What’s the story behind your latest series, ‘Observatory Mansions’?

‘Observatory Mansions’ consists of six large black and white paintings on wood panels, accompanied by a painted 17th-century reliquary candelabra. This series is loosely inspired by Edward Carey’s novel of the same name. I have taken the title and the concept of a deteriorating house to conjure my own haunted tale with unique characters.

Do you create storylines for each character in your paintings, similar to how John Galliano approaches his runway collections at Maison Margiela?

Absolutely. Sometimes the story is clear before the composition, or the composition itself unfolds the narrative. The storyline often emerges organically, evolving as I nurture the initial concept. Like planting a seed, it’s unpredictable how it will grow or what it may become.

How do you think about fashion when constructing your artist persona?

I’m drawn to timeless silhouettes, black and white, with a touch of red—something vampy, campy, yet classical. My style reflects various eras and cultural movements that resonate with me. Capes, suits, and bold accessories—these elements are not just part of my persona but also an integral aspect of the atmosphere I create in my work.

What are your studio essentials?

I don’t need much—just my paints, brushes, surfaces, and a few key essentials. Comfortable painting clothes that vary with the weather, a good speaker for music or audiobooks, proper lighting, coffee, and ventilation are crucial. I can paint almost anywhere, but it’s more about the mental space than the physical one.

Tell us about the body of work you’ve been photographed with.

Many of my recent sculptures reference the archaeological past of the Gulf region. Some of my sculptures seen in the shoot are mixed-media and are often given a final skin layer of reconfigured surfaces of real artifacts via 3D scanning, digitizing, and re-translating the virtual configuration back into analog material. I’ve progressively been exploring the distortion and layers of translation and mistranslation, both materially and conceptually.

Growing up, you were encouraged to create art by your mother who is a practicing artist. What did you learn from her art-making and advice?

I was encouraged to create art at home constantly, which helped me naturally gravitate to being a maker of things. She gave me a pencil to hold as soon as I was able to grip my hand. I still have drawings I made when I was two years old. I’ve learned many technical skills, conceptual ways of thinking and seeing, and crucially also patience and experimentation from my artist mother and architect father.

In 2020, at the height of the pandemic, you joined forces with your brother and fellow artist Moza Almazrouei to set up Nine-01, an artist studio in Galleria Mall in Al Barsha. What were your takeaways from that experience?

Setting up Nine-01 was a wonderful experience to do a takeover of a core and shell space in a mall. It was fun to have people walk in, often confused at what the space was, asking questions (some thinking it was a commercial store) and getting people fascinated (people who likely otherwise would not be art-goers). Importantly though, the space allowed us all to produce quite large-scale work. I produced a two-and-a-half meter-tall sculpture, video, and sound installation, titled Excrescence (commissioned by Daniel H. Rey via Art Jameel for the Assembly Programme in 2020).

How do you think about fashion and style when constructing your artist persona?

I’ve dressed more or less the same since I was quite young funny enough. I am almost always wearing a hat, but also things like carpenter's pants or jeans (practical for the studio) and graphic shirts. Perhaps in a similar approach to my art, I do have a big mix-match of things that I wear, from vintage thrift store items to designer pieces—combining an old NASCAR hat, a horror movie T-shirt, and Yohji Yamamoto cargo pants, for example.

What are your studio essentials?

My studio essentials include music, artwork, books, and my laptop for editing, researching, and digging through historical archives and theory, but also a plethora of objects I collect. I am quite the maximalist in my studio so every inch of the place has something to look at, which can be overstimulating for some people but it inspires me.

Tell us about the body of work you’ve been photographed with.

The subject of the body is an overarching motif in my works, from a physical anatomical structure to a phenomenological experience. Putting different elements of our bodies in front of us is a way of reflecting on one's physicality, mortality, and existence—from spine and rib cage forms to color-focused microscopic cell-like marks on human-scale canvases.

You once said that a goat pen could be a valid space for art. What are some other spaces in the great outdoors that you would consider exhibiting your art in?

I have been recently thinking about the spaces in between trees, specifically on a date farm. The designed agricultural layout of a date farm usually consists of a grid-like system. It is seemingly very visually simple, yet is also strangely a maze-like experience.

How do you think about fashion and style when constructing your artist persona?

It acts more like an extension of my appreciation of well-crafted things, the same way I appreciate good art. I think more about the way it shapes me physically so I focus on the cuts of the pieces I wear.

What are your studio essentials?

My studio essentials include sketchbooks, pastels, music, older works of mine, and a library of books that I collect.