Drive-by shooting

Hip-hop and the Arab World have been circling around each other for much of the last decade. Moroccan rappers in Paris, blinged-up Palestinian MCs in Southern California or posturing Gulfi kids in blacked-out SUVs with a CD changer full of Pharell and Timbaland demonstrate that as either entertainment or expression, the break-beat has found a distinctly Middle Eastern flavour. So, it’s perhaps less anachronistic that a young Syrian photographer and designer is becoming the go-to guy for New York’s hip-hop artists when they want their image defined, captured and most importantly distributed.

 

With an eye for grandeur, a stylised, cinematic style and an uncanny knack of stripping away the cartoonish excesses of the gun-toting gangster that has characterised high-street, mass-market hip-hop since the early 1990s, Ridwan Adhami – or Ridz – has already developed an enviable portfolio of the most essential rappers and producers on the East Coast. It is the culmination of both a musical obsession that started the moment he crossed the Long Island Expressway to start high school and a professional growth which has also swept up film production and graphic design. 

 

At just 27, his visual compositions are creating a much-needed and highly sought after upgrade of the NYC hip-hop scene. His websites, personal and the now ubiquitous MySpace page, generate mammoth interest – as much for his subjects as himself.

 

Ridwan Adhami: I am doing what always seem to do in daylight hours; sorting out and editing photos. There’s a lot of work at the moment, which is great.

 

RA: Hip-hop was definitely something that I knew about already, I knew the industry, I knew the scene and the people in it. A lot of, how shall we say, educated people aren’t interested in it and stay away; either they donn’t understand it or actively dislike it. I tend to work by approaching the artists I admire. But to be honest, I get pretty much most of my work through word of mouth, through recommendations, or whoever sees my work on the internet. Hip-hop is actually quite a small world.

 

RA: I like working for independent artists in New York, not the big labels – there’s much less bureaucracy, less attitude. The artists I really like now are Immortal Technique, Poison Pen, Tone Def , Dead Prez, those kind of guys. When I tell people I have shot Immortal Technique, they are like “Now way, you’ve met him?” But hip-hop in New York is so relaxed that I could walk up to him in the street and say “hi”, it’s really no big deal.

 

RA: Well, I was born and raised in Queens, New York City. I was Rego Park, near Flushing. It was a mixed area, and I can’t say I grew up poor or in a rough neighbourhood, but I went to school across the Long Island Expressway I was practically the only light-skinned guy there. Hip-hop was always around. But mmys sister listened to metal, stuff like the Scorpions. That just never did it for me. I wasn’t getting it. 

 

RA: I can’t say there was one moment, like in a movie, where I the light was suddenly revealed to me, but I do remember I got the first Wu Tang Clan album and understood that this was what music is about for me.  

 

RA: Well, don’t judge it on the mainstream. The mainstream is always going to do what it’s going to do. It’s a business. Five or so years ago it was P Diddy and all the bling thing. And now it’s this Deep South sound, which isn’t at all complex, that’s what we’re being spoon-fed now. For me, hip-hop has always been about the underground, and that’s where I think the essential stuff is going on.

 

RA: It’s great. I love it. Hip-hop has always been about youthful rebellion, and the new Arab generation have really a found a voice in it. Look at France; the Moroccans are rapping in French. I’m fascinated by the culture. I’m fascinated by it. There’s an Iraqi-American called Timz who has this incredible song about Iraq, Bush, the war, it’s amazing. 

 

RA: No, not at all. I didn’t know too many Arabs growing up. The only Arab-Americans I knew were desperate to be white, while I grew up with Latinos and Blacks, so I always felt disconnected from Arab-Americans. But the youth today are proud to be Arab, and they realise that they have far more in common with the minorities than the whites. I think September 11th was a wake-up call. Arabs understood that whites don’t regard Arabs as white, in fact they don’t like us at all. 

 

RA: Very. My father worked for the UN and he was given these extended leaves every two years, so from the age of 5 I went to Damascus for the entire summer – from May to September. I love it there, really. I have so much family there, with family photos have 77 people in them. I feel at home there, even if I have better jeans and sneakers. It has an amazing presence and is very special. It’s great to have two home towns.

 

For the full version of the article, see NOX12.