The Length of an Aftertaste

Why the Most Important Projects of Biennale Arte 2026 Were Not the Loudest Ones

Every Venice Biennale produces a handful of projects that immediately command collective attention. They establish the rhythm of the opening days - visually, politically, emotionally. This year, those projects included the Austrian Pavilion, Pussy Riot’s interventions, the Russian Pavilion, and the strikes that accompanied the opening.

All of these moments matter. The most spectacular gestures capture the spirit of a particular moment with remarkable precision. Yet they are often the first to fade.

Other projects operate differently. They do not demand an immediate reaction. Their strength reveals itself later - after dozens of pavilions, receptions, journeys across the lagoon, and countless conversations when it becomes clear what truly remains.

Perhaps this is what Biennale Arte 2026 will ultimately be remembered for: not for its first impressions, but for the longevity of its internal resonance.

Venice heightens this sensation. It emerges in the dim, elongated passageways of the Arsenale, where, after a succession of visually saturated exhibitions, one suddenly encounters a rare sense of concentration and clarity. It returns during evening boat rides through the canals, when the city slows its pace and the works begin to reorganize themselves in memory not according to their volume, but according to their weight.

During the Biennale, Venice exists not only within its exhibition spaces but also in its boats, walkways, late dinners, and unexpected conversations. At The Gritti Palace, a discussion about art gradually transforms into a conversation about time, memory, and the experience of space itself.

Against this backdrop, one begins to notice something important: the most powerful environments are often not the most conspicuous.

At AMA, where Tino Sehgal’s work is presented, almost nothing is imposed upon the viewer. There is nowhere to hide behind an image; only one’s own presence within the performance remains. These are precisely the experiences that return an hour later, a month later, years later. To me, this is what genuine art is.

The Moroccan Pavilion functions in a similar way: not as an exhibition in the conventional sense, but as a space of memory and materiality.

The Lebanese Pavilion, featuring works by Nabil Nahas, unfolds through rhythm, layered surfaces, and an almost meditative sense of space. I first encountered Nahas’s work several years ago, and it entered our collection shortly thereafter. It is therefore particularly compelling to witness how his visual language resonates today within the context of the Biennale not as a personal discovery, but as one of the strongest artistic voices of this edition.

The Ding Yi project at Fondazione Querini Stampalia, curated by Auronda Scappin and Alfredo Cramerotti, develops as a sequence of pauses, signs, and surfaces. Here, water, memory, and physical presence become especially tangible. The Maltese Pavilion speaks in an even quieter register—and for that very reason remains unforgettable.

The same principle applies to the major institutional exhibitions.

Pinault Collection may possess less outward spectacle than the most discussed national pavilions, yet it offers greater depth. At Fondazione Prada, Helter Skelter places Arthur Jafa and Richard Prince in direct dialogue, transforming the exhibition space from a showcase into a charged field of images and memory.

At Palazzo Manfrin, Anish Kapoor demonstrates that monumentality need not operate through scale or noise. Instead, it emerges through an almost absolute density of presence.

Even where visitors arrive with few expectations, what proves most powerful is not the event itself, but the journey through it.

In Still Joy – From Ukraine into the World, presented by PinchukArtCentre, meaning unfolds through movement from one environment to another, through shifts in emotional registers and gradual immersion. Ryan Gander’s works become part of this broader internal trajectory. It is no coincidence that his work is also represented in our collection: what matters in these pieces is not immediate impact, but the endurance of their emotional resonance.

The Israeli Pavilion, Rose of Nothingness by Belu-Simion Fainaru, is structured around black water, droplets, and contemplative emptiness, transforming a politically charged space into a rare environment of calm and concentration.

Perhaps this is where the essential lesson lies.

Visibility has become an inexpensive form of presence.

This extends far beyond contemporary art. The same phenomenon has long been evident in architecture, hospitality, and cultural institutions. Interiors conceived solely around visual impact age as quickly as exhibitions designed only to generate attention. By contrast, places grounded in precision, materiality, and atmosphere often outlive their own media cycle.

And then a simple truth becomes visible:

Value is not determined by the strength of a first impression, but by the length of its aftertaste.

The loudest voices are almost always noticed first.

But what is truly meaningful begins where the noise ends.

Between the City and the Desert

Art Basel Qatar and Doha’s Cultural Ecosystem

Art Basel Qatar does not seek to overwhelm.

There is none of the familiar urgency of major art fairs here no visual excess, no pressure to impress, no eagerness to prove its position within the global hierarchy. The first impression is one of quiet confidence. And that explains a great deal.

In an art world increasingly fatigued by acceleration and overstimulation, such an approach feels remarkably convincing. The fair does not compete for attention; it cultivates its own environment. That is precisely where its strength lies.

How Art Is Presented Here

The format of Art Basel Qatar establishes its rhythm from the outset.

Rather than the conventional fair model, the event follows an exhibition-driven logic: one gallery, one artist. Participating galleries were invited to submit several exhibition concepts, from which the curatorial team selected the strongest proposal.

The result is a series of presentations that feel coherent, focused, and thoughtfully constructed.

This format fundamentally changes the way audiences engage with content. Concentrating on a single artist allows each presentation to develop a complete narrative and explore a practice in greater depth, rather than dispersing attention across multiple positions.

During the First Choice Preview, many of the participating artists were present in person, significantly enriching the quality of dialogue around the works.

For non-specialist audiences, this creates a rare opportunity to genuinely understand an artist’s practice. There is no need to rush.

In this respect, Art Basel Qatar partially recalls SPARK Art Fair Vienna and its principle of “one artist, one statement.” Yet in Doha this approach operates on an entirely different scale and within a markedly more institutional framework.

Under the artistic direction of Wael Shawky, the fair unfolds as a sequence of autonomous exhibitions, with a rhythm in which space and time work in service of the art rather than against it.

A Framework Rather Than a Finished Structure

At present, Art Basel Qatar resembles a carefully constructed framework more than a completed structure.

Rather than attempting to present a fully perfected product from the outset, a different strategy has been chosen: bringing together leading specialists, closely observing existing practices, and allowing the format to evolve organically from within.

This reflects broader developments across the MENASA region a period defined by experimentation, exploration, and a willingness to move beyond inherited models.

The city and the fair are evolving simultaneously.

An Environment Where Connections Emerge

Equally remarkable is the way professional relationships are formed here.

Throughout the fair, a rare atmosphere of openness and intellectual engagement emerged one that is difficult to achieve within the typically transactional context of an art fair.

A shared communication platform connected curators, museum directors, artists, and institutional representatives. Rather than exchanging formal announcements, participants discussed methodologies, shared observations, offered recommendations, debated ideas, and supported one another’s initiatives.

The conversations were strikingly open, largely free from the hierarchies that often shape professional discourse.

For the MENASA region, such horizontal networks are particularly significant. They create not merely a professional contact list, but a living cultural ecosystem.

City, Desert, and Everyday Life

The selection of venues across Doha establishes an appropriate sense of scale.

The M7 complex and the Design District in Msheireb create an environment in which art integrates naturally into the urban fabric, set against the architectural legacy of I. M. Pei and Jean Nouvel -architects whose work has long become part of the city’s cultural identity.

Yet some of the most memorable experiences take place beyond the city itself.

Outdoor projects by Richard Serra and Olafur Eliasson transform the desert landscape into an essential component of the cultural experience. These are not works designed for rapid consumption; they are environments that require distance, silence, and time.

The desert here is not a backdrop. It is a collaborator.

Eliasson’s Shadows Travelling on the Sea of the Day invites visitors into a dialogue with light, movement, and perception, while Serra’s East-West/West-East continues to redefine the relationship between sculpture and landscape.

Serra’s steel plates in the desert almost inevitably evoke associations with the monoliths of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Yet the comparison functions not as a quotation, but as a shared effect of presence: an unfamiliar form inserted into a natural landscape, producing a heightened awareness of scale in which human beings become acutely conscious of their own limitations.

Kubrick’s monolith embodied the idea of a Nietzschean leap an emblem of transition toward a higher state of consciousness. Serra’s work, by contrast, contains no such metaphysics. His «monoliths» return us to the realities of weight, gravity, material resistance, and desert wind.

This is not about the evolution of consciousness.

It is about the experience of being present - here and now.

Culture as a Continuous Journey

The same logic extends into Doha’s museums and restaurants.

At the Museum of Islamic Art, IDAM by Alain Ducasse feels like a natural continuation of the exhibition experience rather than simply a place for dinner. At the National Museum of Qatar, Jiwan operates according to a similar principle: architecture, design, cuisine, and art converge into a single cultural journey.

This is what a mature cultural environment feels like.

Culture is experienced here as a continuous narrative from exhibition to dinner, from city to desert.

The boundaries between disciplines become increasingly fluid, allowing visitors to move seamlessly between artistic, architectural, culinary, and urban experiences.

Instead of a Conclusion

Art Basel Qatar today is a living process.

The fair, the city, and the professional community are developing simultaneously, gradually discovering their own rhythm and language.

Perhaps this path neither the fastest nor the loudest, but one attentive to space, time, and people proves to be the most appropriate for the MENASA region today.

And certainly one of the most compelling to observe.

PAD London 2025 revealed itself as a system of meanings where aesthetics and ideas converge.

Space acquired breath, material acquired memory, and light became a means of storytelling. This was not merely an exhibition of objects, but a reflection on how we inhabit light, silence, and form. Form itself became secondary, yielding to atmosphere and thought. The pavilion felt alive; light shifted throughout the day, while exhibitors worked with space as a medium, weaving together architecture and nature. The renewed appreciation for craftsmanship, handwork, and natural materials was unmistakable. Today, people are searching for what feels genuine, tactile, and alive.

Charles Burnand and Maison Jaune Studio presented architectural studies in light and materiality. Bronze, wood, and glass spoke in a restrained yet articulate language—without spectacle, yet rich with internal rhythm.

At Booroom Gallery, the Dubai-based gallery with Russian roots, a rare Canoa armchair by José Zanine Caldas from his Móveis Denúncia (“Protest Furniture”) series stood alongside glass works by Kseniia Breivo inspired by George Balanchine’s ballet Jewels. Together, they formed a dialogue between sculptural presence and poetic movement.

Portuondo Gallery created a compelling balance between modernism and craftsmanship. Reed, warm timber, and mid-century geometries appeared without nostalgia, unfolding instead in a measured and contemporary rhythm.

At Brussels-based Objects with Narratives, bronze and mineral forms functioned as structures of silence. Their works did not merely decorate the stand; they established a psychological atmosphere. It felt like an archaeology of the future, where weight, memory, and time acquire an entirely new material expression.

At the centre of the Meubles et Lumières stand stood Maurice Marty’s Carré de détente sofa, commissioned in the 1970s for Parisian collectors. A unique piece, it seemed to unite architectural structure with the hand of its maker.

Its soft contours and nuanced palette of warm beige created a feeling of genuine calm—not exhibition calm, but lived serenity. It embodied a form of retro-futurism free from nostalgia: a return to sensation, physical comfort, and trust in the passage of time. Its sculptural silhouette was irresistible. On the opening day visitors were still allowed to sit on it—and naturally, I did. Shortly afterwards, a sign appeared politely requesting otherwise.

The presentation by Willy Rizzo explored glamour as a form of collective memory. Brass, velvet, and photographs of Brigitte Bardot and Salvador Dalí transformed the stand into something cinematic—an interior conceived as a still frame from another era.

At Adrian Sassoon Gallery, leading artists working in glass and ceramics created surfaces that appeared almost fluid, capturing the movement of light and air. A remarkable sculpture by Bouke de Vries became one of the fair’s earliest successes, finding a collector within the first fifteen minutes of opening.

Galerie Pradier-Jeauneau and JCRD Design continued the conversation around natural proportion and material plasticity. Their presentations were composed, precise, and free of unnecessary declarations.

What mattered here was not impact, but attentiveness—to the object, to time, and to light.

At PAD, objects became points of contact: portals into different states of perception and presence.

For me, as a curator working at the intersection of art, architecture, and spatial experience, PAD London is not simply a fair. It is a laboratory of ideas.

Contemporary collectors are increasingly searching not for objects, but for states of being—for harmony between the individual and the environment they inhabit.

PAD once again reminded us that design is neither a market category nor a trend. It is a language through which culture speaks to the world.

When form acquires meaning, space begins to breathe—and, in turn, reflect those who inhabit it.

Basel is not only—nor even primarily—about the fair itself.

It is equally about everything hidden from public view: the largest acquisitions, the most ambitious exhibitions, the artists who will define the coming decade. Most of these decisions are not made on the fair floor. That is why it is essential to arrive early, to be present everywhere, and, inevitably, to understand who you are with and where you stand within the conversation.

The most consequential discussions happen behind the scenes. This is where major transactions are negotiated, institutional collaborations are formed, and future artistic trajectories are quietly determined.

Knowledge of art history remains indispensable. Yet equally important is the ability to observe, to sense emerging shifts, and to be genuinely present where decisions are being made.

For art dealers and advisors, the work begins weeks before the opening. We study countless previews, analyse presentations, and identify the works that will shape the fair. Occasionally, we secure important pieces before the doors officially open.

Missing a truly exceptional work is always a risk. This year I managed to acquire some of the works I was hoping for—but only some. Others disappeared into museum and foundation collections long before the public had the opportunity to see them.

During the VIP programme, one encounters world-renowned curators, directors of leading museums and institutions, art fair executives, and major collectors. Within just a few days, the futures of countless artists are influenced. Awards are decided. Careers accelerate. New narratives emerge.

Most importantly, one begins to recognise the key movements shaping the world—not only in art, but also in science, politics, technology, and culture.

I always look forward to Art Basel.

No matter how long I stay, a week never feels sufficient.

At Fondation Beyeler, the remarkable exhibition of Vija Celmins offered a profound reminder of the artist’s singular practice. Her painstakingly detailed drawings and paintings often resemble photographic images, yet every surface is created entirely by hand. One cannot help but wonder how the institution continues to surpass its own standards year after year.

On the lower level, Jordan Wolfson’s immersive VR experience delivered one of the fair week’s most memorable encounters. It was a compelling demonstration that virtual reality and serious contemporary art are not only compatible—they can enrich one another in unexpected ways.

Another annual highlight was Schaulager and Steve McQueen’s monumental exhibition Bass.

Occupying more than 4,300 square metres, the project functioned as a platform for examining profound social and political questions through an intricate fusion of moving image, light, colour, and documentary narrative. What I expected to be a brief ten-minute visit evolved into more than two hours of complete immersion.

The experience was deeply meditative—a world of sound, colour, and atmosphere that seemed suspended outside conventional time.

Monday began with a collectors’ and curators’ breakfast at Kunsthalle Basel featuring Ser Serpas and Dala Nasser.

Later came the much-anticipated opening of Unlimited, Art Basel’s platform for monumental installations and experimental works.

It is here that galleries and curators often introduce artists who challenge established definitions of art itself, transforming each presentation into a distinct experience.

Among the standout projects was Latifa Echakhch’s extraordinary installation presented by Kaufmann Repetto.

Untitled (Tears Fall) consists of countless suspended threads carrying glass beads that create a shimmering veil. The work evokes both water and human emotion while delicately balancing hope and melancholy, allowing beauty to emerge even from moments of fragility and decline.

Equally captivating was the hypnotic video work of Walid Raad and Oscar Murillo’s large-scale painterly installation examining the ways memory, identity, and human connection are continuously constructed, dismantled, and transformed by time and circumstance.

For those who favour more immediate sculptural languages, Claudia Comte (presented by OMR) and Lee Ufan (Lisson Gallery) offered powerful alternatives.

I could easily imagine one of Lee Ufan’s sculptures inhabiting a private garden. With prices ranging from approximately €100,000 to €700,000 for major installations, these works represent more than acquisitions; they are timeless presences capable of engaging generations to come.

One artist I have followed for many years finally appeared at Art Basel for the first time: Su Meng-Hung.

His installation Desolate Landscape on the Golden Screens transforms the traditional Chinese folding screen into a form of architectural painting, exploring the boundaries between image and space, tradition and contemporaneity.

At the very entrance of the exhibition, visitors encountered Erik Bulatov’s Forward.

The work functions as a powerful reflection on political repression and the manipulation of collective consciousness. Through the tension between vibrant colour and unsettling content, Bulatov questions narratives of progress shaped by authoritarian control and the erosion of individual freedom.

It is the first work visitors encounter upon entering the fair.

One could hardly imagine a more timely statement.

The following two days belonged to the VIP programme.

Breakfasts, exhibition openings, museum events, gallery dinners—and every evening eventually led to Les Trois Rois, where a queue invariably formed outside.

If you believe that a VIP pass, a reserved table, or influential friends guarantee access, Basel quickly provides a reality check: everyone here has a VIP invitation, a table, and influential friends.

Among the week’s highlights were a fascinating conversation with the director of Art Basel Hong Kong, an intense debate with a curator from one of the world’s leading art institutions, and a meeting with Olga Sviblova, whose energy and intellectual curiosity remain as inspiring as ever.

Then there was the Flying Dinner at Museum Tinguely, accompanied by Julian Charrière’s exhibition Midnight Zone.

Charrière’s investigation of underwater ecosystems unfolded through immersive environments that combined scientific observation with poetic sensitivity. Oysters, exceptional Ruinart champagne, and a guided tour of the exhibition completed the evening.

The exhibition was so compelling that I returned the following day to experience it again—this time alone.

Among my personal highlights at the fair were:

Kaufmann Repetto, with a refined installation by Latifa Echakhch, a delicate work by Pae White, and an entire room dedicated to Katherine Bradford. By the second day, nearly everything had been sold—a useful reminder for those predicting a downturn in the art market.

Galerie Krinzinger, presenting works by Waqas Khan, Secundino Hernández, and Marina Abramović.

Lisson Gallery, featuring Anish Kapoor, Leiko Ikemura, Hugh Hayden, and Olga de Amaral.

Goodman Gallery, where works by Kapwani Kiwanga sold almost immediately after opening.

And among many others: neugerriemschneider, 303 Gallery, Massimo Minini, Soft Opening, Chantal Crousel, Massimo De Carlo, and Meyer Riegger.

What makes Art Basel extraordinary is not only the quality of the artworks on view.

It is the convergence of artists, institutions, collectors, curators, ideas, and opportunities that creates a temporary ecosystem unlike any other in the cultural world.

The fair remains one of the few places where the future of contemporary culture can be observed taking shape in real time.

Until next Art Basel.

Art Brussels, held from 24–27 April, remains one of the strongest art fairs outside the global “blue-chip” circuit. It combines the sophistication of Paris, the conceptual rigor of Berlin, and the diversity of London, creating a distinctly European atmosphere. Despite occupying only two exhibition halls, the fair brings together an impressive mix of established galleries—including Almine Rech and TEMPLON—and ambitious emerging participants. For anyone beginning a collecting journey, Art Brussels is an essential destination.

The private collection of Émilie De Pauw is an immersive world devoted to minimalism, optical art, and light-based practices.

Every work feels like an individual narrative, and the collection as a whole reflects an extraordinary curatorial sensibility. Visiting Panoptès is less like touring a collection and more like entering a landscape of ideas. I am already looking forward to the opening of its future space on Lake Como.

The Servais Family Collection is a remarkable constellation of ideas assembled by Alain Servais together with a team of outstanding curators.

Alain often describes himself not as a collector but as a hunter of ideas, while the curators act as storytellers. Each floor unfolds a different narrative. To fully appreciate the collection’s intellectual depth, I would recommend visiting Documenta in Kassel first—it provides an important key to understanding much of what unfolds here.

A highly rewarding institution currently presenting Timeless Gazes: From Pharaohs to the Present Day, an exhibition that brings together ancient Egyptian archaeology and contemporary African art.

The experience extends beyond the galleries. A beautiful Art Deco swimming pool and monthly DJ sessions create an unexpected atmosphere where history and contemporary culture coexist effortlessly. I ended up spending several hours there, enjoying the sun and music in the company of pharaohs.

Without question, my favourite stand at Art Brussels.

Presented as a solo exhibition, Frank Gerritz’s work possesses a rare conceptual depth. I first encountered his art in a historic palazzo in Mallorca, where it left a lasting impression. His exhibitions consistently demonstrate exceptional curatorial precision, and his works inhabit minimalist and historic settings with equal confidence.

Photographs rarely capture their true presence—this is work that must be experienced firsthand.

One of my favourite galleries in Brussels, Xavier Hufkens consistently delivers thoughtful exhibitions within beautifully conceived spaces.

Nathanaëlle Herbelin’s exhibition explores the delicate balance between everyday experience and underlying uncertainty. Her paintings reflect the desire to preserve relationships with family and friends amid instability and emotional complexity. The result is intimate, poignant, and deeply human.

At the gallery’s second location, Matt Connors presents a vibrant series of abstractions that recall the playful visual language of Chuck Jones cartoons.

Bright colours and energetic forms create an atmosphere full of movement and vitality. The exhibition title, Mysterious Leap, references Freud’s notion of the divide between mind and body, adding a philosophical layer beneath the work’s apparent spontaneity.

Monochromatic, tactile, and quietly powerful.

Zemmouri’s paintings create a silent dialogue between the fractures of the earth and the paths along which people wander, lose themselves, and search for meaning. These works invite contemplation and reflection on our place within the wider world.

TEMPLON presents the first Belgian solo exhibition of Iranian-born artist Nazanin Pouyandeh, Sous l’étoffe du monde (Under the Fabric of the World).

For Pouyandeh, painting becomes an act of liberation—sensual, radical, and deeply personal. Her dreamlike compositions weave together echoes of Flemish painting, Surrealism, Japanese shunga prints, Matisse, and Bonnard. Reality dissolves into myth, memory, and imagination.

Located in the Forest district, Galila transforms a former industrial building from the 1950s into a living archive of one woman’s passionate relationship with contemporary art.

Created over nearly two decades by Galila Barzilai Hollander—who prefers to describe herself not as a collector but as an “art addict”—the collection rejects conventional classifications. Instead of being organised by medium or movement, it is structured around deeply personal themes. Every object functions as a form of self-portrait.

The energy of the space is extraordinary.

Perhaps the most conceptual gallery in Brussels.

Its founder collects ideas as much as artworks, making it an ideal destination for anyone seeking a deeper understanding of contemporary conceptual practice. The exhibition Ian Wilson: Works from the Panza Collection (1974–2008) offers a rare opportunity to experience art as an embodiment of thought itself, demonstrating how ideas can become the primary artistic medium.

In recent years, the Islamic Arts Biennale in Saudi Arabia has established itself as one of the most significant and compelling events on the international cultural calendar. As someone who rarely misses a major exhibition, I simply could not pass up the opportunity to experience it firsthand.

For me, a biennale is about ideas, people, space, and the ability to communicate meaning. Credit is due to curators Julian Raby, Amin Jaffer, Abdul Rahman Azzam, and Saudi artist Muhannad Shono, who have accomplished this with remarkable clarity and sophistication.

Saudi Arabia today is defined by vision, ambition, and a profound respect for its historical roots. Equally important is its commitment to dialogue and cultural exchange—a quality that was evident everywhere I travelled, from Riyadh and AlUla to Jeddah itself.

The venue alone is extraordinary. The Western Hajj Terminal, originally designed by OMA, combines lightness, elegance, and a remarkable sense of openness. It is a place that inspires creativity, reflection, and possibility. At its heart sits a magnificent open-air amphitheatre hosting lectures, presentations, and public discussions throughout the Biennale.

What surprised me most was the sheer number of familiar faces in attendance—curators, gallerists, collectors, and artists, several of whom are represented in our own collections.

There was a particular satisfaction in recognising artists we had identified years ago now participating in one of the region’s most ambitious cultural events. Equally impressive was the presence of leading academics, curators, and mediators, who could be found throughout the Biennale engaging visitors in thoughtful and meaningful conversations.

As for the art itself, choosing favourites proved almost impossible. Even works that initially appeared deceptively simple revealed unexpected layers of meaning upon closer examination.

I always try to approach exhibitions with an open mind, uninfluenced by prevailing opinions. Yet on this occasion, my impressions frequently aligned with those of the experts.

Among the most memorable projects was the ethereal prayer space Musalla, created by EAST Architecture in collaboration with artist Rayyane Tabet and engineering firm AKT II.

Elegant in form and rich in conceptual depth, the structure balances architecture, spirituality, and materiality with remarkable sensitivity. It was a pleasure to meet the creators of this award-winning project and discuss the ideas behind it. The installation exemplifies how contemporary design can engage tradition without reducing it to symbolism.

Another standout was Alidade by Mehdi Moutashar, presented by one of my favourite galleries from the Far East.

Conceived as an architectural gateway, the work invites visitors to navigate multiple perspectives before converging at a central point, mirroring the physical experience of orientation and discovery.

The installation is elegant and understated, yet simultaneously powerful and intellectually resonant—proof that simplicity can often carry the greatest depth.

I was equally captivated by Nasrin Naseri’s poetic installation Echo of the Sky.

Inspired by twelfth-century Persian poetry and the mythical journey of birds seeking the divine Simurgh, the work combines references to Islamic architectural traditions with reflections on spiritual enlightenment and collective unity.

Its quiet presence encouraged contemplation, inviting visitors to consider the relationship between individual experience and universal meaning.

One of the Biennale’s most immersive experiences was Imran Qureshi’s monumental octagonal nylon installation positioned between the pavilions dedicated to Mecca and Medina.

A cross-shaped water channel runs through its centre, surrounded by vibrant greenery that evokes an oasis along the historic route between the two holy cities.

The atmosphere of harmony and stillness was genuinely captivating. At one point I found myself lying on the floor beneath the installation, joined by both an artist and a renowned curator. Together we surrendered to the work’s meditative environment, allowing ourselves to fully inhabit the experience.

Particular attention should also be given to Ahmed Mater’s celebrated installation Magnetism.

A cube-shaped magnet recalling the form of the Kaaba generates intricate patterns of metallic particles that visually echo the ritual circumambulation of pilgrims around Islam’s holiest site.

The work functions simultaneously as a reflection on Islamic culture and philosophy and as a broader meditation on attraction, movement, order, and harmony. Its ability to operate on both spiritual and universal levels makes it one of the Biennale’s most compelling pieces.

Finally, it would be impossible not to mention Min Rukam by Asim Waqif.

Constructed from woven bamboo, this interactive installation encourages visitors to participate directly, generating sounds and melodies through their movements.

Sophisticated and engaging, the project reflects the artist’s longstanding interest in sustainability, traditional craftsmanship, and the relationship between inherited techniques and contemporary technology. It demonstrates how innovation can emerge through dialogue with tradition rather than in opposition to it.

These highlights represent only a small part of what impressed me at the Islamic Arts Biennale 2025 in Jeddah.

What makes this event remarkable is not only the quality of the works presented, but the way architecture, scholarship, spirituality, contemporary art, and public dialogue are woven together into a coherent and deeply engaging experience.

Without hesitation, I would highly recommend visiting.