Meet David Popa, the viral land artist finding inspiration in the Arabian Gulf

The American creates disappearing frescoes in remote locations, with the deserts of AlUla and Dubai serving as his latest canvases

If you've browsed social media over the past several years, you may have come across the massive land art frescoes of artist David Popa. They're larger than life, meticulously crafted using natural materials in remote locations – and all made to fade away in about the time it took to create them.

“I see myself as a modern-day cave painter,” Popa tells The National. “We live in an ephemeral world – things don’t last. I just want to take materials such as charcoal and chalk out to some of the most beautiful places in the world – islands and rocks and ice floats – and create work that will fade into the mystery of life.”

Popa, who grew up in New York and now lives in Finland with his family, is a second-generation ephemeral artist. His father is Albert Popa, once better known as Conan, one of the standout members of New York’s graffiti scene in the 1970s.

“My father got his start at 14 years old, sneaking out the back window at night to find a place to create in the train yards – all technically illegally, all that could disappear overnight,” Popa tells The National.

“It wasn’t until much later, though, when I’d already started doing this art, that I realised how similar we really were. When I go to a location, for example, I have an idea in mind, but the land has a way of whispering its own intentions. It’s a dialogue.

“And I’ll never forget when I found one of his journals, opened to a random page, and it was him talking about the exact same thing. There’s a sort of spiritual, unearthed archaeology happening.”

Unlike his father, Popa found his start in the fine arts, studying painting at university and regularly going to museums to sketch. “One day, I was sketching a Van Gogh at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, and people kept stopping behind me to talk about it," he says. "I loved the dialogue – so I kept doing it just to see the looks on people’s faces, and then give them out for free. I started wondering, why isn’t art free? That’s how I fell in love with public art."

This year, Popa has found inspiration in the Arabian Gulf. In January, he created his largest artwork to date at the archaeological site of Hegra in AlUla, painting two protective hands around the Tomb of Lihyan, Son of Kuza. This month, he worked with adidas to create a giant fresco inspired by the Adizero Desert Runner in the Dubai desert. The projects have kindled a new love affair with the location, one he plans to continue on his own.

“I think I’m only just beginning – I have a lot of ideas I would love to create in the desert," he says. "I’ve been collecting bits of inspiration, and I want to make a body of work here. I could have never anticipated the mystery and beauty of the desert, especially if you come during sunset – it’s so ethereal and timeless. There’s really nothing like this – I can’t wait to be back and see what I’ll make next."

Increasingly, Popa is growing less interested in just flying to a remote location, creating art and leaving. For years, it was about making things more ambitious and more complex – “I love the pressure; I love pushing myself to the end of my comfort zone” – but his dreams have become more specific.

“Art is about communication. So my dream project is to live in some place like the desert in Dubai for a couple of months, meet the locals, build a story and make art that feels integrated with the culture and location," he says. "Art isn’t just about physical ambition – it has to work inside itself to be cohesive.

“I’m in a season of my life where I want to pull back a bit because I might end up dead if I keep going like this. Sometimes it goes too far. On the last project, my whole hand was swollen from using a sprayer for 12 hours a day.”

But while he says mindfully that he wants to scale back his ambition, he knows in his heart it’s unlikely. In some ways, he feels, he’s like the people who climb Everest “just to get to the edge of what you’re capable of”, a point he’s not sure if he’s reached.

“And there’s a spiritual element to this all too. When I go to these locations I get to collaborate with God," he adds. "It’s a very personal journey to go out and do this. And to be able to do this with my friends and loved ones – I’ve realised that those are the jewels at the end of it. The art is ephemeral, but the moments I’ve created last – at least for me.”