Embracing Change through an Open System: Maya Allison and Duygu Demir on “In Real Time” at NYUAD Art Gallery

Interview by Insun Woo

Published on May 14, 2024

Standing in an art exhibition, it’s easy to forget that there were real bodies involved in its making. In a space bounded by sleek white walls where objects sit, stand, and hang gracefully, sense of time and context melt away, and visitors are forced to focus on the object that lies before them.

In NYUAD Art Gallery’s latest exhibition, In Real Time, this solitary art-viewing experience gives way to something more embodied and communal, as the show foregrounds time—its passage—and the human body. Declared as “an unfolding exhibition to visit and revisit,” In Real Time has invited artists to perform or install work after the show’s opening in February, as well as visitors to participate in the production of two works.

Installation view: Rana Begum, No.1348 Wall Drawing (detail), 2024. Ink on wall, dimensions variable. Courtesy of the artist and The Third Line, Dubai. Commissioned by the NYUAD Art Gallery. Photo: John Varghese

The presence of others’ bodies is made palpable even before I set foot in the gallery. My walk towards the entrance is accompanied by a wall dotted with hundreds of black thumbprints. It is Rana Begum’s No. 1348 Wall Drawing (2024), inspired by the artist’s experience of providing her thumbprint to authorize the passing of her father’s property following his death in her home country of Bangladesh. The marks hint at the many hands that were at work to create the piece—an aspect echoed in Sol LeWitt’s Wall Drawing 797 (2024) facing the entrance of the gallery. Half-completed at the time of my visit, its vivid colors imbue the space with a playful energy, which contrasts with the poignant context behind Begum’s work.

This oscillation between opposites is repeated throughout the exhibition. Cristiana de Marchi’s knitted squares—the sizes of which supposedly correspond to that of the smallest prison cell—evoke a sense of suffocation, which is soon replaced by the expansive space generated by Gözde İlkin’s installation. Boundaries between the inside and the outside are blurred, as domestic materials compose a three-dimensional landscape and images of human bodies fused with natural elements abound. Products of weaving hands, the fabric screens and sculptures invite movement. With every step, I become more conscious of my body and surroundings, as my movements are reverberated by the performers in the video works who move with acute bodily awareness.

On the other side, the airy space created over time by Chafa Ghaddar’s Breathing Grounds (2024) and Haleh Redjaian’s The trick is to keep breathing (II) (2024) leads to a section so dense with bright colors and an assemblage of serving vessels, welded iron structures, clay plates that it arouses a sense of claustrophobia at first glance. Constructed by artist trio Ramin Haerizadeh, Rokni Haerizadeh, and Hesam Rahmanian with several collaborators, the space performs despair, sustenance, and relief all at once. It asks me to linger to pick up a thread and make meaning, and I do.

The aesthetic and thematic heterogeneity is fitting for an exhibition organized to mark the tenth anniversary of NYUAD Art Gallery, which has served multiple functions for the diverse NYUAD community throughout the years. In addition to showcasing art from and outside the Gulf region, it has served as a space for community members to gather and share their work. For arts students, it has often been the first institutional space to gain hands-on art world experience. In my last year at NYUAD alone, the Gallery was where I listened to my friends’ Capstone readings; witnessed the writing of the history of modern art in the Arabian Peninsula through the exhibition, Khaleej Modern; met with a mentor to discuss post-grad life; and spent occasional short breaks between classes in the afternoon.

In Real Time gestures towards such various roles the Gallery has played in the past, as it is meeting the community’s current need for a transmuting space away from class and work to contemplate—which has arisen in response to several conflicts taking place around the world, including the unfolding genocide against Palestinians.

In early April, I sat down with Chief Curator Maya Allison and Curator Duygu Demir, who joined NYUAD Art Gallery in November 2023, to discuss their experience of putting together In Real Time. The two reflected on the pleasant surprises that arose as the show operates as an “open system” that invites many bodies to intermingle and shape what is visible at the space, as well as the role of social media in relation to the exhibition and for NYUAD Art Gallery at large.

Insun Woo: In Real Time “will see works evolve as the show progresses.” This is an interesting premise for an exhibition. Could you further elaborate on how you came to conceive this curatorial framework?

Maya Allison: When I first began thinking about the exhibition, I was imagining one that is mural-based; artists would come into the exhibition space and make work on the wall. As the idea developed, I began to reflect on what it is that I’m responding to with this idea, which then led to the realization that it was that of the physical body in the space. When you see a hand-painted mural, you know that people were there making work. If you get to see or be part of the process yourself, it’s even better. Since people don’t get to have the latter experience very often, I wanted to embed it in the show. That’s where I lost the idea of a finished exhibition that is looked at by visitors. Instead, we conceived an exhibition about the passage of time—about artworks made by people in the past, present, and future. This aspect felt urgent because the news cycle in this region is heavy with reportage on the different conflicts happening right now. I thought that a static exhibition wouldn’t match what our audience—the NYU Abu Dhabi community—needs, which is a space away from class, work, or the dining hall to contemplate.

Duygu Demir: Before I begin, I want to note that my role in this exhibition has been supplementary. This is Maya’s project, and I’m learning to ride with the wave as I’m trying to mark my little place in it. As shared by Maya, the show is about bodily presence—being attuned to and more aware of another body in the same space that breathes, leaves marks, and needs space as much as you do. This aspect sensitizes everybody to somebody else. With the Sol LeWitt drawing, for instance, a participant follows the vibrations of somebody else’s hands. Artists are also much more aware of one another’s work, because the show didn’t just bring together work by artists who were doing their own thing. Nujoom Alghanem made her work having seen Haleh Redjaian’s and the Sol LeWitt drawing. I think seeing the work of other artists in the space. In that way, one of the conceptual aspects of the show affected artistic production—which was a nice outcome.

“I thought that a static exhibition wouldn’t match what our audience—the NYU Abu Dhabi community—needed, which is a space away from class, work, or the dining hall to contemplate.”
– Maya Allison

2. Sol LeWitt’s Wall Drawing 797 on April 30. The piece is being made by NYUAD community members. Photo: Insun Woo

I.W.: An exhibition that unfolds and morphs over time—it’s a lot of letting go of your power as a curator. Would you say that it led to a new form of anxiety? Or did it remove the stress that usually comes with the “final crunch period” before the opening of an exhibition?

M.A.: The anchor pieces were in place at the time of the opening and then more work was generated to add to those existing works. So, producing the exhibition didn’t differ dramatically from usual practice—we still had label deadlines and we still had to deliver something to look at. It was more that the show had a little room to breathe and change after the opening. Apart from this, I’ve also done a lot of commissioning work, which I take a lot of joy in. So the uncertainty embedded in the exhibition wasn’t too anxiety-inducing.

D.D.: I worked with Gözde around two years ago on a similar project. The exhibition involved a choreographer; a sound artist and musicians; and four dancers and took shape through mutually responsive making—as the dancers rehearsed and figured out how they were responding to the work, the work also responded to the dancers by changing its form. For example, if the dancers needed something to be bigger, the size of the sculpture would change to meet this need. Having had this experience with Gözde in which we had no idea during the production process what the exhibition was going to look like at the end, I was more relaxed about letting go and having less control over the outcome of our project in In Real Time. It’s been about making space for unexpected things and accommodating unanticipated bodies because things turn out differently than you plan anyway.

3. Installation view: Gözde İlkin, Entrusted Ground, 2022-ongoing. Dyed and stitched fabrics, fiber filling, stones, twigs, video, 3-channel sound, performance, dimensions variable. Photo: John Varghese

“The show is about bodily presence—being attuned to and more aware of another body in the same space that breathes, leaves marks, and needs space as much as you do.”
— Duygu Demir

I.W.: It almost feels as though you’ve created a temporary collective artist studio. Have artists expressed their reactions to this approach?

M.A.: I think it’s more something we’re observing; I’m not sure how much it’s intentional. For example, when Haleh—who does these extraordinary delicate geometric thread installations that bounce off the walls and spill onto the floors—installed her work, it was the only one in that space. When she came back two weeks later, other works had been installed, so she could think about how her work responds to those. She looked at Chafa Ghaddar’s fresco mural right next to her work. She might have gone further into Chafa’s space if she felt like there was a connection. Instead, she decided to keep her work to the outer edge, facing the mural. Chafa in turn used these big bold brush strokes, which is not how she always works. My sense is that she was creating a distinct contrast with Haleh’s delicate thread installation. Similarly, Nujoom’s piece has nails and yarn that draw lines between the walls of this hallway-like space in the gallery. You would think that that would be like Haleh’s thread installation. But then when Nujoom saw Haleh’s work, I think she wanted hers to be much bigger to achieve a different visual impact. So, it’s more that if you know the artists’ practice and see what they are doing in the exhibition space in response to others’ works, you can see the influences that are happening.

D.D: I think that’s also what happened with Gözde and other artists. When she and I were installing, Chafa was doing her fresco, and I’m pretty sure Gözde’s imagery affected Chafa’s consciousness. Similarly, Ramin, Rokni, and Hesam, who were installing in the other rooms, would come and look at what we were doing and we would go look at what they were doing.

“If you know the artists’ practice and see what they are doing in the exhibition space in response to others’ works, you can see the influences that are happening.”
— Maya Allison

4. Installation view: Haleh Redjaian, The trick is to keep breathing (II), 2024. Thread, nails, walls, floor, dimensions variable. Commissioned by the NYUAD Art Gallery. Photo: John Varghese

5. Installation view: Chafa Ghaddar, Breathing Grounds, 2024. Fresco on wall, dimensions variable. Commissioned by the NYUAD Art Gallery. Photo: John Varghese

I.W.: The artists in this show come from different regions and generations, and their practices are varied as well. The inclusion of Sol LeWitt’s Wall Drawing 797 came across as a surprise. I’d like to hear more about how you went about selecting the artists.

M.A.: That’s a great question. Typically, I wouldn’t think of Sol LeWitt since he is from another generation. But Wall Drawing 797 made sense for this exhibition because of its mural aspect. LeWitt is well-known for his rethinking of wall painting, the history of which stretches back thousands of years to cave paintings. Contemporary artists who engage in mural-making will be compared to him in many ways. I was interested in creating a conceptual mirroring between some works in the exhibition, like Chafa’s fresco work, with LeWitt’s. Another fascinating example is Rana’s No. 1348 Wall Drawing (2024). She has instructed performers exactly where to put their thumbprints on the wall. It could be said that she is using a language related to LeWitt’s, but the narrative behind the work is wholly different—it’s about the death of her father and how official documents are signed using thumbprints in Bangladesh.

On the other hand, Wall Drawing 797 speaks to the other conceptual aspect of the show—bringing the community into the space to get them off of their screens and make them engage in art with their bodies. Normally, a special certified Sol LeWitt estate supervisor needs to come in to ensure that specific details are followed in the execution of a work. Being able to draw a line is a really big deal. But anyone can participate in this particular piece. That’s why the piece is in the lobby and not in any of the main galleries. It sets that tone of participation. There’s something primal, something instinctive in that particular combination of body, space, and wall mark, and seeing this happen in the gallery is profoundly satisfying to me as a curator.

D.D.: “Drawing” is another apsect that ties together the works of the artists in the show. Haleh’s strings through three dimensional space is a kind of drawing. So is Gözde’s embroidery work. Ramin, Rokni, and Hesam wear these contraptions on their bodies to mimic immobility and draw on the floor. It’s about bodily movement and leaving traces—which is what drawing is about. In that way, even though aesthetically the works might look completely different, they are very similar.

“There’s something primal, something instinctive in that particular combination of body, space, and wall mark, and seeing this happen in the gallery is profoundly satisfying to me as a curator.”
— Maya Allison

I.W.: I noticed how letters appear repeatedly throughout the exhibition. There are letters of intent—as stated by the curatorial text (which is also titled as a letter of intent)—and there are different kinds of letters like the one by “the baker” in Moza Almatrooshi’s The Alphabetics of the Baker (ongoing) and an essay on biryani in the installation by Ramin, Rokni, and Hesam that is akin to a letter due to its personal tone. Could you elaborate more on why it felt important to include words by artists in the letter format?

M.A.: The letter format does two things. First, the letters of intent situate the text as a moment in time: intent is about the future. This acknowledgment of being from a moment in time relinquishes some of the authority usually implied by exhibition wall texts. Even in our ad campaign, I’m using that language, “this advertisement marks a moment in time…” Second, my hope is that it heightens our experience of “I” and “you,” between the visitor and the person who was there, or who will be there—much like correspondence used to do. To experience the thoughts of the curators and artists in their letters is quite different from the usual language of curatorial wall text, and also different from our common mode on social media. How often do we get to read a letter from an artist?

“How often do we get to read a letter from an artist?”
—Maya Allison

6. Letter by “The Baker” from Moza Almatrooshi’s The Alphabetics of the Baker, ongoing. Performance, bread, paper, pen. Photo: Insun Woo

I.W.: Duygu—as you’ve said earlier, you’re working with Gözde on Entrusted Ground (2022-ongoing) for this exhibition. It’s her first time showing in the UAE. Why Gözde for this exhibition? Is there anything else that you’d like to elaborate on?

D.D.: It was almost intuitive; I thought about her instantly when Maya articulated her ideas about a show that would change over time, since this is also what happens in Gözde’s installation. I’m now realizing that one of the reasons I thought of her is that she is open to ideas and integrating other disciplines such as sound and movement. Some artists are very adamant about their vision and don’t consider a symbiotic relationship with the curator, while some artists are open to this kind of relationship. In Real Time is an exhibition that requires this latter kind of approach.

It’s interesting to see how that became a common thread in some of the artists in the show like Ramin, Rokni, and Hesam, who worked with dancers Julie Becton Gillum and Kiori Kawai and a metalsmith who made pedestals for their play. Nujoom has done that too by inviting someone else to sing a poem that she wrote and integrating the resulting sound piece in her installation. The artists have given away some of the power to decide how their work would turn out. I’d say that we were interested in artists who are interested in other artists and inviting them in. It’s about having this kind of open system whose blurry boundaries allow for the mingling of various ideas and practices.

“I’d say that we were interested in artists who are interested in other artists and inviting them in. It’s about having this kind of open system whose blurry boundaries allow for the mingling of various ideas and practices.”
— Duygu Demir

M.A.: I like that way of talking about In Real Time as an open system. In this open system, the audience and curators become one of the artists whether they realize it or not because they have the opportunity to shape both the aesthetics and experience of the exhibition.

It might be that I was inspired subconsciously—a couple of years ago, I did a solo show with Ramin, Rokni, and Hesam. I wouldn’t show an artist twice within a short span of time, but because their work is all about the mark of the body in a space, I thought that it wouldn’t make sense to do this show without them. Their artistic practice centers on inviting people in and letting them shape the work, and I’m beginning to realize that my curatorial practice for this show in many ways parallels theirs.

I.W.: I’d like to hear more about aspects related to the show, like the guided tours. Did the exhibition concept influence the way they are done?

M.A.: The tour for this show has unexpectedly taken on a new layer. Usually, the exhibition tour changes over time as I respond to what I learn from the audience who voice out their perspectives on what they see. But the tour for this show has almost become like a healing journey in which I function like a yoga instructor. I start the tour with Cristiana de Marchi’s works, The Echo of the Void (2021) and Black Square (2022). One is a two-by-two white knitted square on the wall, and the other is a 98-by-98-centimeter black knitted square on the floor. Governmental records say that the former is the size of the smallest prison cell, while non-governmental records say that the latter is the smallest. I invite the audience to come stand near the work and physically comprehend how small 98-by-98 centimeters is by their own bodies. This can be painful. And then I make note of how the space around us might now feel huge. It's a powerful moment, but instructive: it is possible to not turn away from the suffering in the world, and feel appreciation of the moment we are in, simultaneously. It almost serves as a somatic exercise that invites the audience to be fully present in the space.

7. Installation view: Cristiana de Marchi, The Echo of the Void | Lettere dal Carcere, 2021 (left), Black Square, 2022 (right). Hand-knitted wool stretched on board, dimensions variable. Photo: John Varghese

I.W.: Instagram is the main channel through which you’ve been announcing what is happening at the exhibition every week. Would you say that this show has changed the way you engage social media? In addition, reflecting on the past decade, how has NYUAD Art Gallery’s relationship with social media changed?

M.A.: Our use of social media has changed a lot partly due to practical reasons like staff availability to work on it, but more importantly, because Instagram is the main channel through which people in the UAE learn about what’s happening around the region. I remember having a hard time trying to figure out what was happening when I moved here because I wasn’t used to relying on Instagram for information. It took a while for us to recognize it as an integral part of NYUAD Art Gallery’s identity. Our Instagram account began as a platform where I posted occasionally about our exhibitions, and it was developed into a more significant platform thanks to a staff member who was eager to build it as a channel for communication. We will experiment more with social media in the next year. We’re thinking of opening a TikTok account soon.

Having said this, I also feel uncomfortable about engaging Instagram as the main means to reach our audience, because it has become a place where we “doom scroll,” which impacts our mental health, especially because of the images of various conflicts across the region that are circulating right now. I want In Real Time to serve as a tonic that gets visitors off their phones and wash away the screen-based living. In Nujoom’s performance, the audience was invited to read part of her poetry, and a lot more people put their phones down than I’d expected. Many showed great enthusiasm at the chance to add to the yarn installation after the performance.

D.D.: We’re trying to share content that is different than what is available on the website. The PR agency that we work with has come in to do interviews with the artists when they were installing their work. If you’re following us on Instagram, you might get extra behind-the-scenes information that you wouldn’t get by checking the website or coming to the exhibition only. But the other way is also true—we’re using social media to tell the audience that it’s important to be physically present at the gallery. Maybe we’re instilling a bit of FOMO to say that you’re just getting a taste of what is happening at the venue.

“I want In Real Time to serve as a tonic that gets visitors off their phones and wash away the screen-based living.”
— Maya Allison

8. Installation view: Ramin Haerizadeh, Rokni Haerizadeh, Hesam Rahmanian, Julie Becton Gillum, Kiori Kawai, Pirouz Taji, Mohammed Rahis Mollah, Bhakta Gaha, Take a poiesis capsule with a glass of shadow on an empty stomach, 2024. Installation: floor painted with Dastgāh performance, video derived from that performance, assemblage of serving vessels, welded iron structures, clay plates, dimensions variable. Commissioned by the NYUAD Art Gallery. Photo: John Varghese

I.W.: It sounds like the exhibition served as a ground for experimentation for the artists and curators, and as a space of joy for audiences where they may come in, put their phones down, and create.

D.D.: I’d say it’s not only joyful; it’s a place to feel all the feelings. Nujoom’s poetry brings you to the verge of tears because it’s about a friend of hers who passed away living in exile without many friends. The show is colorful and beautiful but also deeply poignant at the same time. Visitors are asked to process these contradictory feelings at once. News cycles flatten lived experiences of political conflicts to a singular narrative that is often only about suffering. These experiences indeed are painful, but it’s also true that they are punctuated with moments of laughter and solidarity. It’s a very human thing for paradoxical feelings to coexist.

“News cycles flatten lived experiences of political conflicts to a singular narrative that is often only about suffering. These experiences indeed are painful, but it’s also true that they are punctuated with moments of laughter and solidarity.”
— Duygu Demir

M.A.: An intense performance by a Butoh dancer took place on the opening night. There was a point when the dancer was biting clay and putting it in her ears and eyes. It was difficult to watch because it looks so much like the kinds of suffering that are happening in many parts of the world today. The video version of it is playing in that space, and a lot of people have found it disturbing. But giving space to feel grief opens up the possibility for joy. So, yes, the show is joyful but it also holds intensely dark moments that are necessary. I’m not used to talking so much about emotions in my curatorial practice, so making this show has been a new experience for me as well, and I’m glad that it happened.

In Real Time is on view at NYUAD Art Gallery until June 9, 2024. Exhibiting artists include Moza Almatrooshi, as well as the artist trio Ramin Haerizadeh, Rokni Haerizadeh and Hesam Rahmanian with Julie Becton Gillum and Kiori Kawai.

Maya Allison is founding Executive Director and Chief Curator of the Art Galleries at New York University Abu Dhabi. She has edited and authored a number of books related to her curatorial work, including the first monographs on Syrian-American sculptor Diana Al-Hadid, and Swiss installation artist Zimoun, as well as a series of studies of the UAE’s art history, starting with But We Cannot See Them: Tracing a UAE Art Community, 1998-2008 and Artists and the Cultural Foundation: The Early Years. Her most recent book, Mohamed Ahmed Ibrahim: Between Sunrise and Sunset was published on the occasion of the Venice Biennale 2022, for which she was curator of the UAE Pavilion. Before relocating to the UAE in 2012, she held curatorial posts in the university museums at Brown and RISD, and directed an annual city-wide exhibition of new media art in Providence, Rhode Island.

Duygu Demir is the Curator at NYUAD Art Gallery and Research Assistant Professor at NYUAD Humanities Division. Originally from Türkiye, she was a founding member of SALT, a research-based cultural institution in Istanbul. She earned her PhD from MIT, with funding from both MIT and Harvard University. Prior to joining NYUAD, Demir was Assistant Professor of Art History at Sabancı University.

Insun Woo is a writer and researcher with a Bachelor’s degree in Art History from NYU Abu Dhabi. Her life experience of growing up in cities across the world—from London, Sofia, Seoul, Moscow, and Osaka to Abu Dhabi, New York, and Istanbul—as an East Asian woman informs her present-day interest in contemporary art that explores urban culture and history, memory studies, feminist thought, and the history of modern Korea. Currently an editor at Global Art Daily, Insun has previously managed a professional enrichment program for arts students at NYUAD Career Development Center; created a project related to “comfort women” survivors as part of the Guggenheim Museum’s Summer College Workshop; and contributed to Canvas Magazine, Fiker Institute, and Guggenheim Blog.

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🔍 Legal

Embracing Change through an Open System: Maya Allison and Duygu Demir on “In Real Time” at NYUAD Art Gallery

“I thought that a static exhibition wouldn’t match what our audience—the NYU Abu Dhabi community—needed, which is a space away from class, work, or the dining hall to contemplate.”
– Maya Allison

“The show is about bodily presence—being attuned to and more aware of another body in the same space that breathes, leaves marks, and needs space as much as you do.”
— Duygu Demir

“If you know the artists’ practice and see what they are doing in the exhibition space in response to others’ works, you can see the influences that are happening.”
— Maya Allison

“There’s something primal, something instinctive in that particular combination of body, space, and wall mark, and seeing this happen in the gallery is profoundly satisfying to me as a curator.”
— Maya Allison

“How often do we get to read a letter from an artist?”
—Maya Allison

“I’d say that we were interested in artists who are interested in other artists and inviting them in. It’s about having this kind of open system whose blurry boundaries allow for the mingling of various ideas and practices.”
— Duygu Demir

“I want In Real Time to serve as a tonic that gets visitors off their phones and wash away the screen-based living.”
— Maya Allison

“News cycles flatten lived experiences of political conflicts to a singular narrative that is often only about suffering. These experiences indeed are painful, but it’s also true that they are punctuated with moments of laughter and solidarity.”
— Duygu Demir

︎︎︎Previous Next︎

E-Issue 07 –– AUHWinter 2023-24

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About ––

Interviews ––

Open Call ––

Newsletter ––

Chronological Archive ––

E-Issue 01 –– AUH/DXB Summer 2020

E-01++ Fall/Winter 2020-21

🎙️GAD Talk Series –– Season 1 2020

E-Issue 02 –– NYC Spring 2021

E-02++ Spring/Summer 2021

E-Issue 03 ––TYO Fall 2021

E-03++ Fall/Winter 2021-22

E-Issue 04 –– IST Spring 2022

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E-Issue 05 –– VCE Fall 2022

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E-Issue 06 –– DXB/SHJSpring 2023

🔍 Legal

Embracing Change through an Open System: Maya Allison and Duygu Demir on “In Real Time” at NYUAD Art Gallery

“I thought that a static exhibition wouldn’t match what our audience—the NYU Abu Dhabi community—needed, which is a space away from class, work, or the dining hall to contemplate.” – Maya Allison

“The show is about bodily presence—being attuned to and more aware of another body in the same space that breathes, leaves marks, and needs space as much as you do.” — Duygu Demir

“If you know the artists’ practice and see what they are doing in the exhibition space in response to others’ works, you can see the influences that are happening.” — Maya Allison

“There’s something primal, something instinctive in that particular combination of body, space, and wall mark, and seeing this happen in the gallery is profoundly satisfying to me as a curator.” — Maya Allison

“How often do we get to read a letter from an artist?” —Maya Allison

“I’d say that we were interested in artists who are interested in other artists and inviting them in. It’s about having this kind of open system whose blurry boundaries allow for the mingling of various ideas and practices.” — Duygu Demir

“I want In Real Time to serve as a tonic that gets visitors off their phones and wash away the screen-based living.” — Maya Allison

“News cycles flatten lived experiences of political conflicts to a singular narrative that is often only about suffering. These experiences indeed are painful, but it’s also true that they are punctuated with moments of laughter and solidarity.” — Duygu Demir

︎︎︎Previous Next︎

E-Issue 07 –– AUH
Winter 2023-24

E-07++
Winter/Spring 2024

E-Issue 01 –– AUH/DXB
Summer 2020

E-01++
Fall/Winter 2020-21

E-Issue 02 –– NYC
Spring 2021

E-02++
Spring/Summer 2021

E-Issue 03 ––TYO
Fall 2021

E-03++
Fall/Winter 2021-22

E-Issue 04 –– IST
Spring 2022

E-04++
Spring/Summer 2022

E-Issue 05 –– VCE
Fall 2022

E-05++
Fall/Winter 2022-23

E-Issue 06 –– DXB/SHJ
Spring 2023

“I thought that a static exhibition wouldn’t match what our audience—the NYU Abu Dhabi community—needed, which is a space away from class, work, or the dining hall to contemplate.”
– Maya Allison

“The show is about bodily presence—being attuned to and more aware of another body in the same space that breathes, leaves marks, and needs space as much as you do.”
— Duygu Demir

“If you know the artists’ practice and see what they are doing in the exhibition space in response to others’ works, you can see the influences that are happening.”
— Maya Allison

“There’s something primal, something instinctive in that particular combination of body, space, and wall mark, and seeing this happen in the gallery is profoundly satisfying to me as a curator.”
— Maya Allison

“How often do we get to read a letter from an artist?”
—Maya Allison

“I’d say that we were interested in artists who are interested in other artists and inviting them in. It’s about having this kind of open system whose blurry boundaries allow for the mingling of various ideas and practices.”
— Duygu Demir

“I want In Real Time to serve as a tonic that gets visitors off their phones and wash away the screen-based living.”
— Maya Allison

“News cycles flatten lived experiences of political conflicts to a singular narrative that is often only about suffering. These experiences indeed are painful, but it’s also true that they are punctuated with moments of laughter and solidarity.”
— Duygu Demir