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Desert Strike is a reflection on your experiences during the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait and the Gulf War in 1990/1991…’

Yes, but it is even more about this disgusting video game with the same title that came out in 1992, which I hated but, at the same time, couldn’t stop playing because it was so evil. It was the first of its kind that was marketed for kids as a war game and specifically a contemporary war game – just one year after the liberation of Kuwait – as a way of profiting from the war. And it obviously served as a propaganda tool, too. The game itself had no soundtrack – there was only the sound of the helicopters and bombs – and this is what made it feel more like a training tool for the military than a video game for kids. My EP was an attempt to replace that silence in the game, but also to snuff out a game where war and invasion, death and destruction, were used as very cynical tools. It was in that sense the first really fucked up game I was exposed to.

— Fatima Al Qadiri in our new issue mono.kultur #43


In the spirit of Buffalo Zine, let’s hijack a quote by magCulture that describes it perfectly: ‘Thank god for Buffalo Zine, a magazine hanging around at the back of the classroom, chewing gum and planning another night on the laughing gas.’ A fashion magazine of sorts that, refresehingly, doesn’t take itself all too seriously, which of course makes it hipper than thou. Content, well, you know, but it’s the design that makes for all the fun, hijacking a different visual vocabulary for each issue. No. 4 was hilarious styling itself on cheap throwaway shopping guides, whereas the current issue is thriving on the DIY looks of local classifieds and anything else blown around on the streets of Hackney.

(PS. The home button on their website made us laugh.)


‘When I was 16, I started going to the clubs in London and did all the other things that I’m not supposed to say on record. It’s funny, when you think of the transformation of cities in one decade… Like the area behind Tottenham Court Road Station in 1997 had some incredible drug houses in it. There were entire townhouses where they would sell different drugs in the stairwells, with whited-out windows and these little drawers. You’d walk up and then someone would say, ‘What do you want?’ On this floor, you’d get this and on the other floor that. And there were rooms with just mattresses on the floor, where people would chill out. Soho felt so much seedier than it does now and I’m sure that these houses are now mega luxury apartments. The same with New York – some parts of the Lower East Side in 2002 were still considered a little hairy at night… and now there are fucking dog salons, you know?’

— Fatima Al Qadiri in our new issue mono.kultur #43



Dear Friends,

last week’s launch of our new issue mono.kultur #43, featuring Kuwaiti producer and artist Fatima Al Qadiri, was so nice that we have to do it all again, this time in London. We will bring her series Bored 1997 to the walls of impossibly hip gallery space KK Outlet on Hoxton Square for two weeks, opening on Wednesday, May 03, at 19h.

Bored dates from 1997, when Fatima Al Qadiri, age 16, photographed her younger sister Monira, 14, in their father’s ‘hunting room’ performing various male personas in his clothes. What could be seen as simple kids’ role play, also marks a point in time to trace back to one of the central thematic concerns of Fatima Al Qadiri: ‘Gender performativity has been a link between my past and future, and throughout my career. It’s not an arbitrary element, it’s integral to my art and even music practice.’ The series is published for the first time in print with mono.kultur #43, featuring an extensive interview with Fatima Al Qadiri.

As ever, we look forward to seeing you there.

Join the event on Facebook


mono.klub #51
Bored 1997

Launch of
mono.kultur #43
Fatima Al Qadiri:
Embedded Narratives

Oening: 03. May 2017 / 19h
Exhibition: 04 –15 May 2017
KK Outlet
42 Hoxton Square
London N1 6PB


Dear Friends,

the world has taken a darker turn since we last spoke, so we feel it’s a fitting time for our new issue mono.kultur #43 with Kuwaiti producer and visual artist Fatima Al Qadiri.

Bending and fusing different genres of music, Al Qadiri has released a handful of largely instrumental albums that often imply narratives wrapped in a dystopian atmosphere, evoking an uncanny imagery of our increasingly oversaturated and disorienting information age. It is a simple yet complicated sound that owes as much to electronic music and video game soundtracks as it does to Russian composers and Arab musical traditions.

It is music that draws not only from an eclectic range of contrasting influences, but from a layered personal background: Born in Senegal, Fatima Al Qadiri grew up in Kuwait, but was exposed to electronic music and club culture during frequent stays in London and studies in the USA. It is in New York where she soon established her own place within the art and music scenes, as comfortable producing music in her own name as she is conceiving art installations as a member of the artist collective GCC or providing sound to the fashion shows of labels such as Telfar and Hood by Air.

But regardless of the genre or medium, almost all of Al Qadiri’s work is defined by the thematic undercurrents that run throughout her records, installations, and collaborations, dealing with cultural stereotypes, notions of place and displacement, regional and global politics, and concepts of national but also gender and sexual identity. Hers is a sound very much of the here and now, channeling not only a multi-layered past, but a complicated present, processing a flux of input and information. Sound as a filtered reality, a kind of digital compression of personal obsessions and contemporary concerns.

With mono.kultur, Fatima Al Qadiri talked about the narratives within her music, the rhythm of history, and the soundtrack to burning oil fields.

Visually, the issue traces an arc from Fatima Al Qadiri’s youth to her current work. The main imagery comes from her series Bored 1997, for which, at 16, she took photographs of her younger sister Monira dressing up in their father’s clothes. The series is published here for the first time in print, interspersed with stills from a current video work on gender reversal and Kuwaiti rituals, inserted as static stickers.

Available as ever through our online store mono.konsum, or at the trusted book dealer of your choice very soon indeed.

Enjoy and all our best,


mono.kultur #43
“I want to be heard and not seen.”
Spring 2017 / English / 15 x 20 cm / 40 Pages / 4 Static Stickers

Interview by Daniel Berndt
Works by Fatima Al Qadiri
Design by Fuchs Borst



And for those who could not make it last Thursday, here is what you missed… All images are from Fatima Al Qadiri’s series Bored 1997, which she took in, erm, 1997, of her sister Monira Al Qadiri dressing up in their father’s clothes. 20 years later, the series was exhibited for the first time at Between Bridges to celebrate the launch of mono.kultur #43.

Londoners, in the meantime, will have a chance to celebrate with us next week.


Now that our heads have cleared, what remains are hazy memories of a really nice evening: thank you Fatima, thank you Between Bridges, thank you everyone who made their way out west last week for our 50th installment of mono.klub. It was nice. We’ll do it again. Next week, in fact.


Art Book Fair

Casa Encendida
Ronda de Valencia, 2
28012 Madrid

START: Today, 5pm


Launched this Thursday, released online next week: mono.kultur #43, featuring Kuwaiti producer and artist Fatima Al Qadiri.