When I finished art school, I thought I was going to do monumental sculpture, big works, and I did for a while. But what I started loving the most-actually always loved the most-was the start, where you figure out what you want to say.
Ardeshir displays a confident command of the keys, building an insistent right-hand motif on the opening track that creates a foundation for saxophonist Rhys Sebastian's drawn-out notes.
In the film, Bronz's character is commissioned to compose a new national anthem for post-Oct. 7 Israel, and writes a warmongering ballad about destroying Gaza and 'love sanctified in blood.'
The designation prohibits the sites from being targeted or used for military purposes, with violations potentially constituting serious breaches of the 1954 Hague Convention and grounds for criminal responsibility.
Ali Sbeity painted vibrant portraits and landscapes of his rural hometown in Southern Lebanon, often sharing his works on his Facebook. He participated in numerous local arts exhibitions and created murals for schools in Beirut.
I noticed the swelling of the double bass first, quickly followed by the fluttering of brushed cymbals. A saxophone pushing against the edges of a melody swiftly married the notes together, chords drifting haphazardly before reaching a slow, pulsing groove. The jazz quartet performed in front of a liquor cabinet lined with whisky bottles; low-hanging lights teetered overhead, throwing shapes on the monochromatic marble-tiled floor. Outside, a leafy veranda was filled with diners, the music drifting through flung-open doors and windows.
Textiles are a window into the communities that created them, with every motif and line signalling a different memory, tradition or identity. Often seen as folk art, these pieces of embroidery and weaving bring together dozens of narrative threads, from Japan to South America. But nowhere is it more fraught with meaning than in Palestine.
Five bronze towers soar 400 feet above Saadiyat Island, the ever-expanding cultural district just off the coast of Abu Dhabi. The structures-which recall the wings of a falcon, a highly prized symbol in the United Arab Emirates-are the architectural signature of the Zayed National Museum, which opened in December. Two weeks before, another vastinstitution, the Natural History Museum, debuted. They will be followed later this year by the most ambitious of all-the late Frank Gehry's Guggenheim Abu Dhabi.
There is a scene in "Morgenkreis | Morning Circle" (2025), a 16-mm film by Berlin-based Palestinian artist Basma al-Sharif, that unfolds at the threshold of a daycare center. A young boy clings to his father, his fists locked into the fabric of his coat, his arms wrapped tightly around him. The father gently tries to pry himself free while a daycare worker crouches nearby, attempting to distract the child and coax him inside. It is an ordinary moment, one that anyone who has ever been a child - or cared for one - recognizes instantly, as well as the gut-wrenching feeling it provokes.
The moving story of a Tunisian man who refuses to let cancer define his mother's life and turns her treatment into a celebration of love, joy and resilience. When Tunisian TV host Hassen becomes a full-time caregiver for his mother Saliha, dying of lung cancer, their home and hospital visits become the backdrop for an intimate family love story. This observational documentary follows them through birthday celebrations, 4am medication, difficult medical consultations and quiet, emotional moments together.
Monia Ben Hamouda's work weaves calligraphy, material transformation and ancestral memory into sculptures and installations that oscillate between language and form. In conversation, we traced the conceptual and sensory threads of her practice, unfolding through key works that reflect on heritage, embodiment and translation. Using materials such as iron, stone and pigment, her installations become sites where history is not only referenced but physically felt.
"The show is about giving the pen back to the writer, giving the paintbrush back to the artist, during this time of genocide," the Ridikkuluz told Hyperallergic in an interview at the gallery. "And when there's been so much censorship, these are artists that might not have been able to do this anywhere else."
The quadrennial exhibition introduces a new type of transnational, transdisciplinary program to Doha, rooted in issues that affect both Qatar and the wider region. The artists exhibiting broadly represent the diverse nationalities that live in Qatar, while their work reflects the shared geographical, environmenta
the artist's newest body of work responds to an urgent question precipitated by the catastrophic events of the past year: What does one do when the world collapses? The works attempt to make sense of her experience of the fire and its enduring aftermath, while continuing her exploration of the poetics of loss, displacement, and migration. Kahraman views these works as an offering, a libation, to a burning world.
