The first ever image that I was shown as an impressionable art history student, at Birkbeck College in 2005, was a photo of Rachel Whiteread’s House (1993). Our lecturer wanted us to reflect on the graffiti on it and ponder the age-old question of what can be considered ‘art’. I later learned how those graffiti came to symbolize so much more–– the heated debate around the demolition of the artwork, a divided community, the praise of critics, the loathing of local politicians, and the circus of art prizes. That year, Whiteread won both the Turner Prize for best artist and the K Foundation's prize for worst artist, worth twice the money. It was just the perfect case study. Leaving aside the question of ‘what is art’, in that moment, I caught the first glimpse of the disruptive power of Public Art–– the power to spark debates you can’t control. The kind of power at play when you willingly slide your head under the guillotine of media outlets, official statements, and passersby. No museum walls are there to protect you, no turnstiles to check who comes in and out, no security at night. East London in the early 90s was a space undertaking radical social transformation. Whiteread hit a sensitive spot. Her installation became a black hole swallowing the past and spitting out a dire, beautiful, yet unusable and confusing version of the future. People were being evicted from that street and new (wealthier) people were about to move in. The memories of World War II bombings were only one generation away, in some minds as fresh as the stupor at the new high rises being built not far, in Canary Wharf, to house a new and shiny financial district. Like it or not, Whiteread and her commissioner Art Angel were, at the very least, showing a lot of courage.
Public Art can be many things–– a medium, a dream, a policy framework, a community initiative, colorful dressing on urban greens, or sometimes just “that thing on the roundabout”. In the nebulous constellation of art makers, thinkers, funders, and facilitators, the term takes a vast array of different meanings. Is it about the public? Is it about the art? Both? Neither? Surely, it doesn’t just happen. Or you might disagree–– what about murals, spontaneous performances, speaking corners, buskers, or street portraitists? True, impromptu stages of tarmac and tiles are full of precious moments of creative expression. And yes, you can certainly feel the pulse of society when you witness or participate in those moments. Here, however, I want to look more specifically at instances that fall under a slightly more serpentine definition–– interventions for the public realm planned by politicians, conceived by artists, and produced with institutional support. A much more intricate affair, and an area in which we are witnessing unprecedented efforts, especially in Gulf countries, from where I write.
Specifically, in this article I’d like to offer a reflection on two initiatives: Dubai Public Art and Riyadh Art, the flagship public art initiatives currently active in both cities. There are a few reasons for this choice. It is not common to see Public Art so high on governments’’ agenda. Both cities are advancing rapidly with programs initiated from scratch only a few years ago. Also, in both cases, these were introduced as key pillars of a new long-term vision to build a stronger cultural infrastructure, facilitated by large investments of government resources and, most importantly, embedded in the wider context of staggeringly fast urban and social change. These common traits make them two unique and comparable case studies, despite their ‘operational’ differences (and financial, considering Riyadh’s budgets are of a different magnitude). If their promises are fulfilled, they will change the landscape of Public Art commissioning well beyond the Gulf.
‘Belonging’ and ‘transformation' are the lenses through which I invite you to look at the two cities. As general concepts, I believe they have sustained the aspirations and conundrums of most public art initiatives around the world in recent decades, especially since the beginning of the century when the global competition amongst cultural capitals moved markedly beyond the Western world. Here, more specifically, Public Art dynamically shapes ideas of what it means to belong to a cultural space, whilst affecting its transformation firsthand. Complex questions of identity, social mobility, immigration, and cultural diplomacy are woven into unsettled dust from revolutionary urban planning, rapid transformations of the relationships between co-existing, yet segregated, communities, and evolution in the status of artists who feel a sense of belonging to some of these communities. The combination of speed and complexity of such transformations in Dubai and Riyadh––more than anywhere else––makes this framework the most productive in order to understand (and to a certain extent, speculate about) the impact these initiatives will have on the two cities, their opportunities as well as their limitations.
In sharing this story, I am assisted by four individuals who, in different capacities, sit at the very heart of it all in both cities. They are: Sarah Brahim, one of the most talented Saudi multidisciplinary artists, who has gained significant prominence on the international scene over the last two years, and who in 2022 produced one of the most ambitious public installations ever seen in the country, for the Noor Riyadh Festival (a part of Riyadh Art); Christina Lessa, Senior Advisor to The Royal Commission for Riyadh City, who played a crucial role in launching Riyadh Art and continues to be a trusted guide shaping the future of the program today; Benedetta Ghione, the Executive Director of the Art Dubai Fair, currently the leading commissioning entity for Dubai Public Art; and Dr. Saeed Mubarak Kharbash Al Marri, CEO for Arts & Literature for Dubai Culture & Arts Authority, the senior government official responsible for Dubai Public Art. I am immensely grateful for the many fruitful conversations with all of them, which have added much-needed color and perspective to this discussion.
“It was five days after the opening and I was going there every night to see how people were engaging with the work. The location of the installation is near an area where people like to gather on weekends. The space under the bridge itself is not a very popular spot, you may find some people there fishing in the wadi, especially in winter. Usually, the area is quite popular with families, it’s very peaceful and safe. For me, it’s always been somewhat a sacred space, a sort of brutalist cathedral. It was very special, which is why I chose this location for the piece. One evening these kids came, alone, they were very little, five or six of them I think. They sat there for around one hour–– I guess that means they must have watched the film five times on a loop! I was nearby doing other things, and then someone told me they wanted to meet me and take pictures with me. I couldn’t believe they were still there, it was late, maybe around midnight. They had just been sitting there waiting, they were so shy and small. The oldest one started asking me questions, he seemed curious to know how I got to the place where I am, and then at one point he said “We are proud of you”…Can you imagine? It was really unexpected. I told him “I am the one who’s proud of you–– this is for you, in fact. This is your city, these are your spaces, you can do anything you want here, you can play music, you can dance.” The juxtaposition of the scale of the installation and their bodies was something that struck me. The opportunity for them to be there in a place that is so unusual in a way, and experiencing it in such an unusual way, to fathom the possibility of something like this happening, it’s so meaningful. And something that just didn’t happen in Riyadh until a few years ago. In the US I might stumble upon something like that and it’s also beautiful, spontaneous and rare, but in Riyadh the associations we make with those spaces are different. There are family memories, but also a sense of how the possibilities of public space were restricted until now. To be under a highway bridge and see music and dancing it’s something you just wouldn’t expect.”
This is the story that Brahim shared when I asked her about the public reaction to her installation, De Anima (2022), commissioned for the Noor Riyadh festival. It is a poignant example, I believe, of what it means to witness radical transformation, whilst seeking to imagine your future self in the experience of an artwork. The piece––writes Brahim––is about “building bridges between different aspects of the self as well as ourselves and the environment surrounding us. [It is] a gateway from the external to the internal self, from public to individual.” This relationship between the public self and the individual self sits at the center of any yearning to belong. To create a space of belonging means to create new connections between these two sides of the self. Brahim’s installation unlocked new possibilities for a fragment of the urban landscape that until that point was overlooked and limited in its function. Allowing children to re-imagine such space means to expand the horizon of possibilities that the city can offer. To participate in this experience gives them a new opportunity to own a space just revealed with their imagination–– to project their bodies and ideas into this expanded realm.
Much like Whiteread and Art Angel did in London in the early 90s, Brahim and her commissioners at Noor Riyadh disrupted the urban and social fabric of the Saudi capital through an art intervention that was unprecedented. To understand the pace of transformation and the way in which social reforms have enabled this in a staggeringly short span of time, Lessa reminds me that as recently as 2015, when she started working on Art in Transit (one of the earliest programs of Riyadh Art), “contemporary music and art as public expressions of creativity were actionable (unlawful).” Brahim, from her perspective, argues that, in the wake of current social reforms, such opportunities inevitably “increase the sense of responsibility” for artists based in the country who are called to contribute. They need to quickly learn how to deal with the complexity of working in unusual locations, all under the careful scrutiny of the press, critics, and an enthusiastic and curious local public. To Brahim, “this generation are paving the way for new artists to continue to work in public spaces in the future and will be recognized as the pioneers of creativity in a moment of deep historical transition.” The same can be said about their audiences, since many of those experiencing this new wave of creativity are witnessing public artworks of this nature and scale for the first time in their lives.
Building new cultural audiences is at the heart of these programs. In Dubai, Ghione suggests that Public Art serves as an “entry point into the visual arts––it sparks debate and discussion, opening conversations and creating bridges between different communities and cultures.” The UAE's creative capital may have a longer history of public sculptures and art festivals than Riyadh, but it is also experiencing a new wave of government-funded public commissions for the first time, that will create what the Art Dubai director describes as a “city-wide gallery that is experiential and accessible to all.”
As with the example of Noor Riyadh and De Anima, the choice of location and artists for the first Dubai Public Art commission is also highly significant. The piece, aptly titled Union of Artists, was unveiled in late-February 2024 and is now located directly opposite the country’s Union House (the birthplace of the United Arab Emirates) and the Etihad Museum, arguably the most prominent architectural emblems of national identity in the UAE. Initially, the competition was meant to produce a single winner, but the symbolic value of the location inspired the group of shortlisted artists (Afra Al Dhaheri, Mohamed Ahmed Ibrahim, Shaikha Al Mazrou, Khalid Albanna, and Asma Belhamar, all UAE nationals) to unite and propose a single, co-produced artwork. The statement embodied in this ‘creative union’ forms a strong identity anchor for the first commission. Their choice to transcend both the competitive nature of public art commissions and the differences in their own respective practices shows a desire to expand the impact of public artworks in the city and evoke a sense of shared belonging. The emphasis on national identity is also crucial in a city where UAE nationals remain a minority amidst an increasingly multicultural population. The relationship with the international community in the city is gradually becoming less transactional. “More and more people are coming [to Dubai] to build their lives and raise families,” Ghione notes, and with this comes “an increasing appetite for culture and cultural programming”. How local audiences will relate to these new public commissions remains to be seen. It will depend largely on how commissioning models evolve to reflect the diverse demographics and narratives that make up the cultural dialogue of the city, and on how artists tasked with representing it can capture and steer it in new directions.
Rapid transformation points to possibilities, but it is equally fraught with unpredictability–– new spaces, young institutions, and large, risky investments of time, money, and social capital. New buildings, parks, and roads are popping up in a matter of months. The rituals that regulate the interaction between communities and their public spaces are still being established. In government circles, the sense of urgency is palpable. A lot is expected from public art initiatives, often perceived as merely a category in the international pageant for ‘best art destination’. From the purist front of the international art world, ‘top-down 'initiatives like Riyadh Art and Dubai Public Art are sometimes dismissed as tools to achieve other policy goals, whether in international diplomacy, economic development, or tourism. This is a somewhat simplistic view, even though many Western capitals have shown that their public art programs are designed with exactly those collateral benefits in mind.
In Riyadh and Dubai, public art programs are being crafted as catalysts for broader cultural sector development and as channels for more progressive and integrated city administration. I sought Lessa’s insights on this, particularly regarding the cultural sector, and she underscored the significance of its impact on the younger generations–– a sentiment Brahim had already shared. “Adaptability, responsibility, entrepreneurship, and community; these traits are becoming synonymous within the global arts scene [...] The creative economy has ushered in a new era of politics, education, and innovation. Although it’s challenging and somewhat presumptuous to lump all artistic endeavors under the ‘creative economy’ label, it’s not challenging to promote and support arts education through this lens.” In her view, the role of Public Art is tightly woven with that of arts education, creating far-reaching effects. “These effects,” she continues, “are crucial for self-awareness and cultivating the cultural intelligence necessary for future generations to not only foster a collective sense of humanity and originality but also to forge careers with added value in this emerging creative economy.” This circles back to the critical need to support a new wave of artists who are deeply embedded in their communities, capable of crafting narratives that can underpin an expanded, more progressive form of creative education. Until recently relegated to the periphery of a Western-dominated discourse, these artists are now actively shaping new visions for their communities and sparking important conversations through the articulation of their complex artistic identities. Programs facilitating this shift like Dubai Public Art or Riyadh Art are not aiming to conform or cater to a dominant narrative, merely to gain acceptance in some international club for art destinations. Instead, they strive to establish robust alternative curatorial frameworks, with the potential to replace the reductive, regionalist perspectives still prevalent among many Western institutions and curators active in the region.
Going beyond the cultural sector, the intricate behind-the-scenes work that enables Public Art commissions to take place also indicates that these programs are sparking new dialogues for city administrators. When I discussed the impact of Dubai Public Art with Dr. Kharbash, he mentioned five recurring themes in his conversations with colleagues from other government entities: beauty, creativity, safety, the economy, and community. There is a complex and extensive debate ongoing, involving numerous government entities at different stages throughout the life cycle of all public art commissions. Multiple intentions converge here: providing opportunities for artists, building an attractive city with a high quality of life, inspiring young people, enhancing safety and accessibility, and redistributing crowds away from the city’s most congested areas. However, according to Kharbash, the overarching objective is straightforward, “Urban development in Dubai has progressed rapidly, yet strong community ties take time to develop. Public art must become a common ground—both literally and figuratively—where the needs and desires of diverse communities can meet.” For him and his team, initiating a Public Art program has raised the profile of the entire cultural sector in government discussions and propelled it closer to the top of the administrative agenda. Unlike other initiatives such as exhibitions, gallery shows, fairs, and festivals, Public Art significantly increases the involvement of other government actors in the production process. Due to its multidisciplinary, cross-institutional nature, it has emerged as a new embodiment of the strong connection between cultural development and broader socioeconomic progress.
Just like the community ties Kharbash referred to, the impact of these programs also won't be seen overnight. While a central enabler has the advantage of being able to gather all the necessary resources to make projects happen, a major capital's desirable public art landscape, like that of Riyadh or Dubai, requires more independent initiatives. Dubai Public Art was already launched following an arm's length principle of disbursement. In this approach, government funding was not offered directly to artists and contractors, but rather, to commissioning entities chosen from established cultural organizations already active in the city. This is a crucial principle that needs to be reinforced and more widely adopted. It empowers cultural operators who are already engrained in the country's social fabric, and who are invested in, and therefore motivated to, involve the communities affected by their projects.
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This may all sound very promising, but I wonder if it is fair, or even possible, to place so much responsibility on Public Art. From my perspective, it is clear that institutionalization, branding, and bureaucracy are not introduced merely for tourism and entertainment, but are essential components in constructing a legacy. As pillars of new, sophisticated cultural infrastructures, Public Art programs must support a new form of creative education, enhanced social integration, greater freedom of expression, and fair international recognition for the creative spirit of the cities that host them. If they deviate from this path, they will fail. In the Gulf context, Public Art can provide a crucial interpretation of what transformation means. It serves as a marker of a city’s multi-layered identity, retaining value beyond its status as ‘monument’ for the way it mobilizes several communities. Curating Public Art in this context means guiding a transformative process, while nurturing a sense of belonging. Making it a reality is a shared challenge, necessitating a common language and the capacity to disagree. Perhaps this is also why its disruptive power remains as strong today as it was three decades ago.
Dr. Carlo Rizzo is an independent researcher and cultural producer working at the intersection of visual arts and technology. He was the director of the Dubai Collection and Special Advisor to Dubai Public Art from 2022 to 2024. Together with the Art Dubai Group, he developed the first Public Art Strategy for the city of Dubai in 2021 and has advised the emirate’s government on the implementation of the program. Previously, Carlo taught Arts Management at Franklin University in Lugano (Switzerland) from 2022 to 2024, and Art History in Birkbeck College (UK). His academic research focuses on post-colonialism and the representation of Middle Eastern cultures in Western museums. Carlo was also an advisor for the Diriyah Gate Development Authority (Riyadh) and a Public Art commissioner for the Exhibition Road Cultural Group (London). Throughout his career he has held a number of advisory, management, and non-executive roles in organizations including the Saudi Ministry of Culture, the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, the Brompton Design District, Imperial College London, the Science Museum, and has served as a Trustee of the Royal Society of Sculptors.”