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A Conversation with Ahmed Nader on taboos, AI, and the politics of digital art in Egypt
Text Selma Nouri
At the heart of Ahmed Nader’s story lies a commitment to creative integrity. The Egyptian artist and fashion designer, once tethered to the limits of traditional mediums, found release in the digital realm. “We run from the physical art world to the digital, so that we can finally see freedom,” he says.
When we connected early on a Saturday via Zoom, Nader, I realised, was nothing like I had imagined. After scrolling through his Instagram and immersing myself in his artwork, I had pictured someone far more brooding, with perhaps a mysterious or even esoteric aura.
It’s an easy assumption to make, given his artwork: uncanny, dream-like compositions that pull viewers into an alternate universe. Humans morph into animals like ancient Egyptian gods while pixels reconfigure into distorted, hyper-futuristic beings. The ancient and the contemporary collapse into one shadowy, surreal vision – a spellbinding darkness that, given the state of the world, somehow feels all too fitting.
Yet, what I encountered in Nader’s presence was the opposite of what his art had led me to expect. Wearing a baseball cap, he appeared soft-spoken, radiating a quiet light and an unmistakable sense of humanity. His demeanour wasn’t dark or impenetrable but open and deeply creative.
As Nader passionately explained the technicalities of his work and the politics of his digital presence, I realised that his practice is not rooted in darkness but rather a heightened sensitivity to the world. In a society so often marked by judgment and constraint, he is driven by a desire to test the limits of what it truly means to be human.
“I actually began my career as a classical artist,” Nader explains. “I was trained in oil painting at a public fine arts university in Cairo. Early on, however, I realised that I was drawn to something more experimental, more subversive.” Nader remained in school and continued his formal studies in painting, but began teaching himself everything he could about the digital realm.
“YouTube became my classroom,” he says. “I taught myself all the most fundamental skills, from coding to 3D modelling. Everything I could learn on my own, I did. And from there, I discovered so many new opportunities for expression. ”
In Egypt, a traditional arts education is fairly accessible, and even contemporary subjects like graphic design are offered in several institutions. What proves more challenging, however, is the nature of what it means to be an artist – particularly across class lines.
As Nader puts it, “My art is, of course, political, but I am not interested in using it to argue or provoke conflict. I want to explore new ideas and express them through my work…I want my art to spark conversation, but more often than not, it’s misunderstood, especially within more traditional institutions. That is why many of us are now turning to the digital realm. It offers more space for exploration and more freedom regardless of wealth or class.”
For many, art is an intimate gateway into the mind, a reflection of how one sees, moves, and engages with the world around. Yet, in making the personal public, art inevitably takes on a political dimension. While a piece may begin as a private expression, its meaning eventually belongs to the viewer – and that is where the tensions arise. As Nader explains, using art to express one’s opinions faces serious limitations in Egypt, especially for those who lack the protection of private institutions or personal wealth.
For instance, “at my university,” he says, “we studied anatomy and all the major art movements, yet we were never allowed to draw nude figures. Subjects that are central to the arts were completely off-limits. It felt oppressive…there were topics we simply couldn’t talk about because of social customs and taboos. Especially now, our generation has so much to say, so many sociopolitical ideas to express. Yet, we’re often silenced or dismissed unless we somehow find meaningful ways to circumvent the systems that constrain us.”
It is, however, important to note that these limitations are not applied equally. “It really depends on your social class,” Nader explains. “If you are an artist from the upper class in Cairo, you are far less likely to face judgment or consequences for your work. Money offers that kind of protection.”
Take the visual arts department at the American University in Cairo, for example. “I really admire their work,” he says. “It’s bold, socially relevant, and constantly pushing boundaries. I have a few friends there, and whenever I attend the graduation presentations, I am struck by how provocative the art is. It’s absolutely fantastic, but most of the students can only get away with it because they’re supported by a wealthy, private institution. That backing offers a level of freedom that doesn’t exist for students at public universities…For us, expressing similar ideas can come with real risks.”
This disparity forges a creative divide. While some enjoy the freedom to challenge norms through their art, others – particularly those without financial or institutional support – must navigate censorship, stigma, or even punishment for expressing similar ideas. In these cases, artistic freedom becomes a privilege rather than a right, denying meaningful expression to those who often need it most.
Nader has directly encountered the limitations imposed by social stigma. “For some time,” he recalls, “my work was judged and labelled as ‘non-heteronormative art,’ which grossly oversimplifies and misrepresents what I do. Non-heteronormativity is one aspect I explore, but it doesn’t define my entire practice.”
In the Cairo gallery scene, however, such labels can be difficult to shake. “Everything is governed by social codes,” he explains. “The gallery system here is old and deeply traditional. Many spaces are resistant to new ideas or contemporary expressions of art. As a creative, you are typically faced with a choice – either conform your work to fit within the system or reject it entirely and forge your own path. There is really no middle ground.”
For Nader, the latter path has always felt more authentic. “I have never been able to meet the expectations of the traditional gallery system, so I have chosen not to engage with it,” he says. “That’s why the digital realm has been so liberating. It has allowed me to share my work without having to conform to outdated norms or navigate rigid social codes…There are fewer labels and, with that, fewer limitations. Your art can carry meaning and reach others, no matter who you are or what class you come from.”
The beauty of Nader’s practice lies precisely in this commitment to artistic integrity. Drawing on both personal and sociopolitical themes, his art serves as a wider meditation on the human experience, especially in a city like Cairo, where culture, tradition, and identity remain in constant flux. His technical and conceptual depth is evident in his deliberate use of colour, texture, lighting, and form. These elements converge to produce art that subverts conventional aesthetics and provokes critical reflection, urging viewers to question dominant narratives and consider alternative ways of seeing and understanding the world.
“The digital space unlocks creative potential beyond the reach of physical mediums,” explains Nader. “Every project begins with a return to my classical training. I always plan and sketch my ideas by hand. Then, I transition into a long and intricate coding process. This might seem tedious to some, but for me, it is where true creative freedom begins. Digital tools open up endless possibilities for experimenting with colour, texture, dimension, and narrative – each iteration can feel like a standalone work of art. Once you begin playing around with other features such as light, texture, scale, and sound, the work transforms completely. You begin to perceive reality in a different way.”
This holds particularly true in the realms of 3D and VR, where Nader’s work may not prioritise strict realism but instead conveys a richer artistic resonance, prioritising emotional truth and feeling over physical detail. His use of exaggerated colours, such as the piercing blues or intense reds of flesh tones, and surreal facial features contributes to a sense of heightened reality. These figures inhabit emotionally charged spaces, each one bearing a unique narrative. Far from the sterility often associated with digital art, Nader’s characters evoke a visceral emotional presence, one that speaks to the core of the human experience.
“I completely reject the notion that the internet is impersonal or that AI is replacing humanity,” says Nader. “If anything, the digital world feels more emotional and collaborative than ever before. We’re living in an era where people are constantly sharing their feelings, thoughts, and vulnerabilities online. Social media has become a kind of modern expressionism, where you can shed your physical identity and reinvent yourself…Of course, it has its limitations, but the brief freedom it offers is undeniable. For many, it is a chance to become whoever they want, and I find that incredibly beautiful.”
Naturally, these ideas shape much of Nader’s work. “I often incorporate a layer of cynicism and sarcasm,” he says, “which reflects how I see people performing and expressing themselves online. I mean, one of the things I love most about digital art is how collaborative it can be. When I paint in the physical world, the perspective is entirely my own. But with digital media, it becomes more of an open conversation, a dynamic exchange between me and the viewer.”
Nader and his friends have coined the phrase, “What happens in VR stays in VR.” He laughs, remarking, “It’s funny, but I truly believe it. Through digital mediums, everyone engages with art in their own way, free from the weight of social norms or stigmas. What I share becomes a private, almost intimate experience, between just me and the viewer. This dynamic, I believe, fosters a heightened sense of human connection, one that fundamentally challenges the prevailing narrative that technology and AI isolate us.”
At its core, Nader’s practice is about creating spaces of freedom. He takes technologies often dismissed as isolating and reimagines them as instruments of liberation, crafting visual stories that carry viewers beyond the struggles and limitations of the physical world. These stories are not bound by place; instead, they materialise as feelings, memories, or fragile hopes. Especially in Cairo, a city constantly shaped by chaos, such imaginative work offers a rare sense of grounding. By weaving together the real and the imagined, Nader reconnects us with the core of the human experience, offering a powerful reminder of our shared humanity in a world that feels increasingly alien.
“Anyone who has lived in Cairo will tell you that it’s a surreal city. Sometimes, it really feels like you are living inside of a sitcom. The way people meet chaos and hardship with sarcasm and humour – there is something profoundly human about that. It is not easy to sit with your emotions, but Egypt has taught me that it does not always have to be negative. It can be hopeful, even creative. And that to me is the essence of freedom. What truly keeps us grounded is the ability to find humour, hope, and creativity in the midst of sociopolitical chaos and uncertainty. That is what keeps us going.”
As we move further into the digital age, technological tools evolve beyond mere instruments; they become languages of hope. Through his own digital art, Nader channels the humour and humanity of the Egyptian spirit. He reveals that freedom is not a fixed concept. It is shaped by how we choose to create and how we keep humanity alive through those creations.