In This Exhibit, Six Female Artists Turn Emotion Into Shelter

Observer

29-06-2025

The first thing that strikes you when you walk into H1 Art Gallery is how quiet the space feels—not silent, but hushed, like you've just stepped into someone's thoughts. The walls hum with the soft voices of six women who've never met before this exhibition, yet feel deeply connected by what they've chosen to show. 'We End Up Building Nests' doesn't come at you loudly—it invites you in, gently. And if you stay long enough, you begin to see what they're really saying.
At one end, ceramic vessels by Helena Dragunova seem like they've been unearthed from memory. There's something honest about the way she mixes textiles with clay—her 'Bustan' series doesn't feel designed as much as remembered. The muted fabrics tucked around the forms, the earthy finish, the restraint—it all brings to mind not just Oman's landscapes, but a kind of emotional terrain. You get the sense she's making peace with something.
A few steps away, you spot what looks like old paper glowing from inside. That's Farah Asqul's lightbox collage, a work stitched from the past and lit for the present. It's deeply nostalgic, yet not sentimental. It demands you look closer—past the printed words, into the scraps and brushstrokes layered like skin. Her decades-long project using an antique book is about memory, sure, but it's also about how we process ourselves through fragments.
Then there's thread sewn into paper—minimal, precise, almost too quiet. Haneen al Moosawi's stitched pieces don't ask much of the viewer at first, but they linger. They speak to the slow, silent kind of growth—the kind no one sees, but which shapes everything. Her lines are like emotional fault lines, tracking the body's language before the brain catches up.
Every piece in this exhibition has a quiet strength to it. Take Nada W. al Kharusi's work, which brings photography, poetry, and deep vulnerability together. Her images don't hide behind perfection. They're raw and a bit wild, as if she's saying, 'Here's what healing looks like—it's not always pretty, but it's real.' Her message is clear: you're allowed to feel everything.
Across the room, Rozita Nosrati's paintings feel rooted—literally. Trees she passed daily are turned into reflections of belonging, of patience, of watching the world change around you. She paints not just what she sees, but what stays with her. The longer you look, the more you recognise the feeling of familiarity with a place that's still foreign.
Finally, Sara Riaz Khan's abstract works echo with stories from the women in her life. The form of a traditional shirt becomes armour, the fabric of legacy, turned into powerful visual shields. You don't need to know her ancestors to feel the weight of the women she honours.
Holding all of this together is Mays al Moosawi, the curator, whose own artistic journey shapes the tone of the show. Mays grew up between Oman and Iraq, surrounded by creativity, and eventually found her way to Chelsea College of Arts in London. Her work is deeply introspective, often exploring the emotional inheritance passed down from the women in her family. This exhibit, in many ways, feels like a continuation of that exploration—only this time, she's invited others into the process. Her recent solo show in Dubai taught her the value of cohesion and narrative, and you can feel that here. Each artist is distinct, but there's an unspoken rhythm to how the pieces are placed, how the stories echo one another without repeating.
What makes 'We End Up Building Nests' special isn't just the art—it's the feeling that these women are building something bigger than themselves. Through different mediums—clay, paper, thread, fabric, paint—they're mapping out spaces of care, questioning, reflection. Their works are not loud proclamations. They're gentle invitations. Each piece offers a kind of refuge, a safe place to land. A nest.
The exhibition runs until 14 July 2025 at H1 Art Gallery in Jawharat al Shati, Qurum. Whether you're an art lover or just someone looking to feel something quietly powerful, this is worth a visit. You may just walk away carrying a piece of someone's story—and maybe even seeing your own a little differently.