I am always fascinated during the olive harvest. I wanted to document this process by showing how Palestinian women of all ages share every fall. Olive branches are more than a symbol of peace. For Palestinians, it is a vital source of income and more importantly, a symbol of rootedness. 

This painting was shown in an international watercolor art exhibition in Fabriano, Italy in May 2018. 

Petra is a beautiful part of Jordan that I have visited numerous times with friends and family. The camel used to be a major mode of transport as people used to embark on a journey through winter and summer.

Enas Shawkat is not a statistic. She was brutally murdered at 5-years-old. Her story and unlived potential will live on to inspire a just peace and hope for a better future.

This painting captures the ordinary life of Palestinians in Jericho. Jericho is often referenced in the Holy Bible and the Quran, yet little do people know about the lives of people who reside in it, Palestinians. Away from their image as terrorists, this captures friendship and possibly a way of earning livelihoods by selling rugs. Original photo was taken by David Jacobus.  

This painting is directly capturing the fact that this house is occupied by a Palestinian family as shown in the small writing next to the door. Since Palestinians in East Jerusalem are facing ethnic cleansing, this documents their existence. 

This sculpture demonstrates how media does not recognize the Palestinian American identity and treats it as an oxymoron. Despite the fissure in identity the media creates, this identity shall remain proudly connected.  

This piece is a tribute to peace and social justice. The political prisoner persists to send a message of peace despite the fact that he/ she is being detained.

This sculpture highlights Jerusalem's significance during sunset.

This water color painting is an abstract interpretation of my name in Arabic that means "light."

This installation was exhibited at the Makan Art Gallery as part of a residency project. More than 60% of the population in Jordan is of Palestinian origin. This is for apologists who hide their identity. This shows a woman airing her identity out to dry.

This is a mural I painted in five hours in one of Amman’s oldest neighborhoods called “Al-Weibdeh.” It was inspired by the Arab Spring in Egypt and the discussion of nuclear energy in the region. The bright pastel colors and patterns symbolize social change spreading like depleted uranium and the figure with the gas mask is either trying to be immune to it by choice or is resisting it. I learned to push my comfort level from drawing on paper and canvas to carrying out my first work in a public setting and on a wall. I got to interact with the children in the community. Their mothers marveled from the windows. Some sent me fresh fruits and the children offered to help. 

I have always heard about the refugee camps in Jordan and my friend, Iman, who is a photographer was also interested in visiting and finding out where these camps are and what they look like. Both of us went wearing jeans and t-shirts, some kids passed by us saying “hello” thinking that we are foreigners and we would reply with a “marhaba!”  

We walked between the tight streets of the camp. A dozen of children spotted us near the supermarket and gathered around us. They were certainly excited to see Iman’s professional camera and wanted their picture to be taken.  Away from the happy noise they were making, I noticed a young girl with very short hair observing us and the other children. She was simply sitting outside away from the sweltering sun.  I do not know her name. I was intrigued by the look in her eyes, which spoke volumes of bittersweet feelings I had about Palestine. I felt that her inquisitive look wondered about the future of children like herself. Above all, I saw hope which mixed with my pain. Has the right to return become an untouchable, impeccable gigantic dream?  Will she ever lose this innocent dream as she transitions into adulthood? Will her generation unleash the shackles of a destructive past and move forward? History is recording.

I took a picture of her with my small, humble, digital camera. Despite the poor resolution of the picture, I couldn’t help but paint the impression I took of her. Wherever she may be now, I hope that the painting of that moment continues to touch other people the way it moved me.

I decided to dedicate this piece to UNICEF not only for the work it carries out to promote and protect children’s rights, but to keep our attention on the inner children within all of us and people that matter the most.