Saudi contemporary artist Sultan bin Fahad discusses his favorite works 

Sultan bin Fahad is a Riyadh-born, New York-based contemporary artist. (Supplied)
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Updated 05 September 2024
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Saudi contemporary artist Sultan bin Fahad discusses his favorite works 

  • ‘My medium is storytelling,’ says Sultan bin Fahad

DUBAI: The Riyadh-born, New York-based contemporary artist Sultan bin Fahad has been creating artworks since childhood. But, he says, he didn’t know that’s what he was doing for a long time.  

“I always felt like I had a certain creativity in me,” he tells Arab News. “I was making what I called ‘things.’ But it was a hobby, you know? I thought it was like interior design — decorating my room. I didn’t know it could be considered art.” 

At the time, bin Fahad was focused on building a career in the navy and on taekwondo. He had realistic hopes of competing in the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona, he says. But a series of injuries put paid to both of those dreams, and left him wondering what to do next.  

He ended up studying business in San Francisco, where his accommodation was close to an art academy.  




(Supplied)

“I’d pass by and see their work; that was the first time I was exposed to modern and contemporary art. And I realized, ‘Oh. So whatever I’ve been doing is probably considered some sort of art.’” He laughs. “That’s how I became aware of my ability to create artworks.” 

He has become known particularly for his intricate and colorful beaded works, often created by artisans from the Hausa tribe in Nigeria.  

“They have an interesting story,” he says. “They are Muslims, they study the Qur’an. But they kept the language of their tribe. They know all about Saudi. You can actually find descendants of the same tribe in Jeddah and Makkah. Back in the day, they travelled or went for Hajj and they never left. They stayed there for three or four generations.”  

Beyond the physical side of his work, however, he says the most important thing is that each piece tells a story.  

“I always say my medium is storytelling. I hate it when you show someone something and they say, ‘OK, what am I looking at?’ That means you definitely failed to show any emotion in your work. Like, I still make abstract paintings, and there is basically nothing to say about them. But people forget that there is an emotion when you look at something: you might feel happy, you might feel sad, you might be attracted to the colors. But if you look at any piece and you don’t get any idea in the first 10 seconds, then I failed.” 

Here, bin Fahad talks us through some of his most significant works. 

‘Delights III’ 

This series, “Delights,” came about during COVID lockdowns. I collect a lot of found objects, because they inspire me. I’d found these small gift boxes that used to have candy or nuts in. They come with different phrases on them, like, “May your day be filled with happiness and joy.” And there’s always a picture of shaking hands. The handshake is a universal gesture. And during COVID, we didn’t have that. People didn’t shake hands. Some people didn’t even see anyone. It was a dark time. So I thought, “OK, what if we had something in people’s homes, to give joy and a little hope?” First of all, I did a series of beaded works, and they were shown in an online art fair. Then this friend of mine who is a carpet maker had the idea of making carpets designed by artists from the GCC. And they chose me to represent Saudi. So, I designed this carpet. It’s this whole concept of hopeful, beautiful work that you can see every day and can give you good energy. It’s not an artwork; it’s part of the house. It’s living with you. 

‘Desert Kite’ 

This was created for Desert X AlUla. AlUla is so beautiful. You can’t compete with it. So I wanted something that would basically separate you from the environment; something with walls, so you don’t know what’s around you and you can basically listen to the environment — to silence. 

I have this fascination with history and heritage. There are these very interesting structures around the north west of Saudi and the south of Jordan: desert kites. The first time they discovered them was, I think, during World War Two. They were flying over them. You only can see them from above. And I wondered what their purpose was. Some people say that they’re prehistoric animal traps from thousands of years ago, so my intention was to create something telling that story, so that little blue-green object inside? That’s like the bait — food or water. That makes the animal go inside. Then they’re trapped. And inside the sculpture (on the walls) are a lot of mythical animals: the Medusa, the eagle, the Sphinx — and they’re all trapped in there too. And inside you can sit and actually listen to silence, which is very unusual in a place that is open like that. It’s very interesting. 

One thing I really liked with this work was people’s interpretation of it. A lot of people said it looked like a keyhole — so it was the key to another culture or civilization; or it was the key between the sky and the Earth. I liked how people became their own curator. I’m happy to have people interpret my work the way they see it — as long as they get something out of it.  

‘Window’ 

This was for my project “The Red Palace.” It’s one of my dearest projects. It made me comfortable with what I’m doing. This was my first real installation work, and my first time really doing something conceptual — almost like theater. And it was my first project with the Hausa artisans. And it’s dear to me because it’s a building I was really inspired by — I always used to walk past it as a kid and I always loved it. It defined architecture in Riyadh and it’s central to the history of Saudi Arabia, whether as a royal palace or as a government building. Everything from the Forties or Fifties to the Nineties was run from that palace.  

The whole idea started with Diriyah Season. They wanted to do an exhibition, and I had this idea of doing a performance called “The Royal Dinner.” During that time, King Saud had three chefs, and they’d have a set menu. People think that, in Saudi Arabia at that time, it was all Bedouin. But no, we had sophistication. But nobody talks about it, and it’s not in in books. So I wanted to recreate this royal banquet to celebrate those behind the scenes; the labor that people don’t know about. I submitted this idea to the Ministry of Culture, and they approved it. So then I went and visited the palace, and I was like, “OK, this is much bigger than my idea, why don’t we expand it?” So we did a lot more, including “Window,” which has actually now been acquired by the Guggenheim Abu Dhabi. It’s another dear work to me, because each window was reclaimed from a region of the Kingdom. And it’s backlit, so it shows you how beautiful it would feel to be in those houses with those windows. And it unifies all the regions into one. Like a lot of my work, it’s also nostalgic. When you see those windows, you think back: “Oh, I remember the time when we were kids and playing here and there.”  

‘Trust’ 

These chairs were thrones for my “Red Palace” project. When I was looking into doing some beaded work — I wanted to do something in Africa, generally — I didn’t know how to get a contact. I saw I had an Instagram follower from Nigeria. I had no idea who she was. I just DM’d her, and asked if she knew anyone who could make beading work in Nigeria. She said she didn’t, but she could look into it. And she found someone. I showed them what I wanted to do — this was for “The Red Palace” — and while I was doing that, she messaged me and said: ‘Can I ask you a question? Why did you trust me to do this?’ I said, ‘Well, if you want something done, you have to trust someone.” Otherwise I’d have to have travelled myself, you know? When I told the curator this story, she said, “We have to call that piece ‘Trust.’” Because that’s what it was based on. This collaborative work we did, with workmanship like this, they don’t know how to create something new; they just work on what they know — they bead chairs traditionally. I needed to see if they could do it the way I wanted it to be. But that first collaboration led to a lot of other pieces, because they were open to the idea of doing it in a different form. That’s where the trust came from.  

‘Masallaci’ 

This work is very dear to me. It’s a giving-back-to-the-community work. It’s a beautiful story. During the time when I was doing “The Red Palace” and “Trust,” the Hausa people that were working with me, they work in a village next to Abuja in Nigeria. When they have work, they travel there from their villages and they rent part of the place they’re working in for accommodation. I asked them where they prayed. It kind of made me feel like responsible, like I needed to support the community that was working for me. So, I asked them to decorate part of the place they were working in as a mosque — in their own way, their own traditions, their own language; the writing you see is the Hausa language, not Arabic — in exchange for me renting the space for them, to pray and live and work, for a whole year. Everything inside the mosque is beaded, except the floor. Even the furniture. And they sent a turban for me — you can see it in the picture, a little white turban. The imam of the mosque in Nigeria wears this turban, so this was their gift for me. It’s one of my favorite works. And it was really a collaboration; they designed it themselves, I just gave them the idea. 

‘Laser’ 

This project was called “GWPOW” — which stands for Gulf War Prisoners of War. It’s about the Gulf War, but it’s also relevant to what’s happening now in Gaza. It’s about how life is stolen from kids who become soldiers when they’re supposed to be playing and living. They don’t take the decision, somebody else does.  

I was 19 during the first Gulf War. I wanted to volunteer but I couldn’t, because of my injuries — I’d just had my second knee surgery. So I ended up volunteering as a translator. I went and saw the prisoners of war. Some of them were younger than me. They were, like, 16. They didn’t know what they were fighting for. They were just pushed into the war.  

So this project was about the war, but it’s also thinking about those kids. They were supposed to be playing, not fighting. So I was thinking, ‘How can I portray those kids living during that time, in the desert, waiting to fight or to be killed?’ So this project became, like, a playroom for grownups. A recreation center in a war zone — everything is kind of childish. This is one of maybe six paintings I did as part of it, along with beaded works. It’s a pencil drawing, but there’s some collage on it, and some abstract painting, and some ink, so it’s mixed media. So the guy holding the lightsaber, that helmet looks like Darth Vader, but it’s not. It’s the helmet of Saddam Hussein’s Fedayeen corps. And I imagined these kids thinking of being a superhero.  

‘Possession’ 

I saw these people at the Prophet’s Mosque in Madinah. At certain times they open it for women, and they allow people to go privately. I was there with my mom and my family and there were screens, and there were these ladies touching the screens. And to me, it felt like, for them, they were in the highest stage of being possessed by religion, in a good way. Feeling invulnerable. They felt like they are connecting with the Prophet. I mean, I don’t know what it meant to them. I don’t know why they were doing it, but it felt so passionate. And it touched me. I felt like, if it gives them satisfaction, let them do it. It felt surreal to me — but I felt their passion.  

‘Once Was A Ruler’ 

This is a combination of different antiquities that were in the National Museum. I was working there at the time. I wanted to talk about something that is taboo. A lot of people think that these pieces are statues of gods. That’s why they’re hidden away. But at that time, these civilizations were not making big sculptures of their gods, they were making them of themselves. They were a sign of power. So I made it look like an X-ray, and I put human bones on it to show that they are human. They were once a ruler, yes, but a person, not a god.  

‘R III’ 

“R III” means Ramses the Third. I did this in Egypt, at the Pyramids of Giza. Like with AlUla, this is a place I am in awe of. Like, I can’t compete with nature or with history, so I tried to work with it, complementing the place without actually trying to put my force or my creative energy in it. I was humbled in these places. So, I can’t compete with the Pyramids, but I tried to make something inspired by them. When you look at it from above, you see it has the seal of Ramses the Third. That seal has been found near AlUla, and that means he was probably there — not for fighting, but probably exploring, looking for copper or something — because the pharaohs wouldn’t usually let their seals be carried by others. So I wanted to show this bridge between Ancient Egypt and Saudi Arabia.  


Paul Weller, Primal Scream and Annie Mac back Kneecap amid political backlash over pro-Palestine message

Updated 01 May 2025
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Paul Weller, Primal Scream and Annie Mac back Kneecap amid political backlash over pro-Palestine message

DUBAI: English singer Paul Weller, Scottish rock band Primal Scream and Irish host and DJ Annie Mac voiced their support this week for Irish rap group Kneecap, who recently came under fire for displaying a “Free Palestine” message during their performance at the Coachella festival in the US. 

The artists joined over 40 others in signing an open letter organized by Kneecap’s record label, Heavenly Recordings, which condemns what it describes as a deliberate attempt to suppress the group’s voice and remove them from public platforms. 

The backlash against Kneecap intensified after videos from past performances resurfaced — one from a November 2023 concert in London that appeared to show a member expressing support for Hamas and Hezbollah, and another in which a group member is seen shouting: “The only good Tory is a dead Tory. Kill your local MP.”

British politician Kemi Badenoch, who has served as Leader of the Opposition and Leader of the Conservative Party since November 2024, has since called for legal action to be taken against the group. 

Meanwhile, Glastonbury Festival is facing calls to withdraw Kneecap from its upcoming lineup, and several scheduled performances, including one at the Eden Project in Cornwall, have been cancelled.

In an open letter, Kneecap’s label, Heavenly Recordings, claimed the group was facing a deliberate and coordinated effort to silence them and remove their presence from the music scene.

The letter reads: “As artists, we feel the need to register our opposition to any political repression of artistic freedom.”

“In a democracy, no political figures or political parties should have the right to dictate who does and does not play at music festivals or gigs that will be enjoyed by thousands of people.”

“Kneecap are not the story. Gaza is the story. Genocide is the story,” it says. “And the silence, acquiescence and support of those crimes against humanity by the elected British Government is the real story.” 

“Solidarity with all artists with the moral courage to speak out against Israeli war crimes, and the ongoing persecution and slaughter of the Palestinian people,” the letter added.


Syrian artists explore themes of forgiveness in Damascus exhibition 

Updated 01 May 2025
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Syrian artists explore themes of forgiveness in Damascus exhibition 

  • ‘The Path’ is a group show that curator Marwan Tayara says is ‘about healing’ 

DAMASCUS: In a city battered by years of conflict, a quiet revolution was unfolding earlier this month inside an unfinished concrete shell.  

“The Path,” a two-week exhibition curated by the Madad Art Foundation and staged in the once-abandoned skeletal Massar Rose Building in Damascus, confronted Syria’s pain, but, curator Marwan Tayara stressed: “This is not about politics. It’s about healing.” 

Tayara — who co-founded Madad alongside the late Buthayna Ali, a fine arts professor whose vision of a show on forgiveness inspired “The Path” — continued: “For us, the artist is a patriot. The bakery feeds the body, and art feeds the soul. The soldier fights for his country, and so does the artist — but with ideas, with beauty.” 

Lamia Saida pictured with her installation 'To Memory, Once More.' (Robert Bociaga)

Ali, who died in September, had envisioned a show that would offer something softer than some of Madad’s previous exhibitions around topics including war and disaster. “She wanted to make an exhibition about forgiveness but never had the chance,” artist Rala Tarabishi told Arab News. “We decided to do it as a gift for her — and for Syria.”  

Even the venue was part of the show’s message. “This is a construction site,” said Tayara. “It’s symbolic. Syria is unfinished. But we’re building. Art has to be part of that process — not just rebuilding walls, but rebuilding identity.” 

Tarabishi’s installation, “Embed,” was a forest of resin swords frozen mid-fall, through which visitors could walk. “When I embed my sword into the earth during a fight, I’m putting an end to it — in the most peaceful way,” she said. But none of the swords in “Embed” had yet reached that point. “The closer the sword is to the ground, the closer I am to forgetting, or forgiving,” Tarabishi explained. “Some things are harder to let go of.” 

Visitors to 'The Path' in front of Dalaa Jalanbo’s 'Accumulation.' (Robert Bociaga)

For viewers, she hoped, it would be “as if the swords are memories or people who caused them pain. I wanted them to lean more into forgiveness, so they could live a more peaceful life.”  

But for Tarabishi, forgiveness is anything but simple. “It’s very hard. Some things feel too big for us to truly forgive, so we just coexist with our pain instead.” 

Eyad Dayoub’s installation, “Crossing,” was equally visceral. Suspended black and red wires hung like fishing nets. “Each level represents a period in Syria — full of darkness and blood,” Dayoub said. “The material looks like something that traps fish. I feel like I’ve been hunted by my country. I’m stuck — I can’t leave it, and I can’t love it either.” 

Detail from Rala Tarabishi's 'Embed' installation on display at 'The Path.' (Robert Bociaga)

Creating the piece was part-therapy, part-confrontation. “Our dreams were lost. But I’m trying to find love again between me and my country,” he continued, adding that some visitors wept when he explained the symbolism of the piece. “People are ready to feel again. After war, we became numb. But I see us becoming sensitive again.” 

If Dayoub’s wires evoked entrapment, Judi Chakhachirou’s work addressed instability. Her installation featured a trembling platform — a metaphor for emotional imbalance. “When someone hasn’t forgiven you — or you haven’t forgiven them — you feel unstable. You don’t know what’s wrong, but you’re not OK,” she said. 

Her piece was a message to the living: “Take your chances now. Don’t leave people in your life hurt. Forgive — or at least try. Because one day, it’ll be too late.” 

Rala Tarabishi in front of her installation 'Embed.' (Robert Bociaga)

The war has buried so much in silence, she added, that emotions — even tears — feel like progress. “Some people cried when they saw it. Others said it made them feel calm, like they finally understood what was bothering them,” she said. “I hope my next work will be more hopeful.” 

For Mariam Al-Fawal, forgiveness is less emotional and more philosophical. Her interactive installation, “A Delicate Balance,” draws on Karl Popper’s formulation of the paradox of tolerance. Visitors can rearrange its colored puzzle pieces on wooden stands to construct a final, diverse pattern. 

“If you tolerate all ideologies — including the intolerant — you destroy tolerance itself,” Al-Fawal explained. “Without exclusion, there can be no true inclusion. To see the full picture, you have to flip the pieces, adjust them. That’s how people work too. You can’t have one color, one shape; you have to embrace difference.” 

Mariam Al-Fawal with her interactive installation 'A Delicate Balance.' (Robert Bociaga)

Al-Fawal’s puzzle asks viewers to build balance. “People interacted with it differently,” she said, “But most walked away with a shifted perspective. That’s why I made it interactive: the process carries the message.” 

Lamia Saida contributed “To Memory, Once More,” which consisted of a set of blood-red, burned and shredded canvases suspended like raw meat.  

“I thought if I wanted to express these memories visually, it had to be meat,” she explained. “That’s what they feel like. That’s why they hang. That’s why they bleed.” 

Massar Rose Building in Damascus, Syria. (Robert Bociaga)

Syria’s trauma, for Saida, is not abstract —it is textured, fleshy, and inescapable. And yet, through art, it is manageable. “Art is more than therapy,” she continued. “When I make something honest, I feel like I forgive people. I find stability.” 

Her final painting is a single, steady line. “It’s the calm I reached after expressing everything else,” she said. 

More than 400 visitors visited the exhibition daily, according to the organizers. Some brought questions. Some brought grief. Others brought quiet. “Even political officials came,” Tayara said. “Not to control. Just to understand.” 

What started as a tribute to a beloved teacher has become a mirror for the country. “All Syrians have this memory of grief,” said Tarabishi. “Whether from war or daily life — it’s what binds us.” 

Madad hopes to bring “The Path” to other cities too.  

“We believe in the power of art,” said Tayara. “It won’t rebuild Syria alone. But it might rebuild the spirit. That’s where everything begins.” 


Marvel’s misfit superheroes find community in ‘Thunderbolts*’ 

Updated 01 May 2025
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Marvel’s misfit superheroes find community in ‘Thunderbolts*’ 

  • Stars Florence Pugh and David Harbour discuss the latest Marvel movie 

DUBAI: In the latest Marvel Cinematic Universe movie “Thunderbolts*,” directed by Jake Schreier, the focus isn’t just on larger-than-life action; it’s on the messy, complicated relationships between a team of misfits learning to trust each other. 

For stars David Harbour and Florence Pugh, that emotional core was the most important part of the process.  

“For me, most of the preparation was about really fleshing out these character arcs,” Harbour, who plays Soviet super soldier Red Guardian, told Arab News. “This movie sinks or swims not on its IP, but on its really complex relationships between these characters that you don’t know that much about. Our job was to infuse it with a lot of heart, humor, life and soul.” 

Pugh — who made her MCU debut in 2021’s “Black Widow” as the trained assassin Yelena Belova and is now headlining her first MCU movie — echoed that sentiment. 

“There was so much heart and pain already there,” she said. “When you’re playing large characters, you have to find ways to make it feel authentic, especially when you’re dealing with accents or heavy dialogue. A lot of our rehearsal process was about finding cleaner ways to get to the point — rewriting a few lines, making sure the characters said exactly what they needed to say to one another.” 

Florence Pugh and director Jake Schreier on set. (Supplied)

The cast spent two weeks in rehearsals, crafting scenes that highlighted the tangled emotions between their characters. “It was great fun, especially when you have a director who really wants you to be fully involved and make it your own,” Pugh said. 

The film follows a motley crew of anti-heroes — Yelena, Red Guardian, Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan), John Walker (Wyatt Russell), Taskmaster (Olga Kurylenko), Robert “Bob” Reynolds (Lewis Pullman), and Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen) — who must embark on a dangerous mission that will force them to confront the darkest corners of their pasts as they take down a common enemy. 

Beyond individual dynamics, the movie taps into deeper themes of isolation and the need for connection — what Harbour describes as the “epidemic of loneliness” in the modern world. 

“When these characters first come together, there’s a lot of lying about how they’re doing, a lot of pretending,” Harbour said. “People are afraid. They’re isolated. We feel connected because of these devices we carry, but they don’t really provide the sustenance we need as human beings.” 

Pugh elaborated on that point. “We’ve reached a point where so many people have so many insecurities, and they feel like they’re not right, and they feel like they’re not getting it right, and (what they see on social media) is making them feel like their life isn’t as beautiful or as colorful or as perfect as those posts,” she said. “And I think when we watch characters that have these immense flaws also trying to figure it out, it helps. Of course it helps.” 

Harbour believes the film captures the essence of personal salvation: finding strength in community.  

(From left) David Harbour, Hannah John-Kamen, Wyatt Russell and Florence Pugh in 'Thunderbolts'. (Supplied)

“I worry about that phrase ‘We have to save ourselves,’ because I actually think it’s that we have to save each other,” he said. “We have to not sit there alone going, like, ‘I gotta do something.’ I feel like that’s the anxiety that’s killing us. The vulnerability of, like, ‘Maybe I ask someone,’ or ‘I find a group of people who are willing to take me as I am and to see the good in me.’ That’s one of the most beautiful moments in this movie.” 

Schreier, director of the acclaimed 2023 comedy-drama series “Beef,” said Marvel president Kevin Fiege encouraged him to take a different approach to this particular superhero story. 

“One of the real lessons of ‘Beef’ was that stories about something that feels smaller, or about emptiness, are no longer niche. They are actually universal. I think everyone goes through some version of that at some point in their lives, maybe to different degrees. But it isn’t small to tell a story like that. And so, this was a chance — on the biggest level — to see if a story like that could resonate at scale. That felt like a really wonderful opportunity.”


Kef Hayyak? Seeing Saudi neighborhoods through the eyes of emerging filmmakers

Updated 30 April 2025
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Kef Hayyak? Seeing Saudi neighborhoods through the eyes of emerging filmmakers

JEDDAH: Eighteen aspiring filmmakers have taken to the streets of their neighborhoods armed with nothing but their phones and a vision for the grassroots documentary challenge, “Kef Hayyak?”

The project, initiated by Art Jameel in collaboration with the Red Sea International Film Festival, invited participants to reflect the spirit of their communities in short documentaries.

Months after the February 2025 open call, the winners have been announced, and their films will premiere as part of the Red Sea Documentary Days this May at Hayy Cinema.

The program, which began as a concept in 2021 and has since grown into an annual platform, continues to break down barriers in filmmaking by expanding access to wider creative communities across Saudi Arabia. For the first time, the 2025 event also welcomed participants from Makkah, with one of the city’s filmmakers making it to the jury-selected top three.

The initiative culminates in a public screening at Hayy Cinema, featuring the three jury-selected winners — Eyad Al-Zahrani’s “Between,” Asia Lajam & Nad’s “A World Between Buildings,” and Alisha Khan’s “Nam Ghar, Jeddah” — alongside two audience favorites, “Hay Alakaber” by Amal Al-Zahrani and Othoub Al-Bedaiwi, and “From the Olives to the Sea” by Haya Al-Bhaisi and Mohammed Khalid.

A jury, comprising head of Hayy Cinema, Zohra Ait El-Jamar, director and actress, Fatima Al-Banawi, and director and actress, Ophelie Legris — evaluated the films based on creativity, relevance and narrative strength.

El-Jamar told Arab News: “‘Kef Hayyak?’ draws its essence from the name of Hayy Jameel and reflects our ongoing mission to connect with new audiences in meaningful ways. The project was first imagined in 2021, and after the success of its first edition, it has grown into an annual platform that empowers emerging filmmakers.

“Through this short documentary film competition, we invite aspiring talents to explore their neighborhoods using just their phones. I created the concept with the vision of breaking down barriers in filmmaking and expanding access to a wider creative community. It’s also a powerful way to document the ever-changing urban fabric of Jeddah — and now Makkah.

“We see this as a powerful launchpad for emerging talent, and we’re actively working to expand the program with deeper mentorship and professional opportunities in the years to come,” she added.

Audience Choice Award winner, Al-Zahrani, who hails from Makkah, said: “The movie covers a neighborhood that lacks identity and how it affects me and the residents in our day-to-day lives. Winning was such a heartwarming experience, seeing my work acknowledged and the story of my people and neighborhood embraced and loved. I plan to keep improving my documentary skills and hope to release a movie about a lawyer later this year.”

Khan’s winning documentary explores the Musrefah neighborhood of Jeddah and its vibrant Desi (Pakistani and Indian) community.

“My film ‘Naam Ghar, Jeddah’ is a documentary film which acts as a time capsule for me to look back on not only my neighborhood but the people living in it, especially the often-overlooked Desi community in Jeddah, where even the people themselves think the outer world is not interested in them,” Khan said.

“It aims to explore their dreams, identities and quiet resilience through simple, human questions, like what is your favorite color or what gives you happiness.”

Khan believes in the power of cinema to humanize and connect communities, emphasizing how platforms such as Hayy Jameel empower storytellers like herself. Her goal is to keep documenting life in Jeddah, capturing its present for future generations.

Al-Bhaisi told Arab News: “‘From the Olives to the Sea’ is a short documentary that explores the contrast and emotional connection between two places — Jeddah, where I feel a deep sense of belonging, and Gaza, the place I’m originally from but never fully connected with.

“Winning the Audience Choice Award honestly means the world to us. It shows that people connected with our story, and that’s all we ever wanted — to be heard, and to make others feel something real.”


Christie’s Islamic and Indian art auction showcases rare pieces

Updated 30 April 2025
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Christie’s Islamic and Indian art auction showcases rare pieces

LONDON: Ahead of its “Art of the Islamic and Indian Worlds including Rugs and Carpets” auction here on May 1, Christie’s experts recently shared insights with Arab News about the rare lots going under the hammer. 

Sara Plumbly, director and head of the Islamic and Indian art department, highlighted an illuminated Kufic Qur’an folio, likely from Damascus, Umayyad Syria, dated to the 8th or 9th century.

“This Surah Al-Baqarah … is very early on in the Qur’an (chapter two titled ‘The Cow’), and you have this wonderful illuminated border. While you often see a line or two thick — here you have this hugely complicated border with beautiful colors.”

Although several illuminated Kufic manuscripts were produced, there were few survivors and generally fragmentary, since their placement at the front of a manuscript meant that they were more exposed to wear and tear, according to Christie’s website.

An illuminated Kufic Qur’an folio, likely from Damascus. (Supplied)

A collection of 11th century Fatimid gold jewelry caught the eye, to which Plumbly commented: “Jewellery of this type very rarely comes on the market.

“I think one of the reasons is that they are made of gold which is quite fragile and malleable and also, because it is such a precious material, gold is often melted down and used for other objects through the course of history, so it doesn’t survive in great quantities.”

A collection of 11th century Fatimid gold jewelry caught the eye. (Supplied)

At the pre-sale press exhibition in London, there was also a striking Iznik pottery dish from Ottoman Turkiye, circa 1585-1590. This was complete with bole red, cobalt blue, green and black accents, as well as saz leaves and pomegranates against a background of dense black scrolls.

A striking Iznik pottery dish from Ottoman Turkiye, circa 1585-1590. (Supplied)

Louise Broadhurst, director and international head of the department of rugs and carpets, pointed to The Hans Konig Collection of Classical Chinese Carpets.

There was a magnificent Imperial Ming “Qi” Dragon Palace carpet dating from the Wanli period, circa 1575-1600.

“It is one of just seven complete Dragon carpets that remain outside of China,” she explained.

“It  would have originally been red in color, woven with a Brazilwood dye which at the time emulated the red that was the Imperial color of the emperor but sadly with time it faded quite rapidly to this sandy yellow color that we see today.

“It displays the ‘Qi’ dragon —a juvenile dragon in a naturalistic life form with cloud-like body, symbolic of an energetic life force. It’s married with the peony which is another symbol for beauty. It would imbue all of the powers that the emperor wanted.”

The live auction is at Christie’s London headquarters with 129 lots set to go under the hammer.