On June 12, the NYU Abu Dhabi community learned that a beloved teacher, mentor, colleague and friend, Professor Tarek Al-Ghoussein, had passed away in New York City. Prof. Tarek’s contribution to the NYUAD community cannot be captured in the span of a single article but The Gazelle hopes to pay tribute to his legacy, both personal and professional, and honor the relationships he built with the people around him.

We spoke to his mentees, colleagues and friends, and while we couldn’t reach all the people whose lives he touched, these words are testament to Prof. Tarek’s generosity of spirit and his brilliance in the visual arts.

If you didn’t know Tarek, trust me, his influence is woven into the fabric of NYU Abu Dhabi. You have benefitted from his grace, talent and curiosity. He changed the psychic texture of rooms he walked into, and through his presence, changed what happened in those rooms. We now move forward without him. For me, the world has dimmed a bit. There is an echo to his absence, and the reverberations are hard to quiet. I particularly miss our continual stream of photos/videos/messages about our work. He was a profoundly impactful mentor. For students, and for me too. I’m changed by our exchange, as so many of us are. What a gift that he was here with us.

Tarek revitalized my arts practice more than anyone ever before. He made me believe in my process and was always encouraging by being incredibly honest. I owe him a lot.

Credit to Isabel Rios.

Credit to Isabel Rios.

Credit to Isabel Rios. Photographs of warehouses in Mina taken for Prof. Tarek’s class, Foundations of Photography.

Prof. Tarek was one of the most generous professors I have ever met. He would always offer help to anyone whenever he saw a need. I took his class 'Foundations of Photography', and when I mentioned just once that I was interested in graphic design, he immediately offered to connect me with his former student, a professor at American University of Sharjah teaching communication design. Because of him, I got to visit AUS to attend the midterm critique and gained so much insight into how a dedicated design school functions. Honestly, he was just such an awesome guy: he struck a balance between having a great sense of humor and chill energy and being strict and giving us much needed honest critique. His place is irreplaceable and he is much missed by me and many other students [sic].

Photo credit to Tonya Zhang.

Photo credit to Tonya Zhang. Photographs taken for Prof. Tarek’s class, Foundations of Photography.

When the majority of staff members and faculty turned a blind eye to my mental health issues, Tarek listened. With care and concern — he truly, wholeheartedly listened. When I couldn’t articulate myself, Tarek recommended books; incidentally, those books described what I couldn’t. He often spoke in quotes, which, eventually, I picked up as well.

The care he had for the students and the concern for where our institution is headed, is our community’s biggest loss. Few are willing to dedicate their entire lives to uplifting others. Especially in the art world.

The first longer conversation I had with Tarek was in 2019, in New York. His friend, John Torreano, an artist and former professor at NYUAD, called him, saying something along the lines of: “There’s this kid who really wants to switch to Visual Arts, could you meet with her?” Tarek took time amidst what was a very busy week of preparing for his exhibition to tell me more about the arts program and about how he started out as a photographer. He was generous with his time, knowledge and stories. That conversation helped me overcome the subliminal fear I then had from committing to arts at the university.

He said that he would be “particularly strict” with me — first, “because I know you studied with John”, and a few weeks later, “because I’ve seen your work, what you can do, and know you can do even more”. He was demanding and was continuously pushing students to do more in their work. If he complemented someone’s work, he truly meant it.

He said that “pushing someone, challenging someone is the greatest respect you can give to someone”. In the first weeks of his class, I was so anxious that I could barely maintain a conversation with him because of the profound respect I felt towards him. All our interactions were marked by respect — he inspired that.

He was a strict teacher. He was very good at sending threatening emails (occasionally, in all caps) about what would happen if someone left the darkroom messy (“If this happens again, we will go back to Digital. I kid you not.”) or would submit a portfolio in the wrong format (“no ring binders!”). If a print had the smallest smudge on it, it would not be accepted.

He rarely talked about his own work in class and, whenever he did, he would be extremely humble about it.

He was careful about influencing students’ reading of their own photographs, and encouraged us to form our opinions. After a conversation in which we talked about my final assignment for his class, I asked him which prints he thinks I should select for the final project submission. He smiled and simply said: “I have complete faith in you”. I realized that the only thing that needs to be done is to go back to the prints and look at them the way we did during our critiques. He talked to students as equals, with great humility. Rather than providing clear answers, he was able to make you feel that you have the agency, mind and eye to find your own.

He was incredibly generous. He’d offer to lend his books and movies on photography, even his own equipment so I could try out the ideas we talked about together. I would never dare to ask first, he’d always propose first. I’d say to him, often, regularly, that there is no way I will ever be able to thank him enough. He’d simply reply: “Please don’t ever humble yourself by feeling indebted to me.”

He sometimes used paraphrased Yoda quotes in teaching (“Do, there is no try. Just go out and shoot.”), and continuously encouraged students to look at work of other photographers (“Just look at the work.”). The basis of my knowledge about photography formed through his recommendations of artists whose work to look at. The passion I developed for the medium largely emerged from those too, and from how he taught us to look and see.

Tarek was the first (and the only one, to be honest) professor who saw more than just a student in me — there was always something deeply personal in the way he looked at my works because, above all, he was my friend, someone who had my back at any time. He always thought that I was afraid of him for some reason, whereas, in fact, it was simply a mere sense of respect and admiration for someone who so thoughtfully guided me through the uncertainties of my own artistic practice. I remember once we called, while I was in NYC, and he got mad at me for not being out in the city enough so he said: “We gotta make sure that you see the world.” And I do see it now, differently, vividly — all thanks to him.

Credits to Ilia Kuchuk.

Credits to Ilia Kuchuk.

Credits to Ilia Kuchuk.

Credits to Ilia Kuchuk. Photographs of construction sites taken for Prof. Tarek’s class, Foundations of Photography.

From the moment I met him, Tarek struck me as humble and generous, qualities that became more pronounced the more I got to know him. Over time I saw how he used his stature and success and connections as an artist to the benefit of the students he taught and mentored, without having to remind them of his importance as an artist. He was a quiet but forceful teacher and colleague.

When I joined NYU Abu Dhabi, my academic mentor Dale Hudson told me to take a class with Tarek Al Ghoussein. I was really skeptical because I thought it was going to be an introductory class in photography. At the time I was young and naïve, and thought I knew everything. But I thought fine, and I went. Tarek’s class completely changed the way I approached photography. And three years after in my senior year, I even retook the class, this time experimenting with film.

I’ve had two or three people in my life that really influenced my artistic practice. And Tarek is one of them. Tarek was a mentor. I think there was a shared sense of comradery between us because he knew I was a troublemaker and if you knew Tarek, you knew he was one too. In between all our jokes and mutual bullying, was a shared sense of respect and trust. Tarek was never the kind to be able to take a compliment. Even if I asked him, “How are you?” he’d reply with a humble “I’m okay” or a simple “thank you” if I made a positive comment about his work.

I remember going to the library to look for inspiration in one of our assignments in my freshman year. I flipped through the first book on photography that I found and I paused on some pages with photos of landscapes. I was struck by their composition, and a figure in each one of them that was present. I realized these looked familiar, and that’s when I saw the artist’s name at the bottom of the page: Tarek Al Ghoussein. And I thought, holy moly. I’m learning from the best of the best and I didn’t even realize it. Because that’s the kind of person he was: humble. When some of us went with the university to see the opening of his exhibition, Al Sawaber in Al Serkal, he thanked each one of us for being there. He saw everyone as an equal and never put himself on a pedestal. To his students, he pushed us to achieve our fullest potential.

The first time I took his class, I presented him idea after idea for my final assignment. And he rejected them all. He told me, “I know you can do better.” Eventually he asked me, why don’t I do a self portrait series. I told him absolutely no, that I would never consider putting myself in front of the camera. And he said, “Well I don’t like it either but I do it. And there are ways around it. Just think about it.”

Super self-conscious young anxiety-driven me was terrified. But, it ended up being one of my favorite pieces of work I ever did and one of the most liberating. I found an empty room on campus and just moved and played. It was performative before I even knew what performance was. Perhaps it’s a big reason for how I was able to open myself up to theater. Years later, still self-conscious and anxiety driven, but less so, and self portraiture, movement and the body continue to be strong aspects of my work. I would not be creating the art I am today without having had the mentorship and guidance of Tarek.

Photo credits to Harshini J. Karunaratne.

Photo credits to Harshini J. Karunaratne.

Photo credits to Harshini J. Karunaratne. Self portrait series: (e)motion (2014).

The last time I saw him in person was a week before I was leaving Abu Dhabi. By chance in Galleria Mall — of course I would recognize his iconic gray hair and black leather jacket in spite of the face mask. What was different was that he was sporting a dark green shirt (he always wore black) and I teased him asking if he was having a midlife crisis. I hadn’t seen him in a long time. I got to tell him that I was heading to Berlin, and that I got married. He asked me for a favor and I said that for him, I couldn’t say no.

Tarek taught me about what it means to be a great artist and still be humble. He taught me about mutual respect. He taught me to always keep learning and that even if I think something’s going to fail, to just try it. Tarek always pushed me to realize my potential. And he never held me back.

I’m sure Tarek would tell me, “it’s okay” if he could see how impacted I was by his passing. I’m sure he would also say, “Are you for real, I have unfinished business,” because Odysseus remains incomplete. But I’d like to believe that Tarek is in a place of peace. That he’s finding joy and serenity over the ultimate form of border crossing. I bet he’s going to the islands he had left on his list, and witnessing beautiful landscapes. I bet he’s looking down, seeing all the students he had an impact on and feeling simultaneously embarrassed by all the love we feel for him, and gratitude. And I’m sure if he could, he would respond with a humble smile and say, “I’m okay.”

Rest in peace Tarek.