Extraordinary people are, ordinary people by Hassnaa
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Hossnaa Mohamed’s illustrations are not unlike look books from those trendy nationwide chains flinging promises of faux indie cred with their shitty threads.
Were this just another hit-and-run denunciation, it would perpetuate the same sort of hollow vapidity it means to critique.
There’s something altogether more heartfelt here, however: the so-cool-it-bleeds haute couture façade of sleek, clean lines remain but are instead imbued with self-conscious anxiety—the cool is beset by the awkwardness.
It’s staggeringly familiar: wanting to be wanted, one reach for some vaunted ideal of cool touted; while what precisely what makes one cool is the same thing insisting one isn’t.
Pointing out problems is one thing. Pursing the inversion of the present order is another. Neither effort accomplishes much of anything. To truly subvert requires the fundamental alteration of the conversation.
Ms. Mohamed’s work is not only subversive as fuck—it’s sexy as hell.
