Until December 28, the exhibition “Art Here 2025: Shadows” can be seen at Louvre Abu Dhabi, created in collaboration with Richard Mille. The show brings together seven artists, seven perspectives, and one shared exploration of light and shadow.

Among them is Jumairy, an Emirati artist from Dubai known for his remarkable performance work. For this exhibition, he created Echo — a pool containing a narcissus flower. Through this piece, he reflects on inner shadows, childhood memories, and the quiet thoughts that arise in moments of solitude. Inspired by the myth of Echo, the work invites viewers to look inward with honesty and compassion.

We really wanted to know more about this work and why Jumairy doesn’t open his face to anyone and wears a bunny mask.

— Jumairy, my first question is partly related to the exhibition at the Louvre and partly not: why do you choose not to show your face? And why do you wear a bunny mask?

— I was doing a lot of performances, and I started to get really bad anxiety about being in front of people and performing. My way around it, at first, was to blindfold myself. I began doing performances where I couldn’t see the audience. Then the blindfold evolved into one that had a bunny face on the front, and eventually that turned into a full bunny head. So there was this transition. And of course, there are reasons why it ended up being that specific animal and not another one.

I love creating experiences for people. And to be honest, the mask made it fun because I get to listen in on the conversations of the people who are the “first-hand users” of the artwork and hear their reactions without them knowing I am around the space. And with the media, it has become a tool to be selective in what I participate in. The mask became a way to preserve some sense of normalcy and privacy in a world that constantly demands you to be online, posting yourself, showing up at events, dinners, and parties.

— Okay, let’s go to the work itself. Your piece, Echo — a pool with a flower — is shortlisted for the Richard Mille Art Prize and is now on view in “Art Here 2025: Shadows” at Louvre Abu Dhabi. What is the story behind this work?

— It is quite a long story, and it actually started with the colour red.

So, I am known for the colour red, and many of my performances and installations are built around it. It is the colour of Jumairy. But I always knew there would be a moment in the arc of Jumairy’s story when I had to return to the water. That was always part of the journey: going back to the water.

I wanted this shift — from red to whatever the next colour would be — to feel monumental. And there was a natural phenomenon in Jumeirah that I grew up witnessing around December and January. The phenomenon was called حيض البحر (the sea’s period). For a week or two, the shore of Jumeirah would turn completely blood red due to the overproduction of a specific algae that grows in the Arabian Gulf.

This algae would attract plankton, becoming their temporary home. During the day, the shore looked blood red; at night, it became bioluminescent.

With this phenomenon in mind, I wanted to acknowledge this natural cycle that once happened yearly in Jumeirah — though it doesn’t really happen anymore for various reasons.

This phenomenon became the bridge between the iconic red I had been using and a deeper, more organic connection — to nature, to water, to my inner child, and to accepting the inner shadow and the glowing seafoam green. That is how Luciferin Shores was created. It was a way of honouring this phenomenon. I used seafoam green light to recreate it on the shoreline: we developed live image-making software that records and mimics water movement and projects light based on those patterns. It was a way of saying that even when natural wonders disappear, maybe we can bring them back — or at least attempt to — through technology and maybe technology does belong in nature?

After that, I wanted to give a nod to the name Jumeirah itself. Some people believe the name comes from Qumairah, meaning “little moon.” So, as a continuation of the story, I wanted to honour the moon by performing Qumairah in Downtown Dubai.

Every night, starting with the full moon, I carried pieces of a moon sculpture into the city. As the moon in the sky decreased in size, it appeared in the gallery in the form of these 13 pieces. They were heavy — the lightest was around 25 kg, and the heaviest was almost impossible to lift, so I had to push and drag it.

The reason the shore was once called Qumairah — “little moon” — was because the white sand of Jumeirah reflected the brightness of the moon so strongly that pearl divers could locate the shore at night by its glow. So the performance became a way to honour that story, and also my own namesake: Jumairy, Jumeirah.

With that gesture — that ritual — came acceptance and acknowledgement of darkness, of the shadow within. And that leads us to Echo.

— By the way, why Echo?

— The work is inspired by the story of Narcissus and Echo. The installation is titled Echo because I was thinking: what if she had recognised her own beauty? Echo was cursed by Hera, and I wondered — why would a goddess curse someone unless she was extraordinary? If Echo had acknowledged her own beauty, she wouldn’t have needed Narcissus. She wouldn’t have needed the glass flower you see in the installation.

When you approach the work, the first thing you see is the glass Narcissus flower. But as you move closer, you see your own reflection — your shadow — within the water. The idea is that as you look at it, you are reflecting on who you are as a human being. Some people stand there and stare at it, trying to look deeper into their reflection. And that is what I wanted — to create a moment where you reflect on your journey.

I wanted Echo to reflect not only my journey as an artist but also my journey as a person. I wanted the imagery of a well — a well of secrets, or a well that holds your life — to evoke that sense of looking inward.

— And the last question. I know that you… drowned in a pool when you were a kid? What?!

— Yes! I was around six years old when I drowned in a pool in Khor Fakkan, at the Oceanic hotel. Like, literally drowned. I jumped into the deep end without knowing how to swim. I thought it was shallow. So I jumped in, looked up, and all I saw was the light fracturing above me. And I remember thinking how stunning it was, and hearing people screaming and thinking that it sounded so nice. You know, as a little kid who isn’t comprehending the fact that I am actually drowning.

Then suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I started swallowing water. After that, I don’t remember anything. I probably fainted or went unconscious for a few seconds.

What I have been told is that my dad picked me up and basically threw me out of the water, and I started to open my eyes or wake up while my mom was screaming. So there is this jarring moment: first, you are seeing something incredibly beautiful, and then suddenly people are around you screaming, and you are like, What happened?

And my dad was so angry that day! He had a lot of calls and needed to stay connected to work, but all of his devices got soaked. His credit cards, money, everything in his wallet — ruined.