Homeless - A forlorn homeless boy in Gaza, sitting among the ruins.
The piece is part of a series: Silent Protest
In this series I’ve chosen to paint ordinary people in Gaza on recycled cardboard, using acrylic and spray paint.
The use of cardboard is deliberate. It's a fragile, discarded material and often associated with displacement, and makeshift shelters. It reflects the precariousness of life in Gaza, where people’s homes and lives are treated as disposable. These surfaces I use carry their own scars, and in that sense, they mirror the trauma etched into the lives of those enduring the conflict.
I avoid slogans or direct political statements in my work. Instead, I let the images speak. The silence in these paintings is not emptiness, it’s a space for mourning, for empathy, for reflection. It’s my way of giving voice to those who are being silenced. Through each face, each gesture, each moment captured, I try to preserve the dignity and humanity of people who are too often reduced to statistics or headlines.
The decision to depict ordinary people comes from a need to re-humanise the story line. These are not distant “others,” but individuals with stories, hopes, and grief. I want those who see the paintings to feel that connection, to realise that what is happening is not abstract—it is deeply personal and profoundly unjust.
Using spray paint adds another layer. It carries the spirit of street protest and urgency, a reminder that art can be a form of rebellion, even when quiet. And choosing to create at all, in a world overwhelmed by destruction, is in itself an act of resistance.
In this work, I’m not shouting. But I am standing firm. I’m witnessing. I’m refusing to look away. I’m presenting a view of the NOW!