“I was born in 1976, that means I died in 1976. In Beirut, red shoes, white blouse, blue skirt fell to the street.” This is the first memory I have of my very last memory. How is it that I know this? It is not something I remember. Of course not. How does one really remember their own death? But it is something I know deep in my gut. This present, physical body of mine was never shot, but could I perhaps have inherited this memory from somewhere? More and more research today, by way of epigenetics, shows that trauma can be passed down genetically. Could this memory have come through by way of the collective memory? Over 20 years ago, ceasefire was called and general amnesty declared. We picked up the ragged pieces of what was left of our lives and moved on after our civil war ended. A collective amnesia,
Zena el Khalil is a transdisciplinary artist whose work blends traditional and contemporary practices, creating art and talismans used in healing sessions inspired by the Sanskrit notion of spanda. Her artworks, crafted with sacred ash, draw from classical Tantrik manuscripts and dhikr, manifesting a bridge between universal consciousness and the physical world. Growing up amid violence in Lagos and Beirut, she turned to art and writing as a means of healing and expression. Her work has evolved into a deep exploration of mysticism, natural medicine, and the healing of spaces marked by trauma.
