Wander in Islamic Art: Eternal Letters
Eternal Letters is an intimate world where sacred words meet artistry — where ink, colour, and paper become storytellers, whispering tales of one of the finest traditions of the Islamic world.
Sense of Wander: ★★★★★
This lavish copy of the Qur’an, notable for its striking green-dyed paper, is a rare example of the paper-dyeing traditions once practiced in Morocco.
SHARJAH, UAE — Just a short ride from Dubai lies Sharjah, a city often overshadowed by its opulent neighbour but rich in cultural depth. Designated by UNESCO as the cultural capital of the Arab world, Sharjah is home to a constellation of museums and cultural institutions. On the top of my list is the Sharjah Museum of Islamic Civilisation (SMIC), which houses over 5,000 artefacts from across the Islamic world, spanning more than 1,400 years.
The museum’s permanent exhibition occupies four galleries on its upper floor. Though not laid out in strict chronological order, it offers an expansive overview of Islamic art — from ceramics and glass to metalwork, calligraphy, manuscripts, and textiles. As fascinating as the permanent display is, it was the museum’s temporary exhibition that took my breath away.
As luck would have it, during my visit, I stumbled on the special exhibition dedicated to my favourite subject: calligraphy. Titled Eternal Letters: Qur’an Manuscripts from the Abdul Rahman Al Owais Collection, the exhibition is a rare opportunity to view 81 Quranic manuscripts — on both parchment and paper — from the private collection of H.E. Abdul Rahman Bin Mohammed Al Owais, the UAE’s Minister of Health since 2013.
Al Owais began collecting in the late 1980s, guided by the visionary ruler of Sharjah, Sultan bin Muhammad Al-Qasimi. The first edition of Eternal Letters was held in 2009. While the collection initially leaned towards Ottoman calligraphy, it has since taken on a more comprehensive approach, tracing the evolution of Arabic calligraphy over time.
Visitors to Eternal Letters are in for a rare treat — a journey through nearly 1,400 years of Arabic calligraphy, charting its evolution across the Islamic world, from Spain and the Mediterranean to as far east as China.
The exhibition is divided into six thematic sections, beginning with Quranic manuscripts from the early centuries of Islam and end with works by contemporary calligraphers from as recently as 2024.
Inside the special exhibition Eternal Letters: Qur’an Manuscripts from the Abdul Rahman Al Owais Collection, at the Sharjah Museum of Islamic Civilisation, visitors are invited into a world where sacred words meet artistry.
For Muslims, Quran is the literal word of God. The first revelation to the Prophet Muhammad (SWT) began with: “Recite in the name of your Lord… Who taught by the pen. It’s easy to see why, in Islam, copying the Quran is considered one of the highest forms of devotion — and why calligraphy is held as the most revered form of art.
The evolution of Arabic script is almost inseparable from the spread of Islam. Before the Prophet’s time, Arabs in Mecca, Medina, and other parts of the Hijaz (modern-day western Saudi Arabia) used writing sparingly, mainly for trade and diplomacy. Knowledge was transmitted orally.
Following the Prophet’s death, as the Islamic empire expanded, the need for written communication — especially between the caliphate’s seat in Medina and its rapidly growing territories — became essential.
Some of the earliest known Quranic manuscripts date to the late 7th and early 8th centuries. These are often referred to as Hijazi scripts — not necessarily indicating that they were written in the Hijaz region, but rather referring to a loose stylistic group that may have emerged from places such as Arabia, Syria, Iraq, or Egypt.
The exhibition traces the emergence of Arabic script through a folio from a Hijazi Quran, written on sheepskin parchment. With its broad letterforms and slanted upstrokes, the script feels raw and expressive. It was my first time seeing this style in person — and though it may seem crude compared to later manuscripts, its size — slightly larger than an A4 sheet — suggests it was the result of a lavish Quranic production.
This folio, written in Hijazi script, is one of the earliest surviving Quranic manuscripts, dating back to the first century of Islam.
Arabic calligraphy began to formalise towards late 7th century, as the Marwanid branch of the Umayyad dynasty (661–750) consolidated power after years of conflict. As the administration restructured, so too did Arabic script. Letters became more regular, geometric, and standardised — a turning point that marked the emergence of the Kufic style. This was when writing truly became art.
At Eternal Letters, you can see folios that capture this pivotal transition from Hijazi to early Kufic. In these rare examples, you’ll notice increasing consistency in letterforms and layout. Horizontal strokes begin to elongate — a hallmark of mashq, or stretched writing — reflecting codification process.
Thanks to the codified principles of Kufic, both the Umayyads and their Abbasid (750–1258) successors were able to commission large-format Qurans of breathtaking scale and beauty.
One folio in particular held me spellbound: it felt eerily familiar. I soon realised it was from the renowned “Uthman Quran,” with the majority of the manuscript now housed at the Hast Imam Library in Tashkent, Uzbekistan. I had the privilege of seeing it there last fall — no photos allowed, but the memory lingers vividly.
Though traditionally attributed to Caliph Uthman (reigned 644–656), this manuscript was likely produced in the 8th century. Uthman, a close companion and son-in-law of the Prophet, is credited with commissioning the standardised compilation of the Quran. The manuscript attributed to him, produced for mosque recitation, opens to more than a metre wide.
This folio fragment, dating from the early to mid-8th century, showcases how Arabic script was beginning to take on a more consistent form and layout.
This folio — measuring 43 x 59 cm — belonged to a monumental Quran originally attributed to Caliph Uthman.
And then, of course, there’s the legendary Blue Quran — an icon of Kufic calligraphy. Named for its indigo-dyed parchment, its gold Kufic script gleams with opulence. The cost of producing such a manuscript — lavishing gold and expensive dye on each page — speaks to its elite patronage.
Chrysography, or gold-letter writing, became synonymous with luxury and reverence. Another folio on display, dated to the late 8th or early 9th century, also features gold script on cream-coloured parchment — less flamboyant than the Blue Quran but equally refined.
Standing before this rare folio of the Blue Quran, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I’ve been fortunate to view fragments of it across the world, including recently at the Islamic Arts Biennale in Jeddah.
This folio from the Blue Qur’an bears witness to the codification of Arabic script in the early centuries of Islam.
This folio, featuring verses written in chrysography, epitomises the refinement of Quranic manuscripts produced during the Abbasid period.
By the 10th century, Quranic manuscripts were flourishing. Nearly two dozen distinct Kufic styles had emerged, practiced by calligraphers across the Islamic world — from Iran to Spain and beyond. These stylistic innovations were more than artistic evolution; they also reflected societal change.
Around this time, conversions to Islam — something that was not actively pursued by the authorities — began to increase significantly. With more Muslims came a greater demand for Qurans, which in turn shaped the arts of the book, both in terms of script and material.
Kufic, the dominant script of earlier centuries, gradually gave way to two new styles: the so-called “New Style,” with its striking angularity and bold contrast between thick and thin strokes, and the more proportioned, “Round scripts” that stemmed from codified cursive forms. These were not just aesthetic shifts — the new scripts were faster to write and easier to read, aligning more closely with the handwriting of the time.
The transformation didn’t stop at script. The medium was changing too. Parchment — the primary material used to write Qurans — was expensive. A single manuscript required hundreds of animal skins, each prepared through labour-intensive procedures. Slowly but steadily, parchment was replaced by paper, a more affordable innovation that had made its way from China via Central Asia. Though still not cheap, paper made Quran production far more feasible.
This material shift brought visual changes. Qurans became smaller in size, with more lines per page and fuller orthographic notation. They also adopted a vertical format, shedding the horizontal layout that once distinguished them from other books. Kufic, once reserved for sacred texts, found other uses.
It was also during this pivotal period that the history of Arabic calligraphy began to take shape. Tradition later credits three legendary figures with refining the art: Ibn Muqla (886-940), Ibn al-Bawwab (d. 1022), and Yaqut al-Musta’simi (d. 1298) — all of whom had deep connections to Baghdad, the Abbasid capital and the flourishing centre of calligraphy at the time.
Dating to the 12th–13th century, this folio — featuring Quranic verses written in the New Style script — likely originated in Central Asia.
This manuscript features Quranic text in the New Style script, accompanied by a Persian translation copied in Round Script.
As Chingis Khan’s grandsons swept across Eurasia, the Ilkhanid dynasty (1256–1335) established itself in Tabriz, becoming major patrons of the arts. They founded royal ateliers — kitabkhanas, or “houses of books” — where calligraphy thrived.
Under the Ilkhanids and their contemporaries in China, the Yuan dynasty (1271–1368), cross-cultural exchanges intensified. One result was the emergence of Qurans from China — a subject that I didn’t expect to find in this part of the world.
I was genuinely surprised to find a Quran that was most likely produced in China. The script resembled classical Muhaqqaq, but carried the unique flair of what scholars call sini — the Chinese style of Arabic calligraphy. Characterised by elongated horizontal strokes and sharp, almost blade-like endings, sini was used between the 14th and 19th centuries.
What fascinated me even more was the visual composition: the Quranic verses were framed within cloud-like boxes decorated with floral motifs. The medallions adorning the manuscript’s illuminated borders didn’t feel entirely Chinese — they likely reflect Central Asian influences. Indeed, this manuscript probably draws on artistic traditions from Central Asia, brought to China by Muslim migrants in the 14th century.
This manuscript features a script resembling classical Muhaqqaq, with articulations commonly found in sini, or Chinese, style.
The Mamluks (1250–1517) — western rivals of the Ilkhanids — ruled over Egypt and Syria with their own distinctive visual vocabulary. While Muhaqqaq script enjoyed unprecedented favour in Mamluk manuscripts, another script — Tumar — also emerged, especially in official documents and large-scale manuscripts.
In a 14th-century manuscript, the bold and grand Tumar script sweeps across the folios like a visual symphony. Bismillah takes centre stage on one page, while the opening verse of a surah flows in rhythmic lines on another. I had never heard of the Tumar script before — perhaps due to its rarity — but its impact was unforgettable. Similar to its Chinese counterpart, the calligraphy is enclosed within an abstract decorative outline.
This Quran spread features single lines of Tumar script — a style once used in administrative documents and manuscripts in Mamluk Egypt and Syria.
A section of an illuminated double frontispiece, featuring a surah title in white Kufic script against a sea of intricate floral designs. From early 15th century.
In this double frontispiece, white Kufic script stands out against kaleidoscopic geometric designs.
Moving further west, we arrive in Maghreb. Located at the far western end of the Islamic world, this region developed a distinct manuscript tradition on its own. One hallmark was the Maghrebi Round script — believed to have originated in Al-Andalus, possibly in Cordoba — with features reminiscent of Visigothic Latin writing.
Following the fall of the Hispano-Umayyads in 1011, scribes and scholars dispersed into smaller cities. The rise of the Almoravid dynasty (1056–1147) soon transformed Marrakesh into a cultural hub, drawing men of letters, calligraphers and illuminators alike.
The visual identity of Maghrebi Qurans extended beyond script alone. Paper, too, played a vital role. Among the most renowned examples is the so-called Pink Quran, written in Mabsut (“expanded”) style on folios dyed in a delicate blush. I’ve come across pink — as well as purple-dyed Qurans — in collections around the world, but never had I encountered anything quite like the Green Quran on display.
This two-volume manuscript, commissioned for the library of Alawite Sultan Abu al-Hasan Ali bin Ismail (reigned 1734–36), stands out in the exhibition.
Golden Quranic verses shimmer across green-dyed paper, creating a beautiful contrast.
In this two-volume manuscript, chrysography with fine black outlines unfolds across green-dyed pages — but not just any green. One volume leans toward a cooler palette, like the deep green of pine needles; the other glows warmer, more like sunlit grass.
Though the exhibition could only display a single spread from each volume, the catalogue reveals more: a double frontispiece ornamented with gold geometric designs reminiscent of the latticework found in mashrabiya screens.
These two lavish volumes was a royal commission, copied for the library of Alawite Sultan Abu al-Hasan Ali bin Ismail (reigned 1734-1736). They’re a rare surviving example of the long-standing tradition of dyed-paper Qurans in the Maghreb — particularly Morocco.
Only later did I discover that green-dyed pages were a hallmark of early modern royal manuscripts in the region. These two volumes, it turns out, are not unique: at least two other copies are preserved in Rabat.
Standing before the Green Qurans, I was in awe. How had I never encountered anything like this before? I was trained in Islamic art history, had studied the arts of the book, and yet here was something entirely new to me — unexpected and unforgettable.
Lavish illuminations seen in a 16th-century Quranic manuscript from Shiraz, Iran.
The Timurid Empire (1370–1506), founded by Timur Lang — or “Tamerlane” as he’s more widely known — played a pivotal role in the development of Islamic art. This era witnessed Persianate culture flourish like never before: literature and visual arts all reached new heights. Much of this was made possible through the royal kitabkhana, or imperial workshop, where the finest talents — calligraphers, illuminators, painters, and bookbinders — were brought together under the generous patronage of the court.
Among their most prized creations were the Qurans of Shiraz, celebrated across the Islamic world for their opulent use of pigments and intricate illuminations reminiscent of Persian carpets. One such manuscript from the 16th century stopped me in my tracks. Its illuminations were so delicate and refined that I found myself lingering longer than expected — drawn into its kaleidoscope of pattern and colour.
Nearby, a Quran from India caught my attention for a different reason: its script. This manuscript featured Bihari calligraphy — a pre-Mughal style known for its curious blend of angular forms and soft curves. What struck me was how each letter was meticulously outlined in the finest black ink, giving the script an almost whimsical, comic-book quality. The verses, written in gold, blue, and red, were softened by a gentle wash of baby pink. The style felt unfamiliar, yet strangely endearing.
A closer look at the Bihari script, featured in an Indian Quran produced between the 15th and 16th centuries.
Timurid influences are evident in this 17th-century Quranic manuscript from North India.
For those drawn to the unconventional, a rare selection of sanjak Qurans — striking in their hexagonal and octagonal shapes — offers a refreshing departure from standard Quranic productions. Their compact geometry feels almost futuristic, yet rooted in centuries-old devotion.
Throughout Eternal Letters, manuscripts and folios in Hijazi, Kufic, Muhaqqaq, Tumar, Maghribi, and Bihari scripts chart the evolving aesthetics of different regions across the vast timeline of Islamic art history. Each of them invites us to reconsider what beauty can be — not only in ink and colour, but in devotion.
As someone who has been practicing Islamic calligraphy for some time, stumbling upon the private collection of H.E. Abdul Rahman Al Owais felt like a quiet blessing. The experience not only broadened my understanding of the arts of the book but also deepened my commitment to perfecting calligraphy. The graceful curves of Arabic script remind me that to write them is to briefly transcend time and place; in bringing these lines to life, I feel as though I’m touching something eternal.
In fact, Eternal Letters made up for a disappointment I had in Sharjah — I had looked forward to visiting the Sharjah Calligraphy Museum, only to find its exhibitions temporarily removed to make way for the Sharjah Biennale. But perhaps this is how things are meant to unfold. We never truly know what God has in store — and somehow, this special exhibition turned out to be exactly what I needed.
In my view, Eternal Letters is more than a survey of styles and scripts; it’s an invitation into the soul of a tradition — one that is still very much alive today. How fortunate I am to have stood before 81 never-before-seen manuscripts, each whispering a tale that spans nearly 1,400 years. It’s a duration that not only mirrors the breadth and depth of the Sharjah Museum of Islamic Civilisation’s collection, but also traces the arc of Islamic history itself.
Small enough to fit in the palm, these sanjak Qurans stand out among the exhibits in Eternal Letters.
Tips for wanderers — If you’re in Sharjah and Eternal Letters has wrapped up, don’t worry — you can still soak in the beauty of Islamic calligraphy. The Sharjah Museum of Islamic Civilisation has a permanent display of manuscript folios, and you’ll find traces of calligraphy across other mediums, from ceramics to textiles. Also, I would highly recommend stopping by the Sharjah Calligraphy Museum. And if you do go, I would absolutely love to hear about it — drop me a comment below and share your thoughts!
Reference:
Butler-Wheelhouse, A., Pingannaud, R., El Khiari, A., & George, A. (2025). Eternal letters: Qur’an manuscripts from the Abdul Rahman Al Owais collection. Paul Holberton Publishing.
Eternal Letters: Qur’an Manuscripts from the Abdul Rahman Al Owais Collection is currently on view at the Sharjah Museum of Islamic Civilisation and will run through May 25, 2025.