image
ArtPhotographyTravelInterview

by Alexandra Mansilla

A Way To the Summit. ‘Everyman’s Mountain’, an Exhibition By Omar Al Gurg

3 Jun 2025

Omar Al Gurg is an Emirati artist and designer, and the founder of the incredible Modu Method — a studio that creates home pieces not only comfortable but also ones you can admire for hours.
But that is not what we are here to talk about today.
Before all that, Omar began his journey as an artist through photography. He sought to capture the unconventional in everything around him. And in 2021, what started as a joke with a friend turned into a six-day climb of Mount Kilimanjaro.
During the climb, Omar took over 1,000 photographs — documenting nearly every step, because, frankly, there was so much worth capturing.
Those images became the foundation of his first solo exhibition, "Everyman’s Mountain", which opened on May 31 at Lawrie Shabibi and runs until September 12.
But what exactly will you see in the exhibition? How many photographs, out of more than a thousand taken during the journey, did Omar choose to show — and why those? Let’s find out.
— Hi Omar! First off, how did your collaboration with Lawrie Shabibi come about? What led you to exhibit your work in this particular space?
— Lawrie Shabibi is an incredible gallery — one of the most respected in the UAE. I am honestly so thankful to be hosted by them. They not only represent amazing artists, but also take part in international exhibitions and shows. It is a serious gallery with a great reputation.
So, I had been working on a coffee table book about Kilimanjaro, a quite substantial project, around 256 pages. I was showing the book to a friend, just casually, and they suggested I show it to Asmaa Al-Shabibi, the co-founder and director of Lawrie Shabibi. So I did — and she said, “Let’s do an exhibition with these photographs.” And that was that. It all came together naturally and quickly, and honestly, when things align like that, it often feels like a sign.
image

Installation view. Omar Al Gurg — 'Everyman's Mountain'. Photo: Ismail Noor of Seeing Things

— Good story! Okay, now, the title. Why did you name the exhibition "Everyman’s Mountain"?
— “Everyman’s Mountain” is actually a nickname people use for Kilimanjaro, since it is a mountain that almost anyone can hike. From young kids to older adults. That is why I thought it was the perfect name for the exhibition. The mountain isn’t just a physical challenge — it is a symbol. Mountains have always stood for growth, struggle, and achievement, and Kilimanjaro captures all of that. So the name works on both levels: literally and metaphorically. It really is everyone’s mountain.
— How many photos will we see there?
— I took well over a thousand photos, but the exhibition features around 24 carefully selected prints.
We went through quite an intense curation process to narrow it all down — every image chosen holds real meaning.
One recurring element you will notice throughout the works is the presence of the porters. They appear in many of the photos because I wanted to highlight their role — they were truly the heartbeat of the journey. Without them, we wouldn’t have made it up the mountain. They carried our gear, filtered water, set up tents, and cooked meals — honestly, they made the entire experience possible.
At times, they even physically helped some of us continue, literally carrying people when necessary. Just to give you a sense of scale: there were actually more porters than hikers. Each climber had an entire support team — someone to fetch and filter water, someone to cook, someone to carry supplies, pitch tents, clean up — even carry portable toilets.
In addition to the prints, there is also a slide projector featuring 100 images. That part tells the full story — a chronological journey through Kilimanjaro. I documented the mountain’s five distinct ecological zones, and the slides reveal how the landscape shifts as you ascend higher and higher.
image

'Everyman's Mountain' / Forest – 002, 2021. Photo: courtesy of Omar Al Gurg and Lawrie Shabibi

— Why did you choose these particular 24 photos? What makes them special to you?
— I wanted to capture the atmosphere, the drama, and the feeling of actually being there. So I chose the strongest ones — the photos that, at least for me, evoke real emotion. Whether it is exhaustion, joy, bliss, or even panic, each one carries something with it.
I didn’t include any filler shots, even if some of them were visually beautiful. For me, if a photo didn’t tell a story or spark a feeling, it didn’t make the cut. These 24 do.
— Do you remember a specific moment when you felt panic?
— Yes — this was after the Heathland zone. There is a camp along the way with a small lake. At night, it freezes because temperatures drop below zero, but by day it melts again, since it can get up to 20°C. It is this intense contrast — really warm during the day and freezing cold at night.
At that point, we were already at about 4,000 meters above sea level, and that is when things started to shift. We all began feeling a bit off, cranky, tired, and lightly sick. That is when we had to start acclimatising. So we would hike up maybe 200 meters, stay there for half an hour or an hour, then come back down. It was tough.
That was the moment it really hit us: this wasn’t just a nice hike anymore. The first two days were kind of lighthearted, but by day three, we were like: “Wait, what are we doing to ourselves?”
image

'Everyman's Mountain' / Forest – 001, 2021. Photo: courtesy of Omar Al Gurg and Lawrie Shabibi

— On Lawrie Shabibi’s website, I noticed that the exhibition was announced with a single image — the one showing green trees. What is that photo about? What was happening in that moment, and how did you feel when you took it?
— I was so happy. This moment happened toward the very end of the hike. When you are up on the mountain, there is barely any oxygen. You are breathing about 50% less oxygen than at sea level — it is like only one of your lungs is working. But as you start descending, everything changes. Suddenly, there is more oxygen, your body feels more alive, there is a rush of adrenaline, and you realise: wow, I just did that.
This was our final day. We had come down from the summit, slept at a lower camp, and the next morning we hiked through the forest to finish the trek. That is when I saw these enormous tree trunks — it felt like walking through an ancient forest. Everything around me looked like a scene from a movie. I literally thought, Am I in Jumanji?
It was surreal. The trees were massive, towering over us, and the way they framed the landscape was like a painting. Even the photo I took doesn't fully capture how magical it felt. I was just overwhelmed. I remember thinking, “This is insane.” I completely fell in love with the forest, the plants, the atmosphere, everything. It was one of those moments where you are fully present, and all you can do is take it in.
— Is there another photo that holds a particularly strong story or memory for you?
— There is this one photo — it is of a blooming flower. There is a whole story behind it.
At some point, 20 kilometres of land on the mountain burned down. Someone had been harvesting honey and used too much smoke to calm the bees. That triggered a fire that spread through the forest and destroyed everything in its path. I remember a friend of mine had hiked the mountain a year or two before me and showed me photos of that exact area — lush, green, full of life. But when we got there, it was completely grey. Burnt. It felt lifeless, dramatic, and melancholic.
But then something caught my eye — little signs of life pushing through the ash. Tiny flowers, little bursts of red and yellow, slowly emerging through the charred remains. It was resilience, plain and simple. Nature just… coming back.
There was one plant in particular that really stayed with me. These massive plants — they usually only grow near streams, and they are known for their big, fluffy leaves that insulate them from the cold. But after the fire, the insulation was gone. The plant had been damaged, stripped of its natural protection. And what did it do? It bloomed.
Bright yellow flowers were shooting out of the top. That is what plants do when they are dying — they bloom to spread their seeds, to make sure life continues even if they don’t. It was like the plant saying, “If I’m going down, I’m still going to give something back.”
That image — of life insisting on itself in the middle of so much destruction — really hit me. Every time I look at that photo, I am reminded that nothing truly ends. Even when something or someone is gone, they leave something behind. There is always something that keeps going.
image

'Everyman's Mountain' / Lower Slopes – 001, 2021. Photo: courtesy of Omar Al Gurg and Lawrie Shabibi

— And one last question: when you think about Kilimanjaro now, what feelings does it awaken in you?
— Whenever I think about Kilimanjaro, I honestly don’t know exactly how to feel, because it is not just one emotion. It is this huge, tangled mix of feelings. I feel happy, humbled, accomplished… and honestly, just exhausted. Even remembering it is tiring. But also — deeply appreciative.
The journey to the top brings out so much. At first, you are in awe — the scenery is breathtaking, and you are just soaking it all in. Everything feels magical. But then, at some point, it shifts. You stop thinking, “This is beautiful,” and start thinking, “Okay… this is a mission now.”
There is no more distraction — it is just you and the mountain. And while I really don’t like the word “conquer,” there is that internal drive to reach the top. Not to dominate it, but to complete something.
For me, the goal was never just to reach the summit. It was to document the experience — to turn it into something meaningful and educational, especially for those who might climb after me. I wanted to live it fully, not just check a box.
The last few days were brutal. You are tired, irritable, and running on fumes. And then you get to the top, and all those emotions crash in. Joy, exhaustion, smallness, pride — it is overwhelming. I just started crying. I couldn’t stop.
And that wasn’t even the peak. I still had another hour and a half to hike to the actual summit. There are three peaks on Kilimanjaro, and the very top was still ahead of me. I remember walking that last stretch, literally crying with every step. It was one of the hardest and most beautiful things I have ever done.