At the start of October 2023, the self-taught Gazan artist Malak Mattar was still stuck in her homeland. This month, she has been given the rare privilege of a solo exhibition at the leading London art school Central St Martins (CSM).
From her late teens Mattar had become known for her brightly coloured paintings of Gazan women, olive groves and fruits, as well as for being the author and illustrator of a successful children’s book, Sitti’s Bird. Two years ago, she won a scholarship for a Masters in Fine Art at CSM. She tried to leave Gaza in September 2023 but was prevented by Israeli authorities. Mattar finally departed on 6 October—the day before the Hamas attack and subsequent Israeli invasion.
Since arriving in the UK, she has become, at 25, a rising star of Palestinian art with powerful works depicting the effects of the war in Gaza where she has herself lost relatives. In March, three admired local artists were also killed. “The invasion and devastation of my homeland drained me of colour in my work for more than a year,” Mattar says.
Malak Mattar, No Words (2024) Photo by Anthony Dawton
So she took to monochrome blacks and whites with works like No Words, a huge oil on canvas, portraying the carnage in Gaza through images of skulls, destroyed homes and, at its centre, a young man on a horse pulling a cart with his few belongings. It was likened, when exhibited at a gallery in Venice, to Picasso’s Guernica. It is due to go on show at a New York gallery this week. Other works include Death Road, showing captive Gazan men, lined up while overseen by an IDF officer, and Premature Stolen Babies, a drawing of four newborns, taken from their incubators.
Even when working in Gaza before 7 October, Mattar was often impeded. Her exhibition in East Jerusalem was shut down by Israeli authorities and then she was prevented from posting a painting to an American buyer. “I felt handcuffed by Israel; the suffocation of living in what amounted to a prison.”
Her show from 15 May at Window Galleries in Granary Square near King's Cross will include another vast canvas (four metres wide by two metres high) with, at its centre, a phoenix, rising from the ashes of Gazan destruction, and surrounded by locals and an olive tree. The bird is the symbol of her homeland. For this collage, Mattar painted her phoenix in red and the olive tree in green. “I felt able to use colour again because I began this work when we had that brief ceasefire earlier this year.” Included too will be several ‘concertina books’ with images of people and pets on different pages, plus a woman beside a tank.
Malak Mattar, Gaza’s Phoenix (2025)
Mattar has been upset about what she has thought was the lack of support by her college for Gaza. “More than 18,000 children have been killed,” she says. And yet St Martins had only expressed solidarity for Ukraine after the invasion by Russia. So in March, Mattar complained to a senior figure at the University of Arts London (UAL), which oversees CMS. Their response was that while the organisation wants peace between Israel and Gaza, UAL does not feel it can openly support one side against another.
Mattar also felt financially disadvantaged compared with Ukrainian students, who, since the Russian attacks, have paid the lower fees of UK citizens. Mattar was eventually given financial support from the UAL hardship fund to help her second-year tuition fees after her first-year scholarship from the Said Foundation ended.
Despite these disagreements, Mattar is clearly delighted to get her own exhibition. “I’m the first Palestinian to have a solo show at St Martins.” Her pride is palpable.
