Tag: Middle East

Sometimes there are stories so extraordinary they feel more like a romance. The one we’re about to tell, in particular, closely mirrors what Paolo Coelho described in his memorable book The Alchemist, where the protagonist leaves the Western world to embark on an improbable journey into the desert in a process of unlearning and rediscovery. As in Coelho’s narrative, this journey is less about the destination than about attunement and finding meaning through movement, disorientation and pause.

In Qatar, in a tent in the middle of the desert—yet not far from Richard Serra’s monolithic installation East–West/West–East (which became an Instagram must for Art Basel Qatar visitors) and only about an hour’s drive from Olafur Eliasson’s monument for cosmic connection—an unexpected exhibition invites visitors to rediscover a contemplative relationship with nature. It posits the universality of this need across cultures and latitudes through work by a diverse group of artists from different parts of the world. They speak very different visual languages, yet all draw inspiration from the earth.

At the heart of the initiative is Sheikh Mohammed Rashid Al-Thani, one of the youngest member of the ruling Al-Thani family, who now resides in New York, where he founded the Institute of Arab and Islamic Art (IAIA). He, along with acclaimed designer William Cooper founder of William White, conceived Rahaal, a temporary nomadic museum unfolding across three pavilions erected in the historic nature reserve of Zekreet, Qatar, and mounted the show, which is on through February 21, 2026.

“It was very important to be in a place that genuinely speaks to the idea of community-building around nature,” Mohammed Rashid Al-Thani told Observer when we met in the desert. Getting to Rahaal is no simple matter—our driver got lost a couple of times, despite having been there a few days earlier, as the desert itself is in continuous motion. When we finally arrived, more than an hour late, Rashid Al-Thani welcomed us casually, smiling, inviting us into the majjii pavilion to sit on colorful cushions covered in Moray textiles he had arranged to create a large, welcoming sofa. Almost immediately, his staff served coffee and tea with dates.

The idea for Rahaal came to Rashid Al-Thani after seeing William Cooper’s New York studio—a room entirely wrapped in shirting fabric and cotton, creating an atmosphere both contemporary and deeply resonant. That use of fabric carried a powerful sense of familiarity for Rashid Al-Thani, evoking regional traditions in which textiles aren’t confined to interiors but extend outward, most visibly in tents covered in wool. The shared aesthetic inspired a playful imaginative exercise between them in which they envisioned a traveler from New York journeying to the small nation of Qatar. “Imagine they take this journey by water through Europe, via Istanbul, and onward toward the Gulf, culminating in a desert crossing,” Rashid Al-Thani illustrated. Passing through the Saudi border at Zekreet, the travelers pause to rest, asking if they can stop there. “Of course,” an Arab answers.

“That’s what Arabs do; we build community around nature,” Rashid Al-Thani  explained. “That’s how the idea came together. As you drive here, you see encampments everywhere. It doesn’t matter who you are—every single person I know in this country understands that instinct.”

He added that many families in Qatar still keep a tent in the desert, and people are accustomed to driving out to gather and meet there on weekends. “If you know that someone has a tent, you know you can go there—you can join anytime, without formal invitation.” While today permits are required to build one, the desert itself is still largely understood as a shared space. There is no absolute ownership. The project takes its name from the Rahaal (رحّال), which translates as traveler or nomad—someone who moves across land rather than settling in one place, a desert figure accustomed to crossing vast, open landscapes. “When they saw a tent, they saw a community. They saw a place to rest, a place of refuge. That is what we wanted for people coming to the country: to feel there is a temporary place of connection.”

Qatar, now one of the world’s major global stopover hubs, still embodies this idea of continuous transit. What often gets lost, however, is the opportunity to connect with the place itself while passing through. “People arrive, visit the major museums and leave without sensing it,” Rashid Al-Thani reflected. “What we wanted was for visitors to experience what you’re experiencing now—the same feeling you would have in my parents’ home or any other tent or family home in the desert.”

Traditionally, those tents were always open, welcoming people and expanding into temporary communities. “It creates a deep sense of connection. It can be formal or informal, private or public—it depends on the person and the occasion,” he said, noting how in the Western world, that dimension often doesn’t exist anymore, as hospitality has become something separate, often associated with spaces outside the home. This is particularly felt in big cities, particularly after the disappearance of “third spaces” that once facilitated fluid transitions between private and social life.

Drawing from the traditions of Qatar’s essentially nomadic culture and the heritage of the majlis, Rahaal was conceived first and foremost as a platform for human connection and multicultural encounter, both between people and with nature. It is a site where nature, culture and art converge as part of a single, transformative experience that reflects centuries of Arab rituals rooted in community-building, shaped around natural cycles and rhythms.

That sense of openness—of arriving without announcement—is what Rashid Al-Thani and Cooper sought to capture with Rahaal. He recalls that just earlier, Perrotin had stopped by and asked whether he knew they were coming. The answer was no, but they were welcomed all the same. “What mattered was that people were received generously. That was the core idea,” he said, noting how different this is from the cultural paradigm in the U.S. In New York, hospitality exists, but Rashid Al-Thani misses the immediacy of hospitality in his culture, where it’s not a courteous performance but deeply embedded in ancient traditions.

For this reason, he has tried to recreate it in his own home in the West Village. “I tell my friends, ‘Just call me. I’m there. My coffee is ready. My tea is ready. My dates are ready.’ And now they actually do it every weekend,” he shared. “They call and say, ‘We’re in the West Village—can we come by?’” For him, the answer is always yes. “I wake up, prepare the coffee and tea, set out six cups, and whoever comes has a home—a place of refuge, even if just for that moment. That’s what we hoped to translate here.”

The central pavilion, Al Ma’rad, hosts the inaugural show, “Anywhere Is My Land,” curated by Rashid Al-Thani with work by contemporary artists from diverse geographies, all imagining landscape not as a depiction of place but as fragments of memory carried within the traveler—seen, altered and remembered in motion. The notion of constant movement informed the exhibition’s title, inspired by Antonio Díaz’s series Anywhere Is My Land, created while he was in exile in Italy. “The idea of land, and where you find it, becomes very powerful—especially here, where land is understood as a common space,” Rashid Al-Thani reflected.

Featuring both established and emerging artists, the exhibition leaves viewers with a sense of feeling at home—even in the desert—through the possibility of reconnecting with natural scenes that resonate differently with each person’s background and memories. Collectively, the works affirm the universality of humanity’s need for contemplation of nature as a way to reattune to the most primordial truths of our existence within a broader cosmic order. All hanging, Salon-style, in a vibrant constellation against the fabric-lined walls, the works on view range from the poetic, endless starry night of Vija Celmins and material collaborative connections with the prime elements of Arte Povera masters Giuseppe Penone and Pier Paolo Calzolari, to the lyrical, more abstract, synthetic visions of artists from the region such as Etel Adnan and Huguette Caland, and the archaic, archetypal reappearances of Simone Fattal, among other names.

“Everything in life feels so linear. Even museums are linear: you move from one point to the next,” Rashid Al-Thani explained. “The desert interrupts that. It forces you to think differently. Sometimes it gives you a moment of reflection. Sometimes you find yourself only when you’re lost. I know it sounds very poetic, but every time I come here—except maybe once, when I went straight through—I feel like I lose my way, but I find something else.” It is from this specific relationship with the desert—one that requires humility and receptivity in the face of nature’s infinite and overwhelming force—that the development of astronomy in Islamic civilization emerged. It was born from the need to locate oneself and find direction, because Arabs were always on the move.

In this sense, Rashid Al-Thani may have found an even more resonant interpretation of “Becoming,” deeply rooted in a place and its traditions, but openly encouraging all those in transit through Qatar to exit their Western culture-shaped comfort zone and “get off the road,” get to the desert and embrace the culture.

The response, not only from people visiting Art Basel Qatar but also from locals, has been incredibly telling. “Someone messaged me and said, ‘I’ve been here for 15 years, and I’ve never experienced something like this.’ That kind of response is exactly what we were hoping for,” he said. “If anything is going to change how people perceive one another, it has to be through connection.” It was that search for connection that brought him to art in the first place, and it’s a deeply humanist approach that he has embraced.

Since its founding in 2017, his Institute of Arab and Islamic Art has been focused on changing the perception people have of Islamic and Arab culture by creating occasions for meaningful encounters through the showcasing of contemporary and historical art from the Arab and Islamic worlds. “I felt a growing exhaustion being boxed in as ‘the Arab.’ I wanted people not to be scared when they encountered someone like me,” Rashid Al-Thani  said, recalling how, when he moved in 2014, fear and misunderstanding toward Islamic culture were very present in the U.S., fueled by a political agenda.

“It is about normalizing what it means to be Arab or Muslim by placing it within a broader contemporary practice, whether that’s design, art or architecture,” he said. “Without those moments of connection we shared, my perspective might never have reached a wider audience, and the same is true for his. But connection is absolutely central to both of us. It’s what we’re deeply invested in, and I believe it’s precisely what has made this project successful.”

Over close to a decade in New York, the IAIA has helped facilitate broader international recognition of several key figures of Arab art, including Ibrahim El-Salahi, Behjat Sadr and the now-rising Huguette Caland, among others. The IAIA presents both exhibitions and site-specific interventions, each thoroughly researched and curated to open up complex narratives about art from the Arab and Islamic worlds. The institute highlights historically significant artists who have been underrepresented in global contemporary art discourse and aims to challenge stereotypes about Arab and Muslim cultural production.

To encourage spontaneous encounters with Islamic culture, the IAIA launched its inaugural Public Art program last fall with Big Rumi, a sculpture by Ghada Amer, marking the artist’s first public art installation in the United States. On view through March at 421 6th Avenue in New York, its latticework is shaped in space by the repetition of the Arabic quote attributed to the 13th-century mystic poet Rumi, which, translated into English, reads: “You are what you seek” or “What you seek is seeking you.”

As U.S. institutions increasingly turn their attention toward the Islamic segments of America’s multicultural population, works previously exhibited by the IAIA have entered the collections of major museums, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art. In a world—and a country—ever more divided, Arab culture, from the rise of the Gulf to the election of New York’s first Muslim mayor, is increasingly central to public discourse, the IAIA’s mission and Rashid Al-Thani’s welcoming approach to exhibiting art feel not only timely but deeply resonant.

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