One month into the Iran-Israel conflict, which has impacted the Gulf states, the Dubai-based artist and curator Rami Farook finds himself using pastels to draw foggy-like scenes of the situation: a drone flying over the Palm Jumeirah, a ‘threat’ mosquito on human skin, a father and his son praying together. But one particular image, “The Danger Has Proven That Our Gulf Is One”, has come out of the series as one of his most powerful pieces, capturing the Gulf region’s collective unity during this unprecedented and turbulent time. “The painting serves as a visual documentation of this moment in time,” he said. “It’s an emotional and social introduction to this crisis. An occupying image that attempts to uncomfortably describe the situation while making us wonder: "What will happen next?”

In his interview with The Sandy Times, Farook discusses his long drive-back to Dubai during the conflict, the symbolism behind his new work, and the role of art during a time of crisis.

— It has been nearly a month since the conflict unfolded, how are you feeling these days?

— Alhamdulliah, faithful and hopeful. When the attacks started, we were in Al Madina, Saudi Arabia, so I ended up driving 19 hours back home. Since then I have been selectively "monitoring the situation", on standby, dealing with this new abnormal while praying for peace everywhere.

Whenever it gets challenging I remember the verse from the Quran — "Nothing will befall except what God has decreed for us". As always, I am trying to be calm, caring, confident and consistent.

I was on a "digital detox" for the first 9 days of Ramadan, unfortunately the situation pulled me back in. I have been better at managing my content consumption and distribution now, compared to the first week of the war. There is something about these days that reminds me of Covid. The other night we were having iftar at a restaurant and at some point felt attached to everyone in the space, that we really are in this together. I will take this opportunity to advise everyone to practice self care, in all its forms, during this intense time. Also, have a plan, stay positive, keep going and don't let terror win. I also want to thank from the heart those who are trying to keep us safe and comfortable during these times. May God guide you.

— You were born in the UAE in 1981, a place that has lived in a state of peace for a long time. Is this the first time that you experience a conflict up close?

—To this extent, yes. I lived through the "Gulf War" in the early ‘90s and remember the American army's presence in the city along with our Kuwaiti guests awaiting liberation. A decade later, I was living in the US during September 11th and saw prejudice against Arabs and Muslims spread globally from that moment. This war is at home, with concerns about attacks, the state of the elderly, the sustainability of livelihoods, our capacity reminds me of another verse from the Quran — "Allah does not burden a soul beyond that it can bear".

What I found most interesting is how we "lock in" during a crisis, and our instincts are activated to provide, protect, hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Especially for those of us that have grown up here — it feels like it is our defining moment. I am amazed by how even relatively newcomers decided to stay and hold onto here as home. Whoever left must have valid reasons, they will likely be back when things cool down. Inshallah this will be over soon.

— How has the conflict affected your daily routine and painting?

— I was working towards an exhibition planned for late April, but things shifted, especially emotionally and intellectually, after this crisis. There is an underlying tension in the air, and an extra need to care for the family. I still draw or paint in the evenings, mostly in response to what is happening.

— On Instagram, you posted a very well-received photo of your new artwork that you made during the war of a male newsreader with a foggy scene of monuments across the Gulf. How did it come about and can you unpack its symbolism?

— I made a small pen on paper drawing in 2014, when a rainstorm swept through the region. At the time the news headline was: “The rain has proven that our Gulf is one”. When the war began I remembered this, and associated it with that moment — replacing the word ‘rain’ with ‘danger’ by changing just one letter in Arabic. As you go closer, you see how everything blends.

The newsreader's outfit and features embody the people of the area. There is chaos and dust, which dirtied his white kandora (garment). When you look at his face, you notice the shock that he is going through, plus the texture of sweat and superficial injury. There is also the landscape of the "Khaleej", its shores, deserts, towers, trees, mosques, a dhow and an oil rig on fire with smoke spreading.

— What role does art play during such distressing times?

As artists, we create, exhibit and exchange with purpose and intention. I try to be useful, honorable and compassionate. I am practicing that by presenting and proposing attempts to elevate and understand myself and humanity.