Aseel AlYaqoub / The View from Above

How is a nation created? Aseel AlYaqoub explores the nation as imagined or invented, shaped by heritage sites, postage imagery, military ceremonies, maps and architecture. The exhibition marks the first presentation of a decade-long series of works engaging with symbols and narratives related to Kuwaiti nationhood and Arab identity, spanning from the postcolonial era to the present. 
 
The view from above, a perspective associated with colonial powers and nation-states, is a central method in AlYaqoub’s artistic practice. Through it, she offers insights into the mechanisms of nation-building. 
 
Aseel AlYaqoub (b. 1986, Kuwait) is an artist and writer based in Kuwait City. She has exhibited in several countries and most recently participated in the Diriyah Contemporary Art Biennale and Desert X AlUla.

Artworks in the exhibition

Graduation Ceremony, 2019

Red ink on hand-pressed Japanese paper

Graduation Ceremony I
Graduation Ceremony II
Graduation Ceremony III
Graduation Ceremony IV

Meticulously drawn on separate sheets of Japanese fibre papers and assembled, Graduation Ceremony re-enacts a series of military routines performed by the Kuwait Armed Forces. The artist transposed online scenes from YouTube videos published by the Kuwait Armed Forces into physical drawings. Similar to other Arab armies, the Kuwaiti Army was shaped by the British. Dotted lines and multiplied movements evoke a process of mechanical repetition that underlies the transformation of specific acts into traditions and norms. The artist used an axonometric perspective—a visual representation of three-dimensional objects into two dimensions. The lack of a vanishing point in the axonometric drawings allows the viewer to take a panoptic view of the military scenes. 

Courtesy of the Barjeel Art Foundation, Sharjah

Dodging Bullets, 2022

Blown glass vessels

Dodging Bullets I
Dodging Bullets II
Dodging Bullets III
Dodging Bullets IV
Dodging Bullets V

Dodging Bullets is a series of glass vessels echoing clay pots used in Kuwait’s military target training. Through the process of glassblowing — a technique demanding precise timing and pressure — this work symbolically examines the moulding of individuals into obedient subjects and the loss of personal autonomy in the service of the state’s narrative. Yet the uncanny shape of the vessels suggests the possibility of maladaptation, if not disobedience, as all forms of discipline can eventually break down. 

Culture Fair, 2018

Series of stamp collages, lacquered wood, brass, magnifying dome

The New Kuwait
By Turn
Pillars of Society
Side Effects
We can’t forget

In Culture Fair, the artist appropriates, deconstructs and reassembles historical postage stamps issued by the Kuwaiti government during its ‘Golden Era’ from circa 1940 to 1980. The original stamps were diligently dismantled, recomposed manually by the artist and displayed under a magnifying dome. The national narratives that the stamps conventionally disseminate are undermined by the artist’s fictitious, absurdist imagery. A stamp such as The New Kuwait exceeds its national boundaries and becomes emblematic of the common fixation of twentieth-century states with space exploration and conquest. 

Heritage Wall, 2015–ongoing

Gypsum board, wood, plastic chair, reserved plaque 

Embargo, 2014
Checkpoints, 2014

Videos (6:06 min)

Built in-situ in the exhibition space, Heritage Wall references the three concentric walls that encircled the pre-oil city of Kuwait. The urban planning initiated in the 1950s drastically altered the physical and social landscape of the town and did not safeguard this historical site. The government restored the remaining five gates of the old wall through a questionable process of preservation. Integrated into the structure, the videos shot and edited by the artist evidence the lack of accessibility to this heritage site, raising questions about its publicness

Interview with Aseel AlYaqoub  

1. This exhibition is a survey of your decade-long engagement with processes of nation-building and the construction of Arab national identity. Your work captures the role of military and cultural institutions in the construction of the postcolonial state. How did you become interested in this complex subject matter?

My interest is deeply rooted in my ancestral history, as both my paternal and maternal great-grandfathers were profoundly affected by colonialism and its aftermath. For instance, my maternal great-grandfather, Talib Al-Nakib, actively opposed the British occupation of Basra and the imposition of King Faisal I as ruler of Iraq, resulting in his capture and exile. In contrast, my paternal great-grandfather, Jassim AlYaqoub, was part of the first delegation that accompanied Kuwait’s soon-to-be ruler, Sheikh Ahmad Al Jaber Al Sabah, to London in 1919. At that time, Kuwait was a British-protected state, serving as a strategic asset to the British Empire.

Learning about these historical events in my late twenties intensified my resolve to explore the impacts of nation-building and the formation of national identity through state apparatuses after supposed independence. My work examines how these state mechanisms often replicate the same colonial tools that were once used to govern them, highlighting the unintended consequences of their use in the postcolonial context.

2. You are trained as an artist and pursued studies in architecture. Your inquiries delve into history, sociology, and cultural theory. Can you unpack, in relation to this exhibition, what it means for you to work in this inter-disciplinary manner?

I often shift between roles—acting as a historian to investigate the past, an architect to understand spatial and structural contexts, and a cultural theorist to analyse contemporary implications. This fluidity enables me to examine how Kuwait, for instance, has historically repeated rather than innovated upon the tools and strategies inherited from its imperial predecessors. The exhibition at Bildmuseet reflects on whether Kuwait’s post-independence state apparatus merely mimics the colonial models it was meant to replace, questioning if, despite formal independence in 1961, the nation remains under a form of continued colonial influence.

The exhibition’s works are influenced by several key factors. Propaganda plays a significant role, exemplified by the postage stamp, which symbolises the dissemination of national messages as it travels from hand to hand, town to town, and country to country. This motif reflects how state narratives are propagated and their impacts on national identity. Another influence is the erasure and reconstruction of history during the modern era. This includes how historical narratives are sometimes obscured or distorted, with attempts at reconstruction often resulting in simulations or imitations that fail to capture the original essence, akin to poor restorations.

Additionally, the military, as one of the most homosocial institutions, profoundly impacts national identity. Soldiers, embodying the national body, reflect and propagate the state’s agenda throughout society. The military’s influence on national consciousness and identity is a recurring theme in my work, illustrating how deeply ingrained both local and colonial institutional forces shape and reinforce national narratives. An interdisciplinary approach provides a nuanced critique of the persistence of colonial and imperial legacies within modern state frameworks, questioning whether true independence is ever fully realised.

3. The title of the exhibition, The View from Above, hints at processes of mapping and top-down approaches characteristic of state-building efforts. You studied and wrote about the role of cartography as a colonial practice that defined the boundaries of Kuwait. How did this legacy inform your position towards cartographic processes?

My research into cartography as a colonial practice has shaped my understanding of mapping and state-building. Colonial cartography, with its top-down and exclusionary approach, was a powerful tool for defining and justifying national boundaries, often disregarding local knowledge and tribal customs. British imperial practices established Kuwait’s borders, including its land, airspace, and maritime zones.

The transition from a colonial territory to an independent state significantly impacted Kuwait’s frontiers. Initially marked by arbitrary points, the northern border was revised through the United Nations Iraq–Kuwait Observation Mission’s interventions following the Gulf War in 1990. The southern ‘neutral’ zone, shared with Saudi Arabia, presents complex jurisdictional challenges and reflects ongoing territorial negotiations to this day. Both boundaries have become emblematic of Kuwait’s national identity and political narrative.

Today, Kuwait’s state-produced maps persist in asserting control, reinforcing official narratives while often omitting conflicting elements—echoing colonial-era practices. However, cartography also provides opportunities to challenge and reframe these narratives. By integrating local perspectives and historical data, map-making can offer alternative views and question entrenched socio-spatial constructs.

Thus, my approach is fundamentally critical of any dominant framework that advocates methods developed and imposed for the people rather than by the people. Like its institutions, Kuwait’s mapping practices rely on colonial prescriptions rather than indigenous methods. Embracing an environment that is actively shaped and cultivated by the people who inhabit it, rather than being imposed from above or outside, may be the most viable path towards achieving genuine independence.

4. The view from above, which can be an aerial view or a satellite image, is also a viewpoint that you employ in your artistic process. In one of our first conversations, you highlighted to me how GPS technology was first introduced during the Gulf War. This was the first war covered in real time from above. How does this historical specificity play into your work?

As a child during the Gulf War, my personal experience of Kuwait was grounded and limited to the immediate, often harrowing, ground-level realities, such as the blackened skies and burning oil fields. My understanding of the scale of the catastrophe expanded dramatically when I later encountered Werner Herzog’s film Lessons of Darkness, which presented the devastation from an aerial perspective, offering a new dimension to my comprehension of the events.

This shift in perspective is reflected in the Kuwait Pavilion at the 17th International Architecture Exhibition in Venice, which I co-curated with Saphiya Abu Al-Maati, Yousef Awaad Hussein, and Asaiel Al Saeed. We investigated how aerial views and satellite imagery, highlighted by the Gulf War, transformed both military tactics and public perception. The project, Space Wars, explored how GPS technology and real-time aerial coverage redefined the conflict’s representation, focusing on the desert landscape and influencing global views of Kuwait. This shift from traditional cartography to advanced aerial perspectives has continued to shape international perceptions, often overshadowing Kuwait’s complex urban and social realities.

Aerial and satellite imagery are invaluable tools for understanding what is often difficult to discern from the ground. However, they do not fully capture the human-scale experiences and complexities of our surroundings. The introduction of GPS technology during the Gulf War—referred to as ‘The First Space War’—addressed the challenge American soldiers faced in navigating the desert, a challenge reminiscent of the British experience in delineating borders and territories. So, like mapping, the need for a critical perspective on all forms of top-down analytical views needs to be underscored. While I integrate these tools into my practice, I remain mindful of their limitations and approach them with reservation.

5. A key work in this exhibition is the series of drawings Graduation Ceremony. The drawings are inspired by YouTube videos of military ceremonies performed by the Kuwait Armed Forces. Can you talk about the process of translating this online footage into the physical drawings? What choices did you make?

The methodology behind transferring video to drawing involved closely studying the performances over the years and creating an amalgamation of the sets. Although the main set has remained largely unchanged since the 1970s, elements such as hostage situations, extra props, target shooting, and sand-pit martial arts acts have varied slightly. The architectural elements and choreography were carefully extracted from YouTube videos published by the Kuwait Armed Forces, which served as a primary source.

The reason for translating these videos into drawings was to better comprehend the intricate details and underlying themes of these performances. Architecture plays a significant role in these military spectacles, as the entire performance is dependent on architectural simulation. The performances recall a history of theatre-making, often amidst extravagant sets mimicking local architecture. Additionally, the recognisable traditions adopted from colonial cultural products—often seen in British military spectacles—are made apparent. However, since their inception, these invented traditions have seen little to no change, as evidenced in today’s annual military re-enactments. This continuity reflects the static nature of the institution and its practices, which the drawings aim to capture.

I chose to use red ink on paper, a medium that demands meticulous and diligent effort—qualities I envisioned as reflective of the military itself. Additionally, I made deliberate choices regarding elements like costumes, particularly how the ‘terrorists’ were depicted in the performances. They are always portrayed as Arabs, reinforcing the narrative that the enemy is often our neighbour or comes from within. I also considered the role of the cameraman and drone footage, attempting to break the fourth wall between the artwork and the viewer, myself and the video, and the soldier and the person documenting them.

6. The drawings capture different military routines by the Kuwait Armed Forces. In your meticulous drawings, you re-stage some of these rituals, such as abseiling or target shooting. In one drawing, for instance, dotted lines mark the movement of soldiers, making the drawing very performative. Did you conceive it as a score?

My goal was to make the performances comprehensible to both me and the viewer and to reveal the underlying dynamics at play. With so much happening, particularly in the main axonometric drawing (Graduation Ceremony I), it was essential to differentiate between soldiers and weapons, as well as to track where each soldier started and ended. So yes, the drawings function as a choreography score of military theatre, serving as both a set of instructions and a way to convey the intentions behind these actions within a specific spatial, temporal, and relational context. What’s interesting about scores is that they can rarely be reproduced in the same way through repetition, which mirrors the performances themselves—their repetition, and the inevitable mistakes that arise from it.

7. For the drawings, you employed the axonometric perspective, which is used in architecture to render three-dimensional objects. Why this technique?

It became the most effective way to communicate the spatial arrangements and highlight the structural rigidity of these events. It’s a great technique for visually representing complex spaces. In some instances, I employed exploded axonometric techniques (no pun intended) to further dissect and expose the imagined layers behind the permanent and semi-permanent structures, based on what I could glimpse through the windows in the videos.

Interestingly, the process of creating these drawings turned into a performance itself. The act of drawing, which required several rehearsals and intimate engagement with the material, mirrored the repetitive nature of the military performances.

8. In the series Cultural Fair, you deconstruct original postage stamps issued by the Kuwaiti government and make them anew. How did you come across these stamps? What was your relation to the original stamps?

The collection process spanned two years, during which I sought out as many stamps as possible from Kuwait’s Golden Era, roughly between 1940 and 1980. This period begins shortly after the discovery of oil, continues through the oil boom and modern era, and concludes at the rise of the Islamic political movement in Kuwait. My goal was to analyse the visual imagery of these postage stamps, as they served as one of the most effective tools of national propaganda at the time. The stamps commemorated achievements like the inauguration of Kuwait University, showcased iconic landmarks like the Kuwait Towers, celebrated traditional holidays, and conveyed Pan-Arab sentiment. Over time, as postage stamps became less relevant and their designs more mundane—often just depicting current rulers or poorly designed abstract graphics—the older stamps provided me with a glimpse into a past era I never experienced.

The stamps came from various sources. Some were found locally through antique dealers and collectors, others were from my childhood stamp collection, and many were acquired online. Each new discovery was exciting, especially when I came across one I hadn’t yet acquired. As my collection grew, I began to feel a sense of nostalgia for that time—a feeling I quickly dismissed. The so-called Golden Era was not mine, and moreover, its idealised vision was never truly attainable. To explore this dissonance, I began dissecting the stamps with a medical scalpel under a magnifying glass, reassembling them into new narratives that better reflected the present. Before altering them, I scanned and digitised each stamp to preserve what might be lost forever. This process was cathartic and served as a subversive statement on the nation’s past, the false present it imagined, and the future it will never see.

9. Let’s look at one stamp that you have reconstructed. The New Kuwait depicts an astronaut standing by the Kuwaiti flag on a moon-like landscape identified as ‘Wara’, a ridge south of Kuwait City. How did this image come together?

There is an intriguing trend among the Gulf States centred around the concept of National Visions. For Kuwait, this is embodied in its 2035 vision, which ‘aims to transform Kuwait into a regional and international financial and trade hub, making it more attractive to investors’. This vision echoes those of other states in the region that have already established themselves as such hubs. Yet, realistically, there’s only so much space for multiple trade hubs in one region. Although Kuwait was once a pioneer in the Gulf, its progress was significantly set back by the Gulf War. Despite being far behind in this race, Kuwait continues to promote this utopian rhetoric.

The New Kuwait stamp I reconstructed plays on this dichotomy. It consists of six layers, starting with a base that celebrates World Meteorological Day — chosen somewhat whimsically — as a backdrop that could symbolise outer space. Overlaid on this is the ridge known as ‘Wara’ (or ‘Awara’ in classical Arabic, meaning a small mountain or hill). Given Kuwait’s predominantly flat landscape, even a small ridge becomes significant. Before the discovery of oil, groups and tribes settled near Wara, but they later moved due to rapid urban expansion and the ridge’s proximity to Kuwait’s largest oil field. In the collage, Wara is depicted as a planet from outer space — deserted and uninhabited.

The third layer features an astronaut from a stamp commemorating Kuwait’s National Museum, along with a small Kuwaiti flag, evoking the iconic imagery of the first moon landing. The final layer, representing the moon or another distant planet, is Kuwait’s Tourist Enterprise logo. Herein lies the irony: while the 2035 vision aspires to attract foreign investment, Kuwait lags significantly in boosting tourism, largely due to stringent visa regulations. What was once a welcoming state built by various nationalities has become more insular, influenced by post-war PTSD. The goal of this stamp was to present this contrast and question the state’s ambitious future vision in relation to the realities of today.

10. In The View from Above, an architectural structure marks the exhibition space. This Heritage Wall defines several boundaries, political and cultural. Can you unpack its significance within the context of Kuwait?

The once small port town of Kuwait, formerly known as Kot, was encircled by three concentric walls. The first and smallest was constructed in 1760 to protect the town from raiding tribes. The second, built in 1793, added a pastoral buffer for extra protection. The third wall, erected in 1920, was a response to regional instability caused by the Sykes–Picot Agreement, the collapse of the Ottoman Empire, and increasingly aggressive raids—exacerbated as British-imposed borders became more delineated.

These walls were demolished in 1957 as part of Kuwait’s First Master Plan, driven by newfound oil wealth. British advisor William Hasted recommended the British firm Minoprio, Spencer, and Macfarlane (MSM) to design and implement the plan, ensuring British interests. The plan relied heavily on aerial reconnaissance and surveys, marking the beginning of top-down urban planning in Kuwait, where decisions were increasingly influenced by a panoptic, aerial perspective.

Today, only five gates from the original walls remain, isolated and difficult to access, stranded on roundabouts or in the midst of highways. Once neglected, these gates were scarred with bullet holes and vandalism. To revive this ‘heritage’, the government undertook their restoration. However, this restoration process relied on concrete and paint rather than authentic adobe techniques, transforming these heritage sites into simulacra — mere imitations of the original structures. This approach raises critical questions about the nature of heritage and authenticity, as these gates no longer represent true historical artefacts but rather fabricated versions of the past.

In my video Checkpoints, which documents these remaining walls, it becomes evident that the gates have shifted from being public landmarks to sites closely guarded by private or governmental entities. This shift in accessibility raises fundamental questions about public versus private space: If these gates can no longer be accessed or documented by the people, then for whom do they exist? Who are these remnants of Kuwait’s history ‘reserved’ for, and what does their restricted access say about the preservation of heritage in contemporary Kuwait?

11. The series of glass vessels Dodging Bullets exposes a sense of frailty and uncanniness. How did you come up with these very unusual shapes?

This series is derived from the drawings Graduation Ceremony, specifically the target-shooting scene. Much like the Heritage Wall, the soldiers produced by the military machine are mere facsimiles—faint imitations of originals that no longer exist, serving as spectacles to themselves and others. More importantly, these soldiers are also national bodies. Many of them understand that their gestures are no longer their own but rather those of someone who has come to represent them.

The blown-glass vessels in Dodging Bullets mimic the clay pots used for target training, raising questions about whether the soldiers are aware of the colonising processes that have provided them with this new form of disciplinary power. The concept is embedded in the process of making these vessels: inflating scorching molten glass with a blowpipe to form a bubble that must be quickly manipulated into the desired shape. This process reflects the narrow window of time in which men are moulded into soldiers, caught between imagination and reality, as their materiality is shaped by external forces.

12. Historians asserted that nations are constructed, imagined. Thinking retrospectively of your decade-long engagement with state-building efforts, how has this inquiry influenced your imagination?

I can’t help but reference Eric Hobsbawm’s The Invention of Tradition, Benedict Anderson’s Imagined Communities, and Manuel Castells’ The Power of Identity. These foundational texts have profoundly influenced my practice, as they explore how nations are not merely historical entities, but constructs shaped by tradition, imagination, and identity. Their combined thesis underscores the idea that nations are formed through deliberate narratives, myths, and symbols, which resonate deeply with my inquiry into state-building efforts.

Because I constantly navigate the past, my imagination often drifts toward parallel timelines—contemplating what might have been if certain events had unfolded differently. I envision post-colonial states that are truly independent, or, alternatively, those that never achieved independence. I imagine historical trajectories without war, pondering whether such scenarios would have led to better or worse outcomes. I even envision colonial political agents in Bushire not just ceding two-thirds of Kuwait’s territory to Iraq and Saudi Arabia, but all of it.

These imaginative exercises help me formulate deeper questions. For instance, my romanticisation of the past faded when I realised that the so-called Golden Era excluded minorities, which ultimately contributed to its dismantlement. This realisation drives me to create works that challenge the audience’s perceptions of what is ‘good’ or ‘better’. There’s also a prevalent misconception in Kuwait that we were never colonised, that we were merely a protectorate—an argument I counter by suggesting that colonialism can indeed take the form of a signed treaty.

Ultimately, I use Kuwait as a universal case study, but I refrain from imagining solutions. Imagination can lead one down an endless wormhole, so I focus instead on asking questions. By doing so, I leave space for the complexities and contradictions inherent in the narratives of nationhood, rather than proposing definitive answers.