Anuar Khalifi: Symbols of the In-Between

Anuar Khalifi, a self-taught artist working between Tangier and Barcelona, paints as if emerging from a dream. His work is currently featured in Finding My Blue Sky, a group exhibition curated by Dr. Omar Kholeif, on view at London’s Lisson Gallery through July 26. Framed as a love letter to London, the show drifts through Kholeif’s dreamscapes—canvases that weave together memory, longing, and place. His pieces read like lines from that letter, shaped by the in-between of Spain and Morocco, threaded with recurring symbols and personal mythologies.

In this interview, hube speaks with Khalifi about the new show, the transcendental texts that ground his practice, and how he keeps the work alive—rooted firmly in the present.

hube: Your work often blends tradition with a contemporary gaze. Growing up between cultures, especially with your Moroccan heritage, how do you define “belonging” as an artist? Is it rooted in a physical place, a cultural memory, or something more fluid and evolving?

Anuar Khalifi: For me, belonging encompasses all those facets, as well as the transcendent—it connects the past with the present and the future. Fixed belonging to a space, especially one that is hostile, can become a trap. That’s why we have historical records of the past and imagination, which propel us forward (into the future). For me, painting encapsulates all of that, acting like a pendulum that constantly swings back and forth. The physical place, as a landscape in flux, is also part of this motion.

h: How do you see the artist’s role today: a witness, a catalyst for change, or a dreamer who transcends reality?

AK: We are all witnesses. The artist attempts to synthesize glimpses of something as overwhelming as nature or the human condition, either revealing hidden truths or veiling distractions in that process. Those who dream while they are awake are undoubtedly catalysts. Change is internal; if that change happens, it transforms your surroundings. In Sufi or Islamic tradition, continuous inner change is encouraged.

h: Your characters seem suspended between centuries—are they memories, metaphors, or something else to you?

AK: They are part of the stage where my search unfolds. Symbols are things we choose collectively, which is why they’re recognized by people who inhabit the same existential space. In my case, memories often bring forth elements I didn’t know resided within me, manifesting in various forms.

The search cannot move only forward; the tools to navigate the future lie in the past and present. But symbols have no meaning in isolation—a single symbol can contain thousands of words in its definition. Then there are things that simply appear beautiful and take on meanings that form a personal cosmology.

h: ⁠What does Finding My Blue Sky mean to you personally? Do you feel that painting allows you to construct your own sacred space—one that resists or transcends borders?

AK: There are no borders or edges in the sky; it is in constant change. My blue sky is between Tangier and Barcelona. The most perfect blue sky is in Tangier, perhaps because of how you feel it in such a dramatic frontier—the Strait of Gibraltar, a border drawn by man and sea. I absolutely believe painting sets me free. I can do what I do under any circumstances, and I have control over the narrative.

h: How do you see your work in conversation with the other artists and narratives in this exhibition?

AK: I believe all artworks are connected and in dialogue, whether in this exhibition or elsewhere. But Omar Kholeif orchestrates this show in a mesmerizing way, with softness and incredible delicacy, like a dream or a love letter. The works don’t just talk to each other; they caress and touch each other, and connections emerge like waking from a dream. The exhibition lingers in the viewer’s memory long after they’ve seen it.

h: ⁠Is color your way of telling stories that words cannot—stories of the self, of culture, or of something unnamed? Could you describe how your choice of color translates experiences or feelings that are difficult to articulate?

AK: I like to think the painting chooses the colors—it helps me free myself from the belief that I have total control. Painting with brushes isn’t precise; there’s an element of magic in what happens. My search is personal, not archaeological; the ideas, traditions and symbols I depict are very much alive. The entire work is an amalgamation of experiences and feelings that stem from something I’m living through, though they may be difficult for me to articulate.

h: Are there particular philosophical or artistic movements (or specific artists) that you find particularly inspiring or influential in relation to your creative practice?

AK: The list of artists would be very long, spanning the entire history of art across all disciplines. Some are in this exhibition, like Lubaina Himid or Sean Scully. Then there’s the impact of discovering Ivan Aguéli, a Swedish writer, Sufi, and anarchist, who ironically died in Barcelona in 1917 under the name, Abdul-Hadi Aqili. Reading his texts was transcendental because sometimes you think you’re on a path no one has walked before.

h: As a free and abstract medium, music often serves as a liberating space for artists. What is your relationship with music?

AK: I believe architecture points towards the past, while music propels you forward into the future. It’s a constant in our lives—it can even educate us, as hip-hop did in my adolescence. Disco, Detroit techno, and house (all Black music genres) shaped my worldview. As for Europe, I think it would be a completely different place without the great classical composers. Their spontaneity enlighten the darkest corners of their existence.

h: What do you hope viewers carry with them after encountering one of your works?

AK: I try to resolve certain questions and themes within myself—painting is a reflective activity, after all. If my works can resonate with the viewer—if they see themselves reflected or, even for a second, feel something unveiled—that’s more than enough for me.

h: ⁠If you had to choose five words that represent the future, what would they be?

AK: The future is in the present—make it new.