Whiffs of Fatma Abdulhadi’s basil plants, the rhythmic creaking of Asim Waqif’s bamboo and palm architectural installation, the vibrant colors of Imran Qureshi’s woven walkway – these make up the scents, sounds, and sights of the Islamic Arts Biennale 2025. The exhibition, which runs until May 25, presents dozens of commissioned works, a new architectural prize, and hundreds of historical objects under the curatorial theme “And All That Is In Between.” The works of art are displayed across five indoor and outdoor spaces in the Hajj Terminal and reflect the diverse backgrounds, practices, and identities of the hundreds of millions of Muslim pilgrims that have historically intersected under the tent-like structure of the terminal. 

Curated by Saudi artist Muhannad Shono, the contemporary section of the biennale brings together over 30 artists from around the world to engage with themes of spirituality, wonder, contemplation, and the divine. The site-specific and site-responsive installations displayed under the canopy, or Al-Midhallah, draw inspiration from the notion of an Islamic garden, using natural materials to encourage a deeper connection to the land and environment. As Shono explained in an exhibition tour, these works of art urge visitors to repair the precarious relationship with the earth below before envisioning the heavens above.  

Central to Shono’s curatorial premise, he mentioned, is an emphasis on “gateways and pathways, knowledge and understanding, human and nonhuman collaboration, rejuvenation and giving, community and collective.” Shono commissioned several artists who have not previously been included in large-scale international exhibitions and whose practices explore cultural and historical accounts beyond mainstream representations of Saudi Arabia. In doing so, Shono’s curatorial approach aims to capture alternative perspectives – ways of seeing in the Saudi arts scene – and ways of telling these stories. 

A 21st Century Fountain 

Tucked away amid shrubbery in Al-Midhallah lies “Media Foundation,” an installation by Anhar Salem, a video artist of Yemeni and Indonesian heritage born in Jeddah. Viewed from a distance, the work resembles a tiled fountain that could be found in any regal garden, decorated with intricate floral patterns, relief embellishments, and a golden waterspout. As viewers approach, however, out of the mosaic colored tiles social media avatars emerge with icons reminiscent of visuals found in nature but with a distinctly “online” touch: stylized and vividly colored flowers that notoriously circulate around messaging apps; glowing, high-definition images of the moon in its various lunar phases; and picturesque butterflies and birds ready for flight.  

Among these icons are illustrated, personified avatars, often with parts of their face covered. Many of these avatars are taken from recognizable animated shows and movies, the characters from which symbolize purity, innocence, or discipline. These tiles sit alongside icons of mosques drawn from the logos of Islamic prayer apps used by hundreds of millions of Muslim smartphone users. The constellation of icons, as well as each image individually portrayed on its tiles, plays on the concept of the Islamic garden represented in Al-Midhallah while drawing on contemporary debates on representation, privacy, and anonymity in online spaces. The waterspout of the fountain, rather than pouring water onto users as expected, instead projects artificial intelligence-generated videos trained on visual content from the Islamic world and stylized by Anhar to mirror the aesthetic of the tile avatars. By reworking the videos with her own algorithm, Anhar adds another layer of anonymity to this religious content and further obscures the relationship between intimate spirituality and performative digital media. 

In enveloping the fountain with miniature avatars sourced from various social platforms, Anhar sought to create a “very overwhelming digital, visual overload,” she told AGSIW. “I went online and saved the avatars of anonymous users from the Arab world and Saudi Arabia specifically. They were from different communities, for example people who like football, people who are atheist or religious, and different ideologies,” and she said she contemplated how people politically engaged in these spaces. She added, “For me, how people act with this anonymity is also somehow sort of a religious practice, like you devote yourself to an idea. You almost say, ‘I will be disciplined in my presence on the internet. I will exist only for these ideas.’” 

Anhar’s “Media Fountain” builds on her yearslong film and research practice investigating the relationship of technology, globalization, contemporary media, and entertainment to Islamic practice and visual culture, identity, and spirituality. To her, this project at the Islamic Arts Biennale represents “a sort of digital ethnography about how people present symbols and how they circulate all these signs.” 

Basil Plant in Collective Cultural Memory 

A short walk away from Anhar’s tiled fountain is a path draped with flowing, sheer white curtains with basil plant shadows printed onto their bases. Lining the pathway are bushes of basil plants, the scents of which are lifted to the viewer with every breeze and brush of the silkscreen mesh curtains. “I Wish You in Heaven,” the multisensory installation by Saudi silkscreen artist and educator Fatma Abdulhadi harnesses the power of scent to connect memories across time and place. 

She explained to AGSIW, “Three years ago, I lost someone very important to me. When we lose someone, it’s very important for us to pray for them and to remember that they are in a better place. My mom explained that ‘Basil is one of the scents of Jannah (paradise).’ She gifted me some basil and would put it in her living room too, so that every time we’d smell the basil, we would pray for lost loved ones – even if it was subconscious.” Bringing the personal and collective significance of this plant to Al-Midhallah, Fatma created a pathway – one large enough to walk through but still narrow enough to create an intimate experience – that would enable visitors to take in the aroma of the basil as they reflect on their emotions, process grief, or admire the sights of the garden. 

Printed on the suspended mesh screens that line the walkway are what Fatma calls “ghosts” or “silhouette soul portraits” of the plants, which are made using her own pigment consisting of dried, crushed, and then charred basil. “The feeling I had before this project was like a fire, because I was not really healed yet, so we started to create this pigment using flames and crushed basil on glass, creating a black pigment that smells like basil, not like burnt plants. I make pigments out of the dried leaves so the plant never really dies; it just has a new form, like the people that we lost,” Fatma elaborated. “These portraits were like taking the last photo of the plant’s soul.” 

Creating this work offered Fatma the opportunity to channel her grief into a creative output and confront the pain of losing someone who was like her second mother: “What fascinated me was this strong feeling of wanting to freeze the moment and bring her in a new form to keep remembering her.” As the installation’s semisheer mesh dances in the wind, the translucent, layered soul portraits of the basil are brought to life and interact with the surrounding greenery. The printed shadows in Fatma’s installation symbolize this attempt to capture a fleeting moment and turn it into an interactive space that evokes the memories of a lost loved one. By using a plant that is commonly found in homes and public spaces across Saudi Arabia, and one that is used in both mourning and celebration, “I Wish You in Heaven” reimagines and spatializes the relationship of grief, tradition, and spirituality. 

As such, the concept of the “garden” that unfolds in Al-Midhallah is reflected both physically and metaphorically: through the fragrant plants and vibrant colors of the outdoor installations as well as themes that capture what it means to spend time in a garden, such as slowing down to take in sights and scents, taking care of plant life, and reflecting on the wonders of nature. 

Foregrounding Community in the Regional Art Scene

Another work of art responding to the concept of care is the Jeddah-based artist Bashaer Hawsawi’s “My Gift to You is a Garden.” It consists of deep red brooms organized atop wooden broomsticks creating the illusion of a homely carpet. The installation draws on Bashaer’s family’s history of hosting pilgrims as they made their way to Mecca and Medina, reflecting on how people often rely on the generosity of others on their spiritual and physical journeys. Like Fatma’s installation, “My Gift to You is a Garden” touches on a deeply personal story while leaving a resonant message.  

Muhannad Shono has selected artists who reflect the values that he sees in the emerging class of creatives in the country: community and care. He engaged in extensive conversations with the selected artists as part of his involved commission process. Making his studio in Riyadh’s JAX District a gathering space for young artists, Shono himself embodies how community and collective care are the driving forces behind the Saudi arts scene.