On the final day of the Cultural Foundation Art Residency, studio doors that remain private for months welcome visitors, offering a glimpse into processes that are often hidden. What I witness on display is not only finished work, but also the thinking, experimentation and shifts that shaped it.
The six-month programme is designed to give artists time and space. Participants are offered studios, curatorial guidance and access to the foundation’s facilities, alongside a final open studio. The structure is consistent, but what emerges from it varies widely.
In a happy bubble
For Emirati multidisciplinary artist and poet Reem Al Mubarak, the residency is centred on exchange. Her practice moves between materials and language, and she sought a setting where dialogue could shape the work.
“I wanted to be in a space with fellow artists and have this conversation and intimate moment between me and them,” she says. Visitors also became part of that dialogue and exchange, something Al Mubarak says she was “looking forward to”.
Her work begins with material. Objects that are often overlooked or discarded are repositioned as the artwork itself. Bubble wrap, typically used to protect pieces, is reimagined as a central element. The approach draws on memory.
“As children, we used to pop it and play around with it,” says the artist, describing a return to a more instinctive engagement with materials.
The large table anchoring her studio resembles a laboratory, bringing together a body of work shaped by geology. Al Mubarak collected sand from different parts of the UAE, examining variations between coastal and desert grains before using them to create handmade rocks. The process moves between close observation and wider landscapes, linking the elements across the room.
She describes the residency as supportive without being prescriptive. “It does not change you as an artist, but gives you the correct tools or resources to expand.”
Feeling blue
Lebanese artist Nour Hage approached the programme as a chance to step away from familiar surroundings. The Cultural Foundation, she says, offered both distance and focus.
“I needed a space to work from that’s far away from home, where I can think differently and try new things,” Hage explains.
Her studio is defined by colour, though its origins lie in research. Hage works extensively with natural indigo, drawn to its cultural significance as much as its visual qualities. “It’s been used traditionally in our culture as a form of protection,” she says, referencing indigo's role in warding off illness and the evil eye.
The act of dyeing is integral to the process. “It’s very long and very exhausting, but it’s part of the whole work,” she says, describing the time needed to achieve depth in colour.
One of Hage's most personal projects began after the death of her grandmother. Unable to attend the funeral because of the Lebanon war in 2024, the artist later returned and found handmade textiles among her belongings. She buried fabric pieces in her grandmother’s garden before unearthing them weeks later, allowing soil and the environment to alter their surface.
“It was a way for me to process her death, a way for me to mourn,” she says.
As conflict escalated, the land itself took on new meaning. The act of collecting soil became more urgent, tied to the possibility of not being able to return. The work holds both personal and political weight, shaped by absence and attachment.
For Hage, the residency provided the conditions to develop this body of work. “It pushed me to do something a bit different from what I usually do,” she says, adding that it helped her focus and refine her process.
Home from home
In another studio, Lithuanian artist Auguste Nomeikaite presents a photographic project centred on Mina Zayed. Having lived in Abu Dhabi for nearly a decade, she turned to the area during a period when she was still finding her place in the city.
“I went there and I was like: 'This is my place,'” she says. Without a car and with limited access to quieter areas, Mina Zayed became a point of return. “It became my friend.”
Her work documents an environment shaped by both industry and neglect. Over time, vegetation spread across the area, creating what she describes as a “feral forest” among warehouses. Cats, which were abundant, became part of that ecosystem.
“I’m curious about how nature sometimes becomes a pest or a nuisance,” she says, reflecting on how certain forms of life are reclassified over time.
As redevelopment progressed, many of the spaces she had photographed were demolished. In response, her work shifted. She began to engage with the archive she had built, using performative approaches to reactivate images of places that no longer exist.
“How can I activate the archive so that it doesn’t become just something stored away?” she says.
For Nomeikaite, the residency’s impact was shaped by access to sustained feedback and discussion, as much as by space. “The biggest gain was having the Cultural Foundation team here,” she says, noting their knowledge of the city’s urban history.
Form over function
Palestinian artist Aya Afaneh used the residency to return to a sustained studio practice. With a background in performance and sculpture, her work explores how meaning is formed and altered through repetition and translation.
“I’ve been thinking about how an object gets reduced in translation, rather than letting it exist as it is,” she says.
Her studio is filled with studies rather than finished pieces. Repetition is central to her method, with forms revisited over and over. “By the 100th time, you look at the first one and they’re completely different,” she says.
Performance underpins much of the work, even when it is not directly visible. Large canvases carry traces of past actions, functioning as residues rather than complete works. One piece originates from a public performance, while another reflects a daily, private practice carried out throughout the residency.
“I’m interested in what is left behind – what it means when I step away and something remains,” says the artist.
The six months reinforced the importance of time and consistency. “It allowed me time to pull things apart, to get to meet so many people and to learn from them,” she adds.
Across the residency, artists describe a similar balance. The programme provides structure, but leaves room for experimentation. Time, access and dialogue shape the outcomes, rather than a fixed brief.
The open studio provides a glimpse into that process. Many of the works are unfinished or evolving, reflecting the way ideas develop over time. For the artists, the end of the residency does not mark a conclusion, but rather sets the direction for what comes next.
