Masarratfatima

The Interview : Masarratfatima Sulaimani

Rachna Singh, Editor, The Wise Owl talks to paper cut artist Masarratfatima. Masarrat is an experimental artist, specializing in creating the unique art of hand-cut paper that aims to take you on a journey of self-exploration and discovery. Her creations strive to bring out emotions from still life and create a story. Masarrat says that her artworks are an expression of human emotions and an utterance of the unspoken from nature. Masarrat has taken part in several prestigious solo shows across the world. She is an Indian artist, now based in UAE.

Thank you Masarrat for taking time out to talk with The Wise Owl. It was indeed a pleasure to connect with you at World Art Dubai and see your incredible creations on display.

RS: Your art has been described as a journey of self-exploration and discovery. Could you share how this inner journey manifests in your paper cut creations? Are there specific personal moments or emotional turning points that have shaped your most powerful pieces?

MF: Art has always been my way of understanding and expressing my inner world. Over time, I realized that my personal experiences — feelings of belonging, identity, and migration — naturally found their way into my work and resonated with many people. A key turning point for me was my first installation “Murmuration” at Sikka in 2019. That piece explored the sense of home and acceptance I felt after moving to the UAE — not just the idea of finding a physical space, but finding friendships, warmth, and a sense of belonging. It made me realize how migration, identity, and the emotional journey of the self are themes I carry across my works. Each piece becomes a reflection of a personal experience, but one that many others can see themselves in too.

RS:  You breathe life and emotion into stillness—turning paper into poignant stories. The paper cut dervishes dancing in spiritual abandon that you displayed at World Art Dubai were riveting. How do you approach the process of imbuing something as static as paper with such visceral emotion? Do you begin with a narrative, an image, or a feeling?

MF: The medium itself constantly inspires me. Paper, despite seeming static, holds incredible possibilities — the moment you twist, turn, or cut it, it starts to breathe and move on its own. I usually start with a rough sketch — a loose visual idea — but I never completely control the final form because the paper has its own mystery and behavior during the process. It’s like a dance between intention and surrender. When I created the whirling dervishes, it wasn’t just about form, but about channeling a feeling of spiritual motion — the search for oneness and transcendence. The act of creating itself becomes devotional. So, while it begins with a feeling or an emotion I wish to explore, much of the creation is about surrendering to the rhythm of both the material and the emotion guiding it.

RS: The act of cutting into paper is delicate, irreversible, and almost meditative. What does this act symbolize for you on a philosophical or emotional level? How do you think the physical process of creation mirrors the themes of introspection in your work?

MF: For me, the process of working with paper — cutting, folding, sculpting — is a deeply spiritual and meditative experience. It starts with intention and skill, but at some point, it becomes an act of surrender. You set a direction, but you also have to trust both the material and your artistic intuition to guide you. It’s similar to a prayer or meditation — you offer your best effort, but you accept that the outcome has its own organic life. Every cut carries a sense of irreversibility, much like decisions we make in life, and yet, through this surrender, new pathways for beauty and meaning emerge. Emotionally, working with paper gives me a profound sense of freedom. Even though the medium has its limitations, it paradoxically opens up endless possibilities, making me feel expansive and limitless.

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My recent work, Journey, exhibited at World Art Dubai, encapsulates this idea — a leap of faith into the unknown, trusting both the material and my intuition to shape its course. The physical act of creating mirrors the emotional journey I explore: intuitive, unpredictable, and deeply liberating. It’s not just about giving in to the material; it’s about allowing my artistic intuition to guide the process, embracing the unexpected while maintaining a sense of control. In the end, it’s this balance between intention, skill, surrender, and intuition that creates the emotional resonance in my work.

RS: Much of your art feels like a dialogue—between form and void, texture and silence. How do you decide what is revealed and what remains hidden in each piece? Is there a conscious tension between control and surrender in your technique?

MF: Absolutely — that tension is always at the heart of my practice. I usually begin with a rough, instinctive thought — an artistic spark that emerges intuitively. From there, I move into planning a more carefully considered structure, because working with paper demands a deep respect for its delicate strengths and limitations. Even during the design phase, though, the conversation between control and intuition never truly pauses. It’s a constant interplay — a fluid back-and-forth. I set certain non-negotiable parameters through design, but within those boundaries, I consciously surrender — not only to the natural behaviour of the material, but also to my artistic intuition. Letting go is vital; it opens space for freedom, allowing both the material and my instincts to shape the final form. This ongoing dance between precision and release is central not only to my technique, but also to the emotional depth and resonance of my work.

RS: As an experimental artist, you're constantly pushing the boundaries of your medium. What does experimentation look like in your practice? Are there particular materials, techniques, or conceptual frameworks you're currently exploring?

MF:Experimentation is the heartbeat of my practice. Paper has given me immense freedom to explore — it’s such a versatile medium that every new approach opens up different possibilities. I started with intricate paper cutting, creating small, detailed pieces. But as I worked, I began to move toward creating layered depths and exploring how light and shadow interacted with the material. Over time, I started experimenting with scale — what began as six-inch pieces began to grow larger, which brought a deeper, more emotive feel to my work. This led me to the idea of installations, where the scale and complexity could fully express my emotional and conceptual ideas.

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In parallel with this, I became fascinated by the process of making paper itself — crafting it from plants and vegetables. During my residency at Ras Al Khaimah with the Al Khasimi Foundation, I deepened my exploration of this medium. The textures of the natural world, especially the intricate patterns of coral, greatly influenced my approach. I began experimenting with the texture of the paper itself, incorporating these natural forms into my work, which further expanded the emotional depth and tactile experience of my pieces.

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The journey of working with paper in its various forms has made me appreciate the medium even more and opened new directions in my practice. This exploration led me to pulp painting, where I experiment with paper in its fluid form to build textures and create vibrant surfaces. I began working with recycled materials, playing with colors, and experimenting with tactile experiences that push the boundaries of what paper can do. Each new experiment has opened up a deeper, richer understanding of the material, allowing me to continue expanding my artistic vocabulary.

RS: Your works often suggest layered narratives. Do literature, poetry, or personal mythology influence your storytelling approach? Could you talk about an artwork where a specific story or emotional truth was central to its creation?

MF: I’m deeply inspired by nature, architecture, Islamic art, and human emotions. Literature and poetry, especially the quotes of Rumi, have also shaped my sensibility — his words about love, longing, and surrender often echo in my mind while I create. Many of my works start with a memory or an emotional truth. For example, my piece Reflection speaks about the nostalgia of childhood — I hand-cut the shadows of trees on the ground and overlaid memories of children playing. It’s both a personal memory and a universal one. Similarly, Transcending Boundaries, an installation showcased at the Al Murabba Festival, and Gateway, created for Sikka Art Festival, explore how humans cross not just physical borders but emotional and mental ones, constantly evolving. Much of my storytelling is rooted in emotional truths that are personal yet widely relatable, allowing viewers to find their own reflections in the work.

RS: Art that stems from self-exploration often becomes a mirror for the viewer. Have there been moments when an audience’s interpretation or emotional response to your work surprised you or revealed something new to you about your own piece?

MF: Absolutely. One of the most rewarding parts of my journey has been seeing how deeply people connect with my installations. Since many of my works are immersive — inviting viewers to walk through or within them — the interaction becomes very personal. Watching people move through the spaces, pausing, reacting, smiling, sometimes even crying, fills me with a profound sense of joy. It’s as if, in those moments, art crosses all boundaries and becomes shared human experience. One memory that remains etched in my heart is of a woman who, after spending time with one of my installations, hugged me with tears in her eyes and said, “This is my story.” That moment reminded me of how powerful and healing art can be — not just for the artist but for every soul it touches.

Thank you, Masarrat, for taking time to talk with The Wise Owl. Wishing you the very best in all your creative endeavours.