Everyday life, people and objects are captured on camera
There's a creative revolution going on in Dubai and it's apparently emanating from the deep interiors of the city. Photographers Toufic Araman, Tonnit Thomas and artist Tzath are only too thrilled by what it could result in.
"It's in a phase of constant change and that dynamism is a source of inspiration and creativity," Araman, whose works are currently on display at the More Café, told Weekend Review.
However, he acknowledges that while there is a lot of positive change going on the wave of creative output also thrives on the huge range of psychological emotions that a person experiences here.
Araman's current series on Dubai is far from the glamourous shots that regularly feature in the glossies. There is the mandatory photograph of the Burj Al Arab, but there's also a man peering through a fence looking out towards the landmark hotel.
The surreal image of the man has a ghost-like feel, which Araman says was intended to bring out the juxtaposition of what is and what is hoped for.
"The Burj is already there. You see it all over the place. That's the representation of Dubai. But what you don't see are the hopes and aspirations of people, everyday people, some of whom want to go there, but can't," he says.
Araman, who is the man featured in the photograph, has of course, been inside the Burj. "Many times," he says, but this exhibition isn't about him. It's about the everyday Dubai that we live in and not the Dubai we want to be known as, he clarifies.
Though his parents are both Lebanese, Araman grew up in Cairo and attributes the way he looks out at things and life entirely to the exposure he had to the energy of Egypt.
"I never belonged to either place. In Lebanon they would say I'm not one of them and in Egypt it would be the other way round. So in a sense I grew up surrounded by different points of view and understood that the same thing could be seen differently just by standing in a different place," he says.
Taking this away from the philosophical plane to the photographic field, Araman's different perspective is clear and obvious as everyday sights come alive just by him standing in a different place.
"You see these buildings and probably pass by them all the time, but you look at them from different angles and you learn or see something different each time," he says knowingly and consciously speaking in puns.
Need to express
The former economist, who used to paint turned to photography purely as a hobby, but says he'll always be an artist and that his work - whether it's designing a sofa (he hasn't done this - yet), painting or taking photos - stems out of a need to express. And he expresses what he sees and feels.
"Art always mirrors the surroundings," he says adding that in case it's also how he perceives those surroundings. "Art has always been subjective."
Though the final products prompt the question of touching up, Araman says that he doesn't fancy computers and the issue does not arise simply because of this dislike and discomfort.
"It's very rare that I resort to that [retouching]," he says, confirming that 95 per cent of his photographs are true to their original moment of capture. Though when it comes to the digital camera he is less agitated.
"That's great for photo shoots with models. Only because people like to see immediate results of their photographs," he says.
However, for anything else, the rule is to stick with film. Especially for landscapes. His photographs of Dubai's skyline bring out the steel and acrylic in a manner that focuses on the form and in a way that fits in with his whole ideology of a different vantage point.
Take for example, his photos of the Shaikh Zayed Road buildings with a water body in the foreground. Araman will not reveal the location from where it was shot.
"That's a secret, but, I will tell you this. It took us more than two months to get permission to work there," he says.
Or his rubbishing the light theory that the best time for taking photographs is either early morning or late afternoon.
He shakes his head and says that if that were the case none of his photographs would have been taken, appreciated or bought.
Pointing to yet another photograph of buildings on the highway with a glow of orange light behind it, he says that he shot directly into the light to achieve that.
"It's finally about the feel of the photograph and not about the light. There are no rules for art and that's the first rule," he says.
In keeping with his theme of Dubai, as it is now, and his works reflecting the steel and architecture, Araman decided to extend the presentation of his photographs, by having them printed on acrylic.
"It's a first for Dubai and was done after quite a few experiments, but it's possible and I didn't want to frame them," he says. Why? "Frames add a boundary to the photographs giving it a closed feel and I didn't want that."
The finishing touches were added by way of steel wires that were used to hang the photos along the walls of the café that also has an industrial feel in parts of its interiors.
Though he returns to Egypt, for what he calls a periodic renewal of inspiration, Araman is content and determined to stay on to take advantage of the innovative boom going on in the city. "For now I'm here. That's sure. It's all happening here," he says.
Creative professionals
The revolution continues as two creative professionals in a Dubai-based advertising agency make time to find relief from clients' restrictions by way of their art.
Tonnit Thomas's photographs bring out the man's background as a director, evident through his depiction of mundane stills and objects as stunning moments frozen in time.
Driven entirely by passion, he is described by colleagues as never being seen without his camera. Apologising in advance for his inability to articulate what he calls as traditional answers to questions on inspiration and experience, Thomas is candid about his work.
"I take my camera, I see stuff, I click. That's it."
As simple as that. There really is no inner meaning or depth to it.
"If you push me, I'll just say that my work as a creative director has trained me to look for that finer detail. So in a street I'll see the minor points instead of an overall scene. It's more of an instinct thing," he says.
Like Araman, Thomas too has a simple rule. "Never use flash." Though he prefers to work in the conventional dawn and dusk times. "It's more of when I'm free," he says. "But light sources could be anything, even a car headlight."
Despite limitations in terms of subjects and photo opportunities in Dubai, Thomas's frame-eyed view of what's around forces him to seek some element that makes a moment photo-worth.
"There has to be some subject, but finally what you feel about it is personal."
Thomas's friend and colleague, Leslie James Tzath has on the other hand, made a hobby out of a habit.
Taking the art of doodling to a slightly elevated level of prominence, Tzath works primarily with inks, crayons and acrylics after which he scans and then manipulates on a digital medium before finally printing his product with an inkjet printer.
Best defined as abstract, Tzath quotes Picasso, when asked what gets him to work - by his own confession - furiously.
"An artist draw what he thinks, not what he sees," he says going on to describe his first wave of experimentation. "It was with the back sides of rejected ads," he recalls and laughs.
"Those boards were made of foam and I'd just work with markers as they'd flow well on the surface. Soon the guys at work saw I was onto something and just kept me going," he says of what his wife now thinks is a near-obsession.
"The thought really has to come first and they're usually of images left behind. But, it's definitely an expression of what is inside me and desperate to come out. Working with clients is basically giving them what they want," he says of the double frustration of being in the creative field and not being able to experiment.
Unlike the photographers, Tzath prefers to embrace technology, as long as it doesn't overpower him.
"I'm already thinking in terms of 3-D representation and want to try and work out printing on a mirror. Who knows maybe even try and incorporate poetry that I wrote in the past. Who knows," he says and smiles at the prospect of what the creative revolution could bring.
