One day I woke up and realised something rather embarrassing: I knew almost nothing about art collecting. So I thought, why not explore it?

What was meant to be an expert-led article quickly became something far more personal — the story of a single collection built over many years through curiosity, thoughtful discovery, and a genuine love of art.

Our guide is Line Kouwatli, an art collector and active patron of cultural institutions. She and her husband both grew up around art, and together they have built a remarkable collection focused largely on contemporary Middle Eastern art — Syrian artists in particular. They are also part of the Dubai Collection initiative, so it is fair to say this runs deep.

Line didn't just open a conversation with us — she opened a world. One where every artwork has been carefully discovered, chosen, and most importantly, lived with. The collection has grown to the point where counting the pieces is no longer simple, yet every single one carries a story.

We got into the personal — the pieces she deliberated over for a long time, and the ones that simply showed up and were acquired without a second thought. We also got into the practical: what makes a work genuinely good, how to build a collection that means something, and how to stay grounded when everyone around you is caught up in the hype.

So, spoiler: you are going to like this one. Here we go.

— Let's start at the beginning. Could you tell me a little about yourself?

— I am an art collector, patron and advocate for Middle Eastern artists, with a particular focus on Syrian art. Professionally, my career was in the FMCG industry — I worked for international companies like Nestlé and Sadia — but art has always been a central part of my life, running alongside everything else.

My collecting journey officially began nine years ago. One piece led to another, and what began with a single artwork gradually evolved into a full collection.

And naturally, over the years, collecting drew me into broader roles within the art world — curating exhibitions, organising talks and cultural programs, and becoming more actively involved in supporting and promoting the artists themselves.

— Do you remember the artwork that started it all?

— I have always been passionate about art and, perhaps even more importantly, the conversations it creates. Artists invite you into their world and allow you to see life from a completely different perspective. For me, collecting has always been an emotional journey before anything else.

When my son was born, I received an artwork as a gift. Looking back, I think that was the beginning. The piece was by Syrian artist Mohannad Orabi, whom I later had the chance to meet. I visited his studio and was immediately stopped by one particular painting — it was impossible to look away.

The work was inspired by Khan Assad Pasha, a historic caravanserai in the Old City of Damascus, built in 1752.

It depicts a woman who embodies Damascus itself. Beautiful, noble and dignified, yet profoundly melancholic. Her eyes are closed, looking downward. She feels like a princess carrying the weight of history. Those are exactly the qualities I associate with my hometown: beauty, resilience, elegance and sorrow.

That was the first piece my husband and I acquired together. After that, I started planning the next one. And then the one after that. Once you begin, it is very hard to stop — it becomes an addiction. At first you simply buy what you love. But over time you grow more selective, more strategic. And that is the moment you realise you are no longer just buying art. You are building a collection.

— Your collection is part of the Dubai Collection initiative. What drew you to it?

— Every collector I have met shares the same instinct: the desire to share. Every artwork carries a story, and that story deserves to be told — not locked away behind closed doors.

I feel both the pleasure and the responsibility of opening a collection to the public. Art should create conversations, inspire curiosity and connect people. And there is something practical in it too: when you exhibit an artist's work, you create visibility, and you build value. It isn’t just generous — it makes sense.

This is why I love the concept of the Dubai Collection. It allows collectors to share their works with a much broader and international audience and enables art to become part of a collective cultural experience.

One of the recent highlights was exhibiting work by Leila Nseir — a pioneering Syrian artist whose paintings I have collected broadly. Seeing her work at Art Dubai, viewed by an international audience and displayed alongside other pioneering Syrian artists, was profoundly moving. Witnessing them together reminded me of art's extraordinary power to transcend time, geography and generations.

Art truly comes alive when it is shared.

— How did your collection evolve over the years?

— Unlike many collectors, I initially focused on acquiring works by established and well-known artists. Perhaps it felt safer at the time. As my confidence grew, my approach changed. I began collecting younger, emerging artists — the ones I believed would one day become significant figures in the art world.

At some point I realised I had also become a patron, and more influential than I would expected. If I chose to support a young artist, I could influence other collectors to discover and acquire their work as well. That carries its own responsibility.

Over the years I have also developed my own taste, which can sometimes be very different from that of others. I have learned to trust my instincts.

As for how many works are in the collection today — I honestly don't know anymore. I have stopped counting.

— What does "good art" actually mean to a collector?

— For me, good art is art that makes me feel something. It provokes. It creates a dialogue — with yourself, with others. It dares to challenge and question.

If you walk through my home, you won't find paintings of roses and rainbows. You will see strong colours, powerful figures, and at times, unsettling imagery. I am drawn to emotion rather than comfort. Art is deeply subjective — a work I love may not resonate with someone else at all.

I collect works by Syrian artist Sabhan Adam, who is known for depicting deeply disturbing figures. His paintings are impossible to ignore. My children have asked me many times to take them down because they find them frightening. My son once told me he was scared to get a glass of water at night because he had to walk past them.

I kept them on the wall.

— A little more about your collection. Apart from your very first purchase, which artwork was the most spontaneous acquisition?

— I am not a spontaneous collector by nature. Unlike my husband, who can make decisions very quickly, I usually spend a great deal of time researching and reflecting before acquiring a work.

There is, however, one exception that immediately comes to mind.

A few years ago, while visiting Mustafa Ali Gallery in Damascus, I came across a work by the young Syrian artist Faten Ibrahim. The piece was part of her graduation project and was titled Tabour (Queue).

The painting shows a line of people waiting, though it is never quite clear what they are waiting for. For me, it immediately brought back memories of a very difficult period in Syria, when people would spend hours in queues for bread, fuel, the most basic of necessities. What struck me most was how the figures seemed almost erased — as though their identities had stopped mattering, their suffering rendered invisible.

I couldn't walk away from it. I bought it almost immediately, which is something I very rarely do.

Even today, it remains one of the most powerful works in my collection. It captures not only a moment in Syrian history, but also the emotional weight carried by an entire generation.

— Which artwork required the most patience and research before you were finally able to acquire it?

— One that comes to mind straight away is a painting by the Syrian artist Kais Salman, which I acquired through Ayyam Gallery.

The challenge was never whether to buy one of his works — that was never really in question. His paintings are incredibly powerful. The difficult part was choosing which one. We actually had several of his works hung in our home before making the final decision.

The painting I ultimately chose is a large-scale work that explores the dynamics of a community and the relationships between people who share the same environment, culture and everyday realities. It is one of those works that reveals something new every time I look at it.

What makes the acquisition even more meaningful is that it led to a friendship. After purchasing the work, I had the opportunity to meet Kais and follow his artistic journey closely. Watching his practice evolve over the years has been fascinating. While his earlier works were strongly figurative, his more recent paintings move toward. Yet despite this evolution, his artistic signature remains present. You can still immediately recognize a Kais Salman painting the moment you see it.

— Which artwork in your collection attracts the most attention or sparks the most conversations?

— The Kais Salman painting. It is often the first thing visitors notice when they walk in. They are drawn to it immediately, but it also unsettles them a little. The figures can feel almost theatrical, with expressions and forms that provoke quite strong reactions.

Kais is an artist who isn't afraid to go into the complexities of human nature. His work is bold, emotionally charged, deeply psychological — the intense colours, the exaggerated figures, the underlying tension. It tends to spark long conversations.

What makes it so compelling, I think, is that it simply refuses to be decorative. It demands engagement. Everyone who looks at it takes something different away, and those different interpretations are often where the most interesting discussions begin.

— Which artwork was the first one coming from an emerging artist you believed in early on?

— The work of Syrian artist Nawar Shartouh. I first came across one of his paintings while I was in Syria and remember being completely captivated by it. I immediately asked who the artist was. When I found out his name, I made every effort to track him down, assuming he was based in Damascus.

To my surprise, he told me he had recently moved to the UAE. The moment I got back to Dubai, I contacted him. He had only just arrived and was still finding his feet within the local art scene.

I believed in his talent straight away. I acquired four of his works, introduced him to a gallerist and later organised a public talk featuring him. There was a maturity and originality to what he was doing that told me he would go far.

Watching his career develop over the years has been genuinely rewarding. His success today comes as no surprise. He is one of the very few artists about whom I never had a single doubt.

— When buying art as a collector, how important is the story behind the artist?

— It isn't just about the art collection. It is about me. For me, it is everything. Connecting with the artwork alone isn't enough — I want to understand the person behind it. I love listening to artists, learning about their journeys, their struggles, their motivations.

There have been occasions when I admired an artwork, only to change my mind after meeting the artist. And the opposite is equally true: knowing an artist's story can completely transform how you feel about a piece. Perhaps because so many of these stories resonate with my own experiences and emotions.

Collecting art is, above all, collecting human stories.

— Should collectors think about financial value when acquiring art?

— The moment you realise you are building a collection rather than simply decorating a home, you inevitably begin thinking beyond personal taste. A collection is something that can be passed down through generations — so yes, financial considerations become important.

But one thing should never be compromised: falling in love with the artwork. That emotional connection must always come first. Beyond that, other factors come into play — the artist's trajectory, the price, the rarity of the work, its potential to appreciate over time.

The heart should lead. But the mind should also be present.

— What makes one artwork worth 3,000 AED and another 100,000 AED?

— It is a complex question, because value is never just one thing. An artist's position in the market plays a significant role — their age, reputation, experience, exhibition history, institutional recognition. Whether they are represented by respected galleries, whether their work has appeared at major fairs or auction houses. Who has owned it before and whether it has featured in respected galleries or museum shows. All of this feeds into how the market sees them.

An artist who has spent decades developing their practice, exhibited at major museums, represented their country at international biennales, or has works in important public collections will naturally command much higher prices than someone who has just graduated from art school. In many ways, every artwork reflects everything that came before it.

Demand matters too, perhaps more than anything.

But perhaps the most important thing to understand is that price and quality aren't the same thing. Sometimes value is created through cultural significance, through emotional impact — through the feeling a work leaves you with long after you have walked away.

— When you are considering a new acquisition, what does the process actually look like?

— I spend a great deal of time researching the artist. I look at their journey, how their work has evolved and whether their artistic approach remains authentic and consistent. I also look at where they have exhibited, who represents them and how their work is being received internationally.

But beyond research, I rely heavily on intuition. Sometimes an artwork simply speaks to you immediately.

For me, the ideal acquisition is one where both emotion and research align.

— How can someone distinguish between genuine artistic value and short-term hype?

— Over the years, I have acquired works by artists who experienced a brief period of hype and then gradually faded. I believe this often happens when artists lose their genuine voice and begin creating work solely to satisfy trends, please the public or sell.

The moment an artist becomes entirely focused on selling, the work becomes commercial and less authentic. Serious collectors and experts eventually sense this shift, and interest declines. The best approach is to research the artist, understand their journey and observe how their work is evolving.

And that is why the biggest piece of advice I would give any artist who wants to be noticed is this: stay true to your artistic voice and create consistently. Don't chase trends or try to produce what you think people want to buy. Collectors aren't only buying an artwork — they are investing in a real story and a long-term journey. Authenticity is impossible to fake, and people eventually recognise it.

Visibility matters, but substance matters more. Build relationships, engage with the art community, be open to conversations — but never compromise your artistic integrity.