Miramar: Capturing the Gestures of Nature

For Miramar Al Nayyar, painting begins where words fall away. The 28-year-old Iraqi artist, who divides her time between Amman and Abu Dhabi, approaches her practice as an act of translation—movement into matter, intuition into form. Self-taught and quietly rigorous, she works across painting, installation, and material experimentation to trace the subtle dialogues between body, terrain, and time.

“The simple human need to express” is how she describes her origin story. “Although I once wanted to be something else, I couldn’t resist or suppress the need to express myself. It has been, and still is, controlling me and shaping my path. I’ve stopped questioning it.”

Al Nayyar’s surfaces are layered fields of pigment and mineral, each holding its own rhythm and chemistry. Through her process, oil seeps into stone dust, airbrush disperses light, and glaze gathers into density. The resulting works evoke scripts or geological strata, marks that seem to hover between writing and erosion, recalling both the structural logic of Arabic calligraphy and the formations of desert rock.

The desert itself has become central to her recent work. “Building a deep relationship with the desert was a defining moment in my career,” she reflects. For Al Nayyar, the desert is not an image but a state of being: vast, patient, and mutable. Rock, she says, is a vessel of “ancient psyche,” a material that holds the memory of endurance. In her hands, this endurance becomes a quiet register of movement—the trace of something universal, impersonal, and enduring.

Addressing the idea of influences, Al Nayyar is resistant to the notion of artistic lineage. “I tend to distance myself from external influences as much as possible,” she shares. “Nature has always been my pure and generous source of inspiration. To suppress expression is to harm oneself; it’s like stopping a flower from blooming or a bird from singing.”

Her approach is guided by restraint and attentiveness rather than by ambition. “It’s more about remembering than changing,” she notes. “I long to recall something buried deep within, and I remember it for as long as I’m painting.” The works, in this sense, function less as statements than as acts of continuity—moments of recognition shared between artist, material, and viewer.

Al Nayyar’s practice has earned regional and international attention, including the SEAF grant and Prince Claus Fund’s SEED Award. Yet she remains intent on preserving a sense of inward focus. “The love and support of my friends aside, solitude is what fuels my creative work,” she says simply. Her outlook on the wider cultural landscape is equally measured. 

“Less westernisation, more honesty,” she adds, calling for authenticity as she muses on the future of the regional art scene. “I’ve learnt that the journey is greater than what our eyes can see or our minds can predict, so I allow it to unfold on its own, as long as my intention remains clear—to serve the creator within me with honesty and care.”