Memory, Language, And a Bit Of Quiet Magic. Interview With Nasir Nasrallah

by Alexandra Mansilla

Memory, Language, And a Bit Of Quiet Magic. Interview With Nasir Nasrallah

25 Jul 2025

Our first encounter with Nasir Nasralla, an Emirati artist from Sharjah, happened during the exhibition "Naseej: Threads of Hope," held at the beginning of June at the BEEAH Headquarters. There, Nasir showcased a unique carpet handwoven by women artisans from Kabul, Afghanistan. This artwork was composed of five individual, character-based carpets, which together symbolised a family.

Soon after, we dove deeper into Nasir's artistic universe — an endlessly fascinating exploration of memory, language, and, as Nasir himself says at the end of our interview, "a bit of magic."

All his artworks are genuinely captivating and worthy of your attention (take some time to visit Nasir’s website and immerse yourself in his art). From a collection of 100 objects placed inside identical envelopes, each labelled with a secret code, to an installation created for Expo Dubai 2020 — a water fountain featuring three mailboxes, each containing letters addressed to water written in Arabic, English, and Braille.

What deeper ideas does his work explore? Let’s find out.

Instagram: @nasirnasrallah

— Nasir, first, I would love to start with your family. I read somewhere that your grandfather owned an antique store, the first of its kind to open in the 1960s. Could you tell me more about him? What memories do you have of him or the store?

— My grandfather, Mohammed Nasrallah Al Zarouni, owned a store called Tuhaf Al Khaleej (Gulf Antiques) in Sharjah — one of the first antique shops in the region. He filled it with objects from all over the world, each carrying its own story. As a child, I would often accompany my father to the shop. But more than that, I lived in my grandfather’s house for the first five years of my life, watching him leave each morning to work.

Being surrounded by these collected, seemingly random objects felt completely normal to me. That environment shaped my perception — the idea that memory, history, and beauty can all live together in one space.

— Your father was passionate about collecting old historical documents from the Gulf and the wider Arab region. Are there any particular documents that stand out in your memory?

— My father, Ahmed, was very focused on his collecting. He sought out official documents, letters, and paper currencies — primarily from the UAE and the Gulf, but also from the wider Arab world. I was especially drawn to the stamps and seals, and the personal letters between ordinary people. I loved imagining the stories behind them, and the journeys these letters took before reaching us.

Knowing my love for visual art, my father would bring me stamps and postcards related to artists, colour, and children’s book illustrations from his travels. I have a whole collection now, built entirely from his thoughtful gifts.

He was searching for historical truth. I was searching for emotional traces — handwriting, tone, small moments frozen in time.

— How did your journey as an artist begin? Was there a moment when you realised you wanted to pursue art seriously?

— My desire to create started very early. I remember, as a young child, being completely fascinated by colored clay. I would shape creatures, invent characters, and imagine entire worlds for them. It felt like I was trying to be a creator, as God created us. That thought came to me as early as first grade.

Creativity was always present in my family: my grandfather and father with their collections, my uncle with Arabic calligraphy, my aunts with their sewing and crafts. I thought every household was like that — only later did I realise how fortunate I was. I truly believe that visual sensitivity is something inherited, but also absorbed from one’s environment.

Nasir Nasrallah, A Letter From the Future, 2016.

— Now, let’s talk about your stunning projects. The first one, A Letter From the Future (2016). As I understand it, this letter is about hope, optimism, and faith in a better tomorrow. Artists always have a reason for creating — could you share the story and concept behind this piece? Why did you decide to make it?

— This work features a handwritten letter placed where the face would normally be in a portrait photograph of me wearing traditional Emirati dress. The letter begins with “Dear Friend” and ends with “With love, Your Self.” At first, the viewer assumes it is addressed to someone else, but by the end, it is clear it is a message from the future self to the present self.

A small detail adds to this narrative: the postal stamp shows the year 2024 — the year I turned forty. The number 40 holds symbolic meaning in many cultures and religions, often tied to spiritual awakening or transformation. The piece is ultimately about hope, reflection, and time folding in on itself.

Nasir Nasrallah, Forgotten Address, 2018.

— Next — Forgotten Address (2018). For this project, you took 100 objects from your daily life, put each one into an identical envelope, and wrote a description for each in a coded language you created. I have so many questions! What inspired you to do this? Why 100 objects? Could you tell me more about the language/code you invented? Why did you decide to encrypt the descriptions? And maybe you could tell us a bit more about these works? What is their current state — are the inscriptions still intact?

— This project was commissioned by UAE Unlimited and was inspired in part by the late Emirati artist Hassan Sharif, who often used everyday materials in humorous or critical ways. I wanted to do something similar, but more intimate.

I chose 100 personal objects from my own life, placed each in an identical envelope, and wrote a coded description on each one — using a visual language I invented. The code is unreadable, even to me. That was the point: to give these ordinary items a sense of mystery and significance, while also keeping their meanings sealed and private.

The envelopes still exist, untouched. No one has asked to decode them, and I wouldn’t be able to if they did.

Nasir Nasrallah, Dream Panorama, 2018.

— Dream Panorama (2018) — what is the story behind this work? Who are the figures we see?

Dream Panorama was an experiment in scale and surrealism. I had been filling my small sketchbook with strange, dreamlike figures, and I wanted to see how they would live in a much larger space.

The work doesn’t depict a specific dream, but it follows dream logic: figures without fixed identity, shifting proportions, familiar and unfamiliar all at once. The characters came from within — emotional fragments, symbols, intuitive shapes. It was about turning my private visual world outward.

Nasir Nasrallah, Long Letter to Dear Friend, 2019.

— Long Letter to Dear Friend (2019): Who is this letter addressed to? Is it about someone specific, or perhaps a few people? What did you want to communicate through it?

— This work begins with “Dear Friend,” but it isn’t addressed to anyone in particular. I often use this format to allow myself to write freely, as if I am speaking to a close companion. It helps me express thoughts without overthinking, and the letter becomes a flowing conversation.

There is no clear goal or destination. It is simply a document of whatever was passing through me at the time — a blend of language, feeling, and sometimes small drawings acting like visual punctuation.

Corniche Comic Anthology: Corniche 03, 02, 01

— You were also the creative director for the Corniche Comic Anthology. What was the main idea behind that project? Do you see a future for it — maybe a continuation or something similar in the works?

— As part of my role at Sharjah Art Foundation, I manage special projects that support creatives in the region, including the Corniche Comic Anthology, an annual collection of comics by artists based in the Gulf.

What makes Corniche special is its experimental nature. Artists often submit personal, surreal, or myth-inspired stories using nontraditional styles. This year marks the seventh edition.

Each edition begins with a three-day gathering in Bait Al Shamsi in Sharjah — in a room overlooking the Corniche, which inspired the name. It is a space filled with creative energy, where the artists meet, share, and create before their works appear together in print.

Instagram: @nasirnasrallah

— Looking at your Instagram and at your artworks, it seems you love paper letters and you love sending them. What do they mean to you? Who do you send them to?

— Yes, I have a number of pen pals — some are friends I know personally, others I met through exhibitions or online. I see handwritten letters as a creative medium in themselves. They give space for personal expression, detail, and care.

Sometimes I include small sketches or objects in the envelope — a shell from Sharjah’s beach, for example. And I enjoy the act of waiting. In a world full of instant messages, waiting for a letter feels like a gentle, deliberate act — a kind of quiet resistance.

— Many of your projects are about memory and time. Was there an object from your childhood connected to family memory that you still keep?

— Two things come to mind: old photo albums and my collection of Kinder Egg toys.

The albums are full of textures, moments, and moods — not just images. And the Kinder toys… I used to collect them religiously as a child. Somehow, they stayed with me. They represent the magic of small things, of surprise, of imagination — and in a way, they still shape the way I approach storytelling and visual play today.

Nasir Nasrallah, The Story Converter, 2011

— You have created so much — is there a project that is especially close to your heart? Why? Or if there are a few, could you share which ones and why?

— Every project I have done is close to my heart, especially the ones that come from within, without constraint.

One I often remember is The Story Converter, which I presented in Sharjah Biennial 11. Through it, I met over 150 people, each of whom contributed a personal phrase to the work. It was an act of collective storytelling — emotional, unpredictable, and deeply human.

Nasir Nasrallah, The Story Converter, 2011

— Do you see your art as having distinct periods or phases? If yes, what are they?

— I think these phases emerge naturally, shaped by the rhythm of life. I don’t divide my work intentionally, but I can see subtle shifts — sometimes due to travel, parenthood, age, or even small changes in how I observe the world.

It is not about labelling eras, but about flowing with what life offers — and letting the work evolve accordingly.

— And finally, what are you working on now?

— At the moment… it is a secret.

But like many of my past projects, it is rooted in memory, language, and a bit of quiet magic. I believe that some ideas need to grow in the dark for a while before they are ready to be shared with the world.

by Alexandra Mansilla