KATE NEWBYMegan mentioned it to me a couple of years ago, and I had just worked with her at the Govett-Brewster Art Gallery (Ngāmotu New Plymouth) on an exhibition called Swallowing Geography that had Ana Iti (also participating in SB16) in it as well. We'd just worked together and then I saw her in Wellington, perhaps around the start of 2022. She mentioned the Sharjah Biennial and that kind of started things. She said, “You need to do a site visit.” So I came out here and met her last April, which is when I really learned about the other artists and the theme.

KNI walked around a lot of the venues with Megan, like the ones around Calligraphy Square and Al Hamriyah Studios. Megan had some ideas and we went through them and looked around. I was maybe here for four or five days.

I had never been to the United Arab Emirates, and I basically didn't want to rush into anything. We went out to Kalba because another one of Megan's artists, Yhonnie Scarce, was exhibiting out there and we were looking at her space. We'd also gone to see some local pottery studios on the way out, because I'm always interested in looking at production, but nothing was sticking. We went to the Ice Factory and just had a quick look around and left. Then I went home and I remember being in the hotel going, “I don't want to make a work that could just be anywhere.” I also didn't want to come to Sharjah without going to the desert. So the next day we all bundled into a dune buggy and explored the desert around Camel Rock. It was then that I decided I wanted to go back to Kalba to take a second look. There was something about how you had to drive through the desert and mountains to arrive at the Ice Factory that really had an impact on me. 

I think what brought me back there was the starkness of it; how you had the ocean, the mountains, the desert, the wind and the sun all at the same time. I remember being totally blinded as I looked around the outside of the building because of how bright it was. It piqued my interest, especially the facade of the building that had these extremely tall columns that were creating very stark shadows. Megan was like, “Kate, are you sure? It’s just so big!” I’m always trying to include my work into different parts of architecture, and it felt like an opportunity to do that.

KNWhen I was developing the project, I was trying to think about how to use light. And at the same time, I'm always trying to work locally, and while I tried to hunt around for some glass and clay and bronze, nothing really stood out. Although glass is sand, I couldn't find a glass workshop. What I was interested in, and what I really didn’t expect before I visited, was how much water there was in Sharjah. 

Ropes have been a material I've worked with for a really long time. Coming off the Museum of Contemporary Art (MCA Australia) project, where I had worked with all these salvaged ropes from the Sydney Harbour, it seemed like a chance to work similarly in Sharjah.

The thick red ones and yellow ones were made by a local maritime rope producer, so they were made for the project. Other ropes came from the Thursday Market, which is a market where absolutely everything from furniture to vegetables is available. I also worked with some rope makers from the Sharjah Maritime Museum who helped me splice different colored ropes together. It was really important to me that some of the work was composed and made on site. The glass was made at the Canberra Glassworks in Australia, where I had just worked with the MCA.

KNI worked with Canberra Glassworks and glassblowers there to make these forms. I started off by making them in clay and by asking questions about what can be possible with shapes: “How do you make glass feel like a knot?” The shapes were developed by picturing ropes getting wound and twisted together. How do you draw with rope and how do you redirect the rope through the form of the glass? This is something I've been circling around for a few years. How do you weave together these different materials that might not ordinarily be friends? The colours were based on my experiences out at Camel Rock.

KNI haven't spent any time in the UAE, and I don't want to feel like I'm imposing myself onto a space. It's really important to me that my work feels part of a place. It's sometimes a strange tension for me, because I have to make assumptions, and I think that's why I'm always interested in the less important spaces or more peripheral spaces, because [something] like a sidewalk is for everyone, right? Maybe, I'm more okay in this area where the demands are less, and I can think more quietly. I really wanted to make a work that was perhaps more about listening than it was about telling. 

I also think about the generosity of art. I really like that people who weren’t part of the Biennial would get to see the work on the facade, because it’s on view 24 hours a day. When we were installing, we would start early in the morning at 6 or 7am and then break between 12 and 3pm because of the intensity of the sun. We’d then work into the night, and the space was always buzzing with families and kids and people spending time by the water.

The work continually changes because of the sun's movement, creating a reliance on the place where it's installed. I've set up the work, but I'm not in control of when the sun is at its brightest, when the shadows pop, and when it's cloudy and the work disappears. I've gone back to these basics of light and space. Paying attention to these things has helped me feel more connected to where I am.

KNI try to keep an open mind as a strategy, especially in places I’ve never been. Rather than arriving with assumptions, I wanted to come to Sharjah and take time to experience it firsthand. I live in Texas, which, like here, is often spoken about in sweeping terms. But for me, the real understanding of a place starts with the relationships I form—with the people I’m working with and collaborating with. That’s where I begin. 

Megan’s curatorial concept of hospitality resonates with me, because I think of my work as an invitation. It’s about noticing, slowing down and being responsive to the environment and the people around me. I see exhibiting here as a chance to listen, to pay attention and to contribute something that is quietly in dialogue with the place, rather than trying to speak over it.