Having challenged her own destiny after escaping the strict Muslim household that she grew up in, Awanle Ayiboro Hawa Ali’s practice is an anthem of her liberation, empowering other women around her. We spoke to her about her artistic process, inspiration, and experiences that have influenced her practice. And how, by initiating a collective movement – a dialogue between generations, traditions, and religions, this Ghanaian visual artist questions authority, dignity, and community while highlighting the strength of each woman she portrays.
Knowing that you come from the Islamic tradition, where figurative representation in art barely exists, it is fascinating to look at your paintings and witness such vivid and attentive detail you pay to the characters you paint. Could you tell us, if and how, the tradition that surrounded your upbringing manifested itself in the way you paint today?
Thank you. I think because figurative representation is often approached cautiously or even avoided in Islamic traditions, it definitely shaped my curiosity about it growing up. I didn’t exactly know exactly what I wanted to create at first, but I just knew I loved drawing and really wanted to express myself through art. Unfortunately, I never had the chance to formally study painting at an art school. I grew up in an environment where traditional portraiture wasn’t celebrated, and I think that absence only made me more curious. I remember being in secondary school and taking a general art class, but whenever I could, I’d sneak into the visual art classroom just to admire other people’s work.
In 2019, I decided to challenge that “forbidden” idea and go after my dream of becoming a painter. I started educating myself through online resources and learning from a local mentor, even though he specialized in landscapes. I began painting my subjects’ skin in turquoise blue. In Islamic culture, turquoise is often associated with mystical qualities, and for me, it became a powerful metaphor. It’s not just a colour, it adds depth to my work and helps me express the themes and emotions I’m exploring. Looking back, I think my curiosity and determination to step into this “forbidden” space is what helped me grow as an artist. It’s something I’ve come to love so much, and it all started with that pull toward what was missing in my upbringing.
The emotional charge of your portraits is something extremely captivating. It seems that you have such an in-depth understanding of the emotional intensity of the women you paint. Tell us more about the process of staging your paintings. What is your research process? Do you invite the women to sit for you in the studio?
Well, with my current series, it was actually the first time I went out into the streets to talk to the girls and collect research. It was tough at first, as they didn’t open up right away, and I had to work hard to earn their trust. One thing that helped break the ice was sharing my own experiences with them and then just spending time together at the market or their workplaces. The stories, emotions, and the spaces they live and work in really shaped the foundation of my work. For the first time, which was a new experience for me, both groups of women came to my studio separately. It was interesting watching them adapt to the studio environment. Together with my curator, Nana Yaa Asare-Boadu, we interviewed them, recorded their stories, and then staged a photoshoot with a draped backdrop. We captured them in all these different poses. It was incredibly amazing to watch how they started out a bit hesitant but gradually let go of their daily lives and began to feel comfortable. I loved seeing their confidence grow during the shoot. It was such a special moment.
“I think my curiosity and determination to step into this “forbidden” space is what helped me grow as an artist”.
— Awanle Ayiboro Hawa Ali
Tell us more about this current series you’re working on right now.
Right now, I’m working on a project that continues to explore themes of empowerment, identity, and societal norms, with a particular focus on kayayo women (head porters) and sex workers. I’m continuing to focus on the suit, exploring a more deconstructed way of seeing it and playing with the fluidity of gender roles. In my previous work, the subjects wore a more feminine suit, but in this series, I wanted to delve more into masculinity, colour, pattern, shape and form, especially with these two groups of women. Through this work, I really hope to highlight the dignity and resilience of these marginalised women while questioning the societal structures that define and confine them.
But one of your recent works has been focused on the issue of arranged marriages involving young girls. Why did you decide to touch upon this topic?
When I first started painting in 2019, my work focused on this practice. I made this conscious decision because of my personal experience at a young age. I wanted to use my art to advocate against forced child marriage and highlight the stories, struggles and how it takes away children’s rights to education and being forced into life choices they would never make. For sure, I felt I had an obligation to do this, especially because, fortunately, I had gotten myself out.
Understandably, for a painter, it is an intense emotional journey, to hear and share all these stories. However, do you sense that the women you portray feel empowered by being heard and portrayed by another woman? Do you have a sense of creating a dialogue between voices that usually would not have been heard – in the sense of these stories being usually intentionally drowned in patriarchal societies?
For me, it’s about creating a connection. These stories often get overlooked or silenced in patriarchal societies, so being able to share them through my art feels like starting a conversation that wouldn’t normally happen. It’s not just about painting, it’s about making space for their voices and giving their experiences a platform where others can really engage with them. I hope my art sparks something, whether it’s reflection, empathy, or even action. It’s about showing that these stories matter, and in doing so, I think we’re creating a kind of dialogue that challenges the silence and brings these voices to the forefront.
“It’s about showing that these stories matter, and in doing so, I think we’re creating a kind of dialogue that challenges the silence and brings these voices to the forefront.”
— Awanle Ayiboro Hawa Ali
Then, in Accra, you work as part of Artemartis.
Yes, Artemartis is both a collective and an agency that Selasie Gomado started here in Accra back in 2018. I met Selasie in 2020, and we got along right away. What started as a friendship quickly turned into a great working relationship. There are five of us artists, and we each have our own studio in the Artemartis space. The agency side of things is all about supporting us – helping us navigate our careers, connecting us with galleries, and setting up opportunities like residencies. It’s been amazing because there’s nothing else like it in Ghana. It’s such a unique space for artists to grow and collaborate.
And to inspire. What was a thing that you saw, heard, or read that inspired you recently?
I love watching documentaries and movies in general and reading articles. But I recently watched a movie called Capernaum, an incredibly powerful and thought-provoking film that left a huge impression on me. I think I’ve rewatched it four times or so. Directed by Nadine Labaki, The film follows Zain, a young boy living in the slums of Beirut, as he navigates the harsh realities of poverty, violence, and injustice. What inspires and captivates me most about this movie is Zain’s incredible empathy, especially compared to his parents, despite his struggles. His reaction to his underage sister being married off is deeply moving and serves as a poignant reflection of the themes I explore in my own work.
