Hazem Al-ZubiSculptor · Amman
Hazem Al-Zubi’s latest basalt and gilded bronze sculpture, isolated against a dark material field.

How much can something hold
before something leaves?

Stone. Weight. Balance. And what finds a way.

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A bronze tree sculpture with birds lifting from its crown.

02 · The story

It happens again.

A bronze tree. One bird approaches the edge of the frame. The work stays still; the view lets it leave.

03 · The story

Again. And again.

A sculpted figure bearing a ring and birds.
AGAIN · IIThe bearer
A wall sculpture formed from chairs.
AGAIN · IIIThe falling chairs
Figures emerging from a sculpted head.
AGAIN · IVThe head opens
A winged sculptural group.
AGAIN · VThe winged figure

04 · Recognition

In every one of them, the birds are leaving.

The tree lets them go. They come through the falling chairs. They rise off the head, off the boulder, off the wall.

Forty-three years of something heavy holding, and something light getting away from it.

Hazem Al-Zubi at work in his studio, Amman.
Hazem Al-Zubi at work in his studio, Amman.

05 · Sculptor · Amman

Hazem Al-Zubi

حازم الزعبي

Sculptor · Amman

Enter the story

06 · The record existed

Nothing was missing. But nothing had been brought together.

For more than forty years, the record had been accumulating. For more than forty years, his work had been finding a place in other people’s lives. It was time to give that history a place of its own.

1994UNESCO Prize for Art and Creativity
2permanent halls in one city
3museum collections
2025hall opened under the patronage of Dia al-Azzawi

07 · Excavation

The history existed.

What it lacked was a place where it could finally be seen as a whole. Every invitation, caption, date and photograph becomes a layer. One verified record reveals another underneath.

A permanent hallDocumented opening
University of JordanTeaching begins
UNESCO PrizeVerified record
BaghdadThe date that remains

08 · Baghdad, 1977–1982

He left a building site in Irbid and went to Baghdad to study cinema. He came back a sculptor.

The academy was a family, not a school. Nobody stopped him leaving the theatre hall for the sculpture workshop; they told him to keep going. He was still there when the war began. Five years, two teachers: Saad Shaker in clay, Ismail Fattah in sculpture. He says the second is still in the work.

“I went to Baghdad to study cinematography and turned into a sculptor. A strange accident — but it is the one that changed my life.”

Hazem Al-Zubi · voice note, 2026

Nobody has to claim the lineage. It is simply there.

LEACHCHARALAMBOUSSAAD SHAKERISMAIL FATTAHAL-ZUBI

09 · The line continues

Twenty-four years of telling twenty-year-olds to stop fighting the clay.

Since 2003 · University of Jordan

LEACHCHARALAMBOUSSAAD SHAKER · ISMAIL FATTAHAL-ZUBI

The line doesn’t end here.

An old steel wristwatch lying on basalt.
Atmosphere still · not the artist’s watch

09b · Time

The same watch since Baghdad.

A steel chronograph, bought in the academy years, on his wrist from 1977 to this morning. He says the watch, time and the work are one thing.

“The watch, time and art — the three are bound to each other.”

Hazem Al-Zubi · voice note, 2026

أبجدية الزمن · Alphabet of Time · bronze

10 · The ground

Thirty minutes from his studio, men digging a road found faces.

AIN GHAZAL

11 · Why Ain Ghazal matters

Before Petra.
Before the Nabataeans.
Before the pyramids of Giza.

At Ain Ghazal, on the outskirts of Amman, people made some of the earliest known large-scale human statues: plaster shaped over bundles of reeds, eyes defined with bitumen, and bodies approaching human scale.

Why were they made? Their precise purpose remains unresolved. Ritual and social readings exist, but none closes the question.

Nearly nine thousand years later, the question is still alive.

Official archaeological contextSmithsonianLouvre Abu Dhabi

Hazem Al-Zubi · the answer

He did not inherit a ready-made form.
He inherited a question.

As Hazem was beginning his career in the early 1980s, the faces of Ain Ghazal were returning to light near Amman. He sees them as evidence of the beginnings of human settlement and of imagination moving toward embodiment and invention. For more than four decades, he has answered their presence in clay, limestone, basalt and bronze.

Not copying. Answering.

Enter the full Ain Ghazal chapter
A pair of limestone figures by Hazem Al-Zubi.
Not copying. Answering.
A limestone head by Hazem Al-Zubi.
Hazem Al-Zubi · limestone
A full limestone figure by Hazem Al-Zubi.
Hazem Al-Zubi · limestone

12 · His clay / his words

His clay. His words.

“I love the clay I make with my own hands — the clay of my own environment.”
Interview, 2012
“From the clay of water and earth I open a window onto life, and onto the birds of absence.”
Amman, 2016

13 · Materials / colour rupture

Clay, stone, bronze — and the wall.

Clayالطين

Worked by hand, from ground he digs himself.

Stoneالحجر

Limestone and basalt, cut away until a face is left.

Bronzeالبرونز

Poured. The one material that outlasts everybody.

A green ceramic work by Hazem Al-Zubi.

13 · Materials / colour rupture

And then there is this.

14 · Reveal

سكون متحرك

MOVING STILLNESS

The site moves around the still work. The chairs never fall.

A circular composition of chairs by Hazem Al-Zubi.
A wall sculpture formed from chairs.

15 · The impossible moment

Weight above it. Weight below it. And the cube in the air.

A bronze tree sculpture with birds lifting from its crown.
01 / 06The tree lets go
Figures emerging from a sculpted head.
02 / 06The head opens
A lattice sculpture with an opening.
03 / 06One void continues
A wall sculpture formed from chairs.
04 / 06The wall breaks
A winged sculptural group.
05 / 06Something rises
The latest basalt and bronze work photographed outside the studio.
06 / 06The work appears
A circular brass work with birds turning toward a dark centre.

16 · The turn

The turn

In every one of them, the birds are leaving.

Here they are going in.

Hundreds of brass strips laid down like rays, darkening as they run out to the rim. And the birds turning inward, tightening, until they disappear into a hole at the middle of it. He has never done this anywhere else.

17 · Quiet release

17 · Quiet release

He goes to Jaffa.He goes to Akka.He sits by the water.He does not talk about it much.

18 · The hall · 5 January 2025

Six in the evening. Sunday.

برعاية الفنان ضياء العزاوي

Under the patronage of the artist Dia al-Azzawi. It is the second permanent hall dedicated to Al-Zubi in one city.

In place

19 · The work

Four rooms. He has been filling them for forty-three years.

Flagship works appear at emotional scale before the catalogue becomes efficient. Every published record remains tied to material, dimensions, year and source status.

20 · The record

The catalogue is still being assembled.

Every record is checked against an invitation, a museum accession or his own caption before it goes up. What is here is the beginning of it. Missing facts remain “Not yet confirmed” rather than becoming guesses.

21 · In his words

In his words

Interview, 2012
“I love the clay I make with my own hands — the clay of my own environment.”
Emarat Al Youm · 13 May 2014
“The ego is a human invention.”
Emarat Al Youm · 13 May 2014
“The artist is not outside the frame — he completes it. He is the mirror of what surrounds him.”
Emarat Al Youm · 13 May 2014
“Skill does not make an artist. A man’s philosophy and his belief make him.”

22 · The five rules

Asked what he lives by, he answers with five lines.

  1. Gratitude in ease
  2. Patience in hardship
  3. Acceptance of bitter fate
  4. Honesty when facing others
  5. And never gloating over enemies

Life is beautiful.

23 · The false beginning

Four years before his first exhibition, he had already made something. And kept it.

Stoneware. Sixty by forty by forty centimetres. The earliest dated work anywhere in the record.

The exact 1979 work remains unpublished here until the studio identifies the correct image and its source. No substitute has been invented.

Hazem Al-Zubi’s latest basalt and gilded bronze sculpture, isolated against a dark material field.

“Everything that happens to me is fate, and I love that fate.
I love my life in all its details.”

Hazem Al-Zubi · 2026

Some things leave.
The work remains.

25 · Enquiries

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The artist · Hazem Al-ZubiFor the work itself
The studio · Yazeed Al-ZubiAvailability, viewings and shipping
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