Bayt AlMamzar: The Art Space That Grew From Grandma’s House

by Alexandra Mansilla

Bayt AlMamzar: The Art Space That Grew From Grandma’s House

12 Sept 2024

Photo: Yousef AlHarmoodi

In Dubai's Al Mamzar neighbourhood, a family home has stood since 1983, where family members, including brothers Khalid and Gaith Abdulla, lived. When their grandmother moved out in 2018, the brothers couldn't bear to leave the house empty. So, they decided to transform it into more than just a gallery — it became an art space, artist studio, and co-working hub with a library. By November 2021, this family home evolved into Bayt AlMamzar, a creative space dedicated to nurturing early-career artists and curators, fostering experimentation and growth.

We had a conversation with Gaith, where he shared more about the gallery, the unexpected bathroom art residency, and their exciting plans to release their first book in January next year.

Note: The "In Your Dreams" exhibition mentioned in the article runs until October 12, so you have still got time to check it out!

— Hello Gaith! First, can you please introduce yourself to those who don’t know you yet? What is your background, and how did you come to create an art space?

— My background is actually in law and politics. I studied at SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies) in London. My focus was on Gulf studies, and I’m a political researcher by training. The coincidence was that during my university years, I’d come back to Dubai and the UAE and hang out with artists, creatives, curators — you name it. Some of my friends at SOAS were studying curating, so I was socially immersed in that world.

As someone with a social science background, I realised these artists were asking fascinating questions, ones that intersected with sociology, politics, and other critical social science issues. In a place like the Gulf, where public discourse and civil society aren't always the most active, it struck me as unique that a subsection of society was tackling these big questions. As a social scientist, I found it incredibly exciting. Even within my own field, I wasn’t seeing these kinds of discussions happening with such rigour. Something special was brewing within the creative industry.

The other key point was that all of this was happening because of significant institutional and governmental investment in the arts ecosystem, starting in the early 2000s. I was witnessing the rise of the first generation of individuals operating under this new paradigm. We are not saying that art or culture is new here — there is a rich history of artistic production — but something shifted in the early 2000s. This new generation, growing up with these opportunities, was creating a new cultural landscape.

Fast forward about ten years and my brother, who is also a curator and studied fine art, came up with an idea. He initially pitched it to my dad. Our grandmother was moving out of her house because my aunt was building a new one, and they were the last two people living there. My brother suggested, “What if we do something cultural with the house instead of renting it out or having one of us move in?”

At that time, about eight years ago, there were virtually no non-commercial spaces for showcasing contemporary art. My brother thought it would be great to create a space on a social level, independent of institutions or the government. The idea was to make private art collections public in a small art space, almost like a boutique museum, which would benefit the ecosystem.

That was the first source of inspiration for what we might do with the house. However, that idea never materialised. By the time my aunt moved out — five years later — the ecosystem had changed. There were two significant developments: the creation of the Jameel Arts Centre, which provided a proper museum for contemporary art, and Alserkal Avenue, which expanded its mandate to support art, not just function as a gallery district. These shifts made the initial idea less urgent, though still important.

That’s when I came on board. We reassessed the ecosystem and noticed a key issue: the need for accessible studio spaces for practising artists. The house had large bedrooms that could be transformed into studios, and we still had two large living spaces that could be used for exhibitions. This way, we could address both the need for studio spaces and the opportunity to showcase art.

The house before it became an art space

— Do you remember the very first artist who came to your space?

— The first artist we signed for studio space was Sara Ahli. Sara spent a year with us before moving to the US to complete her MFA in Glass at RISD (Rhode Island School of Design). Our first exhibition was a group show we hosted featuring three early-career artists: Dania Al Tamimi, Majd Alloush, and Khawla AlMarzooqi. The second and third artists who moved into our studio spaces were Abdulla AlNeyadi and Mohammed (Momo) Yousuf AlShaibani.

We started out slowly, and I remember telling my brother, "If we have 20% occupancy in the studios during the first year, that is fine." But what happened was unexpected — in a very short time after opening, we received a lot of demand, and we ended up filling all the studio spaces within just a few months.

— Why? Did people truly need a space like yours?

— Yeah, that is what was crazy. It was also eye-opening to see just how necessary what we were doing really was. We hadn’t even advertised yet — no Instagram, no public presence — we were basically unknown.

It just showed how much of a demand there was for studio spaces. Literally, it was artists telling each other, "Hey, there's a new space, check it out." It was all word of mouth that got things rolling at first. From there, we started developing and eventually growing our Instagram and public presence.

The funny part is, when we first opened, we didn’t even have a name yet. We launched the space while still debating what we should call it, which was pretty amusing.

— How long did you operate without a name?

— I think it was at least two months after we had already opened that we finally decided on a name. Before that, we were just operating as an unnamed art space.

— Okay, now, the name. Why this one?

— So, there were two main options we were considering for the name. The first, and the main one, was Bayt Yado. In Arabic, "bayt" means house, and in the Emirati dialect, Yado means grandma. So, the house was called “Grandma’s House” for about 40 years, and we thought it might be nice to maintain that continuity and preserve the identity of the house. We debated using Bayt Yado for a while.

But what held us back was that a lot of Emirati restaurants had already used similar names, so it carried a bit of a cheesy or tacky connotation. We didn’t want to go down that route with a name that felt too cliché for a business, even though we liked the idea of keeping "bayt," meaning house, because of its positive connotations.

In the end, we decided on Bayt Al Mamzar. Al Mamzar is the name of the neighbourhood, and we liked that it gave a nod to the area. Historically, Al Mamzar had a rich legacy — it was a well-known neighbourhood in Dubai with a lot of cultural activity. However, as new parts of Dubai developed in the early 2000s, the demographics shifted, and the neighbourhood started to lose some of its vitality.

Since we grew up in that neighborhood and knew its significance in Dubai’s history, it made sense to us to revive the name and the status of the area. So, we went with Bayt Al Mamzar to honour the location and recognise the history of the neighborhood.

Bayt AlMamzar. Photo: Yousef AlHarmoodi

— For those who have never been to your space, can you please explain in detail what it consists of? I mean, the studios where artists can create, exhibition spaces, and maybe any other areas where visitors can learn more about the history of the place.

— Our two main pillars are experimental exhibition-making and studio spaces for artists. We focus on working with early-career artists and curators, giving them a space to experiment and develop their practices. The house is a one-story structure with a living room, a majlis, a kitchen, two hallways, four bedrooms, and some outdoor space, including a front yard and a roof. We have turned the living room and majlis into gallery spaces, but we encourage curators to think outside the box and use other parts of the house, like the hallways or outdoor areas, to let the exhibition exist throughout the space.

The bedrooms have been transformed into studios, allowing us to host up to 10 artists, depending on the layout. We also offer artist residencies, and one of the bedrooms has been set aside as a live-in space for international artists to live and work in Dubai for a set period. This helps fill a gap in the UAE’s ecosystem, where opportunities for international artist residencies are limited. In just seven months, we have hosted about half a dozen artists worldwide, including Italy, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Kuwait, and Tunisia. Most recently, we have hosted a group show featuring Iranian artists and are offering them residency spaces as well.

One of the coolest things about this house is how flexible it is. In nearly three years, we have continuously adapted and found new ways to use the space. People often ask, “When are you going to expand? You should think about getting another space.” And while that would be amazing, the reality is that we can run this space because it is our grandmother’s house — we are not paying rent. I always joke, “I don’t have another grandma with a house!” If we had to pay rent, there is no way we could run this space as we do.

One of the unique things we have done, which honestly could be its own article, is run a bathroom residency. One of our artist collaborators, Ana Escobar Saavedra, used all the spaces in the house creatively. She set up exhibits and put on other interventions in the corridor, gallery, rooftop, and even outdoors. At one point, she joked, “The only space left is the bathroom!” A week later, she messaged me saying she wanted to do a residency in the bathroom. I immediately said, “Yes, go for it. Why not?”

Ana is a Colombian-French artist; she moved to the UAE around three years ago. She noticed that many opportunities here tend to favour younger artists. As a mother of two in her 40s, she felt excluded from many fellowships and opportunities. On top of that, the UAE’s art world is focused on large-scale, big-budget projects tied to institutions. So she thought, “Why not create my own residency?” Who is going to say it is not legitimate?

The bathroom was a modest space but perfect for her stoneworking process, which requires water and creates dust and noise. We didn’t offer her any assistance beyond the space itself, but she created what is now a fully functional bathroom art residency on her own.

Since then, Ana has been making incredible progress in her career. Despite the system favouring younger artists, she has carved out opportunities for herself and is doing really well. I’m really proud of her and excited to see what she does next.

Ana Escobar Saavedra's "Bathroom Art Residency"

— How long did it take to transform your grandmother's house into an art space?

— It took us a year. Yeah, we originally thought it would take just a few weeks or months, which is the funny part. We had a tiny budget and relied on our savings — both my brother and I were unemployed at the time. We managed to do the entire restoration and renovation for 90,000 Dirhams, which is roughly $25,000. So, we had to be very strategic about what we could and couldn’t do, being extremely conscious of the budget.

We thought, "Oh, it’s just going to take two months. We’ll do this and that," but, like with any construction project, it kept dragging on. Even with the basic things we did, like making the floors more art-friendly and installing track lighting, it ended up taking us a full year to complete.

Photo: Yousef AlHarmoodi

— Were there any details you decided to keep, like some of your grandmother’s belongings or other elements from the original house?

— Exactly. One of the key things during the renovation process was being mindful of the space’s history. When you are working with a place that has so much history, especially in a fast-moving environment like Dubai and the UAE, it is important to preserve as much as possible instead of gutting the place and starting from scratch. And then, on top of that, this was our grandmother’s house — the place we grew up in — so it had a personal, material history for us. Navigating what needed to be changed versus what should be maintained for the sake of character and history was a huge factor.

We had a lot of discussions. One of the main things we decided to keep was the front doors — the outside entrance and the main front entrance. They were beautifully carved, but after 40 years, they looked terrible. They had 40 years' worth of environmental damage, cracks, and general wear and tear. Most people would have thrown them out and replaced them with new doors, but for us, there was so much history tied to them that we knew we had to salvage them.

During the restoration, we realised that people back then built things to a much higher standard than they do now. The materials and craftsmanship were of much better quality than what you find today. So, in any case, where we could preserve those elements, it was a good thing because nothing we could replace them with would reach the same level of quality.

A random, interesting point is that this was a middle-class house — nothing upper-class — but in the 80s, they still used high-quality materials. For example, the floors in the kitchen corridor were made of marble. The fact that they were using such great materials showed us that it was worth preserving because it also reflected what the middle class meant in the 80s versus what it means today.

The doors were a major part of the project. We spent nearly the same amount of money on restoring them as we did on the lighting, but it was well worth it. Now, they look absolutely beautiful, and we are so glad we decided to preserve them.

— You mentioned that you always encourage curators to think outside the box and expand the space if needed. Do you remember the most insane or ambitious idea a curator ever proposed to you?

— I think the current show we have on, "In Your Dreams", has been the most ambitious from a production standpoint. One of the most impressive curatorial decisions I have seen in the space is what Yalda Bidshahri, the curator, did with the corridor. It is a simple yet impactful approach. The corridor is long and narrow, which creates a challenge around perception. So, what she did was take photography artworks, blow them up, and vinyl the walls with the same image that she then hung. This created this elongated effect, drawing on the theme of perception with these massive images.

What makes this even more impressive is that the house has really high ceilings, which we were lucky to have. I always thought it felt like the space was waiting to be turned into an art space because it is just so well-suited for displaying art. So, picture these high ceilings with immersive vinyl images filling the corridor — it is a spatial intervention that has been the most successful so far. While there might not be a big story behind it, it creates a perfect interaction between the space and the art.

Also, we have a crazy idea; it is bathroom-related. We haven’t made it happen yet, but hopefully, it will happen sometime soon. We had a Saudi artist visit us not long after we opened. We showed him around, and for some reason, he was really taken by one of the bathrooms; it was our grandma’s bathroom, the only room in the house that had remained intact since the house was built in 1984, as every other space had seen certain renovation even while we lived there. His idea was to host an entire exhibition in the bathrooms of the house; we have been discussing it ever since, and we hope to make that exhibition happen soon.

In Your Dreams (2024)

— And maybe you could share some names of emerging artists who deserve to be noticed, the ones worth highlighting, and those who are really cool and making an impact?

— The list would be endless. As curators, I would highlight Yalda Bidshahri, whose show "In Your Dreams" is currently on at BAM, Studio Salasil, a recently launched curatorial practice by Sara Safwan & Zeinab Hasoon, and Salem AlSuwadi of Swalif Collective. The list of artists would take a while. I will keep it at Saif Mhaisen, a mid-career(and yet under-recognized) artistic genius.

— Would you like to announce any upcoming exhibitions, support events, changes, or anything new happening with the art space?

— We have two really interesting projects we are currently working on. The first one involves the annexe structure in the back of the house. It was originally built as a laundry room, a small, somewhat depressing space that wasn’t designed for people to work in. But, as part of our goal to make use of every space available, and because there is still a lot of demand for studio spaces, we are working with Amer Madhoun, an architect and founder of Studio Collectus, on a design residency he proposed after seeing the space. For the past six months, he has been studying these annexe structures, which are common in Emirati homes. They are often used as kitchens, extra living spaces, commercial areas, or gathering spots. They are a key part of Emirati home design.

At the end of his research, we plan to hold an exhibition to showcase what he has found, hopefully, produce a publication, and, most excitingly, renovate the annexe at Bayt AlMamzar. The goal is to transform it into a co-working space and, fingers crossed, a small café.

The second project we are working on is launching a publishing practice. If everything goes well, we are aiming to release our first book in January. We are really excited about getting into independent publishing, especially art-related work. This would be our first Bayt AlMamzar publication under the name BAMBAM! (Bayt AlMamzar Books & Magazines).

Another exciting initiative is finally activating the roof space. It is just an empty outdoor area right now, and we have missed out on using it during the past two good weather seasons. We are working on an open call called Good Weather for the upcoming season. The idea is to bring in designers, architects, artists, and creatives to think about how to activate public spaces when they become accessible, like when the weather is good or when a neighbourhood rooftop suddenly becomes a possible public place.

We are thinking about the concept of public versus private space since, technically, it is a house but also an art space, and we have neighbours. We want participants in this open call to form a collective as part of the process, recognising the exciting grassroots collaboration happening in the UAE, where individuals and artists are coming together to create their own spaces and solutions. We want to encourage that by asking them to form multidisciplinary collectives — bringing together architects, artists, designers, writers, and musicians — to create something special.

Even if they are already part of a collective, we’ll ask them to collaborate further, maybe with other groups or individuals, to really focus on the process and methodology of working together.

by Alexandra Mansilla