Born in Ramallah on the finish of the ‘90s, Ayham Hassan grew up aware about the political weight attributed to sure sartorial practices. “I became aware early on that Palestinian textiles are not just objects,” stated the designer, who relies between London and the occupied West Bank. “They are evidence carrying geography, lineage, and memory.”
When Hassan graduated from London’s Central Saint Martins artwork and design faculty final June, he titled his last assortment “IM-Mortal Magenta: The Color That Doesn’t Exist.” Shaped by his understanding of this relationship between artwork and politics, it was infused with visible components impressed by Gaza. “The color magenta became a conceptual anchor, used to speak about erasure and survival,” he defined in an e-mail. “And tatreez informed not only the visual language, but also the structure of the work, and fundamentally how I design.”
This notion of tatreez, or conventional Palestinian embroidery, as a sort of visible language is broadly shared, owing to its intimacy with the land and biographical traits. A centuries-old inventive observe, tatreez initially married its maker (normally women from rural communities) with their respective area. Details like shade, method and even its depictions of sure crops and flowers have been tied to particular areas; by design it denoted social standing and private life occasions, together with marriage or widowhood.
Beginning in 1948, following the Arab-Israeli battle (acknowledged because the Nakba, or disaster, throughout which 700,000 Palestinians have been expelled from their houses) – in addition to later intifadas, or uprisings, towards the occupation in 1987 and 2000 – tatreez grew to become a political car, actively embodying resistance for a lot of Palestinians.
“Today it’s become part of an understanding of Palestinian steadfastness, or ‘sumud’ — of resistance more broadly,” Rachel Dedman, a curator of Middle Eastern artwork on the Victoria & Albert Museum in London, and creator of “Stitching the Intifada: Embroidery and Resistance in Palestine,” stated throughout a video name. “And its practice as one of solidarity is becoming more and more clear. On TikTok you get lots of results for people running stitching circles and tatreez workshops.”
Dedman has spent the previous decade researching tatreez and curating exhibitions in Europe and throughout the Middle East, following an preliminary invitation from the Palestinian Museum in Birzeit, north of Ramallah, in 2014. “Thread Memory: Embroidery from Palestine” is presently on present on the V&A Dundee in Scotland whereas extra lately “Embroidering Palestine” opened at MoMu, the style museum of Antwerp, the place work by Hassan is displayed alongside thobes (embroidered ankle-length attire, also referred to as thobs) revamped a century in the past.
“Often in museums there’s a feeling that historic fashion is something that’s unchanging and static, held in amber,” stated Dedman. “In the 19th century, tatreez and Palestinian dress was fashion – women were looking at each other. Being in MoMu then, I was excited to really approach this as fashion in the fullest sense, carving that connection between a 19th century embroidered thobe and the work of designers in the present.”
“The purpose of tatreez was a celebration of culture, land and identity,” added Samar Abdrabbou, a Palestinian program supervisor for Made in Palestine (MIP), an Australian humanitarian non-profit, who relies in Bethlehem. Many women used the normal craft to “celebrate their beauty and femininity – they were not trying to fight or resist,” Abdrabbou defined. “Tatreez was never meant to be political, but during the Nakba many women left with only the thobe they were wearing, and a lot of fabric factories were burned. Palestinian women never stopped stitching.”
After 1948, tatreez grew to become essential as materials proof of Palestinian presence on the land, and women began to insert politically charged motifs into their work. They additionally started appropriating colours of their tatreez, and the watermelon grew to become an emblem of Palestinian solidarity with its crimson flesh, white rind, black seeds, and inexperienced pores and skin mirroring the Palestinian flag. “Those objects are fascinating because they render women’s bodies sites of active political power, engaging in this explicitly political moment, making tatreez with a view to being seen,” stated Dedman. “And they’re not what we associate with protest, because they take so long to make and they’re often stitched in difficult circumstances.”
In 2021, the worldwide significance of tatreez was acknowledged by UNESCO, when it was added to the Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, a safeguarding measure to make sure its preservation. Its political interpretations nonetheless proceed in the present day. As Hassan asserted, “Carrying embroidery between London and Palestine has never felt neutral to me. Tatreez is read very differently depending on who is looking at it. It is framed as ‘heritage’ or ‘folk craft’, or under occupation it is immediately politicized.”
Being part of the exhibition at MoMu then, alongside different up to date designers like Studio Nazzal and Zeid Hijazi, feels notably outstanding. “Presenting Palestinian embroidery and contemporary design within a major European fashion museum is an act of visibility at a time when Palestinian lives, histories, and voices are systematically erased or misrepresented,” stated Hassan. “Tatreez is not simply ornamentation; it is a living language, a form of resistance, and an intergenerational archive.”
“It’s really about looking at the wealth of beauty, that side that we don’t necessarily see,” added Dedman, in reference to the pictures of destruction in Gaza after two years of battle. “We’re celebrating Palestinian joy, creativity and brilliance, as much as we are engaging with the realities of the situation. To be able to bring people closer to the intimate lives, of Palestinian women in particular, is very important.”
For Abdrabbou, who in 2024 established SAMARKAND, a cultural initiative devoted to preserving and instructing tatreez, working towards the artwork feels most keenly like a option to honor her heritage. Traditionally handed between generations in households, more and more she acknowledged an absence of data concerning the craft amongst youthful Palestinians and sought to rectify this. “I’m doing it to celebrate and keep this traditional art alive,” she stated, although acknowledged there’s a political element too. “I remember seeing a photo of a tatreez piece under the rubble (in Gaza), the first thing I thought about was the time and effort that the woman who made this piece put in it. This was my personal urgent response.”
“The sense of community while stitching with other people is so powerful. Women feel comfortable and supported, everyone shares personal stories,” continued Abdrabbou, discussing her weekly Tatreez circle at a neighborhood café in Bethlehem. Open to males in addition to women, she receives each Palestinians and worldwide audiences. “I believe it’s important for everyone living in Palestine to learn about the traditions and culture of the country. And since it’s a diverse group, of Palestinians and internationals, we hear about crafts and traditions from different countries and cultures too.”