Offering / A bounty of fish
For over thirty years, Nayla Cannamela has been exploring the qualities and possibilities of papier-mâché as an artistic medium. This material, an amalgamation of reclaimed papers worked into a paste, has been transformed in her hands into various creations. At times, these works were painted in vivid colors, becoming light, whimsical objects that seemed to float in the air. At other times, they were coated with Japanese lacquer, a technique inspired by the artist’s extensive travels in Asia. Her latest series marks a departure from her previous practices while simultaneously building upon them. For the first time, she has incorporated cardboard into her work, leaving it in its raw state. The resulting large platters and fish-like forms appear as a kind of artistic unveiling, laying bare the artist’s sensitivity and offering themselves without pretense—substantial and profoundly moving.
Recently, Cannamela has devoted herself to confronting ceramic techniques with those of papier-mâché, blending and subverting the two methods to uncover their intersections and points of divergence. Her aim has been to challenge traditional references, disrupt established structures, and break free from habitual gestures. For instance, she sought to move beyond the symmetry typically achieved through the potter’s wheel or via supports like balloons, which are often employed in papier-mâché. Instead, she constructs fragile, unstable forms that appear to bloom like flowers. Tirelessly, she pursues imperfection, embracing irregularities, the marks of labor, and the passage of time. This renewed freedom with her materials has enabled her to reconnect with the sensuality of forms and their inherent suppleness. "For me, it was as if I were breaking something," she confesses. "I do not really see the resulting forms. What I sought was to experiment with the process itself—to push the material to its limits, in a sense."
Conservation through recycling has always been central to Cannamela’s artistic practice. The papers and sheets she uses are sourced from reclaimed materials. Their original narratives dissolve into the paste and are then obscured by layers of paint; their ink disperses and blends. In recent years, however, Cannamela has turned her attention to cardboard—an ordinary material commonly used in packaging, insulation, and storage, yet one with a storied history in 20th-century avant-garde movements, from Dadaism to Arte Povera. For the artist, this discovery represented a decisive aesthetic and material encounter.
Cardboard presents itself in various thicknesses, which Cannamela immerses in water, peels apart, and studies in its transformation. Gradually, the material acquires a new texture and hue, sometimes taking on a dark green shade. She immediately drew connections to grape leaves, like those used in Middle Eastern cuisine. At the same time, the surface evoked raw leather, with a rugged, skin-like appearance—“a scalp,” as she describes it.
As she experimented with this new technique, a revelation emerged: during a stay in Beirut at her family home, Nayla Cannamela came across a large dish known as a sanniye. This traditional tinplate dish, dented and weathered with time, bears a slightly faded, almost coarse texture. Passed down from generation to generation, the sanniye is central to Middle Eastern households, serving multiple purposes—preparing meals, cooking, and serving. Its raw color and earthy texture immediately reminded Cannamela of her cardboard structures, inspiring this new series. In Lebanon, as in many Mediterranean countries, there are also copper platters, often used to serve appetizers or coffee. In all cases, the recurring theme is one of sharing, intergenerational dialogue, hospitality, and generosity.
The year is 2024, and Lebanon is once again engulfed in conflict. This dire reality compounds the nation’s ongoing economic collapse, political paralysis, social crisis, and the lingering tragedy of the Beirut port explosion in 2020. Amid this widespread suffering, Cannamela’s platters emerge as a symbol of coherence rediscovered. They do not evoke nostalgia but instead embody the strength of a culture that has repeatedly come close to extinction. Through these works, a universal story is conveyed and felt. Their raw, unrefined appearance reflects a sense of nakedness, a return to the essential.
The installation also includes fish forms crafted from papier-mâché. For Cannamela, these fish symbolize a bountiful catch that allows her to traverse time, embracing multiple temporalities to evoke and animate a living past—“from the Dawn of the First Origin to the twilight of the Final End,” as the Persian poet Hâfez once wrote.[1] And, as in Hâfez’s poetry, such a gesture seems to anticipate a return. The imagery also evokes the biblical act of sharing, though here religion holds no specific importance, or perhaps only in the spiritual sense of a shared humanism. “Come,” Cannamela seems to invite us, “let us share this kibbeh,” the traditional dish of ground meat. And the magic of cooking takes over: just as the artist kneads her cardboard pulp with a mixture of flour and water, the cook blends meat, spices, and onions. In the crucible of the sanniye and the artist’s studio alike, one witnesses the transformation of matter—sticky, sometimes viscous. It is both an offering and a source of life, at once simple and profoundly moving.
[1] Hâfez, Le Divân, trad. Charles Henri de Fouchécourt, Paris, éditions Verdier 2006, n°206.
For over thirty years, Nayla Cannamela has been exploring the qualities and possibilities of papier-mâché as an artistic medium. This material, an amalgamation of reclaimed papers worked into a paste, has been transformed in her hands into various creations. At times, these works were painted in vivid colors, becoming light, whimsical objects that seemed to float in the air. At other times, they were coated with Japanese lacquer, a technique inspired by the artist’s extensive travels in Asia. Her latest series marks a departure from her previous practices while simultaneously building upon them. For the first time, she has incorporated cardboard into her work, leaving it in its raw state. The resulting large platters and fish-like forms appear as a kind of artistic unveiling, laying bare the artist’s sensitivity and offering themselves without pretense—substantial and profoundly moving.
Recently, Cannamela has devoted herself to confronting ceramic techniques with those of papier-mâché, blending and subverting the two methods to uncover their intersections and points of divergence. Her aim has been to challenge traditional references, disrupt established structures, and break free from habitual gestures. For instance, she sought to move beyond the symmetry typically achieved through the potter’s wheel or via supports like balloons, which are often employed in papier-mâché. Instead, she constructs fragile, unstable forms that appear to bloom like flowers. Tirelessly, she pursues imperfection, embracing irregularities, the marks of labor, and the passage of time. This renewed freedom with her materials has enabled her to reconnect with the sensuality of forms and their inherent suppleness. "For me, it was as if I were breaking something," she confesses. "I do not really see the resulting forms. What I sought was to experiment with the process itself—to push the material to its limits, in a sense."
Conservation through recycling has always been central to Cannamela’s artistic practice. The papers and sheets she uses are sourced from reclaimed materials. Their original narratives dissolve into the paste and are then obscured by layers of paint; their ink disperses and blends. In recent years, however, Cannamela has turned her attention to cardboard—an ordinary material commonly used in packaging, insulation, and storage, yet one with a storied history in 20th-century avant-garde movements, from Dadaism to Arte Povera. For the artist, this discovery represented a decisive aesthetic and material encounter.
Cardboard presents itself in various thicknesses, which Cannamela immerses in water, peels apart, and studies in its transformation. Gradually, the material acquires a new texture and hue, sometimes taking on a dark green shade. She immediately drew connections to grape leaves, like those used in Middle Eastern cuisine. At the same time, the surface evoked raw leather, with a rugged, skin-like appearance—“a scalp,” as she describes it.
As she experimented with this new technique, a revelation emerged: during a stay in Beirut at her family home, Nayla Cannamela came across a large dish known as a sanniye. This traditional tinplate dish, dented and weathered with time, bears a slightly faded, almost coarse texture. Passed down from generation to generation, the sanniye is central to Middle Eastern households, serving multiple purposes—preparing meals, cooking, and serving. Its raw color and earthy texture immediately reminded Cannamela of her cardboard structures, inspiring this new series. In Lebanon, as in many Mediterranean countries, there are also copper platters, often used to serve appetizers or coffee. In all cases, the recurring theme is one of sharing, intergenerational dialogue, hospitality, and generosity.
The year is 2024, and Lebanon is once again engulfed in conflict. This dire reality compounds the nation’s ongoing economic collapse, political paralysis, social crisis, and the lingering tragedy of the Beirut port explosion in 2020. Amid this widespread suffering, Cannamela’s platters emerge as a symbol of coherence rediscovered. They do not evoke nostalgia but instead embody the strength of a culture that has repeatedly come close to extinction. Through these works, a universal story is conveyed and felt. Their raw, unrefined appearance reflects a sense of nakedness, a return to the essential.
The installation also includes fish forms crafted from papier-mâché. For Cannamela, these fish symbolize a bountiful catch that allows her to traverse time, embracing multiple temporalities to evoke and animate a living past—“from the Dawn of the First Origin to the twilight of the Final End,” as the Persian poet Hâfez once wrote.[1] And, as in Hâfez’s poetry, such a gesture seems to anticipate a return. The imagery also evokes the biblical act of sharing, though here religion holds no specific importance, or perhaps only in the spiritual sense of a shared humanism. “Come,” Cannamela seems to invite us, “let us share this kibbeh,” the traditional dish of ground meat. And the magic of cooking takes over: just as the artist kneads her cardboard pulp with a mixture of flour and water, the cook blends meat, spices, and onions. In the crucible of the sanniye and the artist’s studio alike, one witnesses the transformation of matter—sticky, sometimes viscous. It is both an offering and a source of life, at once simple and profoundly moving.
[1] Hâfez, Le Divân, trad. Charles Henri de Fouchécourt, Paris, éditions Verdier 2006, n°206.
