Adam Nasser Benmakhlouf

 


Each month, we offer the spotlight to one of our researchers to exhibit their research projects in more detail. 

 

The Featured Researcher for June 2025 is Adam Nasser Benmakhlouf (they/them). Benmakhlouf is working towards a Collaborative Doctoral Award, fully funded by SGSAH, in Contemporary Art Practice and Theory, and Interdisciplinary Writing. The title of their thesis is: 

 

Attempts To Locate the Body Are Continuing: a practice-based experimental enquiry moving towards a hybrid creative-critical register and syntax capable of being utilised in service of forming writerly responses to artist workshopping activity, recognising this form of output as an integral artistic practice, medium and output of undercommoning within contemporary art institutions.

 

Image of Adam Nasser Benmakhlouf sitting on a concrete kerb separating a front garden from the pavement in Glasgow

Below, Benmakhlouf gives a brief synopsis of their doctorate, presents an excerpt of their writing entitled ‘stretch’, and answers some questions about their research, their experience of working on their PhD, and the lessons they’ve learned as a doctoral candidate.

HEIs: University of Dundee, Duncan of Jordanstone College of Art and Design

Supervisors: Professor Maria Fusco, Dr Johanna Linsley, Director of Dundee Contemporary Arts Beth Bate. 

 

In my practice-based PhD research, I’m producing writerly responses to workshopping, framing this kind of activity as an essential artistic practice, as well as an integral, underappreciated output of art institutions, and in many instances at the core of grassroots organisations and other more provisional and/or anarchically composed contexts. How can adaptation in critical approach, undergirded by writerly experimentation with format, syntax, register allow for the emergence, development, understanding and resourcing of activity otherwise tacked onto a “main programme” of static exhibitions, given pat regard as nice, good, or—often in cynical tones—fundable? The workshop as an artwork is recognised as such only through a careful relocating of my body into the fibre of writing itself. No longer audience, but attendee, participant, coconstituting. 

 

Adam Benmakhlouf in BODYING workshop. Shadowed figures in blue lit dance studio The decision to site myself as a writer within workshopping comes in part from my working life devoted to the expansiveness of this specific learning dynamic, but also crucially in response to Fred Moten and Stefano Harney’s The Undercommons (2013). The undercommons is not given a fixed definition by Moten and Harney, but it can be understood as the space of socially transformative possibility that exists within seemingly predictable or regulated environments, e.g. the workplace. [i] As another example,  they look to the university “deregistered students in a closed-down and beery student bar, where the seminar on burrowing and borrowing takes place.” [ii] More generally, they describe, “a common experiment launched from any kitchen, any back porch, any basement, any hall, any park bench, any improvised party, every night.” [iii] An undercommon philosophy looks to the invisible and shadowy places as the sites of social transformation, rather than looking towards the authoritative and official processes and changemakers; ‘the new way of being together and thinking together’ emerges from the undercommons.  Amongst these, teaching,iv working, [v] and improvisation [vi] are mentioned as suggested contexts. During the interview included in The Undercommons, Moten speaks with (seemingly a little exasperated) about being asked by people how to enter the undercommons. One of the specific answers he gives is “being in a kind of workshop”. [vii] The workshops I consider in my PhD are not scoured for corroborating details to be matched with phrases and propositions of The Undercommons. Still, the animating intention to locate myself within this specific setting extends from a desire to follow up on the poetics of The Undercommons with a kind of pressing sense of specificity to stay in the room, and engage in close first-person observation of the body in an undercommons. 

 

Adam Nasser Benmakhlouf in BODYING workshop. Figures in motion in a pink lit dance studio

Practice first as a principle determines the direction, shape and success of my research. In keeping with this ethic, I present here an excerpt from a longer work titled fix it in pose. In this work, I speak in exact detail about a dance workshop led by the international movement artist, teacher and creative director, Dorine Mugisha. The sessions take place within a diversity of spaces, including contemporary art organisations, formal educational settings, and dance studios. 

 

Footnotes

i) Moten and Harney, The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning & Black Study. New York: Autonomedia/Minor Compositions, 2013. 143.
ii) Ibid, 39.
iii) Ibid, 74.
iv) Ibid, 27.
v) Ibid, 110, 143.
vi) Ibid, 110.
vii) Ibid.

stretch We wait until the last 30 minutes to stretch. Rolling my head, I tense at the twinge of pain where my neck muscles are tightest. The sensation of a narrow finger poking insistently and harshly, a phantom weight presses on one small region of the sinew. I feel the limits of the stretch, how I could go further but there is a measure at play: the difference between striving and straining. My range of motion can go beyond a safe limit if I want or by accident. I can throw my neck out trying not to throw my neck out. Capacity to endure means I treat myself like a machine in ways so familiar they’re as natural-feeling as the weather. This is a source of misery, variously productive, sometimes makes me feel drunk when I use myself up so completely I’m delirious. It’s a source of pride and a family heirloom. I choose how far to turn neck, knowing well what makes it easier for me to damage muscles also can be a careful ability to extend beyond comfortable limits, and if repeated, able to change capabilities. Feel the exact pinch of muscle from jaw to chest, back shoulder, not letting it become a burn. We switch to rolling shoulders high, bend knees as shoulders come down. The breath out on the way down loosens tight holding of myself. I lift up then drop down, the morphine rush of warmth spreads up from my chest, my bent arms and cheeks. Dorine sets the rhythm, shouting “Up! Down!” above the music using her full voice. I feel it like electricity. We’re not checking in with ourselves, this isn’t the dredge of mindfulness’ body scan. Skip that part, I’m unfolding myself from smallness. I hold my arm straight out, moving it all the way round at my side in large circles. I lock the joint firmly, tense my arm, control the revolution. Then I let it hang, hold it looser, feel the small bend as I lift round again, go slower, letting my wrist flop a little. This process of winding my shoulders repetitively, or retracting then straightening them is when I feel my hinges, lengths of bone, ball joints, how and where my weight falls, how I lift and shift then drop. I use an arm to pull the other over my chest and press it into place till the shoulder muscles behind lengthen. The feeling of this mechanical process is luxurious, the full-body glow of a loved one carefully doing my make-up. Hands clasped behind, I raise arms, levers to undo the curled shoulders I take from my mum, curving under the weight of her too many bags, essential tremors, forward lean of exhaustion. She balks at the tasteless habit of optimism, her paranoia bracing her more usefully for survival. Betraying the posture we share, the pinging twinge limit point of the stretch shifts delicately as I’m extending into the space around a little more, gaining extra inches of mobility and reach. I’m getting more supple each time until who knows.

What sparked your interest in this subject?

I worked for a decade as a contemporary art critic at the same time as being a workshop facilitator in the same settings I routinely covered. I realised the political implications of ignoring labours of art workers dedicated to creating comfortable, safe spaces for those made unwelcome in traditional static exhibition contexts. Forming a language and syntax capable of recognising the distinctive achievements and experiences of workshopping is an urgent work of recognising the expertise and wonder of these encounters.

 

What’s the most surprising thing your research has taught you about your subject?

What we don’t have language to name we forget. In the context of workshopping, experiencing a dramatic degree of pleasure, or reaching a new capacity in your body will not last if there is no method to register this in words. Beyond this, in everyday life, what’s not given a status will get destroyed unnoticed. Sarah Ahmed with reference to Judith Butler refers to this as the “unmournable loss”.

 

What’s the most surprising thing your research has taught you about yourself?

I saw myself dancing on camera and was floored by how nice I looked. Always considered myself as gawky and wooden. An ogre batting away flies.

 

If you were your own supervisor what advice would you give yourself?

Conscious, structured, intent thinking doesn’t need to be predictable in its shape or outcome. Be experimental but be rigorous. Conscious thinking can achieve a lot more than almost everyone gives it credit. Resist habits, enjoy the right kind of discomfort and it becomes exhilarating. Set timers, make up exercises. Parameters. Self-reflection, evaluative frameworks I make up. Record conversations, read them back and refine the ideas. Use them as prompts. Continue.

 

Which researcher would you particularly like to spotlight?

 I’m honoured to know Jemma Desai, who describes herself as “a commitment to softness searching for people and places where it is not necessary to be hard. As a writer and artist she seeks ways to hold the labour that strengthens bonds of love.” Please go to her new website jemmadesai.com and learn more about her prolific, deeply intelligent work.

 

[Interview and Feature by Isabella Shields]

SGSAH; SGSAH ResearchCONNECT WITH ADAM (they/them)

Email: Adam Nasser Benmakhlouf

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