Imrana Tanveer is a London-based multidisciplinary artist whose work thoroughly explores the layered complexities of social, political, and environmental issues. She is also the Art and Design Director of Morpheme Studios, London. Rooted in her Pakistani heritage, Imrana merges traditional textile techniques with iconic symbols from both Eastern and Western art, creating a unique language that critiques identity, security, and cultural memory. Her pieces are at once deeply personal and widely resonant, offering insights into the global socio-political landscape while exploring the nuances of identity and the fragility of societal structures.

In her practice, Imrana reclaims textile art as a powerful medium for social critique, drawing attention to how national and cultural narratives are both woven and unravelled. Each work serves as a dialogue, inviting audiences to question, interpret, and reflect on contemporary issues from new perspectives. Discover more of Imrana’s thought-provoking work and journey in her Artit portfolio.

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How has your upbringing and cultural background influenced your artistic journey and creative expression?

Growing up in Pakistan has profoundly shaped my artistic journey and expression. Living in a country marked by ongoing political and social unrest, I was constantly surrounded by themes of violence, instability, and identity. These experiences naturally seeped into my work, where I focus on issues like national security, oppression, and social inequality. Witnessing the societal breakdowns around me has given me a unique lens through which I critique the fragility of borders and the violence perpetrated by both state and non-state actors.

 

Culturally, Pakistan’s rich and diverse history—filled with layers of Islamic, colonial, and post-colonial narratives—has also significantly influenced my worldview. I feel a deep connection to the cultural traditions of my homeland, particularly the textile techniques that I incorporate into my art. I am not only to preserve these historical techniques but also to critique how culture and identity are constructed and manipulated.

 

My exposure to Western art has further enriched my approach. While teaching art history at the Textile Institute of Pakistan, I began to experiment with Western iconography, re-contextualising it within my local environment. This blending of Eastern and Western elements has become a hallmark of my practice. For instance, in my work "Oh Really," I juxtapose Rosie the Riveter, a symbol of Western feminism, with an image of Pakistani men pushing a local train. This contrast highlights the differences between globalised feminist ideals and local realities.

 

My personal connection to the sociopolitical context of Pakistan adds a layered complexity to my work, allowing me to reflect on both local and global issues. Living in a region often caught in the crossfire of political and religious ideologies has enabled me to critically examine constructs of identity, national borders, and societal breakdowns. Ultimately, my upbringing in this politically volatile environment, combined with my understanding of both Eastern and Western art traditions, informs my creative expression and empowers me to make bold statements through my unique artistic language.

Share an experience of discouragement and its impact on your creative output.  

While I haven’t shared specific anecdotes of personal discouragement, (galleries and open call refusals apart) the socio-political environment in which I create has certainly been both a source of frustration and inspiration. Working in a politically charged context can be challenging, with issues like censorship and burnout looming large. My art addresses themes of violence, instability, and oppression, and there are moments when the persistence of these problems feels overwhelming, leading to a sense of futility.

 

However, instead of letting these feelings stifle my creativity, I channel them into my work. For instance, my piece “Post Betrayal,” featuring a camouflage tent with rivet “bullet holes,” directly reflects my frustration with ongoing violence. This piece embodies my emotional response, transforming despair into artistic expression. Engaging with such heavy themes can also lead to creative fatigue. The emotional toll of repeatedly focusing on violence and inequality is significant. Yet, I find solace in traditional crafts like weaving, where the laborious process allows me to work through discouragement while creating something meaningful.

 

The reception of my work can be another source of challenge. Contemporary art that critiques politics may be misunderstood or met with opposition. Still, I embrace the varying interpretations my art invites. It’s fulfilling to see how different audiences engage with my work, often uncovering new layers of meaning. This openness helps me overcome discouragement, knowing that my art continues to provoke dialogue, even if its immediate impact on the socio-political landscape is limited. Ultimately, I view discouragement as an opportunity for growth. I strive to transform the challenges of Pakistan’s political instability into creative energy, producing works that reflect and critique the world I inhabit.

Discuss how your art comments on or reflects contemporary social, political, or environmental themes. Can you give specific examples from your works?  

My art is deeply rooted in contemporary socio-political issues, particularly themes of violence, instability, and national identity. While my work serves as a visual commentary on the situation in Pakistan, it also resonates with broader global concerns. Through metaphor and material manipulation, I critique societal structures and highlight the fragility of security, identity, and national borders, as well as themes of home, landscape, migration, and the diasporic nature of my practice.

 

One of my most direct expressions of socio-political commentary is found in my piece “Post Betrayal.” In this work, I use parachute camouflage fabric—typically associated with military tents or shelters—and transform it into a metaphor for state violence. By puncturing thousands of small metallic rivets into the fabric to represent bullet holes, I critique the very systems that are meant to protect us. This camouflage fabric, which symbolises safety, becomes a representation of betrayal, reflecting how systems of security can morph into sources of violence. This piece speaks to the ongoing conflict in Pakistan, illustrating how violence is woven into the structures designed to keep us safe.

 

The materials I choose are politically charged as well. For instance, my use of textile techniques, such as weaving, serves as a metaphor for the construction and deconstruction of identity. Weaving involves interlocking threads to create fabric, symbolising how society constructs identity through cultural and political narratives. In my work, deconstructing these woven pieces reflects the instability of these constructs, particularly in the context of Pakistan’s socio-political landscape. This process of construction, deconstruction, and reconstruction mirrors the cyclical nature of political instability seen in many parts of the world.

 

Additionally, my art touches on environmental themes, particularly land degradation and commercialism. By utilising materials associated with destruction or waste, such as parachute fabric designed for temporary use in conflict zones, I highlight the transient and destructive nature of war. Repurposing these materials allows me to critique the environmental impact of conflict and the wastefulness of resources during times of war. Through my work, I aim to provoke thought and inspire dialogue about these pressing issues.

Describe your artistic process from conception to completion. Could you walk us through the steps of your artistic process, starting from the initial idea to the finished piece? How do you develop your concepts, and what are the key stages in creating your final work? 

My artistic process is deeply methodical, conceptual, and process-driven, merging the traditions of textile craftsmanship with contemporary conceptual art. Each of my works is inspired by a central theme or question, often relating to socio-political issues, identity, or the fragility of national borders. 

 

Once a concept takes shape, I gather visual references and materials that symbolically connect to the subject matter. My choice of materials is deliberate; they are extensions of the concepts I wish to explore. For example, I often use parachute camouflage fabric to address military themes and national security, linking the material's function to broader themes of protection, betrayal, and violence.

 

I typically work with textile techniques such as weaving, stitching, and layering, but I also incorporate non-traditional materials, like metallic rivets, rose petals, thermocol balls to create interactive installations and explore the themes of fragility and beauty amidst chaos. This manipulation of materials helps me manifest the metaphorical ideas I’m exploring. 

 

The repetitive, almost meditative process of creation is essential to my practice; it allows me to engage with the concept over time, transforming the work into a personal and political act of endurance. This stage is labour-intensive, involving repetitive actions like weaving, cutting, or puncturing fabric. 

 

My process is about more than just creating a visual object; it’s about using art as a form of dialogue. I work meticulously to align my materials, techniques, and concepts, ensuring that each element contributes to the overall narrative I seek to express. My hope is that viewers will bring their own interpretations and experiences to the artwork, enriching the conversation sparked by my creations.

Discuss the importance of personal connection to your subject matter. How important is having a personal connection to the subjects or themes of your artwork? Can you give examples of how this connection has influenced your work?  

For me, the artist cannot divorce themselves from their work. My art is a direct reflection of who I am—it's shaped by my surroundings, the issues I live with, and the things that happen around me. These aren't abstract concepts; they are lived realities. When I create, I'm responding to these realities—sometimes with raw emotional intensity, sometimes with intellectual rigour. But always, it’s personal. My work is a way of processing the world I live in and communicating these observations to others.

 

One significant example is my Star Dust Series. In this series, I use golden foil to map out the aerial view of graveyards in Karachi, taken from Google Maps. The idea came from observing the rapid expansion of the city. Karachi is a huge, overpopulated metropolis, and even the spaces for the dead—graveyards—are not spared from the city’s expansion. The city has grown beyond its capacity, and these images of encroachment really struck me. The contrast between the golden foil and the imagery of the graveyard also carries a deeper meaning. It's almost like trying to memorialise something sacred while it’s being buried under the pressures of urbanisation and overpopulation.

 

Moreover, I’ve always had a deep personal connection to textile techniques. I studied textile design in Pakistan, so it’s not just an art form for me—it’s part of my cultural heritage. But I don’t just use these techniques in a traditional way. I see them as a medium to explore and critique political and social issues. Weaving, for example, is traditionally seen as a domestic, often feminine craft, but I subvert that by using it to explore broader societal structures—particularly around identity.

 

Weaving, like many of the processes involved in creating textile work, is labour-intensive and intricate. I think of it as a metaphor for the construction and deconstruction of identity, both personal and national. The act of weaving is like how identities are built—layered, interwoven, complex. And just as identity can be fragile, it can also be unravelled. So, for me, working with textiles becomes a way to talk about identity in a context that feels very personal to me, but that also speaks to larger cultural and political forces at play in Pakistan.

How do you think social media platforms influence the way art is created and perceived today?

Social media has certainly transformed the way artists interact with the world, and it has opened incredible opportunities. Platforms like Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter have become essential tools for artists to showcase their work, reach wider audiences, and engage with the global art community in ways that were never possible before.

 

For me personally, social media has given me a chance to find new opportunities and connect with galleries and curators. I often discover open calls for exhibitions just by scrolling through Instagram. It's also helped me find new ways to present my work and experiment with different formats. Posting process videos, for example, has allowed me to share not just the finished pieces, but also the journey of creation—letting viewers, curators and galleries see the behind-the-scenes work and the thinking that goes into it. That kind of transparency helps build a stronger connection with the viewers, and it amplifies the message I’m trying to share.

 

The global visibility is one of the most exciting aspects of social media. I’m able to reach audiences from all over the world without having to rely on traditional channels like galleries or physical exhibitions. This has not only helped me grow as an artist but has also allowed me to participate in conversations that cross cultural boundaries. Social media has really allowed me to broaden the scope of my art beyond my immediate environment, and that’s been a huge privilege. 

 

The Pandemic Lockdown gave me a unique opportunity to experiment with social media as an artistic medium. I used Instagram Stories to share a series of works that I created while staying at home. It was a kind of digital exhibition—using Instagram filters, GIFs, and stickers to create new dimensions for my work. It was fun, and it was also a way of discovering new mediums that I hadn’t explored before. I was creating work in response to being confined to my home, but I also wanted to engage with the digital realm in a more interactive way.

 

One example is my work "Pieces". The concept behind Pieces is rooted in the idea of the tukri—small fabric scraps that are used to check the quality of stitching or to test a sewing machine. Individually, these tukri pieces might seem insignificant, but when you bring them together, they can form something meaningful—whether that’s a garment, a decorative item, or even something with a deeper political meaning. I used social media platforms to explore this idea, experimenting with video art and incorporating digital elements into the piece. I even exhibited some of the work in physical galleries later, which was exciting because it was a fusion of traditional textile techniques and digital media. The process of creating in this way—using the tools and language of social media—felt like an extension of the ideas I was already exploring in my art.

Can you recall a specific instance where someone's unique interpretation of your artwork provided you with a new perspective or insight?  

One moment that really stands out for me happened during my solo exhibition "Heaven was a Place in Heart." It was a rather unexpected but delightful interaction when a baby’s stroller was placed inside the gallery, near the floor installation that was part of the show. The stroller, by chance, aligned so perfectly with the installation—almost as if it had been placed there intentionally.

 

To my surprise, many visitors who walked into the gallery assumed the stroller was part of the artwork! They interpreted it as a deliberate addition to the show, perhaps even seeing it as a symbolic piece that tied into the themes of the installation. I didn’t correct them, and I found it fascinating. It was as though the presence of the stroller—an everyday object, so intimately tied to life and care—added another layer of meaning to the work that I hadn’t planned for at all.

Offer five pieces of advice to artists who are experiencing discouragement or creative blocks.

✧ Keep waiting….give five pieces of advice to others!

✧ Or wait for the deadline to approach

✧ Experiment with a different technique/medium/tool

✧ If you’re stuck, try looking beyond the art world for inspiration, get out of studio and walk 10 miles

✧ If you work in isolation than share your work with a community or vice versa

If you could experience life in a different artistic era, which one would you choose and why?

If I had the opportunity to experience life in a different artistic era, I would choose the Romantic, Rococo, and Baroque periods. These movements were so rich in detail, opulence, and emotion—qualities that deeply resonate with my own artistic sensibilities. The layers of symbolism, the grandeur of the scenes, and the focus on intricate textures and ornate aesthetics from these periods speak to me on both a visual and emotional level.

 

As an artist, I find these periods particularly compelling because of the ways they reinforced societal structures, often reflecting and supporting hierarchical norms, especially through the lens of aristocracy and religion. However, what I love most about them is the opportunity to appropriate and challenge these structures in my own work. The rich, ornate details and compositions that were once symbols of exclusivity and privilege can now serve as a backdrop to critique and reflect on issues of power, identity, and societal constraints. It's my way of weaving together the past and present, of appropriating and reinterpreting the visual language of the past to engage with contemporary conversations around societal roles and power dynamics. 

How would you like to be remembered in the art world? 

To be remembered as a multidisciplinary artist living in all her glorious avatars of being a woman artist or part of my work becoming the slides for future Art History Students to learn about Women Artists, Diasporic Art, and everything between poetics, life, art, celestial and Digital Renaissance.

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