NOMAD Abu Dhabi is already underway, and this event has been one of the most anticipated ever. It is the first edition of NOMAD in the region, and it is taking place in the decommissioned Zayed International Airport.

The fair brings together an outstanding lineup of designers, architects, and artists from across the region. Among the projects on view is In Transit: A Nomadic Library, a collaboration between Mira Hawa Projects, Dongola Limited Editions, and Studio Etienne Bastormagi. The installation is exactly what its title suggests — a travelling, shape-shifting library filled with books created specifically for NOMAD by Dongola Limited Editions. Designed to move, expand, contract, and subtly obstruct, it intervenes in the rhythm of the airport, stopping people who would otherwise be rushing from one point to another.

But what is the underlying idea? Why this form, this movement, this sense of interruption? We spoke with the creators to unravel the concept.

— In Transit: A Nomadic Library brings together three partners: Mira Hawa Projects, Dongola Limited Editions, and Studio Etienne Bastormagi. How did the three of you actually come together on this project?

Mira: It happened very organically and naturally! I had a conversation with Nicolas Bellavance-Lecompte, the founder of NOMAD, and he told me he was planning the first edition at the old Abu Dhabi Airport. Immediately, I started thinking about mobility, about the journeys we undertake, and about those quiet spaces in airports where you want to sit, pause, and reflect.

I am really a paper girl. I always buy a book, newspapers, or a magazine like AD. I dive into them and read every piece. So I said to him, “Have you ever considered creating a dialogue with collectable books — limited-edition art and architecture publications?” Then, I explained that I work with a fantastic architect, Etienne, who creates unexpected warmth in materials like steel. I also know a publishing house that specialises in limited-edition books, and I felt there was a natural connection. Nicolas said he found this interesting and different, and liked the idea.

Etienne and I then brainstormed what this could look like physically. The idea of a mobile library came up instinctively, and everything evolved from there. We explored how to bring all three partners together, and it developed beautifully in a way that made complete sense. We were able to create something meaningful that still speaks to art, culture, and design, and gives architecture a different kind of voice.

There is also a scenographic element. We put a great deal of thought into how the scenography should work so that it engages with the airport without looking like an airport. Our location is in the departure lounge. When you arrive, you encounter us, and when you leave the airport, you leave with us.

Sarah, the founder of Dongola Limited Editions, was on board from takeoff — quite literally — and what she said really resonated: airports are transient spaces but also places of shared stories. Terminal 1 is not just a point of departure; it is also a point of arrival. We played with that idea to crystallise what this would look like — a constant flow of beginnings and endings, just like the experience of being in an airport.

Etienne: This whole project began as a collaborative effort. Mira came up with the idea of pairing a publishing house with a studio and an architecture practice, and then exploring how publishing could become a spatial experience, and how architecture could, in a way, become publishing. Because that is what they both do — they publish architecture, they publish art.

So the question became: how do we turn that into a spatial experience? That is where the collaboration between the three partners really made sense. It created space for a genuine conversation between all three, which eventually brought the nomadic library to life — something inspired by the publishing work of this house, rooted in art and architecture.

Through the nomadic library, we translated narratives into a physical experience.

— Etienne, could you walk me through what we can expect to see from an architectural standpoint?

Etienne: In Transit: A Nomadic Library is a four-piece installation made out of eight modular pieces. Each of the large pieces can be dismantled into two or three smaller components. The idea is that you can combine them and rearrange them in countless ways.

Each of the big pieces represents a different typology of library. The vertical one is about the physical relationship you have with books. The lower section works as accessible storage, while the upper section treats the books as objects — you can’t reach them, so you admire them from a distance: their graphics, their shape, their size. It is an aesthetic relationship.

The horizontal piece invites a more dynamic interaction. You pause, you read, you engage with the books that sit directly in front of you.

The diagonal one blends seating with display. Some of the steps are meant for sitting, while the higher steps hold a fragmented book that we opened and reinterpreted, which is why part of it is a wireframe — you can actually see its internal structure.

— The installation is constructed using different types of aluminium. Why aluminium?

Etienne: There are four types of aluminium used in the installation. There are brushed aluminium, perforated sheets, and reflective, mirror-like surfaces. And then, on a smaller scale, there are the cast elements — the book holders — in red and silver.

NOMAD’s first edition is happening in Abu Dhabi Airport, and aluminium felt like a very aviation-related material. Aeroplanes are made of aluminium, luggage is often made of aluminium, so much of the airport industry relies on it. It is lightweight, durable, weather-resistant, and easy to work with. I like using it because it is flexible but also incredibly practical.

And beyond that, Abu Dhabi is one of the biggest centres of aluminium production globally. It is a material that is abundant in this part of the world. Aluminium is usually produced in regions with major oil industries and refineries because it requires a huge amount of energy to manufacture, so it made perfect sense contextually.

It is also a very prominent material in the Gulf’s architectural landscape. We can see the towers, the glass buildings — there is aluminium everywhere.

Mira: And I’d like to add that the upcoming construction of the Guggenheim in Abu Dhabi will also involve aluminium. We discovered that the craftspeople and workers who helped us produce the mobile library are the same working on certain parts of the Guggenheim!

— When I first saw the images, I immediately saw the library and the books — that part is obvious. But then I realised it also feels almost like a piece of luggage, right?

Etienne: Yes! It is essentially an oversized piece of luggage that moves around the airport. And then, if you imagine its afterlife — once it leaves the airport and ends up in an institution, an office building, or a foundation — it still carries this airport DNA with it. The object itself feels like a large-scale luggage of books. It moves through the space and always reminds you of aviation, of the industry, of the airport where the project first took place.

— And you drew inspiration from Jorge Luis Borges’ The Library of Babel, right?

Etienne: Yes. Early on, when we were just starting to think about the design, one of our team members, Sarah, was doing research on what could inspire the project. She started looking into Adolphe Appia, the Swiss scenographer from the early 1900s, who was really groundbreaking in how he used stepped forms in his stage designs. His work revolved around these layered, stepped environments, and that became a key reference for us.

While we were researching his work, I immediately connected it to visuals from Jorge Luis Borges’s book, filled with these hexagonal, stepped library forms. They always felt like fragmented, almost unreachable realities — something slightly elusive, but very inspiring.

Those two references together really shaped how the library evolved. That is why it took on these stepped forms in its design and typologies. Whether you look at the diagonal piece or the vertical one, you can see that step-like logic is embedded in the structure.

— How do you think people will actually interact with the installation? What is your vision?

Etienne: The idea is really to invite people to pause. That is the core intention of this library — to create a moment of stillness, where visitors can connect with the work of a publisher who has been producing art and architecture books, and collectable editions, for quite a long time. It becomes a way for a voice from this region to interact with architects and artists from the same region, and to put those stories out into the world.

In that sense, architecture becomes a vessel for storytelling. If you look at the landscape today, architects are building less and less; they are engaging more with installations, interventions, objects, and meaningful essays. So this installation is very much part of that shift. This is our contribution, and we are here to hold space for that pause.

— And how would you define the goal of the installation?

Mira: The goal is for the libraries to eventually find a home — ideally in a cultural institution, or to be housed with someone who is truly passionate about books and understands the value of what the library holds.

The idea isn’t about “acquisition” in a technical sense. It is about the library travelling somewhere meaningful, where it can continue its stories, and where it will be appreciated for what it represents. At the same time, it is about sparking a conversation around the physicality of books in a digital age — about books as architecture, as cultural vessels, and about the dialogue that naturally emerges between books and built space.

And we hope the conversation continues — somewhere books are valued not just as entertainment or collectables, but as something people engage with deeply. Whether that is in someone’s private space or within a cultural institution, the hope is that people can really interact with the library and the books it carries.

Etienne: For me, the goal of this library is to spark conversations.

Sarah has been making books forever. Mira has been developing strategies and partnerships forever. I have been practising architecture forever. And every now and then, these fragments come together, and when they do, a new conversation begins — and something magical happens.

That is really the purpose of projects like this: to initiate conversations rooted in our region, our locality, our context. To speak about what is happening here, who is doing what, and to put those stories out into the world.

This may be a small project, but I am sure others are also working collaboratively to share different stories — stories that show how architecture, design, and art increasingly blur together, becoming vessels of culture. They help us understand our own narrative, our own place, our own context.

That is the main goal: to uncover these insights and understand what the region itself has to say.

— I have a question about your personal perception of a library. When I imagine a library, I always think of wood and something old. I picture my grandmother’s library where books were gathered in a chaotic, very personal way. Which library is the most special to each of you?

Mira: If we go back to the core — the intimacy we have with the physicality of books — it really comes down to the libraries we have at home. It is about the books we are about to read, the ones we have already read, and the ones we return to again and again. Those are the ones that hold a special place in our hearts.

It is those personal books we treasure. The ones that carry stories with us, the ones we have moved from place to place. And that feels especially relevant here, since we are talking about migrating with books in an airport setting. It is about stories in transit, stories that are about to unfold.

And yes, of course, there is also the kind of library you mentioned — the wooden shelves in our grandparents’ homes. My grandparents had that too, with the squeaky floorboards. I would go through the encyclopedias and look things up before Google existed. So for me, it is very much those personal, intimate libraries that stay with you.

Ethienne: Okay, mine is completely different. I go back to my architectural education and my fascination with Rem Koolhaas’ Seattle Public Library — or his Doha library in Education City. At the core of his work is this idea of bringing public space into the library and turning it into a true civic institution, rather than an old, forgotten building. That combination has always been incredibly inspiring to me.

I am part of a generation that studied Koolhaas’ work very closely, and it had a real impact on us. We were shaped by what he produced architecturally. That is where my connection to libraries comes from, and why so much of my work has a public dimension. I try to make things more accessible, more civic, even when the projects are industrial or deeply architectural.

So yes, I understand the link to the wooden, nostalgic library. But for me, it is really about mass accessibility — about creating spaces that feel open and shared.

— And maybe you can think of a book that brings back a special memory for you?

Ethienne: I keep coming back to Design as an Attitude by Alice Rawsthorn. I read it a couple of years ago, but it really stayed with me. It captures the idea that design is a lifestyle, not just a product you create. It is about how you live, how you behave, and how that translates into the things you make. If someone is more sustainable in their daily life, for example, the products they design inevitably reflect that. I find that connection between lifestyle and design very powerful, and I return to that book often.

And I don’t want to mention Koolhaas too many times, but S, M, L, XL has also been instrumental in shaping my thinking. So that is definitely another book I would refer to.

Mira: The book I’d love to mention is Nasser Rabbat’s Critical Encounters. It is part of Dongola’s DAS (Dongola Architural Series). Rabbat, a professor of Islamic architecture at MIT, talks about history, memory, the erasure of memory, and the disappearance of historical sites. That is the essence of the book. The DAS series is about conversations with architects.

— How do you see the future of this installation?

Mira: This installation was created specifically for NOMAD. And the future we imagine for it is a life of travel. Ideally, it will move to future NOMAD editions, and also travel into different kinds of spaces — a foundation, a private collector’s home, the intimacy of someone’s personal environment, or a cultural institution. It can take on many different lives.

But what matters even more is the message it carries: the importance of the physicality of books in a world where almost everything has shifted to screens. There is a unique intimacy in holding a book, in the journey that happens between you and the book. That relationship is incredibly important.

It is also about seeing books as more than entertainment or objects that sit on a shelf — seeing them as treasured, collectable items. You mentioned your grandmother earlier; for me, too, I have inherited books from my grandparents and my parents. I keep them because they carry sentimental value. And that emotional connection is something we want this installation to honour.

Etienne: I’d add something to that, especially about the idea of travel. I think the nomadic nature of this library has the potential to spark cultural conversations and reveal a different side of this region through books on art and architecture — books that highlight regional artists and architects, without falling into clichés or repeating the narrative of “voices from the global South.”

Instead, it is about showing this work in new contexts where these voices can take on their own tone, and where the culture that has shaped this region can be seen, understood, and appreciated differently. It is an opportunity to show what these artists and architects have been doing, and how they have contributed to a broader cultural landscape.

And perhaps this nomadic library will inspire future versions — different iterations that can travel in new ways and continue carrying these stories to other places.

Mira: I think in the context of Abu Dhabi, we are looking at a vibrant, dynamic, fast-moving landscape with so much more on the way. So it was important for us to contextualise the project within that cultural dynamic evolution, and to highlight how essential it is to have books that speak not only to the past, but to the present and the future. That is something Dongola does exceptionally well.