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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.
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 Egyptian architect turned photographer walks us through his award-winning photographs in Dubai.
Renowned Egyptian architectural photographer Nour El Refai was announced as the winner of Architecture Masterprize 2023 Photography Award in the ‘Healthcare-Exterior’ category for his work on Thukher Club, a seniors social club in Al Wasl, Dubai which was designed by Naga Architects. This is the second year in a row that El Refai wins the prestigious award, after his shots of Museum of the Future won the ‘Cultural-Interior’ category in 2022.
Capturing the organic architecture and layout of Thukher Club, the brilliance of El Refai’s photographs rest in their nuanced approaches. From meticulous compositions and dramatic perspectives to calm lighting and consistent tones, his work helped translate Naga Architects’s design and concept.
Over the past decade, El Refai has steadily grown into a benchmark in architectural photography within the MENA region. Whether it’s stunning summer houses or cultural centres, his work is helping document the design upheaval taking over the region. In Al Wasl, he delivers a masterclass in the relationship between architecture and lighting.
Light rain set the tone to the first day of photographing Thukher Club. “Clouds felt dramatic. For Naga Architects, it made sense to opt for a clear sky to define the architecture,” El Refai tells SceneHome. “I adjusted the composition based on the natural sky and clouds to balance the architecture without overshadowing it.”
A key parameter of El Refai’s work on Thukher Club was our yellow dwarf star. “The sun’s movement helped define the masses. I visited early in the day and imagined the shape of shadows against them,” he recalls. After almost completing his work, El Refai revisited Thukher Club at noon, which required a new set of permissions since it was during a peak time, when crowds of people would pass through. “When the sun’s perpendicular there’s contrast between the masses and the foreground. Human elements add a sense of scale. It shows you how the masses overlap, that’s why I needed the sun to be high. Had it been low, both surfaces would’ve been white and lacked shade.”
The exterior masses of Thukher Club featured irregular and organic forms. Its main entrance, covered by undulating architecture, was photographed from two different angles; one emphasises its curves before sunset and the other has a wider view that establishes context. “Lines guide me in terms of where to stand and look, and lenses provide the freedom to shift in direction,” El Refai says. Both perspectives guided him and how shifts were illustrated in the former entrance image.
“I exaggerated the curve by getting closer to the building with an acute angle. I wasn’t photographing elevations but accentuating them,” he says, referring to the dramatic perspective where the building appears in motion towards its vanishing point. On the far right side of the same image, Thukher Club’s logo (which is the abstracted layout of the buildings) appears from within the club. To get this shot, El Refai kept adjusting the frame until it felt right.
Every architectural project presents unique challenges to photographers. Once they’ve become confident in their process and tools, only then will they be able to showcase it in the best light possible. That’s something El Refai learned from practice. “Practice makes you understand that you don’t have to be perfect,” he says. “You understand the parameters of perfection but more importantly you’re able to tell when it’s enough, how to have vision and imagine situations in advance.”
In Al Wasl, El Refai predicted that night shots would be challenging because lamp posts close to the building switched between too many colours. A full day was spent solving the issue and as a result, instead of having 10 colours switching during twilight, there were only three. This was an example of the importance of preparing in advance and understanding the project.
From inside, Thukher Club was composed of three main spaces with skylights providing natural light. An all-white interior provoked nuanced approaches by El Refai, which conveyed the desired level of brightness intended by the design, highlighted the importance of toning and how subtle changes in composition make all the difference. In one of the shots, El Refai pictures a space flanked by a corridor, followed up by a closer shot that places viewers within the seating area.
“I tried to show different levels without appearing too overlapped,” El Refai says. “The oddity of photographing a 3D space into a 2D plane is that people don’t experience space in 2D, so when you add it on a page the masses blend together, and you have to figure out the point from which you’re photographing and the lens you’re using in order to ease the composition.”
Once the composition is settled, the rest of the process includes lighting, editing and adjusting the layers and tones. “Consistency of tones is crucial. Depending on camera measuring, sunlight and timings, tones are always changing but they need to remain consistent,” El Refai adds. Between day and night, there are naturally changes in tones but in both sets of images the tones of each need to remain consistent.
“Most of the work is in the composition and the rest is timing,” El Refai continues. “It’s all about enjoying the process. I roam around the project to get a feel for the spaces and the relationships between them.” To be able to get these shots, El Refai schedules the entire day and determines how much time each perspective will have, the window of opportunity so to speak.
presentation. “Transitioning from day to night needs to be seamless, unless designers request to emphasise different moods of the same space,” he says. “I prefer telling the story of the project as an experience, walking from one space to another. Visual storytelling is of paramount importance, I don’t deliver an album without ordering it. It may not be the same order of photography because that depends on context, presenting the images is a different story. The order depends on the story that I want people to feel.”
When asked for advice for upcoming photographers, El Refai says, “Research the designer and the design to understand the project. If you receive plans or renders, use them to envision the space. On the ground, there will be some changes but when you imagine the project’s architecture you can interpret it properly through images.”
If El Refai’s insights are an indication of anything, it’s that preparing for a shoot is equally as important as the shoot itself. Whether it’s the scheduling or communication, proper briefing and communication, when a photographer understands the context, they find the freedom to explore nuanced angles. With time, as demonstrated by El Refai’s serial award-winning approach, there will be less photos and more keepers.
Photographers from all over the world compete to capture the most beautiful images of the oldest holy place on earth, hardly anyone in the world has not seen the image of the Kaaba.
Egyptian Mohammed Sadiq Bey, was the first photographer to take pictures of the Kaaba through the lens of a camera; about 138 years ago in 1880 when he went to Mecca.
Sadiq Bey took the earliest pictures on records and wrote four books about his visits to the Grand Mosque and the Prophet’s Mosque during that period.
Nowadays photographers take pictures of the Kaaba to capture its beautiful gold threaded black silk cover and the Koranic verses that adorn it.
The Khartoum-based photographer’s work has become ‘a nostalgic collection’ of what his city looked like before the current outbreak of violence .
When the Khartoum-based Sudanese photographer Ala Kheir was approached to feature in “Reframing Neglect,” a group show in New York presenting works by African photographers, he had no idea that the exhibition would be staged as his country was plunged into another violent conflict.
Sudan has been in the throes of political turmoil since authoritarian leader Omar Al-Bashir was overthrown in 2019, but the explosion of violence on April 15 between Sudan’s two warring generals Abdel Fattah Al-Burhan of the Sudanese Armed Forces and Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo’s Rapid Support Forces took the world by surprise, including Kheir.
“Reframing Neglect,” curated by contemporary artist and activist Aïda Muluneh, is focused not on warfare, but on the need to end what are termed “neglected tropical diseases,” which included leprosy, sleeping sickness and river blindness. It showcases works by Kheir and photographers from six other countries in Africa — Somalia, Ethiopia, Kenya, Mali, Nigeria, Sudan and Ethiopia.
Kheir’s works in the exhibition were shot in the Stables Industrial Area, a neighborhood on the outskirts of Khartoum where families fleeing unstable regions have made makeshift homes. It’s also where the majority of the people in Sudan living with NTDs reside. But now, with the violence that has transformed Khartoum into a constant battleground, even they have been forced to find refuge elsewhere.
Kheir’s work subtly addresses Khartoum’s complexity, as well as the socio-economic issues that shape it, or at least shaped it before the current violence.
“I work in a way that feels more like seeing,” Kheir explains from his home in Khartoum. “This city has been my playground for so long. Even though I am from Darfur, Khartoum is where most of my work is. Through my photography I try to document and engage with the city and understand it better.
“With my camera I’ve been to all parts of the city, all parts of the community,” he adds. “I’ve been photographing projects in the outskirts — in the poor, relatively new neighborhoods — and in the center of the city, where the action is.”
Through photography, Kheir strives to raise awareness of the community of artists whose lives are now at risk in Khartoum.
“I try to use photography with the aim of self-reflection, while also enjoying the process and the difficulty of making a simple photograph that delivers a message,” he says.
Kheir runs The Other Vision, a platform that focuses on photography education and training in Sudan, through which he assists young photographers and connects Sudanese artists to the rest of Africa, as well as engaging with the public to address social issues to bring about change in Sudan.
“When I look at my photography now and think about the war that is currently taking place in Khartoum, my work has become very important to me,” he tells Arab News. “I keep looking at the photographs I took of the city; they have become a nostalgic collection of what it used to look like.
“Since I cannot photograph the city now like I did before, I am reviewing the work I have done over the past 10 years and I want to publish a book with these images,” he continues. “Khartoum and Sudan will not be the same after this war.”
source/content: arabnews.com (headline edited)
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‘Home is Here,’ one of Sudanese photographer Ala Kheir’s images from the New York group exhibition ‘Reframing Neglected.’ (Supplied)
Latif Al Ani: ‘father of Iraqi photography’ dies aged 89.
The renowned cameraman was the first to chronicle life and society during the country’s ‘golden age’.
Known by many as the “father of Iraqi photography “, Al Ani was famed for documenting daily life in Iraq during the country’s “golden age”.
At a time when Iraqwas forming into a new republic, Al Ani captured daily life as a site of modernity’s contrasts: old meets new, East meets West.
The photographer from Baghdad cemented his art in the fabric of the nation when he founded the photography department at the Ministry of Education in 1960 and later became director of photography at the Iraqi News Agency.
In 2017, at the Les Rencontres d’Arles, he was selected as the winner of the Historical Book Award from a shortlist of 15.’
Latif Al-Ani passed away in Baghdad on November 19th, 2021
He is the subject of two books:
Tamara Chalabi and Morad Montazami, Latif Al Ani, Hajte Cantz, 2017,
Hoor Al Qasimi, Kathleen Butti and Muʼassasaẗ al-Šāriqaẗ li-l-funūn, Latif Al Ani: Through the Lens, 1953-1979, Sharjah Art Foundation, 2018
source/content : thenationalnews.com
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Latif Al-Ani, Photographer Latif Al-Ani in the North of Iraq.
Gelatin silver negative on
film, 6 x 6 cm. Latif Al-Ani Collection
