A Retrospective Into Life: Sara Ahli And Her Bodies

Live:STR SELECTIONS

by Sophie She

A Retrospective Into Life: Sara Ahli And Her Bodies

21 Oct 2024

Photo: Menat El Abd

In an era where cultural narratives are more interconnected than ever, Sara Ahli emerges as a compelling voice in the contemporary art scene. With a unique background that intertwines Emirati and Colombian-American heritage, Sara's work reflects the complexities of identity, memory, and home. Her artistic journey, marked by a transition from fashion design to glass and mixed media, showcases her exploration of the human experience through innovative materials and techniques.

Sara now is a part of the Aisha Alabbar Gallery, feel free to read about this lovely spot here.

Stacked Balloons by Sara Ahli

— How has your Emirati and Colombian-American heritage influenced your work and vision?

— Over the last two years, this duality has become more evident, especially after moving from the UAE. Growing up, I spent my summers in the US visiting my mom’s family while living in Dubai the rest of the year. It wasn’t until 2021 that we visited Colombia for the first time as a family. That experience gave me a sense of home through my community, even though I had never lived there.

I was born in the US, where my parents met — my dad moved there in the 80s due to receiving a scholarship from the UAE government and my mom, born in Colombia, was adopted and brought to the US. My upbringing combined Emirati culture and my mom’s perspective. Sometimes, these cultural aspects would clash, like traditions that didn’t necessarily follow religious customs. We celebrated Christmas, Eid, Easter, and Hag Al Leila, blending these influences.

My father was working in Abu Dhabi, so we commuted to Dubai while he built our house there. This concept of home became tied to memory, much like the body carries memories. When I moved to Rhode Island, I gave myself permission to live as an artist. I started to explore my fascination with the human body, shaped by my background in fashion. This focus led me to glasswork, exploring the relationship between the physical body and space.

I was inspired by Gaston Bachelard's The Poetics of Space, which has influenced my recent work, such as Unfurling Blue Carpet Memories. I used childhood photos to recreate and reinterpret the idea of home and memory, bringing to life a blue carpet that, in reality, was actually purple.

Unfurling Blue Carpet Memories by Sara Ahli

— Can you tell us about your upbringing and education?

— I am the eldest of four. I was born in the US, but my family moved to the UAE when I was one. I attended school there but knew I wanted to go to college in the US. At that time, there weren’t any fashion schools in the UAE that interested me.

The transition from fashion to glass was significant. During my third year at the California College of the Arts, I had to complete a summer program in Italy to earn credits. While in Venice, I became mesmerised by glass — its fragility, transparency, and how it interacted with the body and space. I realised I wanted to change my major, so I designed a menswear capsule collection inspired by what I saw there.

After graduating, I started my own genderless brand called X-Labeled. I paused it later, wanting to give it the attention it deserved. When I began selling menswear in the UAE, my family questioned why a woman was designing men's clothing. I felt compelled to challenge that notion.

I handled all aspects of production myself, collaborating closely with fabricators. Initially, they doubted my vision, but I encouraged them, and we succeeded together. This entrepreneurial spirit has been a part of me since I was young.

I have always embraced the unconventional. I often felt different or overly Americanized, but I realised there is no need to fit into a box. The idea that one must choose between homes feels outdated. We live in a world where we can embrace multiple identities, which is powerful. It is a blessing to come from more than one place, even if it sometimes makes you feel like a black sheep in your community.

— Can you share more about your childhood environment and your favourite places in your home?

— Growing up, I lived in a one-bedroom apartment in Dubai with my family. My early memories include the floral-patterned carpet typical of the 90s, which felt like a safe haven and reminded me of home.

Later, we moved to a larger apartment with my parents and my brother. I enjoyed playing under a big tree outside our building. One of my fondest memories is seeing the progress of our new house in Dubai. My dad would take us there every couple of weeks, showing us how the space would evolve, from the sand to the structure.

I was particularly fond of our spiral staircase, which felt like a portal. The staircase represents a liminal space in my artwork — a place of transition where there is no hierarchy, just a cyclical flow of movement.

Reflecting on my upbringing helps me appreciate the journey my parents undertook to build our home. I have younger siblings now, aged 17 and 15, who were born into a two-story house with a garden. They didn’t witness the building process, so my brother and I feel fortunate to have that perspective.

— How do concepts of time and art influence your work?

— It is fascinating to consider how we experience time in art spaces. I have been reading The Velocity of Time, which discusses how we often rush through art galleries. For instance, a Mark Rothko painting may have a bench in front, encouraging viewers to take their time, whereas a Yayoi Kusama installation might limit your time in the space. This dynamic between art and time significantly influences our environment and being. The more we remember something, the more we fabricate our own narrative. This reflects how memories shape our understanding of home and identity.

— What was your turning point in deciding to fully embrace your artistic path?

— It took a couple of years of self-discovery. I wanted to prove to myself and others that I could follow the traditional nine-to-five route. I worked in hospitality, specifically with Dubai Parks and Resorts, where I managed various tasks as part of the opening team. Then, I transitioned to marketing and PR.

While I enjoyed these roles, I realised I wanted to be the creator, the one making the work rather than marketing it. During this time, a friend told me about an opportunity at Art Jameel for emerging artists. I initially hesitated, considering myself a designer, not an artist. However, I decided to seize the chance and put together a proposal in just two days.

My project commented on the intersection of fashion and meme culture. Each shirt had a different theme, and the exhibition increased my visibility, leading to a nomination for a residency with the Sheikha Salama Foundation. I had come from a structured design background, with mood boards and collections, but this experience opened my eyes to what it meant to be an artist. I realised I wanted to express myself on a larger scale and venture into the art world. Thankfully, I managed to secure a part-time position while pursuing this path, allowing me to transition gradually.

— How did your early successes shape your journey as an artist?

— My early successes were surprising. Many people began inquiring about my work, which confused me at first. I realised that I was being recognised for something I genuinely enjoyed, which validated my choice to pursue art. This sparked a desire to expand my practice and explore new opportunities.

After that, I focused on pursuing a master's degree. Initially, I considered sculpture, as I had no experience with glass. However, after discussing my concepts with people in the glass community, they encouraged me, saying my work would translate well to this medium. Embracing my unconventional nature and taking risks, I decided to dive into glass.

I participated in a two-week workshop that was fully funded through a scholarship, where I learned about kiln casting — a different method from blowing glass. The glass industry may seem like a dying craft, but it is integral to our daily lives, whether in architecture or interior design. My goal is to learn as much as possible about glass and introduce more people in the UAE to this medium.

My approach to glassblowing focuses on organic forms, expressing myself rather than striving for perfection. Every time I blow into glass, it feels poetic — my breath becomes part of the creation. The glass can transform into various forms: bowls, glasses, or flat sheets. This malleability resonates with the human experience, just as our bodies adapt and carry memories, glass holds a metaphor for our existence.

Photo: Evan Delpeche

— Which artists inspire you the most?

— I draw inspiration from several artists, particularly women. Rachel Whiteread is significant for her exploration of memory and negative space in her work. Louise Bourgeois also inspires me with her use of feminine energy and personal narratives.

I would also mention Linda Benglis. She began as a traditional painter but transcended those confines by creating works where she poured paint, allowing the audience to witness the process itself. Her approach emphasises action and the physicality of art.

I am also inspired by Marina Abramović, particularly her exploration of the body in extreme ways. Eva Hesse is another significant influence, she is very much a process artist. These women represent a departure from conventional notions of art, each in their unique way. I find myself particularly drawn to female artists, although I appreciate male artists too, they are not my primary influences.

— Can you describe a typical day in your art studio?

— I had the privilege of having an art studio for two years. My process often starts with materials I feel naturally drawn to. For example, I worked with surgical latex, exploring the idea of elasticity. I would blow bubbles and create a sort of mood board with these materials, collecting objects that inspire me without consciously deciding to make a mood board.

I also engage in a lot of writing. I have a notebook that has seen better days, filled with spilled coffee and graphite powder — it reflects my creative journey. From there, I start connecting ideas, often wrapping elastic around the bubbles I made and pondering the narratives behind my choices.

For my latest installation project, I knew I needed wood and concrete to convey the story I wanted to tell. I embark on a collecting mission, selecting objects and questioning their significance. For instance, while blowing glass, I used paper to shape it. The burn marks left behind became a source of inspiration for me — beautiful and poetic reminders of the process. This fascination with paper has grown, and I hope to explore paper-making in the future.

I find it compelling that shaping glass also shapes your body, leaving impressions and residues. This connection has deepened my understanding of memory and the concept of excavation in my work.

— How do you choose the mediums you work with, and what draws you to materials like elastic bands?

— My interest in materials developed during the 101 studio program in Abu Dhabi. We had a lot of hands-on learning, but when COVID hit, I began experimenting with casting. I became interested in plaster, which starts as a liquid and hardens, allowing for moulding. This led to my balloon series, as I could only find art objects in grocery stores during lockdown.

I used a vacuum bag and balloons, creating a setup in my garage where I would place the balloons in the bag and suck out the air. As the plaster set, the balloons adhered to each other, embodying concepts of environment, space, force, gesture, and elasticity. This work emerged from my experiences growing up in contrasting yet similar environments, prompting reflections on how our bodies adjust to pressures and morph over time.

The stacked balloons I presented exemplify our ephemeral nature. When the balloon skins ripped, it highlighted the impermanence of the artwork, prompting questions about whether discomfort can transform into comfort. I pondered what happens when concealed interiors become revealed exteriors, leading to my interest in memory foam, which can create impressions but also returns to its original shape. This raises the question of whether repeated impressions hold lasting memories.

— What do you hope viewers take away from your work?

— I want viewers to feel more in touch with their own bodies when experiencing my work. I aim for them to reflect on their personal experiences, whether they evoke feelings, memories, or dreams. Ultimately, I hope to foster a sense of embodiment within their own environment. It is fascinating because many people have told me that while they recognise the memories are not theirs, they feel like they’re reliving something from their own childhood. It is almost dreamlike for them. My work often evokes a sense of nostalgia, prompting reflections on space and home.

For example, viewers often describe my clinched figures and organic forms as "delicious" or "yummy," something they want to engage with. Yet, upon closer inspection, they notice the tension — like the pieces are being squished. I appreciate this tension, it encourages contemplation and creates a moment of presence for the viewer.

— Can you elaborate on your piece featuring the blue carpet?

— Yes, the carpet I created was originally intended to be blue, but my mom reminded me that it was actually purple. The work involved a cascade of a female body in front of the carpet, emphasising the relationship between the wall and the body.

This piece was intentional, it reflects a very personal yet universal theme. In many societies, there is a notion of women needing to hide or be enclosed. By using casts of my body, I express my liberation and control. I am not presenting my live body but rather an artefact of it, which conveys my decision to share my experience with viewers.

Initially, I struggled with visibility and felt like I should hide behind my work. However, this project allows me to embrace the idea that it is okay to be seen. The female body represents more than reproduction, it embodies power. The role of women in a home is crucial, as they often hold the family together.

I created this work for personal exploration, yet it resonates with many viewers. The blue and the bubble elements have distinct meanings, but they are deeply interconnected.

— How do the vessels you create connect to your exploration of memory?

— The vessels are a significant part of my work, reflecting a lot of physicality and repetitive movement. This repetition creates a rhythm, and each vessel, while unique, follows the same process. My body's state and motion vary each time, making it impossible to replicate any vessel exactly.

This idea of the body "listening" plays a crucial role, the physicality of our bodies determines the shapes we create. Thus, the vessels serve as a metaphor for my body, embodying the concepts of repetition, movement, and choreography.

When I worked in the hot shop with glass, I became acutely aware of my body’s movements — if I moved too slowly, the glass would fall, if too quickly, it would spin out of control. This awareness deepened my understanding of both the material and my own physicality, connecting back to memory.

— You mentioned that many people suggest ceramics as an alternative to glass. How do you see the differences between the two mediums?

— Yes, I have often been told, "You should try ceramics, you can achieve similar outcomes." While I acknowledge that ceramics offer its own merits, working with glass presents a distinct experience. The properties and handling of glass are unique, requiring different techniques and approaches.

— How would you describe your work in five words?

— I would say my work embodies contemplation, tension, personal narrative, excavation, and a lens. These words capture the essence of my creative practice.

Contemplation is key, I want viewers to think deeply about what they experience. Tension reflects the contrasts present in my work. Personal narrative is crucial, as memory plays a significant role in shaping my art. Excavation signifies the exploration of deeper meanings within my creations. Lastly, I view my work as a lens — a portal to different experiences and ideas.

I have been increasingly drawn to installation work, creating portals of contemplation and presence. This sense of discovery is vital to me, I am always eager to explore new materials and ideas.

— Do you believe there is enough contemplation in the modern art scene?

— No, I think there is often a lack of it. While I appreciate punk aesthetics, I believe we need to slow down and reflect more. I enjoy photography, especially the work of some friends at RISD who explore themes of home and Americana. Their focus on architecture and specific moments in time feels humbling and meaningful.

— Do you think it is better to have many homes, like you do, rather than just being in between?

— Absolutely. I often tell my younger siblings that while the UAE is their home, they should travel and discover what home means to them. We don’t truly understand the concept of home until we leave it.

Growing up, I struggled with this idea, feeling frustrated about my sense of belonging. As I have matured, I have realised that home is what I make of it. It is about finding a place that resonates with me.

Sometimes, it is like a mug, you might accept it as it is, but you don’t truly evaluate if it fits well in your hand or if you like its colour until you try other options.

Missing out on the coolest events in Dubai? We know where you’ll be in November: The Crowd Test Festival — the very first Art and Music Festival by The Sandy Times.

The lineup is incredible: Mainline Magic Orchestra from Spain, Eden Burns from New Zealand, and a lot of your favourite DJs like Hani J, Hassan Alwan, Bazzzuk, and more.

Mark your calendar, snag your tickets, and get ready: November 16, 2024, from 5 PM to 3 AM at Monkey Bar, Dubai.

by Sophie She