RIYADH: Saudi music entertainment company MDLBEAST is staging a series of performances by international artists to coincide with the Esports World Cup 2024.
AFT_r music shows will take place weekly over seven weeks until Aug. 15 at Boulevard Riyadh City.
The opening event featured performers such as Aly Fathallah, singer and producer Ckay, DJ Nooriyah, and rapper ElGrandeToto.
American rappers Wiz Khalifa, Gunna, G-Eazy, Don Toliver, and Jack Harlow will be among artists performing in coming weeks.
The lineup also features international DJs such as DJ Snake, R3HAB, and Sebastian Ingrosso.
“The launch of AFT_r shows with the supporting events of EWC, the largest event of its kind in the world, provides local audiences and visitors with an outstanding musical entertainment experience during this global event, strengthening the Kingdom’s regional and global position in esports, and music entertainment,” MDLBEAST CEO Ramadan Alharatani said.
The EWC tournament features a cross-game structure that pits the world’s top esports teams and athletes against one another for the competition’s largest-ever prize pool.
MDLBEAST provides soundtrack to Esports World Cup 2024 in Riyadh
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MDLBEAST provides soundtrack to Esports World Cup 2024 in Riyadh
- Rappers Wiz Khalifa, Gunna, G-Eazy, Don Toliver, Jack Harlow among artists performing this month
Saudi highlights from Christie’s Middle Eastern & Contemporary Art sale
- Twelve artists from the Kingdom feature in the online auction, which closes May 8
Ahmed Mater
‘Illumination X-Ray’
The latest Middle Eastern & Contemporary Art sale from the storied auction house Christie’s features works by 12 Saudi artists — highlighted in a “Saudi Now” section on the auction site, which Christie’s describes as “a carefully selected group of works by Saudi artists that trace the unique history of the Kingdom’s artistic evolution; from the development of a modernist language deeply enmeshed in the country’s cultural heritage, to innovative contemporary works that challenge perceptions of what Saudi art is and can be.”
Mater, a qualified doctor, is perhaps the most famous of the artists contributing to the latter group. His work, Nour Kelani — Christie’s managing director, Saudi Arabia — wrote in an email to Arab News, “explores history and the narratives and aesthetics of Islamic culture, and continues to receive much-deserved growing regional and international acclaim.”
The ‘Illumination’ series to which this diptych belongs, she continues “brings together traditional Islamic art and modern medicine — two subjects that are often treated as essentially separate and full of tense contradictions.”
Abdulhalim Radwi
‘Peace’
Kelani says Radwi is “one of Saudi Arabia’s most respected Modernist artists.” Indeed, he is often considered the ‘father’ of modern Saudi art. He was one of the first Saudi artists to study overseas, earning his BA in Rome in the Sixties and living for a time in Madrid in the Seventies. His work, Kelani notes, “draws references to Saudi Arabia’s desert life, folklore and traditional architecture” and although Radwi was born in Makkah, he is most strongly associated with Jeddah, where he spent much of his adult life.
This piece is one of Radwi’s later works, created in 2002, just four years before he died. It is expected to fetch between $20-30,000 at auction.
Faisal Samra
‘Performance #13’
The Saudi-Bahraini artist is “considered a pioneer of conceptual art in the Middle East,” says Kelani. “He incorporates digital photography and performance into a creative repertoire of work.” This piece comes from his “Distorted Reality” series, which features covered individuals in blurred motion. “I don’t like still water; I like it to be moving,” Samra told Arab News last year. “I’m exploring to find something different. The core of my research is man’s existence in our world, and how we react to it, and how the world reacts to him.”
Jowhara AlSaud
‘He Said, She Said’
The Saudi-born artist “manipulates her photographs with drawing and etching in a process that explores both the impressionability of her medium and the cultural landscape around her, exploring … censorship,” Kelani explains. This work, created in 2009, is a prime example — the lack of facial features and the blurred lines are all conscious depictions of acts of self-censorship on the part of the artist.
Ayman Yossri Daydban
‘Kunna Jameean Ekhwa’
Daydban is a Saudi-Palestinian artist whose work, says Kelani, “is both biographical and a commentary on the environment he grew up in.” This piece, described by Kelani as “iconic,” is from “Subtitles,” a series in which he selects stills from subtitled movies so the text — now decontextualized — is open to our own interpretations. Here, the text reads “We were brothers once.”
Moath Alofi
‘The Last Tashahud’
This work is one of a series of images in Alofi’s series of photographs that, according to Alofi’s website, “captures desolated mosques scattered along the winding roads leading to the holy city of Madinah.” These mosques, the text continues, were “built by philanthropists hoping to offer a haven for travelers, both of whom seek to reap the sacramental rewards of these structures.”
Nasser Al-Salem
‘God is Alive, He Shall Not Die’
Al-Salem, Kelani says, “is a contemporary calligrapher whose work redefines Arabic calligraphy, challenging the boundaries of the traditional Islamic art by recontextualizing it in unconventional mixed-media forms.” Forms such as this one, for example, in which the word “Allah” is presented in neon above a mirror, thus repeating.
Netflix’s ‘Havoc’ is a high-octane thrill ride, thanks to Tom Hardy
- The ‘Venom’ star goes full-on beast mode in Gareth Evans’ action thriller
LONDON: In an interview ahead of the release of “Havoc”, writer-director Gareth Evans described the film’s star Tom Hardy as being in “beast mode” during shooting.
That’s actually the perfect logline for this high-octane, hyper-violent action film from the director of “The Raid” and its equally entertaining sequel. Because while there’s definitely some kind of plot nestled underneath the spectacular fight choreography and impressive gunplay — i.e. Hardy is the slightly corrupt grizzled New York homicide detective Pat Walker, who must dodge even more corrupt New York cops as he attempts to track down the son of a mayoral candidate who is a suspect in a triad shooting — “Havoc” is, essentially, Tom Hardy blasting, punching and body slamming anyone who gets in his way.
And, for the most part, that makes for a pretty entertaining ride. As Walker’s run-ins with gangsters, hired guns and dodgy politicians get increasingly violent, Evans gives him an array of interesting and inventive ways through which to dole out his specific brand of street-level justice. Much like “The Raid,” this gives us an opportunity to marvel at a director who remains at the top of the action-movie game. Few people — if any — do high-concept fight scenes quite as well as Evans.
Where “Havoc” feels a little light is in the pauses between those breathtaking set pieces. With a cast headed by Hardy and also boasting Forest Whitaker and Timothy Olyphant, there’s some serious dramatic talent on offer, but there’s little character development beyond who’s good, who’s bad, and who’s somewhere in the middle.
There’s a host of supporting characters — Yeo Yann Yann’s gang matriarch Mother in particular — who all look like they have fascinating backstories, but all we learn about them is that most can fight really, really well, and all have plenty to scowl about. What’s more, a few heavy-handed bouts of CGI undermine the movie’s mostly gritty realism, and leave audiences desperate to skip the calmer moments and get on to the next shootout.
However, to be fair to this movie, Tom Hardy in beast mode is undeniably great — and in our virtually limitless streaming landscape, anything great deserves to be celebrated.
A story of stone: How Jabal Al-Qarah shapes the soul of Hofuf
- ‘The mountain holds everything,’ says local historian
DAMMAM: Near Hofuf, at the edge of Al-Ahsa Oasis, where the palms thin out and the desert hushes before turning to stone, Jabal Al-Qarah rises. Low and wide, its sculpted sandstone flanks have been worn into curves and fissures.
I first saw the mountain just after dawn as the road, having coiled gently through date groves and irrigation canals, veers toward the open plain. In the distance, the mountain appeared — not dramatically, but deliberately. A long, earthen body stretching across the landscape, its folds catching light like the surface of an old parchment.
“This is not a mountain in the European sense,” local historian Salman Al-Habib told me, his hand resting on the stone. “It’s not for conquest. It’s for shelter. For memory. It held the lives of our grandparents — sometimes literally.”
He was referring to the caves that run deep into the heart of Jabal Al-Qarah. Stepping inside one, you feel the temperature drop immediately. It’s very still, and the acoustics are strange. Sounds stretch and settle. “
They say Judas Iscariot wandered in and was never seen again,” Al-Habib said. “Others say a goddess lived here. The mountain listens. It holds everything.”
The caves have served a multitude of purposes: storing grain, sheltering travelers, even childbirth. The temperature, remarkably constant year-round, made the mountain a natural refuge.
“Before fans or air conditioning, this was how we survived,” said Al-Habib. “We didn’t fight the climate — we listened to the land.”
Geologist Dr. Layla Al-Shemmari echoed that sentiment. “The mountain is formed of calcareous sandstone and marl, deposited millions of years ago,” she explained. “Its structure naturally insulates, naturally ventilates. The people mirrored that in their homes — thick-walled, inward-facing, mudbrick construction pulled straight from the land.”
She ran her hand along the cave wall, where moisture clung faintly even in the dry season. “The stone taught us architecture. It taught us how to live without taking too much.”
But perhaps the most unexpected moment came just outside the caves, at dusk. A minaret stood in the shadow of the mountain, its golden tiles catching the final light. Behind it, the rock face glowed a soft amber, every crack and crevice thrown into relief, like a thousand sleeping figures stacked into one colossal wall. The call to prayer began, and something uncanny happened: the rock didn’t reflect the sound — it held it. The echo lingered, cradled by stone.
“When I was young,” Al-Habib said quietly, “I believed the mountain was repeating the prayer. That it wanted to join in.”
UNESCO’s 2018 recognition of the Al-Ahsa Oasis — of which Jabal Al-Qarah is a vital part — has brought conservation efforts and guided tours. But many locals say the real work is remembering. Not preserving the mountain like a fossil, but allowing it to continue what it has always done: listening, absorbing, reminding, providing.
“If these rocks could speak, they wouldn’t lecture,” Al-Habib said. “They’d ask us why we stopped listening.”
And maybe that’s what the mountain is doing: waiting, patiently, for silence to return, so that its stories, etched into sandstone and shade, might be heard again.
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
- ‘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.”
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.”
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.”
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.”
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.”
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.”
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.”
