At the core of Nour Jaouda’s practice is a painstaking process in which fragments of found material are dyed, ironed, cut and stitched together to create richly coloured textile works, many of which stretch more than several metres wide. Following her inclusion at the 2024 Venice Biennale, Jaouda is now presenting her first institutional exhibition at Spike Island, Bristol (until 11 January 2026). Here, Jaouda has employed the traditional Egyptian appliqué craft known as Khayamiya, in which pieces of coloured fabric are sewn on to a base fabric to decorate the interiors of tents used during social gatherings. The resulting works, made in collaboration with Khayamiya craftsmen in Cairo, draw on botanical motifs inspired by her childhood in Libya and time spent living between Egypt and London.
Where is your studio?
I have a studio in Hackney Wick and another studio in Cairo. I move between them throughout the year, depending on the project. If I’m working with specific craftsmen, I’m in Cairo, but most of the year I’m in London, because my gallery is based there, and a lot of my projects for the past few years have been London- or Europe-based. I also tend to finalise the work in London.
How would you describe the atmosphere in your studio?
Because my work involves a very slow, labour-intensive process, the studio really transforms over time. I work on the floor, and I have racks where I hang my textiles. My studio is immersed in colour: what’s different between each space is usually the colours there. The mood changes based on where I am. In London, my colours tend to be a bit darker, greyer and softer, whereas in Cairo, where the sun is very bright, they’re more vibrant. The studios have a similar structure but their colours have very different energies.
Is there anything you don’t like about your studio?
There’s never enough space. I tend to use as much space as I can, and the architecture both inspires and constricts my work. Even though I managed to get a bigger studio in London, sometimes I feel like I just want to work outside. With each place, there’s always restrictions: in Cairo, things are much slower, and life is less rigid; in London, it can be too intense. The work culture here is non-stop, and it’s very commercial and demanding.
What does your studio routine look like?
Normally I arrive at 11am and leave at 9pm. I’m a night person, so I usually peak around 6pm. I start with dyeing the fabric, then I’ll begin working on the fabric that has been drying overnight, ironing it and laying out it, cutting and collaging pieces together and taking them apart. I’m a practising Muslim and I pray five times a day, so that gives me a bit of break, and then it’s back to work. I try to take Saturdays off, to separate my work and my life a bit. In Cairo, there are way more distractions; life seeps into my practice. My sisters and friends will come to hang out in the studio.
Do you work with anyone in your studio?
I usually work alone, but as my projects have gotten bigger, I now have two assistants who will come for a couple of hours, maybe four times a week. Having assistants is a recent addition to my practice, but it’s nice because they both have backgrounds in fashion and can advise me when it comes to textiles.
Do you have many visitors?
In Cairo, friends and family often visit. In London I have more professional studio visits from curators, gallerists and other artists. It’s very important for me to take advantage of those opportunities – a lot of the exhibitions I’ve been a part of have happened just because of a studio visit.
Who is the most interesting or unusual visitor you’ve had?
In Cairo, my baby cousin recently came to visit and turned the studio into a play space, because there is so much to play with. To me, it’s work that I take too seriously, so having a kid in the studio was really refreshing: when you’re working on tight deadlines, you see everything as a mission or task rather than a form of play. Another visitor was Adriano Pedrosa, the curator of the 2024 Venice Biennale. He was passing through London for a day and a half; though it wasn’t a long studio visit, it gave me a big opportunity to expand my practice and work on a really ambitious project.
Do you listen to anything while you work?
I listen to a lot of podcasts, especially when I’m doing very labour-intensive but slow and boring work, like ironing and gluing and cutting out, because that’s when I just need to engage with something. I listen to music when things are flowing and I’m making rhythmic, intuitive decisions. But there are times when I need silence as well.
What is the most unusual object in your studio?
I have a lot of found objects: deconstructed chairs, tables. I also have a lot of ceramic pots from Cairo, which are used to keep water cool in the heat. They’re farmer’s objects, but I find them so beautiful.
What is your most well-thumbed book?
It’s a poetry book called The Butterfly’s Burden by the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish. The poems are in Arabic and English so I like to read them at the same time. He has such a visual, descriptive way of writing that is both abstract and quite political. I also have a book on Rothko’s Color Field painting, which I look at a lot.
‘Nour Jaouda: Matters of time’ is at Spike Island, Bristol, until 11 January 2026.