In this interview, Laila Ajjawi reflects on her life and artistic practice, from her upbringing in the Irbid refugee camp in Jordan to her work as a street artist using murals to empower her community, especially women.
Laila Ajjawi was born in 1990 in the Irbid refugee camp in Jordan. Of Palestinian origin, her grandparents, originally from the village of Jenin Ajja, arrived in Irbid after fleeing Palestine during the Nakba of 1948. Ajjawi is a street artist, painting murals on the camp’s walls (and elsewhere) to empower her community – especially women.
Recently, she also curated the Jordan section of Out of Place – Art and stories from refugee camps in the world, an exhibition featuring 284 paintings by 264 artists – all from refugee camps. The aim is to create a different narrative around refugees and refugee camps. After being shown in Treviso, Padua and Brussels the exhibition will be on view in Milan at Fondazione Rovati from 16 June to 19 July.
Ajjawi’s art practice as a whole focuses on challenging stereotypical views of women, artists, and refugees. It does so in a context like Jordan, where voices of dissent are increasingly being silenced. We spoke about creating art in refugee camps, and about the unique perspective that the condition of migrating – and creating a new life from scratch – offers.
How did it all start?
Art has always been a good companion to my life. I was talented since I was a child and have always loved it, but I also had many other passions. When it came to choosing what to study at university, art – which I wanted pursue – was incredibly expensive, so I went with biophysics, which was more affordable. At the same time though, every time I was in the library I kept reading and learning about art. I felt like I needed to get that kind of knowledge. As I was studying, I also had a part-time job as an art teacher. I also got my first solo show at university, I just kept going, and that’s how it really started.
Was it always murals?
No, I was interested in all kinds of different mediums and explored many of them. Oil painting, watercolours and acrylics, just to give some examples. Each one has a different depth into art as a medium – which actually helped in building my current career as a mural artist or street artist. I had done murals some time before, but on a small scale, far from the big ones I am now known for. The first big one was during a feminist initiative by Women on Walls called From Fear to Freedom. Murals came with the need to express something, and the feeling that paper was not enough to do it. For the first mural I made in the camp, I chose a time when there was no one around so I could focus. It was an image in solidarity with Gazan fighters, because at the time (it was 2014) they were also under attack. When I saw the way people reacted to the work, I realised how much power there is in street art. I saw that I can really influence people and provoke ideas. I love street art because it matches my sense of responsibility as a member of society.
What sense of responsibility informs your work?
Responsibility has always defined me. I was the oldest in my family, and my parents were both working all the time. I was raised in a poor family, most of the people in the camp were poor. We lived a life full of challenges. Yet, my parents were really an example, for the way they fought through it and managed to put all of us through higher education, even though they could hardly afford it. When my mother started working too, I took care of the house and of my younger brother and sisters. And I keep carrying this kind of responsibility on my shoulders. It grew inside me through art too, the need to feel like I am at least doing something, at least saying something, through the art I am so passionate about.
The feminist perspective is really important in your work – can you tell us a bit more about that?
As I was saying earlier it started with Women on Walls. The project was a residency, and most of us were women artists. This is how the program aims to empower women in an industry like street art that is dominated by men (even when the subjects are women): by selecting women artists they made sure that they would be able to share their stories, their journeys, and their perspectives as women. I was given a huge wall, 10 meters high, which was so big that I was not sure I could handle it. But when I went up on the crane to paint, everything changed for me. The work I did was titled “Look at my mind”. I had found it: a stronger way to spread awareness through this medium, through my art.
Women and women’s empowerment are one of my two main focuses. But not women from the world’s perspective, or the media’s perspective: women from my perspective. Which means Muslim, Arab girls – and again not in the way the media wants to portray us. We have been through a lot of stereotypes. But we are completely different from what you see in the eyes of Western media. I wanted to break the way we were portrayed. And I didn’t want to break it for them – for the media – as much as for local girls. To create a model for girls, of someone who was doing something that a girl was not supposed to do. And this way, empower others in their own fields. The women in my paintings are confident, strong. Breaking the pattern of showing women as victims, as so often happens even in campaigns that are supposed to empower them. We got used to this image, which ends up normalising being a victim as a woman. By changing this perspective, this narrative, you create meaningful change, for both girls and boys.
You also curated the Jordan section of Out of Place. How was the experience? And how do projects like this contribute to building a different narrative about refugees?
Again, Western media has been portraying refugees, portraying us, in a way that is not real. They simply do not portray the people we are as people. Out of Place completely changes this perspective, creating a human one. Art allows us to change this narrative because it does not rely on language, and it has no boundaries, it can reach anyone. It is also powerful because it gives people living in refugee camps the chance to speak for themselves from their own perspective, as human beings who deserve to live a better life.
Can you tell us more about this perspective?
Refugee camps are all founded on a tragic story. In the case of Jordan, if you live in a refugee camp it means your ancestors have gone through something very hard. But it also means they lived through it, and this success is passed on. All of this together creates humans who are trying to survive and to rebuild a life wherever they are, which is a very beautiful perspective. I see refugees as seeds that are being spread in this life. If you have that seed of survival within you, you can spread it to the community around you too, wherever you are. You can enlighten yourself and the community, empowering both to create something different, a different life.
LINK
- Laila Ajjawi: “Something a girl was not supposed to do” - June 19, 2026
- The Art Biennale is alive and well - May 22, 2026
- What is real but invisible. Edouard Souhaid on building new realities with abstract art - April 24, 2026
