Unlike traditional painting, 3D works can be both seen and felt through rich textures that reflect Zanzibar’s heritage
Life here has always been shaped by layers of history, and inside a modest workshop tucked between weathered buildings, that legacy is being extended through new interpretations.
It is not built in stone, but in gypsum, wood and imagination.
Inside this space filled with dust, reclaimed timber, acrylic paint, and the faint scent of drying plaster, artist Hamis Musa is reshaping what Zanzibar art looks like, feels like, and ultimately becomes in the global creative economy.
He is not working alone. Around him, young trainees concentrate deeply on shaping plaster, carving textures, and building raised architectural forms that rise from flat surfaces like miniature versions of Stone Town itself.
The workshop is alive with constant motion. Tools scrape against hardened surfaces, brushes tap rhythmically against wooden frames, and conversations rise and fall as ideas are tested, corrected, and refined.
What is emerging is something that sits between sculpture, painting, and cultural documentation.
“I didn’t want to be another painter on canvas,” Hamis says, his hands marked white with gypsum dust.
“I wanted something people could feel,” he adds.
That idea has become the foundation of his entire artistic direction.
What began as frustration in a saturated market of canvas painters and paper model artists gradually evolved into experimentation.
Hamis moved away from familiar materials and began working with gypsum plaster, plywood, acrylic paint and mixed media combinations that allowed him to build depth rather than simply illustrate it.
Over time, this experimentation developed into what he now calls Zanzibar’s 3D picture style, a form that merges sculpture and painting into one physical experience.
The works are immediately recognisable even at a glance.
Raised architectural forms emerge from their surfaces, echoing the narrow streets, carved doors, balconies, and weathered coral stone of Stone Town.
They are not flat representations meant only for viewing but layered interpretations that carry depth, shadow, and texture.
Light falls across them differently depending on the angle, creating shifting perspectives that mimic the experience of walking through Stone Town itself.
For Hamis, Stone Town is not simply inspiration. It is the foundation of everything he creates.
“We don’t have elephants or giraffes here,” he says. “Our wildlife is architecture.”
This statement reframes how heritage is understood in Zanzibar.
Instead of landscapes defined by wildlife and open savannahs, Hamis sees Stone Town as a living cultural ecosystem.
Every carved door becomes a symbol of identity. Every balcony tells a story of trade, migration, and craftsmanship. Every worn wall carries memory.
His work translates this environment into tactile form, allowing architecture to be experienced not only visually but physically.
Each piece begins as raw gypsum, carefully shaped and built up in layers before being carved into architectural reliefs.
Once the structure is formed, acrylic paint and finishing materials are applied to bring out depth, contrast, and detail.
Despite their sculptural appearance, the finished works are surprisingly light.
It allows collectors, tourists, and buyers to transport the pieces easily, turning what is essentially Stone Town’s architectural identity into a mobile cultural artefact.
But beneath the aesthetic appeal lies a deeper artistic philosophy.
Hamis insists that his work must be accessible through touch as well as sight.
The textures are deliberately exaggerated, the surfaces raised, and the patterns structured so that even a person without vision can interpret the form through their hands.
“Even a blind person should understand the story through touch,” he says.
Sustainability is also central to his process. Instead of sourcing new timber, Hamis uses recycled wood from old Stone Town buildings to construct the frames of his works.
This means that parts of his art are quite literally made from the city itself.
Wood that has already carried decades of history becomes part of a new artistic expression, adding another layer of meaning to each piece.
“We are not cutting trees,” he says. “We are reusing history.”
Beyond his personal practice, Hamis Musa has built a structured creative environment that functions as both workshop and training ground.
Eleven young artists currently work under his mentorship, learning not only technique but discipline, consistency, and artistic intention.
Their work is supervised closely by Captain Sevenania, a figure responsible for maintaining quality control and ensuring that the integrity of the 3D style is preserved as it grows.
Inside the workshop, production and mentorship exist side by side.
Some trainees carefully carve architectural details into hardened gypsum.
Others prepare base layers or assist in painting intricate surfaces.
A few observe quietly, repeating processes until they understand not only how something is done but also why it is done that way. It is not a factory of mass production but a controlled environment of artistic development and skill formation.
For many of the young trainees, this workshop represents their first structured entry into the creative economy.
In a region where opportunities in the arts are limited and often informal, the space becomes both classroom and livelihood pathway.
“I didn’t know I could earn from art,” says Yusuf Ahmed, one of the trainees. “Now I see a future.”
Hamis is deliberate about this structure.
He believes that creativity without discipline loses value and that without economic grounding, art becomes unsustainable.
His approach combines craftsmanship, mentorship, and entrepreneurship into one system where art is not only created but also positioned as a viable profession.
“This is not just art training, but a survival training as well” he shares.
The impact of this model is beginning to extend beyond Zanzibar.
As global interest in African design and cultural aesthetics continues to grow, Hamis’s work is attracting attention from boutique hotels, collectors, and interior designers seeking pieces that are both contemporary and deeply rooted in place.
The portability of his 3D artworks makes them particularly suitable for export markets, allowing fragments of Stone Town’s identity to travel internationally.
Yet despite increasing demand, the workshop remains grounded in its original purpose.
The goal is not to replace Zanzibar’s traditional carved doors or historic architecture but to extend their language into a new artistic dimension.
It is an evolution rather than a replacement.
“We are not copying the world,” Hamis says. “We are showing the world who we are.”
As the day winds down in Stone Town, light fades across the ancient coral-stone buildings outside the workshop.
Inside, the work continues quietly. A final layer of gypsum is applied to a piece in progress.
A doorway begins to emerge from the surface. A wall becomes memory, and a street becomes form.
In a world driven by speed, digital replication, and instant consumption, this work moves differently.
It is slow, deliberate, and physical. It demands patience, attention, and touch.
And in that slowness, something larger is being built.
Layer by layer. Surface by surface. Story by story.
