Sharjah-based Syrian artist Antoine Deeb welcomes us into his studio at a moment of quiet recalibration. His work has long been rooted in figuration and emotional immediacy, yet lately, his questions feel deeper — more existential than technical.
In this conversation, we move through process, doubt, patience, and the slow shaping of artistic identity. What does it mean for a work to truly belong to you? And who is the artist one is still becoming?
Antoine reflects:
What Am I Thinking About These Days?
Lately, I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions about my process - where it stands and how I see it evolving.
It begins with something very simple: what makes this artwork mine?
Is it the technique I’ve developed naturally over the years? The gestures and decisions that have become instinctive? Or is it something less visible - the pure, heartfelt need to express?
And if I continue without the familiar shapes or structures that people recognize in my work, will it still feel like me?
I’m taking my time with these questions. I’m examining every detail. I don’t want to rush into the unknown without understanding what I’m leaving behind.
Recently, I felt that I drifted away from everything I was used to - even from my studio itself. That physical and mental shift has deeply impacted the work I’ve made over the past few years. It has forced me to reconsider not just how I work, but why.
Which leads me to another question: who is the artist I wanted to be?
There are many questions to answer - and many paintings still to paint.
You shape clay into a pot, but what you truly value is the emptiness inside. The space it holds. Art works in the same way. It’s not only the visible form that matters, but what it contains - what it allows to exist within it.
What inspires me:
Music - above all. Music and everyday people.
When my feelings feel distant or my thoughts unclear, I return to my playlist or pick up my guitar. Sound helps me understand myself. It clarifies emotion in a way words cannot.
Seeing artwork that moves me also reignites something. Watching my friends create powerful work reminds me why I began in the first place. It makes me want to return to the studio and paint.
What doesn’t inspire me:
The constant stream of bad news. The noise from the “little pocket TV.” Traffic. Spaces that feel disconnected from sincerity.
It’s easy to become distracted - by negativity, by superficiality, by external chaos. I try to protect my focus. A clear mind is essential. Without it, the work suffers.