Hammour House II: Summoning the Sea with Intention

A Curatorial Reflection by Ahmed Al Enezi – The Contemporary Bedouin

We live in a world that is both drowning in data and starving for meaning.

As a curator who loves to braid together disciplines often seen as opposites—science and art, ecology and imagination—I return, once more, to the sea. Not in search of answers, but of better questions.

This is the beginning of Hammour House II.

The original Hammour House was conceived as a playful, fantastical public art project for Expo 2020 Dubai. It used storytelling, installation, and community participation to address the environmental collapse of regional fish species—specifically, the hammour (a beloved species of grouper). That work drew people closer to a daunting truth by inviting them into a space of color, emotion, and myth. It was a celebration, yes, but also a quiet mourning.

But we are no longer in the mourning phase. The crisis has deepened, and the ocean has grown quieter.

So I now return—not just as an artist, but as someone who began his career in Environmental Science and Marine Biology, someone who knows the texture of coral reefs and the silence that follows overfishing. I return to propose not just another artwork, but a living policy imagination.

What if the Sea Only Gave When Asked?

Hammour House II proposes a world where no fish—fresh, frozen, or canned—is harvested unless a human being intentionally asks for it. Not a company. Not a supermarket. Not a speculative supply chain. Only a living person, willing to wait, to pay, to receive.

In this model, seafood is not harvested on anticipation. It is harvested on request.

Governments become the custodians of the sea. Licensed, small-scale fishers retrieve only what has been ordered. Corporations process—but do not initiate. The ocean rests until summoned.

It may sound utopian, but I offer it not as a final solution, but as a provocation. A reframing. A map drawn in sand, meant to be redrawn together.

Why This? Why Now?

Because even though some regions have banned bottom trawling, and some species have recovered through seasonal closures and size restrictions, the system as a whole is still built on speculation, excess, and waste. Supermarkets overflow with seafood displays—rows and rows of dead fish, many of whom will never be purchased.

And I ask: What if they had never been caught?

This question doesn’t come from cynicism. It comes from love. Love for the sea, for the fisher communities of Abu Dhabi and beyond, for the children who deserve to inherit oceans teeming with life—not emptiness.

A Global Invitation, Rooted Locally

I begin this inquiry in Abu Dhabi, where I’ve witnessed firsthand how local fishermen—once skeptical of marine laws—have become passionate stewards of the fisheries they once feared were overregulated. Over decades, through dialogue and co-management with the Environment Agency Abu Dhabi, they have shifted from opposition to advocacy. They now understand that abiding by catch limits is not a burden—it’s a blessing. It ensures the survival of the species, their livelihood, and the continuation of a deeply rooted heritage.

What if this model of custodianship through consultation could be scaled globally?

What if Indigenous communities, fisherfolk, scientists, policymakers, artists, and everyday consumers came together—not to compete with solutions, but to co-create the future of seafood ethics?

From Poetic Proposal to Collective Policy

Hammour House II is not a manifesto. It is a call.
A call to imagine, together, a world where:

• Waiting becomes an act of respect.

• Consumption is preceded by reflection.

• The ocean is not a showroom—but a sanctuary.

This work, while rooted in my curatorial practice, is also a conversation. I am not claiming to have the answer. I am inviting you—whether you're a scientist, a child, a chef, a policy thinker, or someone who has stood before a fish counter feeling a pang of unease—to imagine with me.

This idea is open to critique. It must be challenged. But it also deserves to be considered seriously—as a gesture toward slowness, care, and ecological memory.

What Comes Next?

I will be inviting cultural institutions, environmental agencies, and communities to host this conversation—through exhibitions, public forums, artist residencies, and multi-stakeholder dialogues. The project may begin in Abu Dhabi, but it belongs to the ocean—and to all of us who dare to ask not just how we consume, but why we summon the sea at all.

If this vision speaks to you, reach out. Let’s build something worthy of the silence the ocean has gifted us.