Your work explores the representation of masculinity and the male body in Arab societies, particularly in Palestine. What first led you to this thematic focus, and how has it evolved over time?

My interest in masculinity and the male body in Arab societies, especially in Palestine, stems from personal experiences and observations of how masculinity is constructed, performed, and sometimes weaponized. Being a hero, being perceived as strong, these expectations come from cultural, societal, and political structures. I began collecting images on social media to both understand and challenge these representations. I wanted to go against stereotypes, to reshape the way Palestinian masculinity is perceived both within our society and globally. My work started in 2015 when I was in art school in Palestine, questioning family structures, masculinity, and identity through collage. Over time, I’ve explored how Palestinian men are targeted under occupation, how masculinity is used as protection rather than just violence. Since the war started, this inquiry has become even more urgent. 

During your residency at the Cité internationale des arts, you will be researching the “symbolic and material significance of monuments” in your project Monuments of Memory and Resistance. Could you tell us more about your approach and the questions you seek to explore?

This project is an extension of my ongoing research on how memory and resistance are materialized, particularly within the Palestinian context. I am interested in the monuments that are not officially recognized—those that exist within intimate, domestic, or hidden spaces, such as objects made by Palestinian prisoners or artifacts preserved by families as acts of remembrance. My approach is to question how these informal, ephemeral monuments challenge dominant historical narratives and state-sanctioned memorialization. Through this research, I seek to explore how memory is embodied, how resistance is archived, and how art can serve as a counter-monument to erasure.

When we discuss victims, we usually mention women and children, while men are reduced to statistics. I focus on their struggle, their internal prison life, and the crafts they create to maintain sanity and build memory. Currently, there are over 11,000 Palestinian prisoners. Many of them create objects—beadwork, embroidery, or sculptures—using recycled materials like olive pits, sand, or repurposed materials. These works become messages of remembrance for their families. Some pieces are smuggled out, and others are secretly photographed. My project seeks to highlight these artifacts as monuments of resilience, as forms of memory and defiance against erasure.

You work across multiple mediums. How do you decide which medium best serves your artistic intention for a given project? 

Mahdi Baraghithi: For me, the medium is always dictated by the concept. Some ideas demand a tactile, material presence, while others require the fluidity of video or the intimacy of performance. For example, when exploring the physicality of masculinity, I often turn to collage and installation, working with materials that carry weight, pressure, or fragility. When dealing with narratives of exile or displacement, I might use video or photography to capture fleeting moments and testimonies. I see mediums as languages—each has its own vocabulary, and my role is to choose the one that articulates my ideas most effectively. 

I now want to explore new materials. I’ve been working with collage and installations for years, but I’m revisiting beadwork, something I did in my youth. It allows me to challenge traditional notions of masculinity. I’m particularly focused on how prisoners collect and transform materials to create beauty under oppression. So currently, my work is shifting towards fabric, beadwork, video, and performance. 

The residency is part of the Sawa Sawa program, supported by the French Institutes of Jerusalem. How has this international context influenced your practice and perspective on your work? 

Mahdi Baraghithi: This residency came at a crucial time—not just for me but for all Palestinians. Everyone in Palestine needs help, and I want to use this opportunity to create openings for others. I feel incredibly fortunate to be part of this program because I’ve had the freedom to work with the support I need. 

Being part of an international residency, especially one that connects artists from Palestine to a broader network, has given me space to reflect on my practice from a different vantage point. It has allowed me to engage in conversations where Palestinian art is not just seen through the lens of conflict but as part of a larger, global discourse on resistance, memory, and identity. The ability to exchange ideas with artists from diverse backgrounds has also expanded my understanding of how similar struggles manifest in different contexts. It reinforces my belief in art as a tool for connection and as a means of challenging dominant narratives beyond geographic and political borders. 

I also want my studio to be a space for exchange, where people can come to learn, connect, and share ideas. In Palestine, prisoners sit together, working with beads, talking about their families—it becomes a form of active meditation. I want to recreate that experience here, where conversation, movement, and craft come together as a form of resistance. 

Your art often engages with complex social and political narratives. How do you navigate the balance between personal expression and broader socio-political commentary in your work? 

Mahdi Baraghithi: I don’t see personal expression and socio-political commentary as separate—they are deeply intertwined. My lived experiences, my body, and my identity are inherently political within the context I come from. However, I strive to create work that moves beyond direct representation or activism and instead engages with the emotional, psychological, and poetic dimensions of these narratives. I am interested in how personal gestures, intimate objects, and bodily experiences can speak to larger structures of power, history, and resistance. 

Looking ahead, what are your aspirations for your residency in Paris? Are there specific collaborations or new directions you hope to explore during your time here? 

Mahdi Baraghithi: Beyond continuing my research on monuments and memory, I hope to explore new material and spatial possibilities within my practice. Being in Paris, surrounded by its history and contemporary art scene, I want to experiment with different scales and mediums, possibly integrating more sculptural and performative elements into my work. I also hope to engage with artists and researchers working on themes of colonial memory, displacement, and resistance, building conversations that bridge my Palestinian context with other histories of struggle and resilience. Ultimately, I see this residency as a transformative period—one where I can expand my practice, form meaningful collaborations, and push my work in new directions. This is just the beginning, and I remain hopeful because times change, and art has the power to shape those changes.