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Ali Eyal: Imagine, all this happened just an hour ago, 391 Grand St., New York,

December 11, 2025 - January 31, 2026
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Ali Eyal: Imagine, all this happened just an hour ago

Current exhibition
December 11, 2025 - January 31, 2026 391 Grand St., New York
  • Press Release
  • Installation Views
  • Works
  • Press
Press Release
Ali Eyal My sleeping room, 2025 Colored pencils on walnut paper 11 x 8.5 inches 28 x 22 cm. 13.75 x 11.25 inches (framed) 35 x 29 cm (framed)
Ali Eyal
My sleeping room, 2025
Colored pencils on walnut paper
11 x 8.5 inches
28 x 22 cm.
13.75 x 11.25 inches (framed)
35 x 29 cm (framed)

François Ghebaly is proud to present Imagine, all this happened just an hour ago, Ali Eyal’s debut exhibition with the gallery.

Ali Eyal is an Iraqi artist working across painting, drawing, assemblage, and film to examine how personal memory tangles with political violence and loss. Born in Baghdad in 1994, Eyal orients much of his practice around vanished places: the unelectrified dark of a childhood bedroom in the city; an uncle's farm south of Baghdad; and other familial spaces now destroyed and existing only in the artist’s imagination to which he returns again and again through the circuitous routes of memory and reinterpretation. His images unfold in a cartoonish, sometimes grotesque idiom that sidesteps realism. Instead, Eyal finds in exaggeration and distortion a sharper instrument for rendering what he calls "the after war.” This refers to the lingering psychological wake of conflict, and the way state violence continues to reverberate through survivors and diasporic communities long after wars end. Eyal's canvases teem with color and incident, their dense, heady compositions animated by an internal logic that refuses easy legibility. In this refusal, Eyal’s own imagination becomes a way of insisting on stories that have been suppressed or forgotten.

In Imagine, this happened just an hour ago, Eyal presents a group of oil paintings and framed drawings that interpolate childhood memories, recurring characters, familial mythology, and insinuations of exile, surveillance, and disappearance. The exhibition's title suggests the temporal collapse that is characteristic of traumatic memory, where past events persist with startling immediacy in the present. Throughout the works, individual figures’ thoughts are often depicted through vignettes or literal doorways carved into their heads, or else bleeding into the present moment with hallucinatory clarity. The paintings careen between perspectives and timelines in a visual logic that recalls aspects of stream-of-consciousness, magic realism, and elegy. In the work Could you please paint this? (2025), Eyal merges a memory of his mother showing him the brilliant blue-green spores on a moldy orange with visions of armed soldiers searching his bedroom. A painter’s palette and brush in hand positioned at the lower edge of the image remind viewers that the composite scene, though comprised of true events, is equally an invention of the mind’s eye. This porosity between interior/exterior and real/imagined underscores the psychological terrain Eyal navigates. His drawings, meanwhile, unfold across a number of different surfaces: washi paper, wooden veneer sheets, cardboard, hastily torn leaves from sketchpads and other ephemera. This array of materials, some precious, some disposable, adds to the itinerant, peregrine quality of the work, and suggests images recalled mid-flight or salvaged from remainders.

At the center of the gallery stands Eyal’s sculpture Where do the walls of the museum go when they are forgotten? And (2021-2025). The work consists of a weathered dark green jacket, perhaps military-issue, suspended on a wooden stand with its front splayed open to reveal an interior lined with ceramic caterpillars and drawings sewn onto scraps of fabric. A lamp positioned on the floor illuminates the interior from below, casting the jacket in a light that is at once forensic and devotional. The caterpillars, metamorphic creatures that feed on both the material of the jacket as well as the images contained therein, echo Eyal's wider interest in processes of reimagination. Here as in the rest of the exhibition, memory reveals itself as neither totally fixed nor fluid, but instead gradually transformed by the act of recollection.

Ali Eyal (b. 1994, Baghdad, Iraq) lives and works in Los Angeles. He earned an undergraduate degree from the Institute of Fine Arts, Baghdad. Recent solo exhibitions include Brief Histories, New York; and SAW Gallery, Ottawa. Group exhibitions include the 14th Mercosul Biennial in Porto Allegre, Brazil; Québec City Biennial, Canada; 15th Sharjah Biennale, UAE; 58th Carnegie International, Pittsburgh; Chicago Cultural Center, Chicago; Documenta 15, Kassel; MoMA PS1, New York; and Beirut Art Center, Beirut. Eyal’s video work is included in the 22nd Biennial Sesc_Videobrasil, São Paulo; Rencontres Internationales, Paris; VITRINE x Kino Screenings, London; Sharjah Film Platform, UAE; and Cairo Video Festival, Egypt. His work is held in the collections of the Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles; Kadist Art Foundation, Paris; and Barjeel Art Foundation, Sharjah.

Eyal’s work is currently featured in Made in L.A. 2025 at the Hammer Museum in Los Angeles, Let Them Say Something at ChertLüdde in Berlin, and Fictions of Display at MOCA Los Angeles.

 
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Installation Views
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Open a larger version of the following image in a popup: Install Eyal Nyc 2025 2 Edit
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Works
  • Ali Eyal, My sleeping room, 2025
    Ali Eyal, My sleeping room, 2025
  • Ali Eyal, Could you please paint this?, 2025
    Ali Eyal, Could you please paint this?, 2025
  • Ali Eyal, Another Table, 2025
    Ali Eyal, Another Table, 2025
  • Ali Eyal, For the first time, I actually like the darkness., 2025
    Ali Eyal, For the first time, I actually like the darkness., 2025
  • Ali Eyal, My dad told me, “Go get the gun from the cabinet.”, 2025
    Ali Eyal, My dad told me, “Go get the gun from the cabinet.”, 2025
  • Ali Eyal, The road to an unknown hand, 2024
    Ali Eyal, The road to an unknown hand, 2024
  • Ali Eyal, Where do the walls of the museum go when they are forgotten? And, 2021-2025
    Ali Eyal, Where do the walls of the museum go when they are forgotten? And, 2021-2025
  • Ali Eyal, A ceramic piece from the Al-Askari Shrine, 2025
    Ali Eyal, A ceramic piece from the Al-Askari Shrine, 2025
  • Ali Eyal, I used to love watching the ants., 2025
    Ali Eyal, I used to love watching the ants., 2025
  • Ali Eyal, My own table, 2025
    Ali Eyal, My own table, 2025
  • Ali Eyal, Outdoor Party, 2025
    Ali Eyal, Outdoor Party, 2025
  • Ali Eyal, The extraction of the evil spirit., 2025
    Ali Eyal, The extraction of the evil spirit., 2025
  • Ali Eyal, The flower seller in Los Angeles., 2025
    Ali Eyal, The flower seller in Los Angeles., 2025
  • Ali Eyal, Taxidermy of an owl., 2025
    Ali Eyal, Taxidermy of an owl., 2025
  • Ali Eyal, A landscape, no?, 2025
    Ali Eyal, A landscape, no?, 2025
  • Ali Eyal, Happy Holidays, 2025
    Ali Eyal, Happy Holidays, 2025
  • Ali Eyal, A phone call with my mom, 2025
    Ali Eyal, A phone call with my mom, 2025
Press
  • Must-See: Ali Eyal Paints the Aftermath of War

    Andrew Woolbright, Frieze, January 9, 2026

Related artist

  • Ali Eyal

    Ali Eyal

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