In an insightful conversation, Pablo del Val, the devoted artistic curator of Art Dubai, shares his profound insights cultivated through years of navigating the dynamic world of contemporary art. With an extensive background that encompasses significant cultural experiences in cities such as Mexico and Dubai, Pablo emphasises the importance of observation and cross-cultural understanding in his curatorial practice. His reflections talk about a commitment to bridging cultural divides through art, fostering dialogues that resonate across diverse audiences. As he navigates the complexities of curating in a multicultural environment, Pablo’s approach is both thoughtful and intentional, ensuring that the art showcased at Art Dubai is not only innovative but also meaningful. We got a rare glimpse into the mind of a curator dedicated to enriching the contemporary art landscape. Excerpts from our conversation with Pablo Del Val at Art Dubai 2025.
After years of curating and working in the art world—including your time at Art Dubai—what are the key lessons you've learned, and how have they influenced your approach this year?
The first real learning is not to be deceived. I’ve always believed that the only way to truly understand contemporary art is through observation. The eye is the muscle that needs to be trained—because the more you see, the more you understand, the more you learn, and ultimately, the better person you become.
For me, the greatest lessons in creativity have come from stepping outside my comfort zone. Whether it was moving to Mexico or Dubai—places shaped by cultures distinct from my own—I constantly put myself in situations where my identity, beliefs, education, and background were challenged. That has been my most profound learning: understanding other cultures and engaging with people whose experiences and perspectives are entirely different from mine. Dubai, in particular, taught me this lesson well. When I first travelled to India—to Delhi—it was undeniably a cultural shift. But my time in Dubai had already helped me grasp aspects of Indian culture. I had made Indian friends, worked with Indian colleagues, and by the time I reached Delhi, I felt prepared to interpret what I was experiencing. This ability to bridge cultural differences, to connect and learn from others through contemporary art, is one of the most beautiful and enriching experiences we can have as humans.
Pablo Del Val
Since you come from a different cultural background, do you feel any pressure when initiating conversations and fostering dialogue within this space? Has this been a persistent challenge for you?
Quality is a truth that transcends national boundaries. But what is quality? It’s a subjective concept, understood differently depending on where you are. In Dubai, quality is about excitement, about bringing something new to the table—about artists reshaping and redefining the art world. And that applies across all nationalities. India, for instance, has a distinct artistic DNA, and Indian artists bring a unique aesthetic. But through travel and observation, the pressure to curate art doesn’t manifest as one might expect. The real challenge lies in presenting the best of the best—ensuring that what is showcased in Dubai resonates deeply. Dubai, in many ways, feels like an extension of India, with a significant Indian presence. Sometimes, I feel more like I’m in India than in the Middle East. For us, making sure what we present is meaningful to the Indian community is fundamental—it’s ingrained in the city’s identity, in the firm’s ethos. The pressure isn’t about personal preference; it’s about delivering something significant without manipulation. Because if I simply choose what I like, we lose the essence. Instead, I focus on selecting what holds true meaning, even if it isn’t to my personal taste.
You've started conversations about immigration and displacement—topics we discussed on stage as well. How do you personally view these themes, and is there a particular message you hope the audience takes away from the art they experience here?
The biggest challenge lies in bridging the gap between seasoned art professionals—who can engage with anything effortlessly—and those unfamiliar with contemporary art. Art Dubai, for five days, becomes an open museum, inviting visitors with varied levels of experience. I aim to encourage them to enter gallery halls without preconceived notions.
Often, people walk into the fair and react dismissively—"My child could do that," or "Is this even art?"—because they are stepping into a space where nothing has been pre-digested for them. Unlike watching a film or television, where the experience is structured for easy comprehension, contemporary art demands direct engagement. Viewers encounter unfamiliar forms, colours, and compositions that can be unsettling simply because they don’t understand them. This discomfort sometimes leads to rejection, driven by the fear of appearing uninformed.
For me, the greatest challenge is creating a welcoming environment where even those unacquainted with contemporary art can find a connection. It’s about teaching them how to ask questions, how to seek meaning, and how to engage with works of art rather than dismissing them outright. Contemporary artists serve as the eyes of our times, addressing deeply relevant themes because they belong to the present moment. The artistic vocabularies that some may find inaccessible are precisely the ones I hope more people will learn to navigate. That, to me, is the ultimate challenge.
Do you consciously incorporate elements of Emirates culture into the art you bring in, merging the local identity with the global? Is that an intentional part of your curatorial approach?
It’s really about context. People often claim that Dubai lacks an identity, but that’s simply not true. Dubai has a distinctive way of doing things, a unique approach to understanding reality, and its artists have a precise perspective on the world. Communities are shaped in many ways, and Dubai’s is anything but monolithic. Rather, Dubai is built upon a tapestry of diverse sensibilities and nationalities. The mutual respect among these different cultures and the way they collaborate define the city’s DNA. The approach to addressing issues, interpreting realities, and navigating situations is distinctly Dubai’s own—and that’s something you only truly grasp after spending a decade here.
Dubai’s identity isn’t static; it interacts with influences from abroad. What makes it successful is its ability to embrace everything that comes its way. That openness, that willingness to absorb and adapt, is precisely what makes Dubai so special.
On a personal level, what kind of art resonates most with you? Is there a particular medium you find yourself most drawn to?
When I moved apartments last year, I had to pack up my collection. Once I settled into my new home and put everything on display again, I expected it to feel different—but ultimately, the essence of each piece remained the same.
I’m especially drawn to artworks that repurpose existing objects, rearranging them into something new—a kind of artistic poetry. These assemblages breathe new life into familiar elements, transforming them into statements or visual poems. I love artifacts, things that appear to be one thing but turn out to be something entirely different. A painting that isn’t really a painting, a sculpture that looks like a rabbit but isn’t, materials that seem to guide your perception in one direction only to reveal something else entirely. I find beauty in these wicked, unexpected transformations. My collection reflects my obsessions, my tastes, my fears—they’re woven into its DNA. No matter how much you try to control your impulses, they always surface in what you collect. I often say that visiting a collector’s home is like watching them lay themselves bare. The works hanging on the walls are subconscious confessions, psychological imprints. You can trace the owner’s story just by observing their collection.
Collecting and exhibiting art is a way of exposing one's inner world, revealing desires, anxieties, and fascinations. That’s what I call stripping. That raw, unfiltered vulnerability makes it all the more compelling.
You’ve spoken about digital artists and the role of technology in art. How do you see technological advancements shaping the future of art in the coming years?
This is the same kind of question I was asked when the internet first emerged. I come from a generation that grew up without mobile phones. Back then, meeting friends meant scheduling plans over a landline. If you were late, you were out of luck—you had to call home to check if your friend had left a message, and if no one picked up, you were truly lost.
For those of us who lived through this transition, it feels a bit like the Spanish tale of Peter and the Wolf—constantly being told that something big is coming. The same anxiety surfaced when the internet arrived, and again with each new technological advancement. Now, it’s happening with artificial intelligence. People are terrified of it, convinced it will upend everything. And, of course, it will spark a revolution.
But history shows that humans adapt. We learn quicker than we anticipate, we humanize technology, and we shape it into a tool that serves us rather than a force that controls us. I trust that AI will follow the same path—that rather than becoming a looming threat, it will evolve into something positive. I believe in humanity’s ability to embrace change.
Words Hansika Lohani
Date 27.04.2025