Artist Carelle Homsy: My Paintings Pose Open-Ended Queries about the Lost Beauty!

Her artistic and expressive style has evolved significantly since her 1992 debut exhibition. Carelle Homsy transitioned from the flamboyant red of the 1980s and 1990s to the elusive blue and then to the steady and serene green. However, her passion for her subject before painting it has remained constant throughout her artistic career and stylistic and procedural approach.

Interviewed by: Mohsen Hassan

Carelle Homsy cannot hold her brush and ink her colours until she has proven her beliefs and is confident in the authenticity of her decision and the way she will communicate with her audience. Moreover, she does this regardless of the subject—a flower, an animal, a concrete structure, or even a deeply personal political or philosophical concept.

She started with the Fauvist Expressionist school, whose artwork made abundantly clear her feelings and emotions. She turned her work towards symbolism because she wanted to use art and drawing to communicate deeper life lessons and ideas.

For instance, her paintings “Egypt’s Freedom” and “Behind the Mask, Who Are You?” both address the national conscience of Egyptians, while the latter uses a symbolic visual style to address existential, religious, and humanitarian issues.

In a new artistic era that encourages reflection and inquiry, her paintings now contain layers of colour and thought. During her creative journey, art served as a tool to document the moment, shape awareness, and hold the world accountable for its role and responsibilities rather than as a luxury or ornament.

Her sole motivation is to express herself honestly and truthfully in her style, even with the shift in artistic methods and formative styles. Her fondest memories are of her artistic trips to London, the capital of Britain. Arabisk London interviewed Carelle Homsy, an Egyptian visual artist.

First, how satisfied are you with the visual arts’ humanitarian and awareness-raising role and impact in the Arab world? How do we fall short of others?

My dissatisfaction with this role stems not from artists’ carelessness but rather from the general cultural atmosphere that continues to undervalue art as a means of raising awareness and fostering community. This is true even though our historical roots as peoples and civilisations extend back to the Pharaonic and Islamic periods, when art was a vital component of life and a means of influencing public opinion.

Today, though, some people view art as a luxury rather than an existential need or a means of better imagining and challenging the world. We are lacking in space, support, and early art education, not in talent or ideas.

Additionally, there aren’t many organisations that believe that art may serve to develop people rather than just for entertainment or decoration. We don’t have sustainable cultural policies or a culturally and psychologically ready audience to accept, engage, or interact with art like other nations do. However, I believe that every honest work of art, no matter how small, is a seed for change, and that art will continue to be a tool of resistance and illumination amid all this darkness.

Upon viewing your paintings, one can infer your meticulousness and passion for life and all living creatures. Are you in agreement or conflict? And, why?

I concur. My work’s details are an expression of my intense love for life and all of its creatures and locations, not just a technique or style. Whether it’s a leaf in a park, an old building downtown, or the expression on an endangered animal’s face, I think details are what make something come to life.

My fascination with structures, parks, and animals is a result of my belief that everything that is living or has a past should be honoured and prevented from disappearing or becoming forgotten. For me, downtown embodies the essence of contemporary Egypt as envisioned by Khedive Ismail; it is more than just a street or a structure.

Sadly, like the surrounding nature, a large portion of it faces extinction. To give the scene or object depth and permanence, I paint heavily and with multiple layers of colour. My goal in painting is to convey the message, “I see you; you exist, you matter.”

Your paintings often repeat otherworldly and soul-related symbols mixed with a realistic background. Is it a natural desire for the best or existential anxiety?

The recurrent appearance of otherworld and soul symbols in my artwork is not just a matter of taste; rather, it is a reflection of a nuanced inner experience that blends existential dread with a yearning for transcendence or salvation. There are many environmental, human, and even moral pressures, losses, and extinctions in the world we live in.

So, I’m looking for a deeper layer of reality—one that’s closer to the soul, memory, or dream—in the painting.

In some cases, this is an innate desire for the best, for a more just and pure world, and other times it’s existential anxiety, where locations and gardens are not forgotten, and species do not go extinct. Instead of providing answers, my paintings pose open-ended queries about what we lose, what we hope to regain, or even preserve.

Why did you choose graphic design as your first artistic endeavour? And is this connected to any professional or societal incentives?

During a period when I was constantly looking for a means of self-expression and financial independence, my early interest in graphic design was not a destination but rather a step in my professional and artistic journey.

I have been simultaneously drawing and working since college. I began by sketching pharaonic robes before painting and firing porcelain and ceramics, which improved my understanding of colour and materials. Following graduation, I worked as a graphic artist for a large corporation. Although this experience was brief, it was significant from a professional standpoint.

In addition to giving me financial security, it helped me get ready for my first art show.  I decided to focus entirely on graphic design after my first exhibition because I felt like this was where I belonged. Since then, I’ve lived in the centre of the world. I found that graphic design gave me a significant visual sense, particularly in terms of composition and clarity.  But it didn’t take away from my deeper ambition, which was to become an honest, detailed artist who depicts life as it is.

Your paintings honour creatures, elements, and non-human elements. Is this the victory of the just, the compassionate, or a mirror of an internal conflict?

The victory of the just is the one that I hold most dear, but I believe it’s a combination of all of these. Whether they are buildings being forgotten, parks being destroyed, or endangered animals, I give voice to the voiceless entities in my paintings. These components are more than just visual language; they are representations of creatures that were once a part of our lives but were ignored or silenced.

I acknowledge that there is compassion, though, because I am hurt by the gradual loss of both places and things. It might also contain some personal suffering because I perceive in these characters and phrases a hint of our loss, our frailty, and the weakness we refuse to admit. As a result, my paintings explore not just nature but also our relationship with it and the things we lose without noticing.

They are an invitation to ponder, pause, and reconsider what we consider “marginal,” but which is actually at the heart of life. This is why I chose the symbolic expressionist style, which allows me to treat these terms as symbols with multiple meanings rather than just formal elements. My paintings’ objects, settings, and hues take on a unique language of their own, conveying ideas that are hard to articulate and capturing the ongoing conflict between justice and vulnerability, loss and hope.

Why did a London charity festival select donkey sculptures as an artistic icon? Do you think that artistic projection can have a significant impact?

I did not choose the donkey icon for this festival; rather, the Caravan exhibitions organiser did.  Although the donkey is a symbol of patience, endurance, and humility, it is generally regarded as a creature that is frequently mocked or derided. Similar to many marginalised groups or creatures that are invisible despite their significant presence in daily life, it is an oppressed creature in both reality and popular imagination.

Given this, the donkey was a perfect symbol for the 2016 charity festival “In Peace and Mercy” in London, showing that empathy and acceptance of those who aren’t considered “heroes” or “traditional symbols” are more important for fostering peace than imposing one’s will on one another. Regarding artistic projection, I firmly believe in it; in fact, I think it’s one of the cleverest visual art tools.

Projecting social or human meanings onto non-human entities creates a reflective space that enables the observer to reevaluate their prejudices and beliefs. The power of symbolism in art is that it can make an object that is different in identity or form act as a mirror for us.

The highest bidder in the collection chosen for display won a statue of a donkey (Talkabi) that was put up for sale at Sotheby’s. Star Jim Carrey purchased one of the two smaller statues, which is now on display in his New York home. For me, it was a proud moment because it signifies that the value of the subject and its symbolism, as well as the importance of the compassion and peace issues I portray in my artwork, have a place and significance in the global art scene.

Considering how little the UK art community associates the donkey with artistic heritage, how did the London audience respond to this festival?

The way the London audience engaged with the festival was a novel and thrilling experience. For them, the symbolic and human interpretation of the artwork was evident and poignant, even though the donkey is not a part of the British artistic legacy and does not retain the same symbolism as it does in our societies.

The audience responded to the piece with curiosity and questions, which sparked a cultural conversation about the donkey’s representation of patience, humility, and compassion—values that are far removed from stereotypes.

By bridging two disparate cultures, this illustrated how art can communicate across boundaries and use universal human symbols. This demonstrated that art can convey ideas and problems that cut across cultural boundaries, as evidenced by the enthusiastic and positive responses.

Did the painting “Behind the Mask, Who Are You?” that was also on display in London experience the same fate?

This painting is among my most treasured pieces since it went beyond the confines of visual art to become a cross-cultural conversation about humanity and spirituality. It has aired in Jordan, Italy, Paris, London, and America, but when it was on display at London’s St. Martin-in-the-Fields Church, it had a unique personality.

In that instant, it was more than just a painting; it was a voice discussing identity, the human being behind the mask, and the pursuit of truth amid multiple religions and backgrounds.

In front of a sizable audience that was religiously and culturally diverse, I had the chance to speak on behalf of Egyptian artists at that momentous and symbolic occasion. Christian, Muslim, and other representatives of the heavenly religions, including the Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby, were among those present. The impact of the painting on English society was enormous.

Because it addressed topics that people of all backgrounds frequently wonder about: Who are we behind what we show? Does the mask provide isolation or protection? At the time, I believed that art had the power to unite people and create a dialogue without using words.

Did you find the Saatchi Gallery in London’s large-screen display of the painting “Free Egypt” surprising?

Undoubtedly, it was both a delightful and unexpected experience. Because of this honour, I feel that the subjects I discuss, regardless of how local or connected to our heritage, can have an impact on people all over the world. In my artistic career, these events marked a sea change because they increased my confidence in my message and my capacity to use art to connect important human concerns with a larger audience. They also motivated me to keep delving deeper and more creatively into the subjects that fascinate me. Every sculpture or painting, in my opinion, has the potential to speak for the voiceless.

How do you find the patience to notice the subtleties in your paintings? Is it a desire to use paint and brush to interact with your local and global surroundings, or is it a desire for financial gain, recognition, and exposure?

The main reasons I am patient enough to notice the small details in my paintings are that I genuinely love what I do, and I want to interact with the world. For me, details are an expressive language that enables me to communicate emotions and ideas with sincerity and nuance; they are not just ornamentation or complexity. While fame or financial gain may play a role in reality, they are not the main driver. The idea that each hue, line, and layer in the painting conveys a narrative, a query, or a reminder of what we have and lose is what most inspires me.

I see painting as a continuous conversation with my local and global environment, which motivates me to pay close attention to the details and give them the time and care they require. My admiration for the piece and my conviction that art has the power to transform and impact others are demonstrated by my patience.

Layers overlap and details blend to produce visual and emotional depth that allows the viewer to enter the painting’s worlds and engage with it on several levels. This is evident in the finished products of my paintings. Because of this dedication, I believe that my artwork is not only viewed but also felt and considered, which strengthens and impacts the message I wish to get across.

Your female characters incorporate a wide range of symbolic references and ideas, such as femininity and the body. Regarding the artistic use of these two components in your traditional Eastern society, were you worried?

In my artwork, women are more than just bodies or surface-level images; they are multifaceted symbols with a wide range of meanings and ideas that transcend appearance. I consider the female body to be a potent expressive language in art, enabling me to portray women’s problems, identity, strength, and weakness, as well as the difficulties they encounter in our cultures.

Naturally, I am well aware of how delicate this subject is in the context of our conservative Eastern society, and there may be some anxiety, but I see art as a free space that enables me to respectfully and intelligently express these ideas in a way that not only sparks debate but also encourages introspection and discussion. Instead of just showcasing women’s bodies, I want to show them in all their strength, beauty, and complexity. I am confident that a viewer who is able to read the painting will recognise this symbolic aspect and react favourably to it.

Women have long served as inspiration for my artwork, not only as beautiful representations but also as living, breathing, resisting, and expressing a complicated reality of hardships and aspirations. Every time I paint a woman, I attempt to evoke these various energies and portray them as a voice rather than merely an object to be observed.

What would the gradual and progressive colour patterns and stages of your artistic journey look like? Or, more specifically, what was your colour space like at the beginning, and how is it now?

The Fauvist Expressionist school of painting inspired me to use colour as a tool for instantaneous expression and emotional explosion, so if I were to categorise my artistic journey into colour stages, I could say that my early days were emotional and instinctive, with a tendency towards strong, direct primary colours.

As time passed, the colour space in my paintings became richer and more layered, and I started using several layers of colour to add depth, meaning, and emotion to the painting in addition to form.

I’ve recently started to work with colour more deliberately and composedly, utilising materials, contrast, and transparency to express nuanced meanings. Colour is no longer merely a decorative element; it now forms the very framework of the concept, representing memory, fleetingness, or a life that endures. One could argue that the red stage, followed by the blue stage and finally the green stage, represents the 1980s and 1990s.

What about your exhibitions’ titles and the artistic messages they convey? Which would you prefer—a cohesive overall artistic theme or a combination of themes within the paintings in a single exhibition? Why?

My exhibition titles serve as more than just labels; they serve as a creative and intellectual entryway to the content. I pick them carefully because they capture the mood and message I want to get across in each exhibition. Symbolic in nature, these titles frequently allude to important topics like identity, freedom, extinction, and the interaction between people and their environment.

Because I view each exhibition as an integrated visual and intellectual system rather than as a standalone exhibition of paintings, I tend to focus on a single overarching artistic theme. This is not to say that the paintings aren’t detailed differently; rather, each one tackles a distinct aspect of the overall concept, enhancing the exhibition and its meaning.

In addition to helping me stay focused, this cohesive theme offers the audience a coherent experience that sparks discussion and leaves a lasting impression or question—even if there are several possible answers.

How much do you think your paintings convey the artist’s dismay at their deteriorating world? What constructive use of the artist’s imagination can change that reality?

My paintings’ content is largely an expression of my dismay at the state of the world and the things we are losing daily, including nature, identity, and collective memory. Whether I’m painting an endangered species, a place in danger of going extinct, or a symbolic scene with social or political meanings, there’s always a feeling of unease, melancholy, and maybe even silent rage. But I do not view art as a tool for complaining; rather, I see artistic imagination as a tool for resistance.

By using colour, composition, and symbols, I can create a different, more conscious, or just world and give the audience a chance to think and rethink. Although the artist cannot alter reality directly, he raises awareness, evokes feelings, and develops a visual language that profoundly affects consciousness.

I believe that art should serve as a mirror, a warning, and a source of hope simultaneously. It is the artist’s responsibility to increase awareness, remind, and fight forgetfulness, not to provide answers. This is where the artist’s aesthetic and moral obligations coexist. Art is a challenge to reality and an effort to alter it from within, not an escape from it, in my opinion.

According to some, your artwork belongs to the so-called Expressionist or Fauvist schools, which use art to express feelings. Which schools would you use to categorise your visual content and artistic universe?

The Fauvist Expressionist school had an impact on my early work, as I expressed emotions with colour and emotion directly and acutely. But as I gained experience, my artistic universe grew closer to a unique fusion of symbolism and expressionism.

For me, expression is still crucial, but I fill it with meanings and symbols that go beyond the immediate emotional state to address more profound existential, environmental, political, and humanitarian concerns. Generally speaking, I don’t like to put myself into categories because I believe that style should serve ideas rather than the other way around.

In certain pieces, I use realistic construction and then break it down within the painting, while in others, I go closer to Sufi symbolism. Thus, even if it is similar to other schools or closely resembles well-known trends, I view my visual world as an open and dynamic experience that is first in line with my beliefs and feelings and then with what supports the visual and intellectual content.

Even though there are some similarities between these schools, my distinct style, characterised by rich detail, multiple colour layers, and a deep symbolic dimension, is something I always strive to maintain. In my opinion, it is more important that my paintings accurately convey who I am and captivate the audience with a distinct visual language that links memory, reality, and imagination all at once, rather than having ties to a particular school.

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Finally, what is new in Carelle Homsy’s forthcoming visual and artistic offerings?

Research, experimentation, and the desire to go deeper—whether in terms of subject matter or style—are always associated with what’s new in my opinion. My current artistic endeavours focus on identity and disappearance—not just the loss of locations and artefacts, as in the “Extinction” exhibition, but also the loss of significance amid the chaos of modern life.

To add more depth and mystery to the painting, I’m thinking of fusing traditional painting with other methods like printing or mixed media.

I also want to show more outside of Egypt while maintaining my Egyptian identity and heritage in each piece. “I see… and I witness” will always be the subject of a fresh attempt to express it using a different visual voice. Additionally, like the viewer, I am always surprised!

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