Ali Cha’aban: ‘The norm is humanity's biggest enemy’

by Sophie She

Ali Cha’aban: ‘The norm is humanity's biggest enemy’

19 Apr 2024

Ali Cha'aban is the name every MENA resident knows. A great artist, a great mind, a great mentor, and simply, a very interesting and humorous person.

For those, who is unfamiliar with the hero — Ali a Kuwaiti-born, Dubai-based, Lebanese artist and Creative Director of YKONE agency, known for his unique and creative approach to visual storytelling. He often blends elements of tradition, pop culture, humour, and social commentary in his work. His art frequently explores themes related to identity, society, and contemporary culture.

You definitely have seen his majestic carpets around the city, especially on Alserkal Avenue. Also, don’t forget to check out the feature about his exhibition to get a better grasp of his works!

Long story short, here we will try to look into Ali’s self and explore his story chronologically.

— You have such a diverse background. How did you come around to being an artist as a profession and as a way of life?

— I studied medicine for a year and a half, but then the war in Lebanon forced me to return to Kuwait. That is when I decided to switch to anthropology. Growing up as an Arab kid in the late '80s, I definitely had some dad issues to deal with. It was like this ongoing question from my dad: "What are you going to do with your anthropology diploma?" My response was always, "We'll see."

Eventually, I started working in an ad agency. It is actually quite a funny story, one you might not have heard before. While studying anthropology during my last year of university, I began experimenting with mixed media. Surprisingly, I had never taken a graphic design class before. There was this incredible professor, many of whom were Iranian, leading the way in graphic design. They really pushed the boundaries back in the 2000s. There is an event called Portfolio Night where aspiring graphic designers get to "speed date" with ad agencies. You have just two minutes to present your portfolio to different agencies, hoping to land a callback.

The professor had seen my work before because one of my friends showed it to her. And she was like, “Apply for Portfolio Night.” I was like, “I'm not a graphic designer. I don't have a portfolio. I don't know how to do a portfolio.” But I did it. Out of 18 students who were graphic designers, I was the one who received a call from BBDO. It was a huge moment for me, but I knew it wasn't just because of my skills — I had broken the mould. I didn't believe in following the conventional A to Z path; I preferred to take whatever curve came my way. You know, it is a bit like the movie "Pulp Fiction" — the storyline isn't chronological, and that is part of its beauty. That experience shaped my approach to design from then on.

I started at BBDO as a graphic designer, even though I didn't know much about Photoshop. I had to stay at work until 9 PM every day because I was still learning. It took me about a year to get the hang of it, especially in terms of time management. I realised how quickly I could work when it came to design. However, I felt the need to do something more meaningful.

So in 2012, I moved to Egypt, to Port Said, where we were doing some production work. That is when I witnessed the revolution — the second one that was happening. It sparked something in me, particularly in terms of my Arab identity, and it influenced my artistic ideology, making it more contemporary.

The first artwork that really struck me was at Ayyam Gallery for the Young Collectors Auction for Khaled Samawi. Seeing his work was a turning point for me.

— So it was literally just a kick from outer space.

— Of course. It is just that whenever anything becomes normal, normalcy itself becomes a trap. It is humanity's biggest enemy — the norm. When people confine themselves to it, it is just disgusting, and I have come to realise that.

Instagram: @alichaaban

— I can see you label yourself as “Why not? artist”. What does it mean? How do you decode it? Does it intricate anyhow with your creative directiveness as well?

— Do you know Pokémon? Do you know how they evolve? I feel like my personal bio has undergone three transformations in my entire life. My first bio was, "I'm not an artist." I used to cling to that label because it served as a shield for my work. If someone criticised what I did, I could always retreat behind the excuse, "Did I say I'm an artist? I'm not an artist." Even when I was exhibiting at Art Dubai, I would still insist, "I'm not an artist." I literally said I have not fully formed myself into an artist. But then I was like: “Come on, honey. You're just kidding yourself.” I realised that was a cowardly and feeble stance. Own the work you did, own it!

So, after that I became “The artist that sees sound” because I really think I do see sound. That bio stayed for probably one year, and then I became the “why not? artist”.

My first obstacle was getting into a really strong gallery. But a really good gallery can frown upon you if you do anything that is commercial. That is what happened to me in the Hafez Gallery in Saudi. I wanted to do a collab with Nike, and I was frowned upon. What I did was literally participate in galleries, art fairs, and museums, and then I started doing my collaborations. So I told people, "Listen, I can be institutional and commercial at the same time." That is where the "why not?" came across.

I would like to share one thing. I really despise the idea of being a jack of all trades. You know, they say, “A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.” But I believe it is better to excel in one thing. However, that doesn't mean you have to be confined to just one path. You can explore various interests, but make sure you do them well. That is what I mean.

I think I inspired one of my friends very horribly for a while. She is a talented singer, but I noticed that she started showing interest in so many other things — F & B, fashion brands, podcasts — you name it. And I was like, “Wait”. I said, “Hold on, Sarah. Stick to singing. Own it, then explore.” She had all these other ambitions, but I realised I may have misguided her. It is important to focus on one thing at a time. Sometimes, even inspiring others can backfire. It is a lesson I learned the hard way.

Instagram: @alichaaban

— I must ask because I come from a sociological background. I was just wondering how your anthropological major influenced everything.

— It is literally who I am right now. Everything I work on is research-based. When discussing my work, its cultural richness often takes centre stage as I strive to infuse it with profound depth. Take "Habibi", for instance — it followed the "less is more" formula, with a deliberate thought process behind it.

Ash [Brand and Creative Director at SVD Arabia] once shared some valuable insight with me about striking a balance between my personal touch, like a percentage of Ali Cha’aban, and the audience’s tastes. It was a cool perspective that made sense. You can't just keep creating solely for yourself. You have to find that design sense.

So, back to culture and anthropology. Yes, they are essentially who I am. During university, I delved into radio culture and its significance, particularly in places like Kenya where radio was a crucial aspect of oral tradition due to the lack of television. It ties into semiotics, the study of signs. I am obsessed with it. I am drawn to understanding the symbolism behind things, like carpets, which I use in my artwork to reflect my Arabic heritage. While I wouldn't change my major for anything, it has definitely shaped how I perceive things. I often find myself processing information differently, thanks to my anthropological lens.

By the way, it is nice and not nice at the same time. Just recently, I had a kind of mental breakdown during a regular outing with friends. It felt like a glitch in the matrix. I just felt empty. But then, I circle back to anthropology — it helps me make sense of things in a way that others might not understand. I can find meaning in the smallest details much easier.

— So, now about collaborations. What is your favourite aspect about them?

— Oh my god, it is so beautiful. Whenever you collaborate, a part of your soul stays with that person or entity, and part of it stays with you as well. It creates a forever bond, and if it is really nice, it is a profound connection. I hate solo work; I really dislike people who are just one-man shows. There is a Lebanese saying which means "Heaven with no people in it, you will never go to." It is always a communal thing. Ash is always about the communal aspect; he is always involved in PBLK. I have seen Ash always striving to highlight people in the best possible way, and it is so organic.

By the way, we are planning to record our podcast at SVD very soon as well. However, we are having trouble aligning our calendars. He wants to record three episodes, while I prefer just one, but he is aiming to establish a flow. So, yeah, that is the whole point of collaboration.

Collaboration is beautiful; it is really helpful and grounding. It keeps you on track and lets you know if you are going off-topic or being unreasonable. When collaborating with Ash, if I start to become egotistical or entitled, he is quick to bring me back down to earth. For example, when he was giving me feedback on the designs, I told him to be brutally honest. I am not one to shy away from criticism, so I encouraged him to be straightforward. Initially, Ash was hesitant to provide criticism, but I insisted that he should. It is both a pleasure and a challenge; sometimes, it is incredibly rewarding, while other times it feels like I want to escape.

Ash: Can I add? What I really want to highlight is that the collaboration with Ali is quite special because it didn't just begin with a simple partnership. It actually started quite some time ago, back when we first entered the market. We always recognised the value in his work.

Together, we organised a Skate Jam, where we essentially took over the skate park and transformed it into a unique space, including incorporating Ali’s carpet designs. Other than the carpet itself, this event marked a significant milestone for us, as we hosted 5 to 6 international skate athletes from Adidas who interacted with the local community. So, that was the second collaboration. And also Ali is always here in the store — you can see his carpet when you enter.

Instagram: @alichaaban

— So, I am curious about the art landscape of Dubai. As a local artist, how do you perceive the city's art and culture evolving in the future years, and what opportunities or challenges do you think it will face?

— Alright, let me provide a bit of context before we dive back in. As an artist, you aim for certain milestones, and showcasing at Art Dubai is definitely one of them. It is a testament to Dubai's vibrant art scene. However, Dubai has also become adept at distinguishing between art and design, evident through events like Design Days and Art Dubai. Sometimes, the lines between the two can blur, and I have come across pieces that lean more towards design rather than pure art. There is nothing wrong with that; functional art has its place, but it is essential to acknowledge the distinction.

Now, onto the broader issue with the art scene, not just in Dubai but globally. It can be quite competitive and cutthroat. For instance, I recently had a conversation with the curator of Maraya, and she pointed out that I am one of the few artists who curate shows without including my own work. I am currently curating a show called 'The Fifth Wife,' exploring the mythologies of Majlis. The title itself challenges norms since Islam permits only four wives, not a fifth. In a previous show, a curator insisted on including their own work, which I believe undermines the role of a curator.

This is where people like Ash and myself strive to make a difference. We aim to uplift other artists and contribute positively to the art scene. However, there are times when I prefer not to discuss art, especially in casual settings like bars. It is not the right context for those conversations, and I would rather enjoy my drink in peace.

I have noticed a shift towards individuals like Ash and myself becoming tastemakers or influencers within the art community. It is a position of influence that comes with great responsibility. While I am confident in my opinions, I am cautious about expressing them publicly, as they could potentially impact someone's career. Instead, I prefer to offer constructive criticism in a balanced manner, ensuring it is helpful rather than harmful.

Instagram: @alichaaban

— And maybe you can envision any of the challenges for the art scene because the scene is evolving so quickly and becoming so strong.

— So, there is this saying about art — it is not about who discovered something or who supported the discovery; it is about the third person, the one who spreads the message. I come from the school of contemporary and modern art, and while I am disgusted by the notion of naming someone the father of modern art, we acknowledge figures like Paul Cezanne. My nephew paints better than Paul Cezanne, but Cezanne broke norms and paved the way.

Let me share something; you can’t be entitled or think you have discovered something. Around 2015, there was a rising scene where photographers started using film, making it their signature style. But so many ones came up and did it so much better. And you can't hate them for using film.

Similarly, when people ask if a particular artwork is mine because it features carpets, I clarify that I don't own carpets; anyone can use them. Besides, many artists who use carpets are my friends, and we share techniques.

Entitlement often clouds judgment, especially when someone gains a bit of fame. It is like the beautiful story of a hustler achieving success, but the real beauty lies in longevity. Take hip-hop artists, for example. Eminem, for instance. He was in the top-5 of everyone’s list, but now people dislike him. He should have bowed out gracefully when he was at his peak. That is what I respect about some people: they just leave and let the younger generation express themselves.

Now, at 34, I am more established and open to experimentation. Age brings wisdom, and I am embracing different avenues for creative expression.

— If you would describe your oeuvre in three to five words, which would they be?

— It is a challenging question. I am still discovering myself, you know? I think my art is a quest for knowledge, a journey of sorts. Just three words, but it sums it up.

by Sophie She