Community Profile: Soomaal House of Art

In the Somali language, the word for milking a goat or a camel is also the word that means wealth. That the word — “soo maal” — would have both meanings is perhaps not surprising in a historically nomadic culture that was traditionally based in farming practices. It is also the word a group of Somali artists chose for an art collective whose aim is to support and raise up Somali artists in the Twin Cities: Soomaal House of Art. Mohamud Mumin, who acts as a curator for the group, explains that “soo mal”, which is the root of the word Somali, “is the essence, the sense of identity”.

Soomaal strives to support Somali artists, giving them a sense of ownership in their representation, as well as their growth as artists. “It seemed like we were always being put in certain boxes,” says Mumin, who has garnered a national spotlight as an individual artist outside of his work with Soomaal. “Especially if artists are not in the mainstream, they are usually put in the box: ‘Stick with this kind of art or that kind of art.’”

Soomaal’s founders: Khadijah Muse, Kaamil Haider, & Mohamud Mumin at the exhbition Receptacle, 2017. Photo by Ridwan Omar

Mumin shares the organizing work of running Soomaal House of Art with artists Khadijah Zahra and Kaamil Haider. All three attended the University of Minnesota, although they didn’t meet there. They became acquainted at exhibitions and in the art community around the Twin Cities. Of the three, only Haider studied art in school. Zahra, who majored in Sociology, and Mumin, who studied Chemistry, discovered after college that they wanted to focus on their artistic practices as part of their career. “It’s like quicksand,” Mumin says of his experience being an artist. “The more I got into it, the more I got sucked in. I’m in a place where I can’t get out.”

Zahra, an installation and sculpture artist, doesn’t feel her work changed since she recently started calling herself an artist. “I’m still rooted in my sociology background, and that’s how my projects come about,” she says. “Now they take a physical form.”

Mohamed Hersi preparing for Receptacle, 2017. Photo by Ridwan Omar

There are around 30 artists that are part of the collective — Zahra says that all of the artists that have participated in Soomaal’s programing are a part of the group, though the three organizers do the heavy lifting in terms of administrative work.

Soomaal’s first exhibition, Anomalous Expansion, took place in a mosque located in the Cedar-Riverside neighborhood of Minneapolis in 2016. Showing work in that setting meant that no figurative work could be shown, a restriction both Zahra and Mumin say benefitted the art in the show. “The more restrictions you can get around, the better for the art,” Mumin says.

Instead of anything anthropomorphic or resembling human figures, the artists showed abstract and geometric art. One artist created a piece that referenced prayer, which Mumin says was the closest they came to pushing the envelope.

Mohamud Mumin’s installation at Receptacle, 2017. Photo by the Mohamud Mumin

According to Zahra, showing work in religious spaces has been positive. (The group has subsequently shown work and held events at other Islamic centers in addition to art and community spaces). “It’s a great experience to move around because it kind of teaches you to be in other peoples’ spaces,” she says. “Having that challenge to be responsive to that space is really cool. It’s not just an open gallery with white walls.”

In addition to the two annual group shows Soomal has put together, the collective has also in the last year hosted a monthly series called Spearwave, featuring art, performance, and discussion.

“Something magical always happens with the audience with the conversations,” Mumin says. “Sometimes we curate that, but a lot of times it takes its own life, and it’s like, okay, this is what we are talking about. That usually depends on who is in the room.”

Performance by Mohamed Samatar, Spearwave, 2018. Photo by Mohamud Mumin

For the Spearwave events, the art being shown isn’t the main focus. “The objects are not the end goal in a way,” Zahra says. “As visual artists, it’s hard to get away from the object being the final product, but really what is at the heart of everything  is the conversation and what it generates.” That’s because the community piece is so important to what Soomaal is all about, in terms of shaping what contemporary art means within the context of the Somali community.

Khadijah Charif’s installation at Spearwave, 2018. Photo by Mohamud Mumin

Mumin likens the process to an ant colony. “It goes back to who is the one that defines art?” he says. “We want to illuminate, not define ourselves in our own corner. The more you have a staying power, and the more these conversations are happening, the more people you invite into this art colony, the more our ideas also spread out.”

Soomaal will take a break from the Spearwave series over the summer, as the organizers get ready for their third annual group exhibition, featuring a dozen or so artists. Mumin says the plan is to include international artists this year, as Soomaal continues to expand its focus.

Khadjiah Muse at Receptacle, 2017. Photo by Mohamud Mumin

 

To learn more about Soomaal House of Art and its organizers and participants, visit soomaalhouse.com.