For every artist, finding the balance between creativity and commerce is a constant negotiation. After a long period of client work, photographer Mous Lamrabat took time off to give himself the space to create freely again, spending three weeks shooting with friends in the vast dunes of Agafay, Morocco. Here, he presents the resulting body of work, which explores the kaleidoscope of ideas occupying his mind. Gem Fletcher speaks to Lamrabat about the importance of staying niche, his use of creativity as therapy and why he leads with love in everything he does.
Mous Lamrabat thinks it’s dangerous to stay away from creative work for too long. “If you only work commercially, at some point, your thought pattern becomes a reflex rather than something open and authentic,” he says, when I ask him about returning to personal work after a long period of client projects. Creative autonomy is at the forefront of Lamrabat’s mind right now. Having spent the last decade establishing himself as a visionary leader at the intersection of art and fashion, he felt that now was the time to embark on personal work again, and to embrace the creative freedom that comes with that.
In his new work, currently untitled, Lamrabat spent three weeks shooting in Morocco, working with friends in the vast dunes of Agafay. The result is an eclectic series blending everything from his support for Gaza to his comments on Western consumerism. Through the lens of beauty, spontaneity and humor, desert magic teases out the fantastical, uniting his obsessions with iconography, materiality and movement in every frame.
We see silver grills stating “I Love You” in Arabic and the Chicago Bulls logo emblazoned on a pristine white dress made from lace curtains. These juxtapositions—a dramatic hybrid of cultural eclecticism and irreverence—are where Lamrabat’s individuality is born.
Making poetry out of collisions is the DNA of Lamrabat’s visual universe: tradition and modernity, global and local, religion and consumerism. In merging elements and codes from seemingly unrelated worlds, he defies categorization. While some of the mechanisms are deceptively simple, these fragments of experiences open up contradictory and complex messages with one mission—unity in diversity.
In many ways, this return to creativity was akin to stepping into the unknown; in the lead up to the trip, Lamrabat felt some uncertainty. “What would those images look like?” he says. “I knew what those images would look like five years ago. But today, I didn’t really know what the result would be. Where am I actually at now creatively?” The experience brought him to some philosophical reflections about his work and his purpose as an artist.
While compromise is inevitable in the creative industry, negotiating the nuances of supply and demand while remaining true to yourself can be challenging. Lamrabat explains: “Commerciality is part of every aspect of the industry, but it can mess with your mind sometimes. Jobs come in and then sometimes drift away, creating insecurity. If a piece sells well at your gallery, you are expected to continue to make similar work. When my fashion editorials get a great response, I always question if I should do more of them. These things impact you and your work.”
It may come as a surprise to hear the highly-acclaimed photographer and director share the intricacies of his struggle, but he feels strongly about acknowledging the messy reality of sustaining a creative career. After all, Lamrabat’s work is highly personal: a direct reflection of his diasporic perspective and the way he experiences and metabolizes the world.
Lamrabat, who was born in Morocco and raised in Belgium, intentionally keeps himself uncomfortable as a survival strategy to keep his work coming from a pure place. He credits this enforced friction with keeping him sharp and hungry for every project that comes his way. “I always tell young artists, ‘Don’t get famous until after 40,’” he says laughing, but means it. “When you start out, your creativity comes from a pure place. It’s so natural. It’s your job to protect it for as long as possible.”
Navigating from love and pushing an agenda of love is what I’m standing for. Love connects; it’s the solution for everything.
If the past is any indicator, Lamrabat’s insistence on listening to his intuition and taking risks is a blueprint for his artistic survival. “A couple of weeks ago, I saw a post from Outlander magazine that read: ‘Creatives, stay niche as long as you possibly can,’” Lamrabat tells me. “I felt like it was a sign. I’m going to keep this work even if people don’t get it now. I want to try to stay different as long as possible.
“I don’t believe you can be true to yourself in the creative process if you don’t listen to the good and bad things that occupy you. Being creative is a therapy. A way to detox everything in your mind. The world might be in chaos, but I don’t believe we are meant to be separated from each other. I think we are meant to learn from each other. I genuinely believe everybody wants the world to be in a better place. For me, navigating from love and pushing an agenda of love is what I’m standing for. Love connects; it’s the solution for everything.”