THE KARAK: A Portal Where Local Talents Can Be Heard. Interview with Faizal Razak

by Alexandra Mansilla

THE KARAK: A Portal Where Local Talents Can Be Heard. Interview with Faizal Razak

4 Sept 2024

Photo: ANTIIMUSE

THE KARAK is a platform (or community center, as they call it on Instagram) that showcases Dubai's creative scene. It is a hub for all kinds of creatives — local artists, designers, DJs, and brands. The main focus of KARAK events — KARAK Conversations — is to support Dubai’s culture and creative community. These gatherings are hosted by Faizal Razak, THE KARAK's co-founder.

Faizal, also an interior designer, co-founded FLAVA LAB with Lava Ilieva. You might recognise their recent project, KURSI, a collaboration with Ali Cha'aban, displayed at 25hours Hotel One Central.

We had an amazing conversation with Faizal, where he shared a tough story that led him to leave his full-time office job. We also discussed the inspiration behind the KURSI chair design, got to know key players in Dubai's creative industry, and highlighted the biggest challenges facing creatives today.

— First, I have seen a few interviews with you online, but I couldn’t find much information about you as a person. I would love to know more about your background. Are you originally from Dubai? What were your parents like? And what were you doing before you became an interior designer?

— I am not originally from the UAE — I was born and raised here, but my roots are in India. The thing about growing up in Dubai is that you are constantly surrounded by people from all over the world. This city is filled with about 90% of expats, and all of them face this issue of identity. In your mind, this country is home, but when you go back to your country of origin, you feel like you are not really from there. And here, they make you feel like you are not from here either. So, there is a large number of people living in Dubai who feel exactly the same way, and it is because of the lack of representation for people like us in the city. Now, compared to four or five years ago, there is a lot more representation, but it is still in the early stages. I think the city is going to grow, and there is going to be much more support in the future.

I grew up in an Indian household, and growing up in that environment; you are often faced with the pressure of having only two paths in life: you either become a doctor or an engineer. If you don’t, you are seen as a failure — that is the mindset. Growing up, I was always into art; I was really good at illustrating and sketching, but in my family, it was never seen as something I could pursue professionally. It was always treated like a hobby, and I was expected to find something more stable. This expectation was based on their background and what they believed a stable life should be.

So, they tried to instil that in me throughout most of my childhood until I went to university in Dubai. I enrolled in a program called the Degree Entry Program for Engineering. Essentially, it was like doing an extra year of high school before specialising in a degree. My only options were either engineering or becoming a doctor, so I chose engineering, thinking it was closer to my childhood dream. I was always into cars, like with the whole Fast and Furious vibe, so I thought maybe automotive engineering would allow me to design cars. But later, I realised there is no real automotive industry in Dubai or this region.

Since I was in the degree entry program, I still had the flexibility to choose what type of engineering to specialise in. So, I thought maybe I should go into architectural engineering because I wanted to design buildings. But later on, I found out that architectural engineering isn’t really about design — it is more about HVAC, plumbing, and electrical work. I am glad I didn’t end up pursuing architectural engineering.

To move from the Degree Entry Program to the main course, you were supposed to get four B's in your subjects to qualify. This was my first taste of freedom in university, so I wasn’t paying much attention in class and was goofing off. When the final exams came, I ended up with a few B’s and a C in math. At that point, I couldn’t tell my parents because they were paying for my education. I decided to work over the summer and retake the exams without letting them know. I worked at kids’ camps and saved up about 2000 dirhams, which was a lot for a university student at the time.

I studied for a month in secret, preparing for the exams. The day before the exam, I stayed up until 3 a.m. studying. The next morning, a friend called me at 10 a.m., asking how the exam went, and I was like, “What?!” I looked at the clock and realised I had missed it. I broke down because, in my culture, if you don’t have a degree, you are considered a failure. I finally called my dad and told him everything.

— What did he say?

— The university was like, "Okay, fine, if you really want to do architectural engineering, you will have to spend a whole year waiting just to retake the exam because there is no other way to do it again." But they also mentioned that there is a School of Design where I could study interior design, which is somewhat similar to architecture.

I did my research and realised that interior design was actually more focused on design than architectural engineering. That is how I ended up in interior design — just because I overslept and missed an exam. If that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have ended up in the creative industry. Who knows where I would be now?

From there, I started learning more about interior design. It was tough at first because I didn’t have any prior design education, so jumping into an academic program without a background in design was a huge challenge. The first few years were rough because I didn’t fully understand what the field entailed. As I got deeper into it, my mind opened up to other creative fields. I started learning 3D software, graphic design, and other tools to complement my interior design skills. Eventually, I developed my own aesthetic in graphic design, video editing, and more. Now, I do all of those things but focus mainly on creative direction. I have tried to learn as many skills as possible because, for me, creating a cohesive experience means being able to engage all the senses that contribute to how someone experiences a space.

Photo: ANTIIMUSE

— Recently, we published an article about leaving the corporate world, and I know you have had a similar experience. If I am not mistaken, you left your job in January 2022. It must have been challenging to make that decision, especially with the security of a steady income every month. But you took the leap and quit. Was it tough for you to make that decision? Do you remember a specific moment when you decided, "That’s it, I have to go"?

— I feel like, at this point in my life, a lot of things and activities always seem to have some kind of dramatic turning point. For me, one of those moments was realising that I always wanted to create my own design firm. I have always wanted to have my own company where I could create and design furniture or basically bring all of my skill sets together to create experiences and products that could help people around me while also giving me a way to express my creativity. I never wanted to stick to just one medium.

Something I used to face a lot when working in the interior design industry was being constantly put into a box. People would say, "You’re an interior designer; you can’t do this," or "You’re an interior designer, not a graphic designer, so you can’t do branding, photography, or videography." Working within a company felt quite restrictive. I started to realise that there was more to life than working 9 to 5 and that it would be more beneficial for me to take things into my own hands. That way, I could have the flexibility to work on multiple disciplines and projects at the same time.

While working, I was also running my previous platform. There were always a bunch of different things happening at the same time, so I tried to create outlets for myself to express myself through various mediums. But one of the main turning points came when someone actually died in front of me.

It was strange. I used to work nine to five, but in the design industry, there is no such thing as 9 to 5 — you are working 12, 13, or even 14 hours a day, putting in as much time as needed to get the job done. One day, I was in the studio, and it was around 9:00 p.m. I realised I hadn’t eaten the whole day because I had been working non-stop. So I decided to stop by Not (So) Guilty to grab a sandwich and keep working while I ate.

As I was ordering my sandwich, a taxi stopped in front of me. The driver rolled down his window and asked if I could check on the lady in the back seat — something was wrong. I looked in and saw that she was having a stroke. I didn’t know what to do; I tried to wake her up, but she was unresponsive, and I wasn’t prepared to help. I noticed that she was wearing a t-shirt from a nearby food truck called FOMO, so I ran over and called her colleagues. They sprinted over and started giving her CPR, but she wasn’t very responsive. I was trying to call an ambulance, and eventually, they arrived, used the CPR machine, and took her away. They said they found a small pulse, so I thought she survived. But the next day, I found out she had passed away.

That experience made me feel like everything happens for a reason. There are always signs that happen right in front of you. I realised that lady was just leaving work, probably not doing the job she wanted, but doing it to make ends meet. And I thought, if this happened to me tomorrow, would I have really fulfilled what I wanted to do?

It was at that point that I decided I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life doing a 9 to 5 job, even though that was the only life I was taught. My parents weren’t business owners, and I had no experience in business. I was always taught that you needed a 9 to 5 job to survive and that working your way up the corporate ladder and getting higher salaries was the symbol of stability and success. I never thought running my own business would be an option. I had no idea what it took to be a business owner.

But ever since that happened, I have been fortunate enough to get clients immediately. Since then, I have just kept getting clients and expanding my work. We started FLAVA LAB, doing a lot more than just interior design — concept development and fashion production. Lava also runs the modelling agency, so we have essentially become this collective doing anything and everything creative. After the split, we have also been doing events and supporting communities. I am just trying to create an ecosystem that supports itself, gives back to the community, and feeds our creative outlets.

When you move into running your own business, you are no longer just a creative. You are an accountant, a PR person, a business owner, and doing all the paperwork. There are a lot more hats you need to wear. And moving from a 9 to 5 job doesn’t mean you are working less — in many cases, you are working 24/7.

Lava Ilieva & Faizal Razak (FLAVA LAB)

— Your collaboration with Lava is incredible. She once said, “This is where I see Faizal’s biggest strength; there is no software that can stop him from making a concept come to life.” Do you agree with her?

— For me, something I have always taken pride in is my love for learning. I love discovering new things, and it is something that is always been important to me. I remember a couple of years ago when I was working for an architectural firm, we were working on a school project. I had to do an interview with someone from the school's ownership, and we were talking about pedagogy and the theories behind learning. Something he said really stuck with me. He said, "If you teach a kid how to use a hammer, that will be the only tool they know how to use when they see a nail, their only solution will be with the hammer. But if you teach a child how to use a variety of tools, when they encounter a nail, they will have multiple solutions to the problem."

That idea resonated with me for the longest time, and every chance I get, I try to research and learn about what is going on in the industry and what new software I need to know. But for me, all these things are just tools to help translate what is in my mind to the outside world so people can understand the message I am trying to convey. Learning new software is just a way of communicating — it is a bridge between having an idea and bringing it into reality.

— And what is Lava’s biggest strength?

— I would say Lava's biggest strength is her ability to think outside the box constantly. She is very quick and has a great skill set for managing production and people. Our skill sets complement each other really well. It is always good to work with someone where you can bounce off ideas and creative visions; in that sense, we are very much aligned. You can see what we are capable of, like with KURSI, where our collaboration has really shone through in all the production shoots we do and even in organising events together. We are constantly in each other’s space, but we are also always striving to push boundaries and grow both of our businesses.

— KURSI, the collaboration between Ali Cha’aban and FLAVA LAB, in 25hours Hotel One Central juxtaposes the past and the future, with the past represented by carpets and the future by a chair. Why did you choose a chair to represent the future?

— Okay, so essentially, the brief given to us from 25hours Hotel One Central was that they had this concept that started with a chair. They had an existing chair in the hotel of a certain scale, and they wanted to repurpose it, give it a new life, and create a story around it. That is what the hotel asked us to do. The chair was chosen because the base and structure were something they already had. The whole idea was to upcycle something that already existed in the hotel and give it a new life.

We came up with a concept that aligns with the hotel’s overarching theme, which constantly reflects on the past, present, and future. These elements are displayed throughout the hotel in different ways, like through graphics, aesthetics, and art installations. For me, it was about telling a story of the Middle East and how it has evolved. Growing up in the UAE, we witnessed how rapidly the country moved into the future, undergoing rapid growth. However, there was always a question mark about how well it embraced its cultural heritage during this expansion.

Initially, the focus was on adapting elements from outside the country to match the speed of growth required. But now, the UAE is at a stage where it is starting to embrace more of its cultural heritage, recognising its value and significance. This art installation is meant to open up that narrative, encouraging people to understand that as we look to the future, we should always consider the past.

The chair installation tries to convey this story. The chair itself represents the future, particularly through its materiality, which reflects what the future might look like. We drew inspiration from the Space Age, where everything was silver, so it is essentially a chair you could imagine being on the moon in the next 10 or 20 years. The tentacles coming from the carpet and grabbing onto the chair represent the past trying to hold onto the future because the future is moving so quickly.

— That is interesting because the chair is an object that frequently appears in your life. First, there are the THE KARAK events, where you sit on a chair. On THE KARAK’s YouTube channel, there is also a video where the chair appears first, and then you sit on it. Ali Cha’aban created a chair with a rug. So, the chair is everywhere!

— Yes! The reason is that, as a designer, I am really drawn to the idea and story of the monoblock chair, which is why I wanted to use it. I grew up in the older parts of Dubai, and as a kid, I would walk around and see these old uncles sitting in patches of sunlight on these plastic chairs. The monoblock is a piece of furniture that you literally see everywhere in the world, yet it doesn’t get recognised for its design. It is arguably the most successful piece of furniture of all time. You can find it in Africa, the Philippines, the UAE, America — everywhere.

For me, the monoblock represents timelessness. It carries a lot of cultural references from what I witnessed growing up in this region. Even though it is just a very cheap chair that costs a few dirhams, it’s about embracing its story. I have some more products in the pipeline that revolve around the monoblock because, as an interior designer who also works with furniture design, it’s important to me.

So, for me, using the monoblock is about translating what conversations in the Middle East might look like. That one chair represents so much of what I have seen and experienced in the Middle East.

— Now, about THE KARAK. You created it during COVID. How was it?

— The concept of THE KARAK really took shape about a year ago. But the initial core ideas of a platform for creatives actually started during COVID, from my bedroom, when I was put on unpaid leave while working for an architectural firm.

During COVID, my ex-partner called me up one day with an idea to interview artists and athletes to find the correlation between music and sports. I thought it was interesting, but I didn’t think it was enough to build an entire platform around, it didn't have enough depth. So, I started developing an overall concept based on my background as a third-culture creative kid in the region. That is when It hit me, there was a significant lack of recognition for many creators, artists, and athletes in this region — they don’t have a platform to tell their stories.

Growing up here, when I was pursuing interior design as a profession, I never saw examples of successful designers from this region. All the examples were from the U.S., the U.K., Europe, and Japan. It made it seem like achieving success as a creative or designer was impossible if you were born and raised here or had a similar background. It felt like the only way to reach that level of success was to establish yourself somewhere else. However, as I continued to research, I started discovering a lot of talent in the region that simply wasn’t being talked about. No one knew about them because there were no publications or platforms highlighting their work.

At that time, there were very few local platforms that were starting off, or maybe some tried and failed. For me, it was about creating a portal where these voices could be heard consistently, building a database, and making it accessible to the public so that people who want to learn, be inspired, and pursue certain careers could find role models and get a blueprint for navigating these industries. I learnt that the creative industries in this region are very different from those in the States or Europe, and the only way to navigate them is to learn from people practising here.

When COVID restrictions started lifting, we began translating the concept into a physical space. That is how the idea of hosting events where we invited music artists, people to speak on panels, and DJs to perform came about. It was a constant development process that took about a year from the start of COVID until we translated to a physical event.

Later we split with ex-partner, and I started my own thing. My focus has always been on giving consistent, relentless support to the local community, and we have been achieving just that. We focus more on the "edutainment" aspect — bringing people together not just to sit and listen but also to enjoy themselves, meet people in the creative industries and collaborate in a safe space where they can also learn about what is happening in the region.

— You mentioned that local creatives didn’t have the platform to tell their stories. Why do you think the big platforms didn’t give them the opportunity to present themselves?

— I think it is because, at the time, it didn’t seem like there was enough interest, or maybe it wasn’t profitable for them to do something like that. That is what I believe. When we started doing events, one of the biggest concerns that always came up was whether local artists could actually pull in a crowd. When you go to a venue, they are obviously thinking about how they are going to make revenue from hosting our events, like through sales of drinks and such. The common belief was that we needed to invite an international artist if we wanted to draw a crowd.

But now, if I look through our records, we have hosted close to 100 different artists and creatives — maybe even more than 100 — including DJs, all of whom are talented individuals performing in this region. Up until now, we have never had an empty space. Our events have always been packed, and they have always been profitable for the venues that host them. That concern about local artists not being able to pull in a crowd doesn’t come up anymore. In fact, we are now at a point where venues are constantly asking us to host our events there because they see the value we bring.

For us, it is not just about creating an event for the sake of it. When we host an event in a space, it changes how people perceive that venue — they start seeing it as a place that supports the local community. We act almost as a PR agency at the moment for a lot of venues, inviting their target audience and creating an experience that leaves a lasting impression.

We have essentially become a portal. When we showcase an artist or host an event, it automatically draws a lot of eyes to our Instagram page, and those artists start getting more opportunities, more gigs, and just generally more recognition. People know more about them after they have been featured on our podcast or participated in one of our events.

— As someone deeply involved in the creative industry, both as an interior designer and as someone who has heard many stories from creatives in the region, could you please name the main faces of the creative industry in Dubai?

— Of course, I would say Ali Cha’aban, Marwan On the Moon and SHARK are some of my picks. But there are a lot of creative pioneers in Dubai right now. But I still believe they aren’t getting the amount of exposure they deserve. Many talented individuals are still working 9-to-5 jobs and have to treat their creative projects as hobbies or side gigs. The same goes for the music scene. Artists like Santo, Losez, L Don, and Uglymoss have been achieving great heights in the music industry but there are still a lot of other musicians who struggle with the same issue.

What we are trying to do is ensure that every artist who works with us gets a fee, even if it is a small fee — because the goal is to change the ongoing practice in Dubai where brands often ask local talent to work for exposure or in exchange for a free t-shirt or shoes. By operating this way, the industry doesn’t allow these artists to become fully independent because these kinds of exchanges don’t pay their bills.

For these artists to pursue their careers 100%, there needs to be an industry that truly supports them — one where they are recognised and properly compensated for their work. We are trying to be one of those platforms, though we are not the only one — there needs to be many more like us. Ideally, a really good artist in Dubai should be able to get at least four or five gigs a month, enough to cover their rent, recording sessions, and basic living expenses.

We are also trying to educate people who aren’t yet in tune with the local community, encouraging them to explore and learn more about these artists and help grow their audience. I have noticed that there is been growth ever since we started this. More brands are trying to work with us because they recognise our important role in supporting the community.

— You have already mentioned challenges in the creative industry: local talents need more platforms. Are there any other challenges?

— Yes, there are definitely a lot of issues. Being at the core of learning about all these things, I am constantly discovering new challenges, and my job is to address them and get more people thinking about them, especially during our talks. One of the things I realised early in my career as an interior designer was that many creative industries tend to exist in their own bubbles. Interior designers only know other interior designers; fashion designers stick to their circle, and music artists mainly interact with other music artists. There is little connection between these different creative industries, and each tends to feel like they are the only creatives in the city.

But for art and creativity to truly flourish, there needs to be cross-collaboration. I saw this firsthand when I had the opportunity to travel to Korea. There, I visited a city surrounded by design universities and saw robotics engineers collaborating with furniture designers to create something unique. Fashion designers were working with interior designers to create collections that blended clothing and furniture design. These kinds of collaborations don’t exist in Dubai because people within their own industries aren’t exploring what is happening in other creative fields.

The core issue often comes down to the lack of publications and media coverage. In places like the U.S., when someone does something noteworthy, it gets picked up by 20, 30, or even 50 different publications, which then reaches a global audience. That is why someone who is famous in America often becomes internationally famous as well — the industry behind these creatives is massive.

Here, we are still at a very early stage. There are some local publications, but we need more. We need more articles, more awareness, and more efforts to get this kind of information on widely consumed media like radio stations and TV channels. While I have seen some efforts by local radio stations recently, it is still not enough. Often, these features are small, aired during off-hours when no one is really listening, and the artists themselves have to do all the marketing. There is no real hype around these talents, and that is something we need to work on changing.

— Is there a conversation you had during a THE KARAK event that still stands out in your memory?

— I have a particular conversation that stands out to me, though there have been many great ones. It has always been with Chantal Brocca. She worked with us as a co-host in several discussions, and her perspectives on various topics have been incredibly eye-opening. Chantal is deeply committed to fighting for freelancer rights and providing advice to creatives who want to pursue independent careers. Her insights on sustainability, global perspectives, and cross-collaboration have made a significant impact on me.

If I had to pick one person who has influenced me the most out of all the amazing conversations we have hosted, it would definitely be Chantal Brocca. She is always actively pushing that narrative, doing everything in her power to stand up for the rights of creatives, giving them the freedom to express themselves, create art, and be self-sustainable.

— Fun question: your guilty pleasure is cooking beautiful food. Which one?

— For me, my go-to is always making pancakes or pasta. I love simple pasta dishes, like aglio e olio or carbonara, but I really focus on the details, even with something as straightforward as that. I try to go deep into perfecting each element, and it is my way of de-stressing. I find cooking very relaxing, and since I am a bit of a workaholic if I am not working on something, I need to be doing something productive. Cooking fills that space for me.

by Alexandra Mansilla