A Sacred Journey to the Islamic Arts Biennale
This year, the Islamic Arts Biennale in Jeddah returns for its second edition, inviting us on a pilgrimage through faith’s many expressions — traversing time, space, and all that is in between.
Sense of Wander: ★★★★★
A 10th-century Samanid plate from the Louvre Museum is displayed against a mesmerising backdrop featuring Charwei Tsai’s painting inscribed with الحلم (Al Hilm), a timeless reminder of patience and tolerance.
JEDDAH, Saudi Arabia — When the first edition of the Islamic Arts Biennale launched in 2023, it immediately caught my attention. Having nurtured a deep interest in Islamic arts since my postgraduate studies, I was intrigued — this was the first biennale of its kind dedicated solely to Islamic arts. It was the tail end of the COVID pandemic, and travel restrictions were still in place. Unvaccinated at the time, I added the event to my bucket list, holding on to the hope that one day I would have the chance to visit.
Time flew by, and before I knew it, two years had passed. When the Biennale opened again this year in Jeddah, I asked myself, “If not now, when?” The call to go was too strong to ignore.
I had never travelled alone to the Middle East, and admittedly, the idea of venturing there as a solo female traveller was daunting. But I decided not to let fear hold me back. Armed with a basic knowledge of Modern Standard Arabic and a few abayas I had picked up during a trip to Malaysia earlier this year, I felt ready.
It’s no exaggeration to say that the Islamic Arts Biennale in Jeddah was the very reason that pushed me to make this trip to Saudi Arabia — and I’m still deeply moved and inspired by everything I’ve experienced there.
Held in the Western Hajj Terminal of King Abdulaziz Airport, the Biennale is much more than an art or cultural exhibition. Its brilliant curation invites visitors — Muslims and non-Muslims alike — to embark on a pilgrimage towards this “Makkah” of Islamic arts. Regardless of your background or beliefs, you’re welcomed into this spiritual journey, where you’ll come to explore and appreciate the artistic, cultural, and societal contributions of Islamic civilisations to this world — a legacy too often overlooked for reasons we all know.
And if you’re ready, come join me on this sacred journey to the Islamic Arts Biennale 2025:
The Islamic Arts Biennale 2025 takes place at the Western Hajj Terminal of King Abdulaziz Airport in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia.
AlBidayah: Stepping into the Sacred Realm
Even as a non-Muslim, stepping into AlBidayah — the beginning — is a sacred experience. Here, historic objects from two of Islam’s holiest sites, Makkah and Madinah, are thoughtfully displayed. This connects with Jeddah’s historic role as the gateway to these sacred cities — which, by coincidence or not, is also where the Islamic Arts Biennale is held.
Guiding us at the start of this journey is a remarkable wooden madraj — the staircase once used to access the Kaaba. Originating from India and arriving in Jeddah in 1826, its towering four-metre height commands quiet respect, though its presence almost slips past you.
For Muslims, the Word of Allah and the House of Allah are deeply sacred. At the Biennale, visitors have the chance to experience them both. From the King Abdulaziz Waqf Libraries Assembly in Al-Madinah al-Munawarrah come copies of the Holy Quran (masahif). Among them is a monumental Quran — the largest I’ve ever seen — measuring around 140cm tall and 77.5cm wide, generously donated to the Prophet’s Mosque in Madinah by an Indian patron.
The madraj and the selection of Quranic manuscripts in the first section of AlBidayah set the stage for an unforgettable journey into the sacred realm.
This monumental Quran from North India, written in both Naskh and Nastaliq scripts, is signed by the calligrapher Ghulam Mushy al-Din.
Next, you enter a room where four majestic panels of the kiswah — the great textile veil of the Kaaba — hang suspended from the ceiling. Looking up, you can’t help but feel awe and reverence as your eyes trace the golden calligraphy embroidered into the soot-black fabric. The presence of these sacred textiles is humbling.
Passing beneath these monumental textiles, you feel as though you’ve crossed a threshold — from the everyday into a realm where divine will is at play. The sheer scale and majesty of the kiswah inspire a sense of a higher power beyond human understanding. This experience is heightened by the continuous recitation of Quranic verses playing softly in the background:
إِنَّ أَوَّلَ بَيْتٍ وُضِعَ لِلنَّاسِ لَلَّذِي بِبَكَّةَ مُبَارَكًا وَهُدًى لِلْعَالَمِينَ
(“Indeed, the first House [of worship] established for mankind was that at Bakkah – blessed and a guidance for the worlds.”)
As a non-Muslim, seeing the kiswah up close — and in its entirety — is a rare, almost otherworldly moment. I never imagined I would be able to witness it without visiting Makkah in person, so close that I could almost touch it. For a fleeting second, I imagine myself surrounded by pilgrims circling the Kaaba, united in devotion.
Only later did I learn that the kiswah is replaced every year, and the old one is traditionally cut into pieces and distributed to the faithful. The fact that this kiswah, which most recently draped over the Kaaba from 2023 to 2024, remains intact and on display at the Biennale is the result of an unprecedented decision made last July.
The giant panels of the kiswah evoke a sense of awe and solemnity at the Islamic Arts Biennale 2025.
Nour Jaouda’s “textile triptych” transforms the exhibition floor into a sacred space.
What makes the Biennale experience unique is the dialogue between sacred objects like the kiswah and contemporary art. In the next room, Nour Jaouda’s textile triptych, Before the Last Sky, evokes the very act of prayer.
Oriented toward Makkah, it represents the three postures of Islamic prayer — ruqu’ (bowing), sujud (prostration), and julus (sitting). This installation quietly transforms an otherwise ordinary space into a spiritual one, extending the sanctity blessed by the kiswah just steps away.
Central to Islam is the Quran, the Word of Allah. While several Quranic manuscripts are displayed throughout the Biennale, one contemporary work catches me completely by surprise: Asif Khan’s Glass Quran.
Composed of 604 delicate glass folios, each inscribed with Uthman Taha’s calligraphy in 24-carat gold, this piece seems to transcend its physical form. The interplay of glass and gold — with gold often symbolising light and divinity — lends the manuscript an ethereal presence.
Inspired by the 9th-century Blue Quran, which he saw as existing beyond “the human scale of time,” Khan’s Glass Quran draws me in by illuminating the power of light; it breathes life into the translucent glass and radiant gold, creating a luminous bridge between the tangible (the scripture) and the Divine (the Word of Allah).
This Quran by Asif Khan, consisting of 604 glass folios gilded with 24-carat gold, seems to transcend the physical realm.
Moving forward, you encounter a 10th-century Samanid plate set against a mesmerising backdrop: Charwei Tsai’s cosmic painting inscribed with الحلم (Al Hilm), meaning “patience” or “forbearance.” This commissioned installation serves as Tsai’s artistic response to the ceramic plate’s famous Kufic inscription:
الحلم أوله مر مذاقته لكن آخره احلا من العسل السلامة
(“Magnanimity is bitter at first, but at the end is sweeter than honey.")
This pairing is just one example of the dialogue between ancient and contemporary at the Biennale. More than 20 commissioned works by artists from over 19 countries invite visitors to explore the richness of Islamic art and culture, spanning both past and present.
Together, this installation also mark the boundary between the divine and the mundane, as we prepare to cross the threshold into a realm shaped by great ideas and knowledge born in the Muslim world.
More than 30 institutions from around the world have contributed to the rich and diverse selection of exhibits at AlMadar.
Orbiting the Constellation of Ideas and Knowledge
If you asked me which pavilion at this year’s Islamic Arts Biennale is not to be missed, I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to tell you it’s AlMadar.
True to its name, AlMadar, meaning “The Orbit,” is a celestial hub showcasing treasured collections from over 30 institutions across more than 20 countries. Many of the items — mostly texts and manuscripts — are on public display for the very first time, making this visit a rare journey into the heart of knowledge.
The exhibits revolve around the groundbreaking ideas and discoveries of Muslim scholars throughout the centuries, exploring fields such as astronomy, mathematics, geography, and more.
For anyone new to Islamic arts and culture, you might be surprised to learn just how much of the knowledge we take for granted today was pioneered or influenced by Muslim minds. Patterns of sacred geometry that adorn Islamic art and architecture, too, owe their precision and beauty to craftsmen of the Islamic world.
Among the manuscripts, one stops me in my tracks: a manuscript from the Vatican Library containing the earliest recorded use of the number 100 in Europe. It’s from Liber Abaci (The Book of Calculation) by Leonardo of Pisa — better known as Fibonacci (c.1170–1240).
Before Liber Abaci was published in the 13th century, Europe relied mostly on Roman numerals, making calculations a real headache. Fibonacci introduced the Hindu-Arabic numeral system (0–9), which he encountered during his travels in North Africa. This simple yet revolutionary system transformed European mathematics for centuries and laid the foundation for modern arithmetic and algebra.
One of the earliest recorded uses of the number 100 in Hindu-Arabic numerals in Europe is found in the Liber Abaci by Leonardo of Pisa.
You may have seen many Quranic manuscripts before, but have you ever encountered the Nurse’s Quran? Displayed among other manuscripts at AlMadar, I find my feet glued to the ground in front it — both out of curiosity for its intriguing name and admiration for the beauty of the calligraphy it holds.
Spanning 60 volumes on large parchment folios, this monumental Quran was commissioned by Fatimah, the governess of the Zirid ruler Badis ibn al-Mansur (reigned 996–1016), and overseen by Durrah al-Katibah, a remarkable female scribe.
The bold brushstrokes of the New Style Abbasid script, with borders and edges meticulously refined by reed pen, reveal an ambitious artistry rarely seen at this scale. Standing before this tour de force, I feel transported to a moment in history where devotion, artistry, and female agency cross paths.
The Nurse’s Quran sheds light on an ambitious project undertaken by the governess of a Zirid ruler in the 11th century.
Nearby, you’ll find a 16th-century copy of a 12th-century map by Muhammad Al-Idrisi (if you’ve read my piece Wander in Sicily: In the Footsteps of the Arabs, you’ll know why this matters). Commissioned by Norman King Roger of Sicily (reigned 1071–1101), this is considered the world’s first map to depict large parts of Europe, North Africa, and Asia. Seeing it in person for the first time is unexpectedly moving.
The only downside? The manuscript is displayed open to just one spread — showing Al-Andalus, the Balearic Islands, and the northern Maghreb. Standing before it, I find myself wishing there was a digital tool to flip through its pages and explore the rest of the manuscript.
The exhibition also features Evliya Çelebi’s map of the Nile River, which has left the Vatican Library for the first time to be exhibited alongside his map of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. These rare pieces make AlMadar a real treasure trove of history, science, and culture.
Al-Idrisi’s map is displayed in front of a monumental disc by the Factum Foundation, a brass and silver-plated recreation of his Makkah-centred world map.
Tangible Beauties Through the Eyes of Visionary Collectors
If AlMadar celebrates the exchange of knowledge within the Islamic world and beyond, then AlMuqtani offers a different perspective, grounding us in the tangible beauty of Islamic art.
Here, the focus shifts from the metaphysical to the material, guided by the vision of two remarkable figures: Sheikh Hamad bin Abdullah Al Thani, founder of the Al Thani Collection, and Rifaat Sheikh El Ard, founder of the Furusiyya Art Foundation. Together, they present nearly 200 objects — the former focusing on masterpieces that represent the pinnacles of artistry across Islamic civilisations, whereas the latter explores arms and armour within the Islamic world.
Anyone with an interest in Islamic art has likely heard of the Al Thani Collection, renowned for its unmatched taste in precious objects. Amidst the glittering displays, one gem steals the spotlight — the Briolette of India. This 90.38-carat briolette-cut diamond, graded Type-IIa, has a history as dazzling as its facets. It passed through the hands of famed jewellers such as Louis Cartier and Harry Winston, and once adorning the turban of an Indian maharaja.
Weighing over 90 carats, the Briolette of India is the centre of attention in the Al Thani Collection.
Intricate gold and silver inlays, depicting a swarm of fish, adorn the interior of this 13th-century bowl from Eastern Iran.
This jewelled dagger from the Furusiyya Art Foundation — attributed to Ottoman court jeweller Mehmed bin Imad — is reportedly the most expensive item at the Islamic Arts Biennale.
This jewelled parrot, adorned with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds set against a green-enamel backdrop, once belonged to the Nizams of Hyderabad.
But AlMuqtani is not just about jewels — it’s a paradise for calligraphy lovers too. Alongside the Blue Quran and the Pink Quran, you’ll find ceramics and manuscripts that serve as canvas for the evolution of Arabic calligraphy (I’m planning to write a separate piece dedicated to the incredible calligraphy I’ve seen at the Biennale, inshallah).
Amidst the calligraphy, I’m taken by surprise when I spot two folios of tughra calligraphy — the imperial signature of Ottoman sultans. But these are unlike any I had seen before. Within the loops and curves of the tughra are finely written lines of calligraphy, delicately woven to create a mesmerising tapestry of words. Both are signed by Sayyid Umar al-Wasfi Siwasi and date back to the mid-19th century.
Together, the exhibits at AlMadar and AlMuqtani beautifully capture the theme of this year’s Islamic Arts Biennale: “And All That Is In Between” — a phrase that appears 20 times in the Quran: “And God created the heavens and the earth and all that is in between.” This theme not only reflects the all-encompassing nature of the Divine but also speaks to the Biennale’s ambition to showcase the full spectrum of Islamic civilisation, both the tangible and the intangible.
A noble war mask is displayed against a 15th-century folio of calligraphy written in muhaqqaq script, from Samarkand.
Calligraphy in the form of tughras signed by Sayyid Umar al-Wasf Siwasi.
Returning to the Heart of the Sacred: Makkah and Madinah
Beneath the vast canopy of the Western Hajj Terminal, visitors are invited to step into AlMidhallah (The Canopy), where contemporary art comes to life — stretching your imagination and challenging what you thought defined art, Islamic art, and even contemporary art.
I’ll admit — I’ve never been a huge fan of contemporary art. Yet something about this open-air space beneath the canopy draws me in. It feels like a 21st-century take on an Islamic garden, where you’re not just looking at art but becoming part of it. The warmth of sand beneath your feet, lush greenery all around, and a gentle breeze that seems to cleanse the spirit — this is a space where the boundaries between art and nature blur, preparing visitors for what lies ahead.
Just as in AlBidaya, where the kiswah sets the tone for a sacred journey, stepping into Al-Madinah al-Munawwarah (The Illuminated) and Makkah al-Mukarramah (The Honoured) feels like a return to the divine. Here, the Kingdom’s role as custodian of Islam’s two Holy Cities comes to life through historic objects — the crescent finial from the Prophet’s Mosque, green and gold drapery made for the Prophet’s tomb, and even a set of footprints attributed to the Prophet Ibrahim. Each piece, distinct yet connected, whispers a unifying tale of faith and devotion.
Green — the most sacred colour in Islam — lends a spiritual atmosphere to the Al-Madinah al-Munawwarah pavilion.
Among these treasures, I find myself drawn to Ahmed Mater’s Magnetism, a work I’ve longed to see since it was showcased at the British Museum in 2012. In the centre is a magnetic black cuboid — a miniature Kaaba — surrounded by thousands of iron particles pulled toward it. The scene mirrors the swirling sea of pilgrims during Hajj, each drawn by an invisible force of faith. Set against the backdrop of the kiswah, the sacred black textile that once draped over the Kaaba, Mater’s work becomes a meeting point of art and sanctity.
Standing before this contrast of innovation and tradition, I’m filled with awe and gratitude — what a blessing it is to behold the sacred textile once again.
Ahmed Mater’s Magnetism pulls not only iron particles toward the central cube, but also draws in the attention of visitors at the Islamic Arts Biennale.
In the same pavilion, two video installations tells us more about Makkah. One transports us to the early days of photography in Makkah, where Abdulghaffar Albaghdadi Almakki (d.1902), the first known Meccan photographer, captured images of the holy city. Yet his collaboration with Christiaan Snouck Hurgronje took a bitter turn when his images were plagiarized.
Another screen brings to life George Kruger’s Het Groote Mekka-Feest (The Great Mecca-Feast) — the earliest documentary on Hajj. It chronicles the journey of Indonesian pilgrims from Tanjung Priok, North Jakarta, all the way to Makkah in 1928. As I watch these moving images, I can’t help but feel a quiet reverence for the pilgrims who undertook such a long and arduous journey, guided by their unshakable faith.
One of the earliest photographs of Makkah by Abdulghaffar Albaghdadi Almakki.
AlMusalla: A Sanctuary for Reflection
Leaving the pavilions behind, while making your way to the exit, you’ll encounter AlMusalla — a first for the Biennale. Literally meaning “a space for prayer,” this installation offers a contemporary reinterpretation of a communal place of worship.
This very musalla is the winning design of the inaugural AlMusalla Prize, launched by the Diriyah Biennale Foundation in 2024. The prize challenges architects to reimagine the future of worship spaces rooted in Islamic architectural heritage, and the winner — East Architecture Studio — brilliantly answers the call.
Drawing inspiration from Saudi Arabia’s vernacular architecture, the studio crafted a sustainable musalla using materials sourced from the palm tree, a symbol deeply tied to the region. They upcycled local date palm waste by processing fibers into modular structural elements, while air-dried palm leaves, woven into coverings and floor mats, pay homage to the traditional Saudi craft of palm frond weaving (نسج النخيل).
What’s intriguing is that this structure is designed to be dismantled after the Biennale and reassembled elsewhere, allowing the spirit of this modern sacred space to live on.
The winning design of the inaugural AlMusalla Prize is showcased at the Islamic Arts Biennale 2025.
A peek inside the female section of the musalla designed by East Architecture Studio — winner of the AlMusalla Prize 2024.
In its form and function, the musalla encourages something beyond just prayer, inviting visitors to pause, reflect, and absorb the experience of the Biennale in a quiet moment of contemplation.
Sitting within this space, I find myself reflecting on the wealth of objects I had just explored — the stories, teachings, and spirituality embedded in centuries of texts, manuscripts, and artefacts. It’s no exaggeration to say that the Islamic Arts Biennale feels like a “Makkah” for those eager to deepen their understanding of Islamic arts and culture.
What stands out most to me is how, despite the unity of faith, its diverse expressions — in countless forms and through countless hands — are all, ultimately, reflections of the multifaceted Divine. The vast array of objects on display invites us to contemplate God’s omnipresence, while the breadth and depth of its creations echo the far-reaching influence of Islamic civilisations across geography, disciplines, and time.
Perhaps this is why I’ve always been so drawn to Islamic arts and culture — they help me understand the world around me, my place within it, and all that is in between.
*I hereby extend my thanks to Albandari Alsharif Alghalib, a guide at the Islamic Arts Biennale, for the insightful tour she conducted and the invaluable knowledge she shared with me.
Reference:
And All That Is In Between: Islamic Arts Biennale 2025. (2025). Diriyah Biennale Foundation.
The Islamic Arts Biennale 2025 runs until May 25, 2025.