Sometimes I feel like I am playing a detective game: whatever I am doing — working through my to-do list, enjoying a weekend, or even on holiday — I am always on the hunt for two things: talented people and art events in Dubai. With the first, I have already trained my Instagram algorithm well enough that it now suggests genuinely talented creatives all by itself (have a look at our Talents section). Art, though, still takes proper legwork.

So imagine how happy I was to be invited to the opening of Khali Balak Men RISO, Tashkeel's group exhibition dedicated to risograph printing. What is more, we got to speak to the amazing Ibrahim Zaki (confession: we love him and everything he does), who is both the curator of the exhibition and one of the exhibited artists, and who was happy to guide us through and share some insights.

So here we go: diving into the exhibition, getting to know Ibrahim a little better, and highlighting a few things not to miss before you visit. The exhibition runs until 21 August. Consider this your sign.

If you don't speak Arabic, the exhibition's title might seem a little cryptic. In fact, its meaning is quite simple. Khali Balak translates as "pay attention" or "watch out" — a fitting invitation to take a closer look at RISO, a printing technique where the smallest imperfections often become the most compelling part of the finished work.

The exhibition brings together eleven artists, each exploring risograph printing through workshops, personal practice and creative exchange. But why dedicate an entire exhibition in Dubai to a Japanese printing technology developed in the 1980s?

The answer lies less in history than in how naturally the medium suits the region's visual language. Risograph printing works in layers, one colour at a time, meaning every fine detail — a curve, a dot, a diacritic mark — has to be carefully considered. It is an approach that feels particularly at home with Arabic calligraphy and typography, where precision is everything. The result is crisp, geometric letterforms with a tactile, slightly imperfect quality that digital printing simply can't replicate. But even for artists whose main subject isn't calligraphy, the affinity holds: riso's appetite for flat, saturated colour and bold layering isn't so different from the region's own print history — the posters and flyers that have shaped its visual culture for decades.

This affinity isn't just theoretical, either. Tashkeel has spent years building a community around risograph printing, running workshops where artists return again and again to experiment with Arabic lettering, typography and illustration. Khali Balak Men RISO is essentially where all of that hands-on experimentation lands — not a one-off show, but the visible result of years of people quietly testing what riso can do with Arabic text and image.

Here is a strange thing about risograph printing: unlike painting, photography or illustration, we almost never get to see the process itself. Our feeds are drowning in pencil sketches, brushstrokes, colour palettes and moody behind-the-scenes studio clips — but riso? Riso keeps its secrets. So what is actually going on before that final print lands in your hands?

It all starts with the artwork itself — whether that is a pencil sketch, a digital illustration, a photograph or a graphic design. The image is then prepared for the printer, with the settings adjusted depending on the medium and the intended result. While RISO can work entirely from a digital file, the artists at Tashkeel tend to favour a more hands-on approach, treating the printing process as part of the creative practice rather than simply the final step.

Then comes the printing — and, more importantly, the waiting. A single-colour print can be done and dusted in ten minutes flat. Multi-coloured work, though, is where riso tests your patience.

Each colour goes through separately, and every layer has to dry completely before the next one lands, or the whole thing turns into a smudgy mess. The studio's unofficial golden rule: leave at least 24 hours between layers. Do the maths, and a more ambitious, multi-layered piece can easily eat up five days from start to finish — just ask several of Bassem Boules' works, which went through exactly that marathon.

A curator is usually the one holding up the mirror to an exhibition, shaping how the other artists' ideas come together. We are lucky here that the curator is also an artist himself, so his own thinking doesn't just steer the show — it turns up inside it too, echoed in his own work alongside everyone else's.

One of the exhibition's central themes is experimentation over perfection. Unlike digital printing, risograph thrives on unpredictability: paper humidity, ink density, colour overlap, the odd slight misalignment — all of it shapes the final result. And rather than treating these as mistakes, the artists here fold them straight into the finished piece.

So how does that philosophy show up in Zaki's own work?

It all starts with his visual language, which leans bold and geometric — large-scale forms, solid shapes, loud compositions built through a very hands-on process. That visual language meets the riso machine's inherent unpredictability, and something interesting happens: rather than fighting for control over every last detail, Zaki simply lets go. No matter how carefully you plan, the printing process will always have the final say, so he treats it as a collaborator, not a complication. The small irregularities, colour overlaps and little imperfections that riso throws up don't get corrected out. They become part of the work's identity.

The exhibition brings together eleven artists, each approaching risograph printing from a completely different angle. During my visit, I had the chance to learn a little more about two of them.

First one is Sara Baali, whose practice combines photography with drawing. Her works tackle one of risograph printing's biggest technical challenges: preparing photographic images in a way that preserves their detail despite the machine's limitations.

Then there is Bassem Boules. His incredibly intricate illustrations require the printer to be calibrated with exceptional precision to achieve the intended result. They also became something of a running joke at Tashkeel: apparently, Bassem's prints "cost them a lot" — because of the time, materials and sheer technical effort they demanded.

One of the exhibition's nicest surprises, however, is that it doesn't stop at established artists. Alongside familiar names are works by students, photographers, calligraphers and even complete beginners. Some participants had no artistic background at all, yet still produced fascinating results simply by experimenting with the process. It is a lovely reminder that, with RISO, curiosity often matters just as much as experience.

"I chose artists with different styles and perspectives to show the possibilities of risograph printing. I wouldn't ask visitors to focus on just one work. Every poster deserves time because each artist has approached the medium in a personal and unique way."

And one final reason to visit: if the exhibition leaves you inspired, you don't have to stop at looking. As part of the programme, Tashkeel is also running hands-on workshops where visitors can try risograph printing for themselves. Check the schedule — and don't be surprised if you leave wanting to make your own print.