‘I Am Inviting the Public To Trespass’: Priyanka Mehra On ‘No Trespassing’

by Alexandra Mansilla

‘I Am Inviting the Public To Trespass’: Priyanka Mehra On ‘No Trespassing’

24 Jun 2025

Rami Farook. Traces in the artist’s studio, created in 2023–24. Photo: courtesy of the artist

On July 4, Ishara Art Foundation opens its very first summer exhibition (it runs right up until the last day of summer, August 31). The show, "No Trespassing", is curated by Priyanka Mehra. What is it all about? In short, it channels the aesthetics of the street straight into the white cube space.

The exhibition brings together six UAE-based and South Asian artists: Fatspatrol (Fathima Mohiuddin), H11235 (Kiran Maharjan), Khaled Esguerra, Rami Farook, Salma Dib, and Sara Alahbabi. Each of them explores their own relationship with the street, treating it as both subject and medium.

Picture the street — its noise, chaos, crowds, cars, all that unpredictable energy. Now imagine the quiet perfection of a white gallery space. And now, try to combine the two. Sounds impossible? This show makes it happen.

Come see for yourself. And before you go, check out our interview with the curator to learn what it is all about — and what not to miss when you visit.

Priyanka Mehra. Photo: Raheed Allaf/Seeing Things

— Priyanka, before we dive into the exhibition, I would love to hear a bit about your background. You have worked in design and taken on so many different roles, from public art to other creative fields. Can you tell me more about your journey?

— Sure! It has been a very interesting journey. I studied interior design, but then I wasn’t sure what to do next, so I explored different roles. For example, I spent a couple of years assisting a fashion photographer, then moved into Bollywood production, and later transitioned to TV commercials and photoshoots.

After that, something shifted, and I discovered public art and urban art. I began working with street artists from India and abroad and managed a renowned site-specific artist, Daku. We worked on creating art districts, urban regeneration programs, and urban art festivals. For the first two years, I was amazed by everything happening around me, but I was mainly focused on the work itself and didn’t fully grasp all the artistic and logistical aspects.

Later, I realised that this was exactly what I wanted to do. From there, I explored more roles in public art, relocated to Dubai, and worked on several projects here and in KSA. Eventually, I decided to pause — I just wanted a space for deeper thinking, and I was fortunate to join the Ishara Art Foundation.

— How would you describe the public art scene in India?

— It is vibrant and full of energy! At the same time, it is still quite new and rapidly developing. Many things happen on the go — you learn as you work, and even established organisations and the government are still figuring out how to support public art programs and why they are important.

If I had to sum it up in one word, I would say it is “crazy,” but in a good way. That is the nature of public art everywhere. Public art comes with its own set of challenges, but in India, it is different. There is more bureaucracy, but interestingly, it can actually be easier to navigate and there is a lot of improvisation on the ground.

— Now, "No Trespassing." As someone who works with words and letters, I’m really interested in the name. What was your creative process behind choosing it? Can you walk me through how you landed on this title?

— It took me a while to come up with the title. The very first ideas I had were rather ordinary — titles like “The Street is a Mirror,” which didn’t really resonate with me. I wasn’t sure about them, especially considering the overall theme of the exhibition, which focuses on aesthetics from the street.

I started to think: what are these streets, and what coded languages exist around them? My initial idea was to work with a few street artists, but I didn’t want the show to become only about street art. There is so much more to the street than just street art.

So I began to consider the keywords we use when we talk about streets and street art, and what kinds of mediums come from that context. There is honesty, there is unruliness, and there is often a lot of social commentary involved. Gradually, this led me to the word “trespassers.” But then I wondered: why am I directing this idea of trespassing only at the artists in the show? Why not extend it to the public?

That is where the concept came together. The whole exhibition is a play on contradictions, starting right from the title. I realised it made sense to put it out there — to invite the public to trespass.

Khaled Esguerra. Prototype of Heritage Legacy Authentic (2025). Photo: Khaled Esguerra

— So, you decided to take works that are often large-scale and meant for the streets and bring them into a white cube space. The first question: why did you make that choice?

And secondly, it seems clear that artworks can behave very differently in different settings. What changes do you think happen to the artworks — or even the artists themselves — when you move these pieces from the street into an exhibition space?

— That is a very interesting question! I have been reflecting on it quite a bit, and I appreciate the chance to dive deeper into the topic. You mentioned “big works” — this focus on monumentality and scale is something we often associate with public art. But if you look closely, a lot of what you find on the streets is actually small in scale, or even exists as negative space — voids we barely notice.

So the key question is: what are the mediums of artwork we associate with the street, and do we pay attention to them? The street itself is complex and layered: it can be romanticised, melancholic, crowded, or isolated. My approach is to work with the materiality and aesthetic qualities of the street — wires, textures, and the visual language that emerges. That is why the exhibition isn’t limited to only street artists; I’m also including artists with a conceptual approach.

For instance, Sara Alahbabi and Salma Dib both draw from personal experiences: Salma’s inspiration comes from walls in refugee camps and Palestinian posters; Khaled Esguerra brings observations from Abu Dhabi’s streets; the energy of Rami Farook’s works is raw and disruptive. These qualities and energies are what shape this show.

To answer your question, it is not about monumentality or scale — it is about the nuances, the “extensions” of the street. I could have included well-known international artists, but what interests me is what is happening here in this region, often on a smaller, more intimate scale. All the works are site-specific; we are not bringing in existing pieces. The only thing that pre-exists is our relationship with the street and the spaces around us.

To your second question about how the artworks behave in an exhibition space, I have noticed something fascinating. Over the past six months, I have been in conversation with these artists. I have seen their work both outdoors and in the studio. When these artists are brought into a white cube space, something shifts — their language and even their personas change. The way they approach their work adapts to the space itself. On the other hand, institutions must also adapt to and support all forms of art and not just contemporary, modern or postmodern art.

Fatspatrol. Detail of The World Out There (2025). Photo: courtesy of the artist

— Six artists are taking part in the exhibition. Was it clear to you from the beginning that these specific six artists would be involved, or did you choose them for a particular reason?

— From the very beginning, I knew I wanted to work with Fatspatrol and H11325.

There is something about Fats; she is incredibly humble and doesn’t like it when I say this, but she really is the OG street artist from this region. With H11325, I had already worked with him before, so there was a certain trust and confidence in bringing him in.

For the other artists, I actually went online to see what is happening in the region and chose them based on their unique artistic vocabulary. Sara’s work, for example, immediately intrigued me — she works with light, and I had never really thought about the materiality and visibility of light as part of the street. Yet, lighting is such an essential and overlooked aspect of our public spaces; when it is missing, even familiar areas can suddenly feel unsafe.

Khaled brings a completely different way of thinking. I admire how he transforms his ideas into subtle, understated works. There is a quiet resistance there, but he always expresses it in a gentle, poetic way, which I really appreciate.

With Salma, the connection was almost accidental. I was visiting various studios in Al Quoz when I stumbled upon hers. I immediately felt something interesting was happening there, so I looked deeper into her work, and it just matched the frequency of the show. That is how we connected.

As for Rami, he has been such a huge changemaker in the art ecosystem here, and the quiet statements that he makes through his work aligned with the exhibition concept.

Salma Dib. Generational Wall: The Aftermath (2021). Installation view at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, 2021. Photo: courtesy of the artist

— I am sure that each of these artists expresses something through their work. Is there a common thread or topic that unites all of them, or does each one have its own message? What are they trying to say?

— Starting with H11325, an interesting thing happened. We planned for him to be here in person to create a site-specific work, but he couldn’t make it. That meant an immediate change of plans: he had to shift from his original idea, which was very intricate, photorealistic, and centred around humanism, architecture, and surroundings. Instead, he trimmed it down and created a fully abstract work with mixed media — something we could actually execute here. It is a reminder of how borders can directly affect the outcome of a project; if he had been able to come, his work would have been very different. Now, this unexpected void becomes its own kind of conversation starter.

Rami’s contribution, on the other hand, will bring a sense of pause to the show — I think his work adds a powerful, almost disruptive energy, which I really love.

Fats’s work involves a lot of playful engagement with materials scavenged from the street — objects she has found and given new life to, almost like a rebirth. She creates distinct forms and wall pieces out of these materials.

Sara Alahbabi. Prototype of For a Better Modern Something (2025). Photo: courtesy of the artist

Sara uses walking as a methodology. She draws on what she observes during her walks, mapping architectural structures, and exploring the use of light, what is visible and what remains hidden.

Finally, both Salma and Khaled focus on what is seen and yet unseen. Khaled’s piece deals with urban revitalisation and the identities left behind — what happens after these transformations. Salma’s work is a massive visual explosion, using words from Palestinian posters that are then overlaid and nearly obscured, creating a very textured, layered effect.

So, overall, this is a show heavy on materiality and texture, exploring the seen, the unseen, and everything in between.

H11235 (Kiran Maharjan). Detail of our anthropocene conundrum (2025). Photo: courtesy of the artist

— Six strong works in this white cube. With all this minimalism and these expressive artworks, how does it make you feel to see them together in this space?

— When I first asked myself what I want the audience to feel, I realised that I want them to feel overwhelmed — but in the best possible way. And that is exactly what is happening here.

It is interesting; I was talking to Salma about this a few days ago. For example, some works might contain a sense of angst, but her work doesn’t feel “angsty”. It has a pleasant, inviting quality — you want to spend time with it, to look at it, even to touch it. That is the feeling many of the artists bring to the show: it is overwhelming, but in a good way. It is not the kind of overwhelming that makes you want to leave — it makes you want to stay and experience more.

by Alexandra Mansilla