People often ask me where creativity comes from.
Is it inspiration? Is it imagination? Is it talent?
For me, creativity begins with memory.
I believe that every artist carries within them a collection of memories that quietly shape the way they see the world. Even when we are not aware of it, the places we have lived, the people we have loved and the experiences we have had continue to appear in our work in unexpected ways.
When I paint, I rarely try to reproduce a memory exactly as it happened.
Instead, memories become emotions, colours, symbols and stories.
A flower may remind me of the fields that surrounded my childhood home. A butterfly may bring back the wonder I felt as a little girl, imagining magical worlds hidden among the petals. A golden detail may recall the light inside the Coptic Orthodox Church or the warm glow of the Egyptian sun. A cat may carry memories of the streets where I grew up while also echoing the ancient Egyptian symbolism that has fascinated me throughout my life.
None of these elements are included by chance.
Each one has travelled with me for years before finding its place in a painting.
I think this is one of the most beautiful things about creativity. It transforms ordinary moments into something timeless. Experiences that once seemed small—a walk through a garden, crossing the Nile, watching butterflies, admiring an ancient temple or looking at a gilded icon—can later become the beginning of an entirely new artwork.
Memory is not simply about remembering the past.
It is about giving the past a new life.
As artists, we do not paint our memories exactly as they were. We filter them through our emotions, our imagination and our personal experiences. Over time, memories become less about facts and more about feelings.
Perhaps that is why art can move us so deeply.
When an artist paints from memory, they are not only sharing what they saw. They are sharing what they felt.
That emotional connection is something that viewers often recognise, even if they do not know the story behind the painting.
For me, creating art is also a way of preserving memories.
Some places change.
Some traditions disappear.
Childhood slowly becomes more distant.
But through painting, I can keep those moments alive. Every brushstroke becomes a way of holding on to something that time cannot take away.
This is why my work often returns to the same themes: flowers, butterflies, gold, cats, ancient Egyptian symbols and feminine figures. They are not repeated because I have run out of ideas. They return because they are part of my visual memory, and every time I paint them, they tell a slightly different story.
Creativity is often imagined as something mysterious that appears without warning.
I see it differently.
I believe creativity grows quietly over many years, nourished by everything we experience, everything we observe and everything we remember.
In the end, our memories do not belong only to the past.
They continue to create alongside us.
And perhaps that is the greatest gift memory can offer an artist: the ability to transform a lifetime of experiences into something that others can see, feel and remember as their own.