Without Words
Reading time: 2 minutes
(Sept. 20 - Nov. 20)
By: Hani Mikiyas
When people first met Hani Mikiyas at the exhibition, many were surprised. They assumed she had come through the usual routes, art school, residencies, collectives, critics. None of that was true.
Hani is a self-taught artist. For eight years, she worked quietly as an assistant to one of Ethiopia’s most respected artists. Day after day, she showed up to the studio, helped prepare exhibitions, stretched canvases, mixed paint, and learned by watching. She didn’t have a circle of fellow artists her age. She didn’t have a public-facing practice. Her world was that studio, and the discipline it demanded.
Outside of that space, she carried another life. Hani also worked as a social worker, spending long hours with women navigating complex personal realities. She listened more than she spoke. She learned how much people reveal through posture, gesture, and silence. Painting became something she did privately, a way of processing what she absorbed, without expectation that it would ever be shown.
When Studio 11 decided to give Hani her first solo spotlight, it wasn’t just an exhibition. It was an interruption of a pattern. For the first time, her work existed outside the shadow of someone else’s name. For the first time, people encountered her as the artist, not the assistant.
The response surprised even her. Visitors lingered. Conversations formed. Many were struck not by technique alone, but by the honesty of her presence. When Hani spoke about the show, she didn’t talk about career milestones. She talked about relief. About feeling seen. About finally believing that her voice mattered, even without formal credentials.
For Studio 11, Without Words became a reminder of why access matters. Talent doesn’t always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it waits patiently for permission to step forward.
Connections
