Jenna Bitar is a Lebanese-French multidisciplinary artist, designer, and creative entrepreneur whose intuitive, nature-driven practice explores the emotional language of materials, memory, and place. Raised in the freeform, untamed landscapes of Bali, her work carries the spiritual textures and organic sensibilities of the island, while engaging with broader themes of identity, transience, and inner landscape.

Entirely self-taught, Bitar’s artistic journey began in an unexpected moment of solitude and ritual at her home in Bali — an experiment with texture and mood that led to her first solo show in New York in 2022. Since then, her rise has been swift and intentional, marked by a string of immersive exhibitions and international collaborations. Her work has been shown in New York, Paris, Bali, and Dubai, with each presentation offering a deeply sensorial experience designed to shift viewers into states of presence and introspection.

Beyond the canvas, Bitar’s creative instincts extend into architecture, hospitality, and product design. She co-founded the acclaimed Bali-based café and cultural space Ulekan, and has developed several holistic wellness and lifestyle environments across Southeast Asia. Her recent collaboration with Maison Margiela involved a limited-edition series of sculptural wall pieces commissioned for their Paris flagship — melding her signature organic textures with the brand’s avant-garde ethos.

Chimere Cissé is a curator and the founder of Art Korero, a platform committed to creating culturally immersive and emotionally resonant art experiences. Her curatorial ethos centers on collaboration, storytelling, and moving art beyond the white cube.

— Let’s start at the root—how did this collaboration come about?

Chimere Cissé: Honestly, it started with one of those conversations that just wouldn’t end. Jenna and I had been circling each other creatively for a while, always talking about doing something meaningful. Not just an exhibition, but something with presence. We talked about the way people experience summer in the Gulf — it is either something to escape or endure. We wanted to shift that narrative and offer a kind of refuge. A sensory oasis. And Jenna’s practice felt like the perfect medium for that.

Jenna Bitar: I remember us meeting in Bali and having this really fluid exchange of ideas. No agenda, just energy. Chimere has this incredible way of tuning in to what an artist feels rather than just what they make. When she mentioned the One&Only the Palm as a possible venue, it was almost uncanny. I had visited before and remembered how surreal and green it was, like a mirage in the middle of the city. It made sense. Everything clicked.

Chimere: There is this deeply intuitive, emotional quality to Jenna’s work that I knew needed to be experienced in a setting where the energy of the space could meet it halfway. We didn’t want to hang it in a stark gallery. Botanique was always imagined as an encounter — not just with her art but with a softer version of Dubai. A gentler summer.

— Let’s talk about Botanique. What does the name evoke for you?

Jenna: For me, it is a return to origins. The natural world is where I have always felt the most connected, and the word “botanique” feels old-world, almost poetic. It isn't just about plants — it is about cycles, rebirth, decay, blooming. All of that. The exhibition is very much a reflection of those rhythms. I am constantly observing nature — how it heals, how it breaks, how it regenerates. And I think that is something people crave, even if they don’t know it.

Chimere: The name also holds a tension between the organic and the designed. Botanical gardens are curated, but they are still alive, still wild at the edges. That duality felt perfect for this show. We were planting something, yes, but we also wanted to let it grow on its own. That is how we approached every part of the curation — from the layout to the textures to the ambient sound.

— Dubai isn't typically associated with lush landscapes or botanical metaphors. Was that a challenge or an opportunity?

Jenna: A bit of both. At first, I wondered whether my work would resonate here — whether people would feel it in the same way they do in Bali or New York. But then I started spending time in the city, observing. There is nature here, even if it isn't what we expect. The desert is a huge teacher. It has its own rhythm — vast, still, unapologetic. It forces you to be present. And that aligns so much with my creative practice, which is very meditative, very slow. So in a way, it was actually a perfect mirror.

Chimere: That is something we were both intrigued by. People underestimate how emotional the desert can be. The stillness, the heat, the quiet — it amplifies everything inside you. So placing Jenna’s work in that environment wasn’t a contradiction. It was a dialogue. Her pieces are like soft echoes of nature. They don’t shout. They hum.

—  Jenna, tell me more about your process. It seems almost... accidental?

Jenna: [Laughs] It kind of is. I never trained formally. I never thought, “I want to be an artist.” It happened in this really unexpected way. One morning, after a falling out with someone close, I was in my living room in Bali. I felt heavy. So I pulled out a canvas and started painting, no real intention. Just moving through something. I was sipping chai, there was burnt toast on the table — and when I finished the piece, it looked exactly like that moment. The colors, the mood, even the shape of the burnt toast. It was so weird.

I hung it on the wall. My mom came over and said, “Why don’t you do another one for your café?” I used to run a big café in Bali. I did one, then another. People kept asking, “Who’s the artist?” And I kept saying, “I don’t know yet!” [Laughs] Then I went to New York for a trip and someone commissioned a piece. The next day, I got offered a solo show. Everything just... spiraled.

— That was only a year and a half ago?

Jenna: Yup. Feels longer. The journey has been fast but very intuitive. I have always trusted my gut in life, and that is how I work in the studio, too. I don’t sketch, I don’t plan. I walk in, play some music or sit in silence, and see what comes. Sometimes it is a storm, sometimes it is soft. But it always comes from that same place of being fully present.

— Do you feel the label of “artist” now?

Jenna: I do, finally. For a while, it felt strange — like I hadn’t earned it. But then I realized the label isn’t about external validation. It is about how you see yourself. I have always been creating — cafés, spaces, objects — but now the canvas is my medium. And I am letting myself take up space with it.

— Let’s go back to your roots. How did your childhood in Bali shape your relationship with nature and creativity?

Jenna: It shaped everything. My parents were quite radical, in the best way. They moved to Bali without ever visiting Asia. My dad is Lebanese, my mom is French. They met in Central Africa. They wanted their kids to grow up free — outside of structure, outside of expectations. We ran barefoot, swam in rivers, climbed trees, got bitten by monkeys. It was wild and beautiful.

We were never told to be careful or to sit still. There was this unspoken trust between us and the world. That kind of upbringing leaves a deep imprint. It gives you this sense that the Earth is not something to control but to be in relationship with. And I think that relationship is what I try to paint now.

— Do you think you will ever leave Bali?

Jenna: I have tried. [Laughs] I did a residency in Mallorca recently. Gorgeous island, amazing people. But I didn’t make a single thing. I walked, I ate, I slept — but no art. It was too peaceful in a way. Bali, for me, has this electric pulse. Even when it is quiet, there is something in the air. I think I will always come back. It is my center.

— Do you ever imagine living in Dubai?

Jenna: I don’t think so. I enjoy visiting. And there is definitely creative energy here — especially now, with all the independent initiatives coming up. But for me personally, it is a bit... repetitive. The pace, the expectations. I need more unpredictability. I need to look out my window and see a frog or a banana tree. That keeps me grounded.

— What do you hope people feel when they walk through Botanique?

Jenna: I hope they slow down. I hope they breathe a little deeper. There is so much noise in the world, and I think people are hungry for softness. If they walk into that space and feel a sense of quiet, a moment of peace — even if it is just five minutes — then that is enough. That is the gift.

Chimere: We talk a lot about presence. That is really what Botanique offers. An invitation to be here, now. No distractions. Just texture, light, sound, feeling. If we can shift even one person’s experience of summer — from something to survive to something to savor — then we have done what we came to do.

— Do you see this as the start of an ongoing collaboration?

Chimere: Definitely. I think we have only just begun to scratch the surface of what is possible when art, space, and emotion meet with intention. Jenna’s work has this incredible universality, but it also feels intimate. I would love to keep exploring ways to bring that into new environments, new communities.

Jenna: I agree. Working with Chimere felt natural from day one. It wasn’t just about putting up some paintings. It was about crafting an experience. We shared a vision, and I think that is rare. I am excited to see where it takes us next.