“This is about giving a voice to the invisible,” explains Hadeyah Badri, one third of the Sharjah-based Mobius Design Studio that has put together a new exhibition running at the Project Space, NYU Abu Dhabi Art Gallery until March 11.
Entitled Crystal No 6, it highlights the faceless artisans who add the decorative element to the traditional Emirati dress, the mkhawera.
A dress covered with lavish embroidery and beadwork, the mkhawera is significant to Emirati life and is often gifted to a bride by her mother-in-law. “These are things that are passed down. When the fabric becomes worn, we cut out the embroidery and add it to other fabric,” Badri explains. “These are precious items, but we never took a moment to think about how they are made.”
Typically, the rich handwork is made by specialists within the historic Freej Al Murar district of Dubai, and has been so for decades. While the area is famous for the work, the people who actually produce it remain entirely invisible. “Whenever the region is talked about, its usually about the beauty [of the work], the patterns, the ornamentation, but it’s never about the people,” Badri explains.
Mobius Design Studio, led by Hadeyeh Badri, Hala Al-Ani and Riem Ibrahim, has set out to increase the visibility of the artisans through the exhibition. It is the culmination of more than a year's worth of research and the trio were surprised by what they unearthed.
They were struck with how visitors to Freej Al Murar can look through countless samples – different styles, patterns and colourings – yet the men who make them, as this is traditionally men's work, are nowhere to be found.
“This really made us reflect on where our clothes are coming from and the labour that goes into it. What capitalism does is distance you from the source, like the food we eat and the clothes we wear and the further the source, the more you take it for granted,” Badri explains.
The men's work is entirely anonymous, with the shop taking credit for the work, a phenomenon also echoed on a wider scale as fashion houses – including some at the very top of the fashion pyramid – rely on handworkers who work without recognition.
“We realised this is a really interesting starting point and that maybe we should investigate a craft embroidery technique that luxury brands utilise and talk about the artisan and put them at the front of the conversation.” explains Hala Al-Ani. While the men are praised and in demand for their skills, they remain in the lower rung of employment.
When the researchers were able to speak with a handful of the makers, it also raised unexpected issues. “When we were doing the interviews, they were asking 'how many hours will this take?'” explains Al-Ani. With the men earning per piece, rather than per hour, each worker must find ways to maximise income. This directly impacted their willingness to engage with the project.
“This is time they could be embroidering someone else's piece, so they are losing money. Their time is so precious.” In the end, to ensure the project could proceed and that the men would never be out of pocket for being involved, Mobius took the decision to pay them in the form of grants.
To give the workers a voice, the men were asked to embroider something that reflected their life, their wishes and dreams. As professional artisans, it was assumed the project would provide an outlet for creativity and passion. The opposite in fact was true.
“At the beginning it was very difficult to get them to take full autonomy, as they are used to being told what to do,” explains Badri. “But as the project developed and they became more comfortable, we got interesting results. We had no intervention on what they embroidered.”
These beaded and embroidered works now make up the exhibition, displayed on the original addas frames, that hold the fabric taught enough to be worked on, and accompanied with a video about the men made by Abdulla Majjan.
There is also a series of paper scrolls that show the position of the fast disappearing shops in Freej Al Murar as tiny puncture marks. As tastes change, this famous region is now changing, with stores being replaced by coffee shops. This rapid shift of identity gives an added urgency to the exhibition.
Duygu Demir, curator at the Art Gallery, NYU Abu Dhabi explains. “This project was exactly the kind of project we are looking for as it sits between the boundaries of art, design, and research.”
“This connects to larger questions about labour in the UAE and the removal between the service and the person, and neighbourhoods changing and the need to archive. We have addressed these in other spaces, so it’s a conversation,” Demir explains.
What is noticeably absent from the show however is the artisans themselves. This was not by design, but a choice of the men themselves. “Even if we were to arrange a bus to bring the artisans down to Abu Dhabi, they wouldn’t come because it's time wasted. So, it's about freedom to move and time”, explains Al-Ani.
The trio hope to continue their research, as they feel they have only scratched the surface of a much wider conversation. With the area where the work is traditional done itself under threat, this might be the last opportunity to archive a rich local tradition.
The name of the exhibition itself explains the nuances at the heart of the issue. “You would hear the older ladies commissioning these elaborate dresses, saying 'make sure to only use Crystal No 6.' This is the smallest bead, so is slower, harder, and takes more time, but the result is more luxurious and extravagant,” explains Badr. “This is the irony of this beautiful garment – because you cannot deny it is beautiful. This whole other layer that we don’t want to talk about.”
