Works in Order
The Mosque of St. Joan of Arc, 2018
27" x 36"
cotton & dye
The Mosque of our Brothers House 2019
32" x 42",
cotton & dye
The August Eid Mosque 2019
Cotton, dye, and
33.5 x 43.5 inches
The Mosque of First Friends Church 2019
30" x46"
cotton & dye
The Mosque of Our Ideals 2019
30" x 48",
cotton & dye
Contemplating the lack of accessible spaces for Queer Muslims to worship without scrutiny, the images and symbols on these rugs and corresponding prayer prints are drawn from memories of the make-shift Mosques my small Islamic community made within various churches and homes in central Indiana where I grew up. That queer practice of creating a space for a specific community out of a place unintended for their use became an influence to create prayer rugs as physical spaces for reconciling the tension and precariousness of my identity. A place to exist without judgement or question.
Corresponding Texts per Piece.
The Mosque of St. Joan of Arc
“This year for Ramadan Iftar dinners, we’re meeting at the long building again. Me and my friends liked to run around the main room; it has dark wood walls that met low pile blue-grey carpet. An olive-green room divider cut the room in two, but only reached half way to the other side, so I could run across to see my dad whenever I wanted. There was an electric organ on our side, but my sister and I were never allowed to play it because it doesn’t belong to us. When it was time for prayer, the men would haul multi-colored rag rugs from a steel garage door located on their side of the room and roll them out for us to pray on. Soon, the dinner will be over and we must put everything away; tables, chairs, rugs and vacuum the floor. They put the cross back on the wall before we turned off the lights.”
The Mosque of our Brothers House.
“Tonight, we meet at our Brother’s house. He’s not my actual brother but that’s what my dad calls him. He put a big sheet up between one room and the next and covered the floor with more sheets. I’m frightened by the Mr. and Mrs.Claus robotic figures by the door; they move their candles back and forth through the dark entryway.”
The August Eid Mosque
“It’s was so hot, and it seemed like the sun refused to go down, but it’s the first Ramadan I’ve fasted all the way through and after prayer this morning I can eat again. I couldn’t go home for Eid this year, but my friend says I can pray in the empty room upstairs as needed. I prayed there all Ramadan, sometimes using the shirt off my back for my rug. However, today is special and I laid out the plush duck blanket to worship on this holiday.”
The Mosque of First Friends Church
“We now meet at the Quaker church down the street. The light from the high ceiling bounced off the bright, bronzish-orange carpet; whereas I feel like I melt into the almost back wood walls. I didn’t think goth Muslims existed, so maybe I can be the first. I’m used to not belonging anyway. Me and the other girls isolate ourselves at a back table, only to leave when the call to prayer is heard. We line up on utility rugs, shoulder to shoulder. I mean to focus on the ground, but my gaze is attracted to the framed picture of the pyramids of Giza on the wall. It was a comfort.”
The Mosque of Our Ideals
“How nice it would have been to have a Mosque like the one we built up in our wishes and words. But for us, it dissipated like the shisha smoke we breathed that night. For me...maybe someday I’ll go there for you.”