Solenne Tadros: Recollecting Leila’s Palestine

What did Leila Khoury Nimry lose as a 13-year-old girl forced to flee her home in Haifa, Palestine?

When she was asked to recall this painful memory, she recalled something personal, something that we all can relate to, whether or not we have experienced such trauma. When she was uprooted from her Palestine in 1948, she left behind the community that gave her a sense of belonging. She lost the safety, security, and familiarity that Palestine had provided her. She left behind things that matter to her; her beautiful house filled with heart-warming memories, the dresses she would wear for special occasions, her family albums, her doll she had kept all those years, and a bunch of other things that wouldn’t fit into the two luggage cases her family brought with them as they fled to Lebanon. Leaving all of these things behind, she remembers thinking, “Who is sleeping in my bed? Who is using my clothes? Who is going through our albums?” Thoughts that would sadden her even after all these years. A trauma that continues to linger and has unconsciously extended to her next generations. When Solenne Tadros heard her grandmother’s story, she couldn’t help but feel emotional. “I now know that a part of my DNA comes from a woman who had to face the traumas of man-caused displacement,” she opens up. Every time she tells her grandmother’s story, she’d be in tears. But she always has this drive to shed light on her grandmother’s experience and have the world hear it. Solenne turns to virtual reality technology to tell that story. She pieces together her grandmother’s recollections of her childhood bedroom in Palestine as it stood in 1948.

After she left Palestine, Leila continued to live through war in the Middle East and North African (MENA) region. She had to escape the dangerous situations the war had caused. “Being a refugee since then, we are always like gypsies from one place to another,” she describes. The way that the MENA region is covered and represented has desensitised and normalised the conflicts in this region. “The way people have become numb to the word refugee saddens me,” says Solenne. She hates the word refugees as it takes away the human stories and the lives they had prior to being displaced. To shed light on their stories, Solenne launched the (x)odus project, a project that supports and encourages the rebuilding of lives that have been affected by man-caused displacement. She collaborated with displaced Syrian, Iraqi, and Palestinian women in Jordan to have them upcycle empty plastic ingredient bags and embroidered the word “hope” on them. These upcycled bags were then marketed in a virtual reality experience that showcases her grandmother’s memory of her childhood bedroom in Haifa, Palestine, in 1948. We catch up with Solenne as she takes us through the (x)odus project, her grandmother’s memory, the VR experience, and her role as a creative.

What’s the story behind the empty ingredient bags you decided to work with?

When doing my research and observing the images of people fleeing their homes due to man-caused displacement, a lot of them would pack their necessities and treasures from home in a 50-kilogram ingredient sack. They’d lug these heavy, overfilled sacks on top of their backs and shoulders as they marched for days into the unknown, seeking safety. No one imagines or thinks of the day they’d have to pick up and leave their roots, and this sudden event forces you to use whatever you have around you to survive. For those who did not have luggage, they used empty ingredient bags. These bags to me became symbolic of man-caused displacement. When looking for a product to craft with the displaced women, I was driven by the way I’d like to see “fashion” or “consumerism” happen - ethically, with a conscious, with a story. These empty ingredient bags were picked up from the second-hand shop, cleaned, and up-cycled. The bags that once assisted the displaced people to carry their belongings were now being sold to assist them in creating a life of economic independence.\

The word ‘hope’ is embroidered onto each of the bags. What does that represent?

It represents the driving force behind our people’s survival. It’s the power that propels you forward in times of uncertainty. When I sat down with the displaced craftswomen, I asked them to brainstorm what they’d want the bags to look like or what they’d like to say through these bags. Each illustration done by these women included the word hope. In such difficult times and hardship, this word - or this feeling - is what allowed these women to fight through the tragedy headfirst and keep going until they found a safe space. Or a “safer” space, as there is no place like home.

Why is it important for you to avoid using the word ‘refugee’? And how do you want people who have been displaced to be represented instead?

Only after moving to New York for my bachelor’s degree did I understand the power of marketing and branding. The way Westerners perceived Arabs and the Middle East was just mind-blowing to me. They took everything at face value (as most of us do) without thinking twice and digging deeper into the true narratives of our region. The same way many would assume Islam is associated with terrorism or that our women are oppressed is the same way people would assume refugees had no past. As if their life started and took off the moment they entered a refugee camp. Growing up with an autoimmune disease, I realised that the only way to heal was by getting to the root cause of what led me to adapt to a state of disease. If we label a person’s state of emergency based on their result rather than their root cause, then we will never really be able to prevent these events from occurring again. So, to bring this back to our main subject, by saying “people affected by man-caused displacement”, it re-illustrates the narrative in people’s minds. It makes them think that 1) there was a greater power that forced people to become displaced, and 2) there is a life that is currently being affected by this type of displacement. The way people have become numb to the word refugee saddens me, and I felt that in journalism, when shedding light on their stories, this word did more harm to the people subjected to displacement than good.

In part, your grandmother’s experience of fleeing Palestine inspired this project. When she was uprooted from her land, what did she lose as a 13-year-old girl?

When speaking to my grandmother about her journey leaving Palestine, she constantly repeated that she was going into the unknown. So what she lost was familiarity - the familiarity with people, places, and things that kept her feeling safe and secure. She lost her home. She lost sentimental material items such as her doll, toys, and clothes. She lost the traditions she would celebrate with the community she grew up with. She lost the familiar faces she’d see at school and the friends she made. She lost the connections and roots she had been thriving in since the day she was born. All of these bonds she made, whether it be with people, places, or things, came with love. She lost the feeling of familiarity, safety, and security and gained heartbreak. She lost her sense of home. Many people move from one country to another for work, education, family, etc., but there is a mental preparedness that comes with this type of movement. Being uprooted from your land, losing everything you’ve ever known, and needing to put yourself into a situation where nothing is guaranteed is trauma.

What makes you gravitate towards immersive technology?

I have always been into beautifully designed technology and hardware. Ever since I was younger, I’d marvel at Steve Jobs’ innovative work and refresh my browser waiting for the Apple Keynote Event to start. Going on the internet and customising different laptop specifications from different tech companies like HP and Dell was something I’d do in my free time at 10 years old. Soon after Steve Jobs passed, I felt as though the company I admired most was losing its spice, releasing different-sized screens with similar capabilities, which really left me underwhelmed. When I tried virtual reality for the first time during my time at Parsons School of Design, I felt the magic that I once felt when Steve Jobs released an Apple product. Virtual reality technology is powerful in its ability to really captivate, energise, and feel present in, which was something so refreshing considering the fact that technology was becoming so draining. In my eyes, the word “immersive” is thrown around the tech-space without feeling emotionally full or moved afterwards. Diving deeper into VR’s storytelling potential, I was in love with the endless possibilities of virtual reality development, where physics and gravity don’t exist, and the opportunity to virtually exist in the craziest, abstract spaces was possible. Harnessing the power of “ immersive”, cutting-edge technology in my project was key in attracting attention to the stories of the displaced. As we have become numb to the images and videos we have seen online, I needed to create something that would captivate people in order to make these stories memorable and leave a deep impression on people’s minds.

What was it like going through the process of recreating your grandmother’s memory?

It was hard for both me and her. For my grandmother, it was not as simple as “remembering her childhood bedroom” - even though she remembered it by heart. Emotionally, she had to really dig deep into her past and go back to the trauma to find those memories and put them on paper.

Sometimes I feel like her way of healing might have been to refrain from discussing these memories altogether. In some of our discussions, I could see her eyes get watery, and I could sense the helplessness in her speech - sometimes I feel as though I was naive, oblivious, and selfish to ask her to illustrate her memories for this project, even though my intention was to deliver them back to her. But she helped me, kindly, with grace and effort. We sat down on her dining table as she drew out her furniture in 3D using different coloured pencils on a piece of paper. Trying to really show me the depth, size, and style of each piece of furniture. Bending her neck down to paper, squinting hard through her eyeglasses, to really make sure I could see her Palestine. The challenge on my end was twofold. On one hand, I felt the pressure of learning how to use virtual reality technology, a new artistic medium that was unfamiliar to me. On the other hand, I felt the pressure of recreating my grandmother’s Palestine in an immersive experience, to really take her back to what she had to leave behind digitally. I would 3D model her space, put that space onto my virtual reality headset for testing purposes, cry, and repeat.

When you began working on this project, you asked your grandmother to illustrate her memory of her childhood bedroom. Why her childhood bedroom in particular?

It’s been a dream for all of us to be back in Palestine. A few years ago, my grandmother was going through the process of visiting her sister, who had gotten very ill in Occupied Palestine. When visiting the illegal Israeli embassy in Jordan, they made my 83-year-old Palestinian grandmother wait outside in the rain. The oppressors take any opportunity they can to humiliate the indigenous. After hearing how hard it was for her to gain access to her land physically, I wanted to take her back to the place she had left behind digitally, before the Nakba and the illegal zionist occupiers had shifted her whole life’s trajectory. I wanted to take her back to her safe space, no passport or border control or visa required, no discrimination. I also wanted a space that others could resonate with. The whole purpose was to bring back a sense of normalcy. Normalcy to my grandmother, not that virtual reality time travel to occupied land is normal, but the “normal” life that she left behind. Moreover, illustrates to others the normal life that displaced people had to leave behind. It’s a much easier way to get others to resonate with the struggle of the displaced. To show others that these people are just like them. Usually, people try to hold onto Palestinian heritage through its traditional clothing and food. While this is still the case and is crucial in holding onto our Palestinian identity that the oppressors constantly try to steal, it creates a barrier in trying to make others feel connected to the lives of the displaced. A bedroom is something we can all relate to - a safe space, a home. It makes the virtual reality experience more personal. People can visit the safe space of my 13-year-old grandmother before she fled in 1948. They can visit the Palestine that was stolen from her. They can virtually experience a relatable space that my grandmother has not been able to since the age of 13. Whoever is experiencing this VR piece is kindly welcomed into this simulation, further illustrating to them how cruel and vile the attitude of the occupiers must have been to ruthlessly throw my 13-year-old grandmother out of a quaint childhood bedroom in her home.

You’ve recreated a borderless bedroom where we can see the neighbourhood in which she grew up. What were you trying to convey?

I see a lot of virtual reality developers recreating real-life spaces in virtual reality, attempting to get every detail right. But with VR, you don’t have to do that. You can curate any space into anything you want it to be. I wanted my grandmother to not only be in her bedroom but to feel present in HER Palestine, the streets she grew up in. So having the bedroom placed in her neighbourhood, without any walls, could help her have a stronger sense of presence in her Palestine. She was able to incorporate her “neighbourhood” by taking a Google Maps 360 screenshot of what she remembers her neighbourhood to be. Next, I photoshopped as many new elements out as I could. Replacing store signs in Hebrew with store signs from Palestine in 1948.

Are there any elements in that VR experience that are particularly significant to your grandmother’s memory and the story that you wish to tell?

The end goal was to try and get my grandmother to feel like she was in Palestine again. So, beyond recreating her illustration on paper into the VR space, I decided to add things that were symbolic of her childhood to elevate her experience within the space. The intention of this interference is not to take away the translation from paper to VR being 100% genuine, but to try to add as much of her Palestine as I could. The doll that she left behind was incorporated into the virtual reality space on her virtual bed. I inserted a calendar that dates back to 1948 to define the time during which someone exists within the simulation. The calendar photo displays an image of Asmahan, her favourite singer as a child. Asmahan’s song “layal el once” plays in the background in order to captivate more than just our sense of sight, but our sense of hearing too. The more senses I stimulated, the more I hoped she would feel at home, and the more I tried to engrain this experience into the minds of users.

Why did you decide to place (x)odus products into the space of your grandmother’s bedroom as a way to market it?

After doing my research into branding, marketing, and retail, I began to understand that a sensory, narrative-driven experience could lead to reaching an emotional connection with consumers or audiences that would translate into a financial exchange.

For example, people of all ages watch Disney movies, which is the “story” that audiences consume. After feeling inspired by these stories, audiences develop a connection to them and Disney as a whole. Their connection to these movies drives them to experience the thrilling world of Disneyland, where we take part in existing amongst the characters and stories we’ve developed a connection with. But we don’t ever leave Disneyland without a souvenir. The souvenir is the Mickey or Minnie Mouse Ear headband or any other souvenir you can get from the gift shop.

So now to translate this marketing strategy into (x)odus…

The narrative audiences are observing is the memory of my grandmother’s bedroom in Haifa, Palestine (the Disney movie). The virtual reality experience was my way of engaging people in her narrative and building a relationship with her story (Disney World). Once a bond was established, I gave audiences a way to remain connected to her story (Mickey Mouse Ears souvenir), which was by purchasing the bags that would assist the women who experienced such hardship and displacement as my grandmother once did. It gave people a way to contribute to the story, the story of those affected by man-caused displacement.

How has this whole experience of recreating your grandmother’s memory affected you emotionally, not only as an artist but also as her granddaughter?

This project taught me so many lessons and ignited questions I never thought needed answering. When I pursued a study abroad semester in Paris in 2016, the influx of displaced Syrians on the streets would make me feel helpless, and I would cry at the thought of trying to understand their trauma and their journey. It made me reflect and question my grandmothers’. From that point on, exploring and researching my grandmother’s story made me realise how much my own existence and my own story have a vein that relates to those who are currently experiencing the traumas associated with man-caused displacement. Throughout each and every step of this project, I shed many, many tears. I feel as though I was tapping into a part of my history and heritage that I never acknowledged, I took for granted that my existence just suddenly “happened”. I now know that a part of my DNA comes from a woman who had to face the traumas of man-caused displacement. There was a whole term dedicated towards this, called “intergenerational trauma”. Never having been introduced to this word in my life, I am now trying to understand what this all really means. Why do I always cry when speaking about my grandmother and her story? Why I, as one of her many grandchildren, feel the need to shed light on her story and make space for her voice in a way that our generation will remember.

How did conversations with your grandmother change your existing ideas about Palestine?

It changed the way I think about Palestinians. I was always familiar with the resilience of the Palestinian people. But it made me admire even more the loving and uplifting spirit they project to others. Embracing life with a positive attitude despite the hardship, ethnic cleansing, genocide, racial discrimination, physical terrorism, and mental trauma they face daily.

What was your grandmother’s reaction when you finally showed her?

My grandmother and I sat next to each other on her bed in Amman, Jordan, when I showed her this VR piece. She looked around, pointing in different directions, and said, “Wow!”, “I remember this, but that was not there...”, “my bedside table was a little different from this...” - these were her initial responses. But the last response she said, as she took off the headset, was “this is something like a dream, to be back in Palestine.” This comment broke my heart and lifted my spirits simultaneously. I could cry just writing this down. My efforts to recreate something that was a dream-like experience for my grandmother filled my heart, but her dreams deserve to be her reality.

What do you want other people to be able to experience through your grandmother’s memory?

Some people left this experience smiling, others cried. Each person relates to this experience on a different level. The only thing I would hope for people to experience is making the link between the normalcy they got to grew up in their lives, and contrast it with the normalcy that was taken away from my grandmother. Furthermore, being able to imagine a Palestine pre-occupation and dream of the Palestine that could have been, and the Palestine we could bring back.

Finally, you mentioned your frustration with not being able to recreate the most accurate depiction of your grandmother’s memory. But when you see people’s reactions and hear what this has meant to them, does it give you a sense of comfort in any way?

After completing this VR project in 2018, for the next three years, I showcased this project in New York, Dubai, Abu Dhabi, before it ever got to be experienced by my grandmother herself, for whom this project was intended. These people’s reactions really did comfort me, and their encouragement helped me gain the courage to fight through and has helped me understand more clearly my purpose as an artist, which is connecting communities through technology.