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Safeya Binzagr helped bridge the cultural link between Japan and Saudi Arabia.
Katakura Kunio, the former Japanese ambassador to Egypt, Iraq, and the UAE, has paid tribute to Safeya Binzagr, who passed away last week, emphasizing the profound impact of her contributions to enhancing Japan’s cultural ties with Saudi Arabia.
Binzagr, known as the “mother” of Saudi Arabia’s fine art movement and a symbol of Vision 2030, helped bridge the cultural link between Japan and Saudi Arabia and was the aunt of current Saudi Ambassador to Japan Dr. Ghazi Faisal Binzagr.
Katakura, chairman of Japan’s Foundation for Desert Culture, fondly recalled Safeya’s “warm and encouraging nature” toward him and his late wife, Motoko.
“Her support was instrumental in Motoko’s cultural anthropological fieldwork in Wadi Fatima,” he said. “She always welcomed the foundation’s follow-up missions with open arms, fostering a deep and personal connection with us.”
Katakura said Binzagr was not only a gifted artist whose work inspired many but also a cherished friend and mentor. Her passion for creativity and dedication to her paintings left an indelible mark, and her artistic legacy will continue to inspire future generations.
Ambassador Binzagr commented: “Building a cultural bridge is the core for creating a distinguished future between two countries and I strive, as an ambassador, to support this because it creates an opportunity for common interests to rise to a common outlook and mutually supportive values.
“The mission carried out by my late aunt will continue (in) the making of a new era. She was one of the pillars that paved the way for this through her dedication to building and promoting the culture of the arts for future generations. The Kingdom considers her the mother of the cultural heritage of creative fine arts.”
The ambassador said there are ongoing efforts to further collaboration between Japan’s Foundation for Desert Culture and prominent foundations in the Kingdom to build upon the cultural ties between the two countries.
Maria Mohammed Al Rahbi, a student of Sultan Qaboos University (SQU), won second place at the individual level in the World Photography Cup for Universities and Higher Education Institutions 2024.
Maria Al Rahbi is a computer science major at the University’s College of Science and a member of the photography group at the Deanship of Student Affairs. She took part in the contest as part of a team representing SQU after the competition was announced to all higher education institutions around the world.
Each institution is allowed to participate with a maximum of 5 students. Each student can compete with 4 photos.
The competition was organized by the International Federation of Photographic Art (FIAP) and it saw the participation of 88 universities from around the world.
The jury included prominent specialists in the world of photography, including photographers from National Geographic society, the Silk Road Photography Organisation, and officials from the International Federation of Photographic Art or “Fédération Internationale de l’Art Photographique” (FIAP).
It is worth noting that the award will be presented at a ceremony in China in October 2024 as part of similar events that include an international conference and a photography exhibition.
Fifteen of Maria Al Rahbi’s works of art will be displayed in FIAP wings. On the sidelines of the award ceremony, Maria will participate in a workshop to be attended by international photographers.
When you think of YouTube sensations who can turn any topic into a binge-worthy experience, this name is the one that pops up.
In a world overflowing with content creators, this Egyptian YouTuber stands out as a modern-day educator, transforming dry subjects into exhilarating lessons wrapped in humor and charisma.
With a knack for breaking down complex topics into digestible chunks, “Da7e7’s” videos are like your favorite comfort food — if comfort food could explain quantum physics or the intricacies of ancient civilizations.
With a channel boasting 1.93 million subscribers and 208 videos, this Egyptian YouTuber has become a beacon of educational entertainment
But Da7e7’s reach doesn’t stop at his own channel. His videos have also found a home on the New Media Academy Life YouTube channel, a hub dedicated to content creation and education.
This platform aims to amplify the presence of Arabs in the digital space, and Da7e7’s engaging content is a perfect fit.
Through this collaboration, his insightful and humorous videos are reaching an even broader audience, making education not just accessible but highly entertaining.
His channel, a treasure trove of knowledge and wit, has garnered millions of subscribers who tune in not just to learn but to be entertained.
Who knew that physics could be as gripping as a season finale of your favorite drama?
Da7e7’s approach is anything but ordinary. Imagine sitting in a lecture where the professor actually understands memes, pop culture references, and can make you laugh while dropping knowledge bombs.
That’s Da7e7 for you. His ability to connect with a diverse audience, from teens to adults, is what makes him a standout in the digital realm.
It’s like he’s the cool teacher we all wish we had, minus the 8 a.m. classes.
In a landscape where educational content often feels as exciting as watching paint dry, Da7e7’s channel is a breath of fresh air.
Each episode feels like a lively conversation with a brilliant friend who has a way of making even the most daunting topics approachable.
Plus, his knack for storytelling and his infectious enthusiasm mean that viewers aren’t just learning—they’re eagerly anticipating what will come next.
So, the next time you’re in the mood for some brainy fun, turn on Da7e7’s channel.
Whether you’re a lifelong learner or just someone looking for a few laughs mixed with some knowledge, this YouTube genius has got you covered.
Think of it as your personal TED Talk, but with a lot more pizzazz and a lot fewer PowerPoint slides.
Winning novel The Water Diviner is a poetic work set in rural Oman.
Novelist Zahran Alqasmi is the first Omani to win the International Prize for Arabic Fiction for his fourth novel The Water Diviner.
Announced at a ceremony in Abu Dhabi on Sunday, Alqasmi was named winner of the $50,000 prize and will also receive funding for an English translation.
Published in 2021, The Water Diviner follows the life of an enigmatic and mystical man employed by Omani villages to track the ebb and flow of local rivers and ravines.
Haunted by the deaths of his parents, “the water diviner” faces his fear as he battles for his life while stuck in a water channel.
Moroccan author Mohammed Achaari, the 2011 IPAF winner and chairman of this year’s judging panel, hailed the work for its innovative subject matter and cohesive structure.
“It is a new subject in modern fiction: water and its impact on the natural environment and the lives of human beings in hostile regions.
“Blurring the boundaries of reality and myth, the novel’s precise structure and sensitive poetic language are the conduit for compelling characters like the water diviner, who plays an essential role in people’s lives, yet simultaneously inspires their fear and revulsion,” he said.
“The Water Diviner transports us to the world, little known in the Arabic novel, of the riverbeds and the aflaj [water channels] of Oman, showing how natural forces influence the relationship between individuals, environment and culture.”
Professor Yasir Suleiman, chairman of the award’s board of trustees, praised Alqasmi’s rich prose and use of authentic Omani colloquialisms.
“The novel takes the reader into a world dominated by vulnerability and ready-made modes of thinking,” he said.
“Written in exquisite language suffused with the local cadences, the novel charms the reader with its narrative flow and poetic impulse.
The Water Diviner was one of six shortlisted novels , which included The Highest Part of the Horizon by Saudi author Fatima Abdulhamid, published by Masciliana in the UAE.
All shortlisted authors will receive a $10,000 prize.
Who is Zahran Alqasmi?
Born in the agriculture region of Dima Wattayeen in northern Oman, Alqasmi is a prolific author – having published four novels, 10 poetry books and two Biography of the Stone short story collections,released in 2009 and 2011.
In an interview on the IPAF website, he says the novel was inspired by his experience growing up in rural Oman.
“Anyone looking at life in the Sultanate of Oman will find that it largely depends upon an old system for providing water for drinking and agriculture, the system of the aflaj,” he said.
“They are a complicated social system, linked to social and class strata. Water is divided in equal shares throughout the year so that the owners of gardens can take what is due to them.
“Since I am a son of one of these villages, since my early childhood I have known a lot about the system of aflaj and heard many astonishing stories and legends connected with this system.
“This enriched me as I wrote the novel. I imagined the environment of the book as an Omani village. I visualised its paths, gardens, alleyways. It was easy at that time to write the chapters fluidly.”
Alqasmi will make his first public appearance after winning the prize at the Abu Dhabi International Book Fair on Monday.
Taking place at the Ayasofya Stage at 8.45pm, the discussion will include the shortlisted authors and centre on their works and the challenges facing modern Arabic fiction.
2023 International Prize for Arabic Fiction Awards winner Zahran Alqasmi, centre, with Jonathan Taylor, left and Zaki Nusseibeh, cultural adviser to the President of the UAE. Victor Besa / The National
Upon first glance at the works of Hashim Nasr, a Sudanese multidisciplinary artist and photographer now displaced in Alexandria, Egypt, one immediately notices several things; a personal act of deliberate introspection portrayed through his subjects, and an invitation to delve into your own contemplative analysis of said displayed works. Upon further examination, one may note that there is no face to be seen in any of Nasr’s portraits, with the subjects’ faces more often-than-not tactfully – and intentionally – covered with quite the jarring element, a triangular royal blue cone.
But why? While one may guess – and would indeed by partially correct in their guess – that by covering the subjects’ faces, Nasr is able to effectively convey a deeper meaning, one unclouded by superficial perceptions, the real answer is perhaps rooted in serendipity. Nasr’s signature approach to portraiture was not perhaps initially intentional, yet grew to become so. Nasr would begin asking family members to model for his shoots, and for the sake of their own comfort, he would offer them a blue cone to mask their features.
Little did Nasr know that the blue cone would transcend its initial purpose, becoming a symbol that compels viewers to look beyond the surface, mirroring his own childhood desire to be understood in a way that transcends mere visibility – to be deeply seen, even when unseen.
Born in 1990 in Khartoum, Sudan, Nasr’s journey is as multifaceted as his art. Trained initially as a dentist, he balanced the rigorous demands of his profession with an insatiable drive to explore his creative instincts. Nasr’s early forays into the art world were deeply rooted in his connection to his homeland. “I started taking pictures of what I held dearest – my family and the city I call home, Khartoum. My love for photography comes from my love for Khartoum,” he shares. This intrinsic link to his roots has been a cornerstone of his work ever since.
Nasr’s photographs present a world that seems suspended in time between dreams and reality, inviting the viewer to pause and reflect. “These photos are not just pixels; they are my catharsis. The only form I have,” Nasr asserts. In each image, there is a quiet dialogue between the seen and the unseen, the conscious and the subconscious.
In Khartoum, he had the freedom to explore vast, open spaces, and the liberty to use diverse and often unconventional settings for his shoots. However, since his move to Egypt, and more specifically to Alexandria, the dynamics of his work have shifted. Nasr, alongside his family, came to Alexandria in March 2023 on a three week-long vacation, one that turned out to be an unexpected exile as the war in Sudan had intensified, and Nasr could not return home.
Since his displacement to Alexandria, Hashim Nasr has faced significant constraints that have impacted his creative process. “You wake up one day and you realize your country is at war. It changes everything,” Nasr reflects. The once vibrant streets and open spaces of his hometown, which served as the canvas for his explorations, have been replaced by the marginally restrictive environment of Alexandria. “Reality has never sunk in. There are days I’d wake up and find myself back in Khartoum, only to realize I am not.” This dislocation has not only been a physical one but also a profound emotional and artistic shift.
In Alexandria, Nasr has encountered a city that, while rich in history and culture, imposes tighter limitations on his artistic freedom, whether deliberately or not. “It is not easy to walk around the streets of Alexandria with my camera and take photos. I felt trapped. What was my catharsis was now no longer attainable, not in the way that I had accustomed myself to.” Despite the city’s picturesque spirit, Nasr has only managed to conduct two outdoor shoots since his arrival, finding the public spaces less accessible and open to his creative expressions. “The fishermen just kept asking me, ‘what the hell are you doing?’ and I had to make up some story about a university project. I’m 34.”
Faced with these challenges, Nasr has turned inward, creating art within the confines of his own private spaces. “I began making art in my room, playing with light and shadow. It’s my safe haven; no one can tell me ‘you can’t shoot here’.” In the intimacy of his room, he manipulates light and shadow to craft evocative scenes using his own hands, resonating with the themes of solitude and introspection that permeate his work. This transition to working indoors has become a new frontier for Nasr, a place where he can still explore his artistic vision without external interference.
However, this adaptation has not been without its struggles. “All these dreams I had slowly started transforming into realities were now once more fading away. It’s been difficult, and it’s not as easy as it was back in Khartoum.” The limitations in Alexandria have challenged Nasr to rethink his approach and find new ways to express his creativity, even as he navigates the emotional and practical difficulties of his displacement. Through this process, he continues to explore the depths of his inner world, finding solace and expression in the play of light and shadow within his own sanctuary.
While his earlier works were deeply personal, exploring themes of loneliness and masculinity, his recent creations have been profoundly influenced by his experiences of exile. Now, his art navigates the painful realities of displacement and the concept of home, both physically and mentally. The recurring motifs of the blue cone and other geometric shapes have evolved to symbolize not just personal introspection but also the broader and more poignant themes of exile and identity.
In Alexandria, Nasr finds himself in a state of limbo. “For me now, Alexandria has become a second home, my family is here. It’s unimaginable to leave them behind. Yet I want to explore, I want to grow, I want to seek opportunities abroad to expand on my artistic abilities, but I cannot leave them behind.” This duality reflects the complex reality of exile – a simultaneous pull towards new horizons and an unbreakable bond with the past. His longing for exploration and artistic growth is tempered by the deep-rooted ties to his family and the shared experience of displacement.
“The idea of having a new home, it’s not something easy to adapt to. There’s something missing. It is a feeling so intense and unescapable,” Nasr confides. This poignant sentiment echoes throughout his work, as he navigates the emotional landscape of exile. The sense of something irrevocably lost, yet clashing the necessity of building a new life, is a recurring undercurrent in his photography. His images encapsulate the struggle to find a sense of belonging in an unfamiliar place while holding onto the memories and identity tied to a homeland left behind. “Such is the reality of exile,” he adds.
Through his lens, Nasr offers a profound exploration of what it means to be caught between worlds, crafting a narrative that is both deeply personal and universally resonant.
The films tell stories of hopes, dreams, and challenges from the Arab world.
Arab cinema is about to make waves as the 81st Venice Film Festival rolls out the red carpet.
Running from August 28 to September 7, this year’s Venice International Film Festival will feature 12 Arab films backed by the Doha Film Institute.
These movies will light up key sections of the festival, including Orrizonti and Orrizonti Shorts, and make waves at Critics Week, Giornate degli Autori, Final Cut, and the Venice Gap-Financing Market.
These selections showcase the rich diversity of the region, bringing unique stories from Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, Morocco, Palestine, Tunisia, and Yemen into the spotlight.
Highlights include “My Father’s Scent” by Mohamed Siam, featuring Egyptian star Ahmed Malek, “Aïcha” by Mehdi Barsaoui, and “Sudan, Remember Us” by Hind Meddeb, which offers a powerful portrayal of a generation’s fight for freedom through words, poems, and chants.
“We are proud to continue a successful festival season with a strong showcase of films by Arab talent at Venice,” stated Fatma Hassan Alremaihi, chief executive officer of the Doha Film Institute.
“Our mission is to support independent creators in cinema, and the compelling selection at Venice is a testament to our commitment to shed light on stories that transcend borders and present unique perspectives. We hope these films receive the acclaim and attention they deserve,” she added.
The 2024 Venice International Film Festival is set to showcase a diverse array of Arab cinema.
In the Orizzonti category, the festival will present “Aïcha” directed by Mehdi Barsaoui and “Happy Holidays” by Scandar Copti. The Orizzonti Shorts category will meanwhile include “Shadows” by Rand Beiruty.
“Sudan, Remember Us,” directed by Hind Meddeb, will be showcased in the Giornate degli Autori section. Critics’ Week will highlight “Perfumed with Mint” by Muhammed Hamdy.
The Final Cut section will present several notable films, including “Aisha Can’t Fly Away” by Morad Mostafa, “In This Darkness I See You” by Nadim Tabet, “My Father’s Scent” by Mohamed Siam, and “Those Who Watch Over” by Karima Saidi.
Finally, the Venice Gap-Financing Market will feature “Marie & Jolie” by Erige Sehiri, “The Station” by Sara Ishaq, and “Theft Of Fire” by Amer Shomali.
With a lineup that promises to dazzle and surprise, these films are set to turn heads and set new standards.
The artist, also a guest editor of ‘Bazaar Art’ praises communal creative practice and refutes the notion of the lone genius.
Some people imagine that making art, being a visual artist, is best accomplished and performed alone; I’m pretty certain they are wrong. My own experience has been exactly the opposite from the beginning.
I am an only child, the daughter of an English textile designer and a Comorian college lecturer; I was born in Zanzibar. As a little girl in the early 1960s, I played in the streets and back gardens of Maida Vale in London with two boys who lived nearby. Together we dug an enormous hole, without our parents’ knowledge or permission, to prepare for a swimming pool.
At school, in the art room, the teacher asked us to design the costumes and sets for Cyrano de Bergerac, a play in which it took two men, via poetry and letters, to court a young woman. As head girl, I joined others going out on strike to protest about democracy and freedom of speech.
At art college, which I hated almost as much as school, it was clear that the young women students were being educated to be assistants to the men. We outnumbered, out-lifted and outperformed them at every available opportunity. I learned that to succeed in theatre design you needed to be a team player—but not a woman.
As a waitress in Covent Garden in the mid-1970s, it was obvious that without the chefs, the washing-up staff and each other, we could never have survived the disdain, the flirting, and the exhaustion inflicted upon us by the customers.
The early days of organising, making and showing with other Black women artists in London were, for me, the real beginnings of my collaborative practice. We worked alongside each other in domestic studios and spoke frankly about funding and the need for studio space, as well as our doubts and fears for the future of our creative endeavours. Some women worked with each other on groundbreaking community print projects and then alongside me to make an exhibition happen. We functioned on the very outer edges of a pretty unfriendly art world for which we had huge expectation of change but an infinitesimal amount of experience as to how this could be done.
During the 40 years since those early showing days of the 1980s, my desire to work with others has grown stronger. Without the collaborative experience of working with a studio team; talking and testing, exchanging ideas, being challenged and having to rethink and compromise (in a good way), my work would be totally different: less daring, less exciting for me and more introspective (in a bad way).
There have been art historians who asked serious and intense questions about the process and curators who enabled me to be myself by taking care of me. Importantly, they dealt with the practicalities and the administrative complexities, so that the only thing I had to worry about was the making and developing or ‘how to push everything I could to the limit’.
Close friends—all artists—have in the past been invaluable partners in my work, constantly questioning, offering expertise or supporting a series of seemingly illogical projects with practical help, money, or by cooking comforting meals, making endless cups of tea or providing favourite biscuits.
During the years I spent preparing full-time art students for the challenging years ahead, which I knew would be filled with unexpected opportunities and inevitable setbacks, my advice to them was always to work with other artists who had different areas of expertise from themselves to make pop-up shows, workshops, group performance projects, homemade ’zines and moving-image productions. I tried to persuade them that it is impossible to do everything yourself, and that their own work would suffer, as would that of their fellow artists, unless they worked for an agreed common goal. Their paintings and films, installations and prints would be stronger, still individual, but part of a wider conversation.
Recently, I have learned how to listen more carefully to the sounds in my head and begun to understand how to make this real in my paintings and installations by working with Magda StawarskaBeavan, an artist who makes screen prints, paintings, and drawings as well as moving-image and sound-composition projects.
For a few years on and off we made screen prints, Magda leading and printing, then gradually worked on sound pieces—mostly hers and occasionally mine. As part of a recent show at Wiels contemporary art centre in Brussels called ‘Risquons-Tout’, we worked for several months during the fiercest lockdowns in the North West of England on an installation called ‘The Blue Grid Test’, combining a 25-metre blue painting on found objects with a six-channel sound work. We talked extensively about codes and patterns, language and love, colour and rhythm, and worked alongside each other, wandering in and out of her studio and mine. All the while, as we built layers of understanding and multiple connections through music and language using invented texts in French, English and Flemish, Magda developed a composition piece that wraps and envelops the audience. I painted a long thin line in many shades of blue. It became a room in which 64 global patterns on numerous items found neglected in cupboards, basements and on shelves in the house, spoke and sang in and out of harmony with the words and music. I felt this could be the beginning of a determination to add to our previous collaborations during the past 10 years by making real more experimental projects, in print and with sound, in between working on our own exhibitions.
If you can find someone who will listen to you as intently as you are prepared to listen to them, you have probably found the perfect collaborative partner. Be willing to say what you want and then have that idea bettered, and you may have the solution to creating artwork that really could make a difference.
This piece originally appeared in the November 2021 print edition of Harper’s Bazaar UK
Omar created and launched Majid Magazine for children, and an array of adorable characters, in 1979.
Just as Walt Disney founded one of the world’s largest and most influential entertainment conglomerates, an Egyptian journalist is hailed as the “Walt Disney of the UAE” for his pivotal role in shaping the region’s media landscape with Majid Magazine.
For many Arab adults now in their 50s, the magazine and its beloved characters, like Majid, Kaslan Jiddan and Captain Khalfan, are cherished symbols of childhood joy. Yet, few recognize the creative genius behind these treasured memories: Ahmed Omar, who passed away on Aug. 9 at the age of 85.
His vision and storytelling prowess were crucial in shaping the magazine’s enduring legacy.
Born in Egypt in September 1939, Omar embarked on a lifelong journey with words and stories.
His passion for reading blossomed at a young age, and school and public libraries became his sanctuaries, where he delved into a world of diverse books and nurtured a profound love for literature.
Omar’s frequent visits to Cairo’s Azbakeya Book Market, where he discovered affordable secondhand books, helped him build a personal library filled with diverse titles. His extensive reading played a crucial role in shaping his vision and enriching his ideas, which later shone through in his literary works.
He read to build a deep reservoir of knowledge, with classical literature captivating him from an early age. Naguib Mahfouz’s novels, which delve into the intricacies of life in Egyptian neighborhoods, had a profound impact on him. Omar was also shaped by the works of renowned Egyptian writers like Yusuf Idris, Gamal El-Ghitani, Mohamed Hassanein Heikal and other prominent authors.
He began his professional career at the UAE’s Al-Etihad newspaper, where he was a founding member and contributed to laying its foundation. He later managed the local news section.
The most significant achievement of his career was establishing Majid Magazine for children and becoming its editor-in-chief in 1979. The idea for the magazine was born within Al-Etihad daily and eventually transformed into one of the most important children’s magazines in the Arab world.
Omar recognized the need for Arab children to have a publication that represented them, stimulated their imagination and nurtured their minds. Working alongside a talented team of journalists and illustrators, he turned the magazine into a platform for expressing the thoughts and emotions of Arab children through words and drawings.
Through his tireless efforts, Omar made the magazine a symbol of Arab childhood and a cherished part of the memories of successive generations.
He spent most of his time in the magazine’s offices, creating, planning, overseeing writers and content, and preparing issues. When a new issue was printed, he had several weeks’ worth of issues ready in advance.
The inaugural issue of the magazine was published on Feb. 28, 1979, with 5,000 free copies that quickly vanished from the shelves. Majid, a character representing human values rather than superpowers, struck a chord with children. Majid Magazine maintained a weekly publication schedule every Wednesday without fail, gaining significant popularity throughout the region.
Omar oversaw and managed the magazine with ultimate care and interest for almost 30 years. He provided guiding articles for children and wrote scripts for comic stories, enriching each issue with beloved characters such as Zaki the Clever and Captain Khalfan, among others.
His editorials in Majid Magazine served as weekly lessons for both children and adults, filled with educational messages and moral guidance. His contributions established him as an educational pioneer, as he dedicated his knowledge to serving the younger generation and imparting valuable lessons.
Through his deep understanding of the nuances and secrets of childhood, Omar succeeded in capturing the attention of children from across the Arab world. The magazine’s readership grew to hundreds of thousands of young readers.
The late journalist believed that nurturing a love of reading in children is a collective duty of families, schools and magazines alike. He famously remarked: “Instilling a reading habit early in life is crucial, as it is difficult to cultivate later on. Introducing a child to a magazine is not just about providing entertainment — it’s a crucial step toward nurturing a lifelong passion for reading.”
Since the inception of the magazine, Omar was dedicated to imbuing it with a distinctly Gulf Arab flavor, reflected in its content, stories and characters. He attracted leading children’s writers and cartoonists, ensuring the magazine resonated deeply with young readers across the Arab world by preserving the unique identity of Gulf children.
Notable characters such as Kaslan Jiddan, Fadooli, Abu Al-Dhurfaa, Zakiyah Al-Zakiyah, Shamsa and Dana, and Captain Khalfan and his assistant Fahman became beloved figures among the magazine’s young audience.
Omar emphasized that his magazine was designed to appeal to children growing up in a traditional environment, instilling religious values, cultural awareness and pride in their Arab heritage.
As a testimony to his magazine’s success, mail subscriptions to Majid flourished throughout the Arab World as fans eagerly awaited each issue every Wednesday. For decades, it managed to compete with translated comics magazines such as Mickey (licensed from Disney and translated in Egypt) and Little Lulu (licensed and translated in Lebanon).
Consequently, the magazine evolved alongside the UAE’s social progress and embraced digital advancements with a YouTube channel and a website, although critics would argue that it is nowhere as influential today — despite the additional reach provided by modern technology — as it once was in the 1990s and 1980s.
The MCF Awards ceremony was held on in Dubai, UAE, for the second year
Mamdouh Al-Muhaini, general manager of Al Arabiya and Al Hadath, received the Excellence in the Media Industry Award
Acclaimed international journalist and broadcaster Baria Alamuddin was celebrated at the May Chidiac Foundation Media Awards for her valuable contributions to the Arab world’s media industry.
Alamuddin, an Arab News columnist, editor of the Media Services Syndicate and former foreign editor of Al-Hayat newspaper, accepted the Antoine Choueiri Special Tribute for Lifetime Achievement during Tuesday’s ceremony.
Presenting the accolade were Pierre Choueiri, CEO and chairman of the leading media representation group in the Middle East, Choueiri Group, and Lebanon’s ambassador to the UAE, Fouad Chehab Dandan.
The annual MCF Awards, hosted by Dubai for the second year in a row, recognized the contributions of several other prominent figures in the Arab media industry.
Awards were presented by MCF President May Chidiac and other notable media personalities, including Lebanese journalist and writer Samir Atallah, CEO of International Media Investments and former CNN Commercial Worldwide president Rani Raad, and Beirut Institute founder and executive chairman Raghida Dergham.
Mamdouh Al-Muhaini, general manager of Al Arabiya and Al Hadath, accepted the Excellence in the Media Industry Award.
The Excellence in Media Award went to Nadim Koteich, general manager of Sky News Arabia, International Media Investments, to recognize his commitment to excellence and his impact on the media landscape over the past two decades.
Palestinian journalist Heba Akila, best known for her coverage of the Israeli onslaught on the Gaza Strip, was recognized for her Courage in Journalism.
Anas Bukhash, entrepreneur and podcast presenter of ABTalks, accepted the Content Development Award from award-winning international journalist Hadley Gamble and Bahraini business pioneer Akram Miknas, who heads Promoseven Holdings.
Award-winning investigative journalist and television host at France 2, Elise Lucet, received the Engaged Journalist Award, presented by Nobel laureate Ouidad Bouchamaoui and Lebanese Member of Parliament Ghassan Hasbani.
The Outstanding Media Performance Award was presented to American journalist and war reporter Ben Wedeman, CNN’s Beirut-based senior international correspondent.
Founded by journalist and former Lebanese Minister for Administrative Development May Chidiac, the foundation is a not-for-profit organization dedicated to research and development in the fields of media, international affairs, women’s rights, democracy and social welfare, among others, with the aim of establishing Lebanon as a proactive player in the Middle East and global economy.
source/content: arabnews.com (headline edited)
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Alamuddin received the Antoine Choueiri Special Tribute for Lifetime Achievement at the MCF Awards ceremony in Dubai. (MCF/Instagram)
With shows that range from political stances to introspective research, Doha’s Mathaf: Arab Museum of Modern Art proves itself to be one of the most authoritative voices for Arab narratives and the Global South in art.
The first impressions viewers get when walking inside the space set up like a unitary installation by Algerian artist Kader Attia, are a big haunting archive, a disquieting museum storeroom. It’s called “The Repair from Occident to Extra-Occidental Cultures” at this particular museum in the Qatari capital. A number of cabinets on the perimeter of the room showcase objects from colonial times: photographs of French admirals and Arab royalty, plus memorabilia, knives, cutlery and weapons.
Pinned rather aggressively on the shelves with metal rods are books from 1800-1900, like La France d’Outre Mer, Occident Noir and The Age of Napoleon, alongside satirical illustrations from magazines. A particularly disturbing one depicts a naive white nurse taking care of wounded African soldiers, who are depicted with malicious grins on their faces. Whether it’s the representation of racist stereotypes, anthropological studies or orientalist perspectives, the selection of materials by Attia shows different aspects of the relationship between coloniser and colonised, and how models of thought carried on in both Western and non-Western cultures.
Among the more harrowing pieces in the installation are several heads sculpted in wood, reminiscent of African statuettes. The features of these faces are distorted, reminding the viewer of the cubist or expressionist effect, that Picasso, Bacon or more recently Marlene Dumas have largely employed in their work. Looking at the anatomy and war surgery books on the shelves — which explain how to reconstruct exploded faces damaged during WW1, and how to attach prostheses — it seems clear that the distortion in the faces references the war wounded. The artist is hinting at the process of repairing historical wounds and abuses by the West towards its colonies, something central to the postcolonial conversation.
The presence of books like Primitive Art and Psychoanalysis summarises one more aspect of the artwork: how the encounter with the “other” is sublimed and transformed in art, and the deep psychological underpinning which lies behind every form of orientalism.
It’s precisely the link between all these seemingly distant concepts that make Kader Attia’s installation so powerful.
The artist leaves it to the viewer to come to terms with that thick, inextricable matter where racist stereotypes, modernism, colonialism, tribal art, sexuality, anthropology, war, imagination and the subconscious meet in a dangerous mix.
The intention of the work, however, is clear. He is examining this magma with a critical eye, in order to move forward and heal the historical wounds from these power dynamics.
Attia’s work is just a small part of the large and rich collection at Mathaf, but it contains one of its most fundamental themes: the creation of an alternative to the non-Western narratives and discourses for history and art history. This seems to be the main mission that the museums in Qatar are highlighting. While in the Western world museums as institutions are increasingly losing their relevance, in the Global South — namely, the parts of the world previously excluded by a Western narrative — museums are fundamental parts in the development of their own art system. In fact, it’s up to these institutions to construct alternative narratives to the West’s by using museums as a central tool.
The permanent collection of Mathaf is a case in point. Offering an excellent survey of 20th and 21st century modern and contemporary art from the Arab world and the Middle East (which is tellingly called “West Asia”), it is highlighting the strong connections of local Qatari and Arab artists with the wider world in Africa, Asia and Europe.
The permanent collection has evolved from an initial donation of a thousand works collected over the past 25 years by Sheikh Hassan Bin Mohammed Bin Ali Al-Thani. Today, it’s continuing to grow, and hosts more than 9,000 artworks by pioneer Arab artists.
A particularly interesting section of this collection is dedicated to women artists, that has works like “Icons of the Nile” by Egyptian artist Chant Avessidian. This consists of a series of prints and paintings on cardboard representing, in a stylised way, Egyptian icons from modern times, including a number of iconic women.
At the moment, Mathaf is also hosting a temporary exhibition called “Arab Modernism”, which looks at how this current is being articulated in Arab countries, compared with its counterparts around the globe. In the show, we can see not only how Arab artists took visual elements, and techniques from the rich and diverse heritage of the Arab-Muslim world — particularly calligraphy and ornamentation — but also how they mused on the concept of Tajreed. The Arabic term for abstraction, in fact, also means “to strip away” and “purify”, referring to a process of revealing and clarifying through the artistic process itself.
In one room with ochre walls, we can observe how the calligraphic sign was declined to break the division between word and image, opening a space between calligraphy and geometric abstraction. We also find beautiful abstract patterns that intermingle in a big painting by Algerian artist Rachid Koraichi, which is almost tribal in its use of the calligraphic sign and the juxtaposition of primary colours. Etel Adnan, on the other hand, has a much smaller work, part poem, part drawing, where words on paper become abstract lines.
Palestinian Samia Halabi has one painting on show called “The Red One”, an exquisite juxtaposition of touches of colour, which are melodious and musical. Egyptian artist Mounir Canaan, meanwhile, plays on the cubist and modernist usage of pieces of cardboard and wood to create a vibrant image where different plans intersect, creating an effect which is at once aggressive and dynamic.
One of the most beautiful works in the show, though, is by Iraqi artist Hanaa Malallah.
“Secret of Fold Up Squares”, as the name suggests, consists of a series of folded pieces of canvas, burned at their centre. In one of these small squares, almost hidden in the canvas, is a piece of gold, a visually striking and highly evocative detail.
The show lets us observe how shared linguistic and cultural foundations in the Arab world generated a kind of abstraction in the region that stretches far beyond the Western definition of it, or as a simple reaction to academism and realism in art.
A smaller show, “Introspection as Resistance”, is collateral to the Abstraction exhibition. It is dedicated to the mathematical and geometrical work of Iraqi artist Mehdi Moutashar. He has been known as a poet of exactitude and rigour, and his work has been inspired by Abstraction, Minimalism, Op Art and the work of Klein – in its usage of his trademark blue – which is again blended with calligraphy and Arab ornamental patterns.
Overserving graphic motives on the hyper-white walls of the museum, brightly lit, the viewer gets the impression of being catapulted into a different dimension that doesn’t belong to this world, but to computer intelligence.
An early experimenter in geometric abstraction, Moutashar’s work brings mathematical precision and science into art. Looking at the mathematical principles of the universe is, for the artist, a form of introspection. It’s an introspection that bypasses individuals, to connect us with some sort of spiritual truth, a universal order. The artist exemplifies an incessant inquiry and a tireless resistance towards the disorder of the world.
In this sense, the show represents the perfect counterpoint of Kader Attia’s work. Where one acknowledges the impossibility of neatly separating history, imagination, wounding and the mending of wounds, Moutashar launches himself into a Sisyphean attempt to order the work through mathematics.
With these shows, Mathaf proves itself to be one of the most authoritative voices in the Gulf when it comes to speaking about Arab art and its original trajectory. A process of reparation – at least for the art – seems to be possible. One exhibition at a time.