Born in 1998, Nour Ammar graduated from Cairo American College and began her undergraduate studies in Drawing and Painting at OCAD University in Toronto. She later completed a Visual Arts degree at Nuova Accademia di Belle Arti in Milan.
Nour’s practice is grounded in radical experimentation. She builds her work through confusion and curiosity, uncovering shapes within shapes and defining them through outline, color, and texture. Her process balances frustration and freedom; adding and removing layers while accepting the permanence of earlier marks. She evolves with the unknown until the uncertain becomes her own creation.
KHAMSA asked Nour the questions that helped peel back another layer, offering deeper connection with her work:
All images are courtesy of Thomas Brewin and Nour Ammar.
١. You say movement and instability play a big role in your life and your work. Do you ever feel like painting helps you find some kind of balance?
If anything, it can cause more imbalances because of the evolving nature of an artistic practice. “Balance” is usually short-lived. Numerous paintings have forced me to face a certain level of discomfort and questioning.
٢. You paint from a place of curiosity and confusion — that’s super raw and honest. What do you think makes that kind of mindset powerful in art?
I think deep curiosity can cause a sort of unwavering determination and resilience in the creative process. It can be a determination to keep searching for an answer or method which is constantly evolving and has no single answer.
My exploration primarily focuses on colour and the different possibilities of relaying depths, transparencies and movements through gestural painting. A positive side to the uncertainty is that it lessens the intensity of the lows. “Errors” are inevitable. So it’s onto the next painting to figure it out.
٣. Your process sounds really emotional. Do you ever look back at a painting and remember exactly how you felt while making it?
For several paintings, yes. I won’t remember the feeling from start to finish of working, but I’ll remember the excitement when something falls into place, the assurance when something is made clear to me, the calmness/frustration/relief of when a painting is complete, and feeling like I was holding my breath throughout the whole process.
I think more than anything I remember the somewhat transformative moments where a new understanding of the painting or of the way I work is unfolded. When a reset of energy has been put into motion ready for the next trial and that’s usually the most exciting time.
٤. You often paint without knowing what the final piece will look like. Has that way of working ever surprised you with something beautiful you didn’t expect?
It’s strange because it’s a synchronous feeling of surprise and deep familiarity at the end of a work. It’s not about finding something beautiful.
I can visualize different forms and combinations of colours for a painting, but it never appears how I imagine it. It’s also a constant reminder that the body and mind aren’t always working hand in hand. I can’t plan because they each react to the process as it’s in play. Oftentimes I’ll have to stop myself from adding or removing a colour or a form because I know it won’t have the outcome I’m trying to reach, even though my body is naturally gravitating towards that option. I still get surprised by the cycles and mix of emotions of painting like I’m experiencing it for the first time, but I don’t think that is an issue to be resolved.
٥. You said meaning comes from random shapes and forms. Do you believe all paintings have to “mean” something — or can they just feel like something?
It depends on which perspective you’re looking at. From my perspective as a painter, I believe there has to be an awareness of a certain truth or feeling, and to create from a place of transparency with myself and the outside world- even if there is no definitive “meaning” to a work. The painting can mean several things to me. As for any other perspective, I think this is where the “feeling” comes in. This is where the common link between me, the work, and the observer is. Colour is a deep point of research and interest for me. Color is about emotion and instinct, and it’s felt in different ways but then we share this feeling of curiosity and unity towards a painting. Sometimes it’s really obvious when someone has a strong or positive reaction to the work because they ask little to no questions, it’s just there and they understand what they feel and that’s enough.
٦. What’s one thing your paintings have taught you about yourself that you didn’t know before?
To be more accepting of impermanence.
When I’m painting, I catch myself being overly cautious towards a certain gesture or colour out of fear of concealing them. It’s usually because I’m under the impression I won’t be able to repeat certain marks or gestures, or won’t remember how they were created in the first place, and I want to preserve that moment captured.
There’s nothing to preserve because it’s always there. It surfaces in different ways in the shape of colours and space and it doesn’t need to be repeated. So naturally, acceptance becomes the next step. I have and still am learning to accept that the work will and should change and that repetition is not always an essential element in my practice. How can it be when our energy and perception are always in motion?
