How the Islamic Arts Biennale is broadening the definition of traditional art through its contemporary works

Impeccable craftsmanship and numerical attention to detail have long been hallmarks of historical Islamic art, from the calligraphy and border designs on the sacred pages of the Quran to the geometric and floral patterns found on the carpets, lamps and architecture of the region.

Often, these aspects sought to reflect upon the beauty of divine creations, namely the natural world and its seemingly perfect interconnectedness. Many of the contemporary artists showcasing works at the 2025 Islamic Arts Biennale also draw inspiration and subject matter from the natural world – however, in a very different way.

The biennale's contemporary interventions are featured in its indoor and outdoor spaces, including the galleries of AlMadar and AlBidaya and the sprawling AlMidhallah, situated under the canopy of the Western Hajj Terminal, which features site-specific commissions.

“All these are part of a contemporary intervention into the theme And All That Is In Between,” says Saudi artist Muhannad Shono, who is the curator of contemporary art at the biennale.

"Contemporary art becomes a link between our historical past objects and the narratives they embody. That link is of the now, but it must have an eye on imagining the future. If we lose sight of our contemporary creative practice today, we end up forgetting the past, and we have no future.”

Shono points out that objects and artworks we now deem historical were once contemporary. They used the technology and materials available at the time, depending on their location and access, and responded to novel ideas of the era.

As such, a trajectory is concisely drawn between the historic objects and the contemporary works at the biennale. It is most noticeable, perhaps, in the proximity of the inner spaces, as artefacts are juxtaposed with works by Ahmed Mater, Asif Khan and Hayat Osamah, to name a few.

The AlMidhallah area, however, is where most of the commissioned pieces are being exhibited, especially those that challenge traditional conceptions of Islamic art.

In Watering the distant, deserting the near, Bahraini-American artist Nasser AlZayani presents an installation that honours Ain Adhari, a natural spring in Bahrain that has dried up as a result of climate change and human exploitation. It is a fate that has befallen several springs in the region.

The installation, comprised of thick panels of sand, is engraved with the inscription of a 1970 poem by Ali Abdulla Khalifa named Adhari. The poem commemorates the spring, grieving its fate while reflecting on social imbalances. Watering the distant, deserting the near will slowly erode at the site. The poem it bears will gradually become illegible, making a thought-provoking statement about memory and the loss of cultural heritage.

Fatima Abdulhadi, meanwhile, explores the significance of the basil plant in domestic and religious settings in I Wish You in Heaven. The Saudi artist took cues from a statement her mother often made about the smell of basil being the scent of paradise. The plant is found in several public spaces across Saudi Arabia, and is often used to mark happy occasions, as well as to mourn the deceased.

The installation comprises a walkway abreast with basil plants and framed with a series of doorways of suspended meshes. As visitors walk through to the other side, they are enveloped in the scent of the plant, as well as its shadows that are cast upon the mesh.

Lebanese artist Tamara Kalo, who works between Riyadh and Beirut, is showcasing a very different style of work, one that pays homage to the Islamic Golden Age of scientific achievement as much as it does to the Quran.

The Optics of a Rising Sun is a reimagining of the camera obscura (Latin for dark chamber) conceived by the medical Arab mathematician Ibn al-Haytham. The copper sculpture invites viewers to stand in its middle and view their surroundings through an inverted perspective. The work pays tribute to Ibn al-Haytham’s discovery that human vision is the result of light entering the eye and then being processed by the brain. Its use of copper, meanwhile, is an homage to the crafts of the Abbasid Caliphate.

The work also draws from a verse in the Nur chapter of Quran, which describes Allah’s light as coming from an olive tree that is situated neither east nor west.

Iqra Tanveer and Ehsan Ul Haq drew inspiration from a different chapter of the Quran for their installation. The Pakistani artists, who work between Lahore and Amsterdam, turned to a parable from chapter Al-Kahf, which tells the story of a group of people who withdraw into a cave and are put in a state of sleep, waking up many years later to the dawn of a new age.

Sleepers of the Cave explores this tradition from sleep to wakefulness. Abstract sculptural figures around the site give the impression of figures stretching out from their years-long slumber. Similar to AlZayani’s work, they are constructed from materials that will disintegrate – perhaps underscoring the dire realities of climate change that are impending. The installation in the middle strikes a more hopeful note, however, featuring a panel of rippling water that brings to mind the original parable’s message of rejuvenation.

Asim Waqif’s Min Rukam is perhaps the largest of the works in the outdoor area of the terminal. An edifice constructed from criss-crossed and lined bamboo sticks that were harvested from Assam, India, the installation uses traditional building techniques to create parametric forms. Viewers are invited to walk within the structure, feeling the bamboo bend under their steps and be enveloped by the sounds of creaking amplified by speakers. The work at once draws a connection between the durability of the building technique and the fragility of the craft and materials it uses.

Min Rukam makes a statement about the fate of traditional crafts while simultaneously reflecting upon notions of sustainable architecture practices and questioning the number of opportunities given to artisans.

Each of the commissioned works under AlMidhalla offers a new way of thinking about Islamic art in a contemporary setting, and how faith can be a means of comprehending pressing environmental and social issues.

“I wanted artists who were present, who were ready to engage, to be responsive to the now, to this transformative moment we’re in,” Shono says. “There are emerging artists who remind me of my younger self and established artists whose tenacity and faith in their imagination has taken them far. There is very much an urgency of being present, being engaged, and giving shape to the in-between – objects, timelines and ideas. All help define this expansive, inclusive space that has no edges.”