One of the first things people noticed? The art wasn’t tucked away in a museum. It was everywhere. On the Corniche. Near family parks. Even in neighborhoods people drive through every day. The Biennial didn’t just decorate the city it blended into it.

More than 70 artists from around the world created pieces that responded to the city itself. The theme The Public Material wasn’t about creating objects to admire. It was about building a conversation between the place, the people, and the piece. Art became something alive, something that lived in the same spaces where people jog, relax, shop, and chat.

Forget the “don’t touch” signs. This Biennial invited interaction. In Lake Park, one piece called The Drowned House looked like it had sunk into the ground a haunting reminder of climate change and how fragile cities can be. Somewhere else, a digital carpet installation let visitors sit and chill, all while merging traditional patterns with modern tech.

And along the Corniche, an artist reimagined nature scenes inspired by Monet but gave them a social twist, making them feel more like urban poetry than paintings. These weren’t just pretty objects they were ideas you could walk through, sit on, and even think about later in the day.

What made this experience feel different real, even was how inclusive it was. In one area, there was something called The Tent-Cat. Sounds playful, right? It was. But it wasn’t just for kids. Sure, they were there drawing, painting, and leaving their marks on a big cloth wall but so were adults. Parents watching, friends laughing, strangers sharing markers.

It became less about “art” and more about being part of something. A reminder that creativity doesn’t need an invitation it just needs space.

Beneath the surface of all the installations was something deeper: a quiet pride in place. Some artworks were made entirely from recycled materials clever, yes, but also a subtle message about sustainability. Others came from local Emirati artists, using bold styles to explore culture, memory, and the city’s future.

In a way, the Biennial wasn’t just about art it was about roots. About celebrating what makes Abu Dhabi unique while letting it speak to the world.

Here’s the thing: this Biennial wasn’t meant to come and go like a seasonal show. It’s part of something larger a long-term vision where culture isn’t something people visit, it’s something they live with.

Abu Dhabi’s already home to landmarks like the Louvre, and soon, the Guggenheim. But this this feels different. It’s less polished. More personal. It’s culture out in the open, not behind glass. The goal? To turn the city itself into a space of ongoing inspiration.

So if you pass by something strange, beautiful, or thought-provoking in Abu Dhabi these days, don’t rush. That’s probably the point. Let the city surprise you.