partly to explore how Arab cultural creations get made “palatable” for Western audience consumption. How identity and culture get consumed in the process. The work remained the work of an Arab woman, but the framing shifted. Consequently, Meri Helmi became a kind of living research project.

That research phase is now complete. I work publicly again as Mariam Haji, under the framework of ScandArabian Art.

THE WORK ITSELF

KR: Let’s talk about swans! They were part of your 2025 “Retribution” exhibition in Paris, and are now making a comeback in your ongoing 2026 solo show, “Horses & Swans,” in Porvoo. What is it about swans that keeps pulling you back? And what do horses bring to the conversation?

“When these two animals appear together in my work, they create a dialogue between human struggle and divine intervention, between virtue and instinct, between earthly conflict and spiritual justice. They mirror the tension between Eastern and Western symbolic systems, a recurring theme in my work.”

— On symbolism and tension

MH: Swans and horses carry very different symbolic energies. People often consider swans symbols of beauty and grace, but they are also powerful and territorial creatures. In my work, they represent forces of divine intervention, almost like angelic presences that appear during moments of crisis or transformation. Western symbolism also deeply embeds them: loyalty, purity, fidelity, virtue.

Horses represent something very different. They are tied to human history, war, migration, labour, mythology, and power. In the Arab world, they also carry strong cultural meaning connected to freedom, strength, and vitality.

When these two animals appear together in my work, they create a dialogue between human struggle and divine intervention, between virtue and instinct, between earthly conflict and spiritual justice. They mirror the tension between Eastern and Western symbolic systems, a recurring theme in my work.

Poster: Self-designed

KR: You mention working at the “intersection of body awareness, visual arts, performance, folk dance, and stretching.” What does this intersection look like?



“The drawing becomes a trace of the body’s movement through space.

— On the body and drawing

MH: Drawing is already a physical act. When I work on large surfaces, the body moves across the paper almost like choreography; the drawing becomes a trace of the body’s movement through space. My workshops extend this by inviting participants to explore mark-making through movement, breath, and gesture, reconnecting the body with creative expression. Many people carry stress, inhibitions, or trauma in their bodies, and movement-based drawing can unlock fresh forms of freedom and play.

KR: Food and catering appear as part of your practice. How does feeding people function as artistic work versus income generation? Or is that distinction even relevant?

“Hospitality is a form of care and also social architecture.”

— On food and hospitality

MH: Feeding people has always been central to cultural life in the Gulf. Hospitality is a form of care and also a form of social architecture. When food becomes part of a project, it shapes the atmosphere of the space. Sharing a meal slows people down, opens conversation, and creates intimacy. Food becomes part of the artwork itself this way.

BETWEEN WORLDS

KR: Your work merges “Gulf iconographies with Nordic aesthetic restraint” and “Arabian decadence with Nordic minimalism.” Living in Finland as a Bahraini artist, does the physical distance from the Gulf sharpen these visual languages, blur them, or transform them into something entirely new?

“The result is not a fusion but a conversation.”

— On living between two cultures

MH: Distance has actually clarified these cultural languages for me. In the Gulf, symbolism often appears through richness, ornamentation, storytelling, and collective experience. In the Nordic context, there is a strong emphasis on space, restraint, light, and individual reflection. My work tries to hold these two sensibilities in dialogue. I am interested in what happens when Arab emotional intensity meets Nordic architectural clarity. The result is not a fusion but a conversation.

KR: You explore “faith within secular societies” and “the politics of Arab womanhood” — two things that can feel highly charged in Nordic contexts. Regarding this work, are there unique assumptions or questions that Finnish audiences bring, as opposed to audiences in other regions?

MH: Faith is an important part of my life, so it naturally appears in my work. But I am less interested in preaching belief than in exploring spiritual questions and symbolism. Nordic audiences often approach the work with philosophical curiosity, while audiences from the Gulf may recognize religious references more directly. Both readings are meaningful, and art allows different interpretations to exist at the same time.

Poster: Self-designed

LOOKING AHEAD

Mariam Haji’s exhibition is open 9 March–31 March, 2026 at Kulturhuset Grand in Porvoo, Finland.

Khaya Ronkainen is a South African poet, writer, and artist based in Finland. Her practice spans writing, photography, and the design of meaningful gatherings and experiences. Drawing from cross-cultural life, her work—across poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction—often examines hybrid identity, home, and belonging. Her first novel, Distorted Is The View, will be published in 2026. khayaronkainen.fi