GAZA, Nov. 24 (Xinhua) -- In a modest workshop in Gaza, clay mounds lie scattered across the floor as artist Khaled Hussein works intently on a small clay sculpture, soft light streaming through a window and his fingers absorbed in bringing the clay's stories to life.
In the cramped space, lumps of raw clay are being transformed into human faces that mirror the hardships endured by Gaza's residents throughout the two-year conflict. The walls are lined with photographs of the sculptures Hussein has crafted since the war began.
Some faces appear frozen in silent pain, while others evoke grief and the loss of loved ones. Scattered among these images are pieces of metal and plastic salvaged from destroyed homes-objects that Hussein uses as tools or stands, each carrying fragments of shattered lives.
"Each sculpture is more than a shape. When I sculpt, I feel as if I am communicating with every person who lived through this suffering," the 45-year-old father of four told Xinhua while working on a new figure.
Hussein, like many residents of the war-torn Gaza Strip, lost his home in Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip after the Israeli military expanded operations in May 2024.
He was displaced multiple times, losing not only his residence but also hundreds of sculptures he had created over more than a decade. The experience deeply affected him before he eventually resumed his artistic work.
"I lost everything, home, work and my memories," he lamented.
In a bid to capture the depth of Gaza's humanitarian crisis, he decided to portray the psychological and physical exhaustion of its residents by sculpting real individuals who have endured war, hunger, fear, and displacement. For him, these works are not only art pieces but also part of the process of historical documentation.
"Each sculpture represents a real person," he said. "Some survived, others did not. Their stories remain embodied in these statues."
Hussein relies on simple, mostly improvised tools such as spoons, small knives, and his own hands to shape the clay. The scarcity of equipment forced him to return to basic methods.
"Before the war, I had professional tools," he recalled. "Now I use whatever is available. Even a bicycle wheel has become a tool to help support and rotate the clay."
The clay itself is often gathered from the rubble of destroyed homes, which, in Hussein's view, gives each sculpture a special meaning.
Forced to relocate more than five times during the war, Hussein has adopted a process of sculpting, photographing, documenting, and then dismantling each piece. Though painful, he says it has become necessary.
"Taking apart a sculpture feels like losing one of my children," he said. "But I have to, because carrying a heavy clay figure while fleeing is impossible. These sculptures are as fragile as we are. We share the same hardships -- searching for food, water, or a safe place to stay has become a daily struggle."
Despite the challenges, he has participated in international exhibitions in Italy and Türkiye, where he presented photographs of his sculptures.
"My goal," he said, "is to share Gaza's story with the world. I want people everywhere to understand what is happening here, not only through words but through visual art that reflects the human spirit of Palestinians."
Once real peace returns to Gaza, he said, he plans to hold an exhibition in his war-torn homeland. "These sculptures will stand as a visual record, telling a story of tragedy but also of the unbroken will to endure." ■
