01
2 WALLS
Never Lose Hope· 140 × 172 cm
Chaos· 172 × 105 cm
Between Chaos and Hope
A large-scale visual dialogue between chaos and hope.A room for curiosity, reflection, and quiet strength.
@RAMMAH
Rammah Alnabwani
Rammah Alnabwani is a Syrian visual artist born in Sweida. He studied Fine Arts in Damascus before moving to Paris, where he continued his studies in Visual Arts (Arts Plastiques). Working across painting, acrylic, and wood, his practice draws on personal memory, places, faces, and everyday details. Through familiar elements and unexpected compositions, his work moves between reality and imagination, leaving room for viewers to form their own interpretations.
GALLERIES(4)
02
3 WALLS
Insomnia· 100 × 100 cm
What Lies Behind· 100 × 100 cm
Fading Traces· 100 × 100 cm
Elephant in the room
About the things left unsaid that fill the room, and the quiet fear that sits beside us. Three works in progress tracing the fine line between what we try to forget and what we fear to face—where memory turns to fog, anxiety builds walls, and the past watches from behind.
03
4 WALLS
Fear of loss· 65 × 81 cm
Fear Eater· 60 × 60 cm
Nosophobia· 65 × 81 cm
Fearful· 20 × 20 cm
Fear of Loss
In these paintings, I strip away everything ornate and false. What truly consumes me is that moment when a human being stands completely naked before their fears, losses, and isolation. I do not attempt to beautify courage or pain; instead, I let the brush express raw human vulnerability and terror. I leave the viewer with the freedom to penetrate these faces and masses, to measure the distance between themselves and this internal anxiety.
04
11 WALLS
The Living Room· 25 × 65 cm
The Guesthouse· 25 × 65 cm
A Village Wedding· 70 × 30 cm
My Father Sitting Outside· 14 × 30 cm
Mother at the Shrine· 14 × 30 cm
My First Bicycle· 70 × 68 cm
Grandmother· 30 × 14 cm
Uncle Ibrahim’s shop· 20 × 35 cm
The Red Tractor· 14 × 30 cm
The village bus· 14 × 30 cm
The North Quarte· 14 × 30 cm
Traces of Material and the Memory of Wood
These works do not rely on embellishment or beautifying the story instead, they speak directly to the senses through their raw honesty. Small wooden panels act as a sensory reservoir for memory, where the natural grain of the material merges with the first features of the place—the home, the local shop, the village bus, and the absent-present faces. They are not merely paintings, but visual sketches and condensed scenes that mark the first chapter of a broader artistic investigation into what remains of the trace when details fade.