LONDON: We have heard many stories about boats loaded with Syrians fleeing the violence in their country in search of an unknown future in European countries. The trusted people smugglers did not tell them that, for many, they would not live to see their destinations and would instead drown at sea, scattered off the shores of Europe.
According to the International Organization for Migration (IOM), since 2014, more than 8,000 people died crossing the Mediterranean on their way to Europe. According to the data, more than 1,252 of them were unidentified men, women and children who were buried without tombstones.
Now, British artist Arabella Dorman, who is known as the “war artist,” is refusing to let their memories fade. Instead, she chose to immortalize their memory through her incredible artwork, which shakes onlookers to their very core.
Dorman’s artwork, entitled “Suspended,” hangs from the ceiling of St. James’ Church in London. She expressed her feelings using pieces of clothing that belonged to Syrian refugees which had washed ashore.
In an interview with Asharq Al-Awsat newspaper, the artist said that she had visited many war-torn countries — such as Iraq, Afghanistan, and Palestine — and had met with people forgotten by humanity in a world clouded by mistrust and hatred.
“I have long been distressed by the tragedies I saw in those countries, in which I stayed for long periods of time to observe the suffering of innocent people, but my visit to Lesbos, Greece, during September and October 2014 has left me with a feeling I’ve never experienced before despite the tragedies I had seen in the past,” she said.
She added: “As I stood on the beach, which was covered with empty clothes, I felt an urge to rise up against this injustice. As a mother of two children, it pained me to see the empty clothes of little ones. No words can describe the pain that overwhelmed me.
“As an artist, I channel my emotions into paintings, but after I saw the wet clothes on the beach, which are the only remnants of these people, I decided to undertake a stronger project and turn these pieces of clothing into an artwork that reflects humanity in the world.”
The artwork is installed in the shape of a circle on the ceiling of St. James’ Church with a light source shining in the center. The light shines brightly then gradually dims until it goes out.
“The circular shape represents Earth and the changing light in the center represents hope and how it changes inside us humans,” Dorman explained. “When the light completely goes out, the darkness of the artwork reflects the dark, unfair human tragedy.”
When the artist first embarked on turning her idea into an actual work of art, she sought the help of the Starfish Foundation, a charity that helps refugees, as well as a remarkable number of volunteers. Dorman received around 1,400 pieces of clothing, from which she had chosen 800 and sent them to large laundries before she hired a company in the British Midlands to treat them so as to ensure they do not go up in flames in order to safely display them in public areas.
“Suspended” was hung in the churchyard in London on Dec. 11, and will remain there until Feb. 8. Dorman hopes that it can later be installed at Canterbury Cathedral in England, which will require the help and efforts of volunteers.
Twenty volunteers have helped Dorman install her work in St. James’ Church. She pointed out that the empty clothes are moving for many people, especially a baby’s shirt that says “my first birthday.”
“This shirt makes me shudder, especially as the baby was not aware that this was his first and last birthday,” she said.
St. James’ Church was chosen for displaying the artwork in December 2017 for three reasons. Rev. Lucy Winkett of St. James’ said: “Christmas can very easily be bankrupt of meaning, so as a church, we’re saying there’s no better time to talk about this big issue.”
The second reason is the need to shed light on the Syrian refugee crisis, while the third is the artwork’s contribution to raising donations for the Starfish Foundation to help refugees.
Dorman has been labelled a “war artist” because she worked with the British forces in southern Iraq in 2006, in Afghanistan between 2009 and 2014, in the islands of Greece in 2005 and in refugee camps in Calais and Dunkirk in 2015 and 2016.
She was listed as one of the BBC’s Top 100 Women in 2014 and as one of Salt Magazine’s 100 Most Inspiring Women in 2015.
* This article has been translated from Arabic and originally appeared in Asharq Al-Awsat on Jan. 24, 2018.
UK artist highlights refugee plight by using drowned Syrians’ clothes to raise charity
UK artist highlights refugee plight by using drowned Syrians’ clothes to raise charity
Saudi artist Abdullah Al-Othman discusses work exploring linguistic architectural landscapes
DUBAI: In the Bawwaba section of the most recent edition of Art Dubai, Saudi artist Abdullah Al-Othman’s installation “Manifesto: Language & the City II” presented photographs and numerous illuminated signs and symbols in Arabic against two black walls, reflecting the urban signage one may find in Riyadh.
The installation was an evolution of a series that includes 2021’s “Manifesto: the Language and the City,” a multimedia installation exploring the linguistic and architectural landscape of Riyadh for the inaugural Diriyah Contemporary Art Biennale, which went on to be included in the Lyon Biennale in 2022, and “Fantasy Land,” which Al-Othman created for the Sharjah Islamic Arts Festival in 2021 — a neon wall installation exploring themes of human experience and the shifts between reality and illusion.
“Language & the City II” pulsed with light and color and the expressive characters of the Arabic language made the viewer feel as if they were indeed on a bustling street in the Saudi capital. “Language is akin to history — it’s very deep,” Al-Othman tells Arab News. “Through my research I realized how language is like a brand for a culture — it references history and people. I study the language that we find in cities. The documentation of language affects the architectural style in an urban environment and the relationship between people and their environment.”
“Language & the City II” was made from a variety of materials, predominantly neon signage, lightboxes and wooden advertising signs that were once hung in the streets of Riyadh. Al-Othman’s installation brought them together to create a portrait of the city through its typographic, visual and architectural styles.
Riyadh’s identity, explains Al-Othman, is revealed through the language, style and vibrant colors of these lit symbols, offering a collective memory of a city in the throes of change.
As an artist and a poet, language has always played an important role in Al-Othman’s life. While he began as a writer, he arrived at a point where he could no longer fully express himself with words and turned to art, creating works that incorporate sound, found objects, sculpture, film and performance.
In 2017’s “Suspended Al-Balad,” for the 21,39, contemporary art festival, Al-Othman wrapped an entire building in Jeddah’s historic Al-Balad district, originally used as a shelter for widows and divorced women, with tin foil.
Al Othman’s intuitive approach to art creation leads him to organically move between and incorporate different mediums. Light is a significant element in his work, whether bouncing off tin foil or shining in neon to reflect the everyday urban environment of Riyadh.
“I want to create journeys for people to discover the importance of language,” says Al-Othman. “Language is a deeply important part of being human.”
Today Al-Othman continues to expand his research and art creation. He has recently published a book on his research supported by The King Abdulaziz Center for World Culture (Ithra) and the Saudi Cultural Development Fund.
Presently he is creating sculptures out of various Arabic words from made from different materials for his latest project, “Engineering the Incomplete.”
“In my artistic practice, I engage with language as an open field for analysis and reconstruction,” he writes in his statement for the new project. “I begin from moments of absence — from missing letters and fractured words — treating them as signals of the fragility inherent in the symbolic systems we rely on to make sense of the world.
“Failure to achieve perfection becomes an essential part of creation, not a flaw to be corrected,” he continues. “Incompleteness is not simply a void, but an active component that generates new, open-ended meanings. Each missing letter, each visual gap, forms an alternative path of reading and invites the viewer to reshape their relationship with language and the urban environment.”
“Engineering the Incomplete” uses the structure of the letter as an entity capable of both disintegration and destruction and therefore the resulting text as something that is unstable and constantly changing.
“My practice transforms language from a tool of communication into a material and temporal organism caught in the tension between structure and collapse,” Al-Othman adds. “Through material techniques that draw from urban elements and the reconfiguration of textual spaces, my work seeks to highlight the continuous tension between the desire for expression and the inherent limits of linguistic possibilities.”
Al-Othman says that “Engineering the Incomplete” is not an attempt to restore what is lost, but an invitation to read absence, or lacking, as another form of presence and a new beginning.
Incompleteness, he emphasizes, offers “a way to produce new meaning and vision.”
Recipes for success: Chef Vincenzo Palermo offers advice and a spaghetti al pomodoro recipe
DUBAI: Vincenzo Palermo, head pizza chef at TOTO Dubai, has built his career on one belief: “Pizza isn’t just comfort food, it’s a craft.”
Originally from Apulia in southern Italy, Palermo has spent years refining his skills. His journey began early, watching the baking process in his family kitchen as a child. He went on to study at Rome’s API Pizza Academy.
Over the past 14 years, his career has taken him from Italy to Russia, France, the US and now the UAE, with his pizzas earning international recognition and awards along the way — including a historic win as the youngest-ever World Champion of Neapolitan Pizza in 2018.
When you started out, what was the most common mistake you made?
I believed that cooking was just about combining ingredients correctly and adhering strictly to techniques. My focus was on the mechanical aspects of executing everything “correctly,” but I didn’t always bring myself into the dish; that was my biggest mistake.
Coming from a family where food was never just food — it was tradition, emotion, and memory — I learned discipline and focus. Over time, I realized that every dish must tell a story. It could be a childhood memory, a moment of celebration, or simply a feeling you want to share, but if you do not put your heart into it, then no matter how perfect the dish appears, it lacks soul.
The kitchen is not just about skill and technique, it’s a place for passion. Food is a language, and love is the message. That is what I try to pass on now, both to my team and on every plate that leaves the kitchen.
What’s your top tip for amateur chefs?
My journey began in a very humble way. I was just a child when I first stepped into the kitchen, helping my mother, making my first pizzas and simple pastas with curiosity and joy. That passion never left me. So, my top tip is this: Do not underestimate yourself just because you are cooking at home. Get into the flow, cook with heart and love, and do not place limits on what you think is possible. Everything we create in a professional kitchen, even the most refined dishes, can absolutely be recreated at home with the right mindset. Cooking is mostly about emotion, not technique, and that emotion can be felt whether you’re in a Michelin-level kitchen or your own. Believe in your hands, trust your ingredients, and enjoy the process.
What one ingredient can instantly improve any dish?
I’d say flour. The right flour for the right dish is absolutely essential. In Italy, we don’t just say “flour,” we talk about “tipo 00,” “semola rimacinata,” “integrale”… Each type of flour has a specific purpose, and choosing the right one shows respect for the dish and the tradition behind it. Using the right flour is like choosing the right language to express yourself. It’s the base of everything, the foundation. Even for home cooks, this choice can make the difference between something good and something truly authentic.
When you go out to eat, do you find yourself critiquing the food?
As a chef, it is natural to notice the details, but I try to approach it with an open mind.
What’s the most common mistake or issue you find in other restaurants?
A lack of authenticity and a disconnect between the dish and its cultural roots. Authenticity and consistency are key, and when they’re missing, it affects the overall experience.
When you go out to eat, what’s your favorite cuisine or dish to order?
Honestly, I love to try everything. For me, eating out is about enjoying food and learning. Every culture has its own traditions, techniques and flavors, and I want to understand the story behind each dish.
I’m always curious. I taste something new, study it, and then think about how that ingredient or idea could inspire something in my own kitchen. That is how we grow as chefs — by keeping our minds open and constantly learning from others.
What’s your go-to dish if you have to cook something quickly at home?
Without a doubt, it’s spaghetti al pomodoro. What could be more Italian than that? It is full of soul. I love it because it represents everything I believe in: simplicity, quality and passion. When I cook it at home, even if I’m short on time, I give it my full attention, from choosing the best tomatoes and olive oil to making sure the Gragnano pasta is cooked perfectly al dente, which is non-negotiable.
What customer request most annoys you?
Requests that compromise the integrity of a traditional dish can be challenging. While I fully respect dietary restrictions and personal preferences, altering a classic recipe beyond recognition takes away from its authenticity. I believe in educating diners about the origins and significance of each dish to foster greater appreciation and respect.
What’s your favorite dish to cook?
Pizza. It’s more than just my profession, it’s a piece of my heart. I have a vivid memory from my childhood: my mother and sister in our home kitchen, cooking pizza in a pan. Of course, it was not the “right” way by traditional standards — she was not a trained chef, she was a home cook — but, like many Italian mothers, she found her own way to make something special with what she had.
Even if the technique was not perfect, the love and passion she put into it made it unforgettable. Sometimes my sister would join her, and for me, that pan pizza became a symbol of family, comfort and creativity. Pizza means everything to me because of what it represents: love, family and the joy of making something beautiful from the heart.
What’s the most difficult dish for you to get right?
For me, it’s fish. It may seem simple, but it’s not easy to cook perfectly. Fish is delicate. You must respect the texture, the temperature and the timing. One second too much, and it’s dry. One second too little, and it’s raw. I always need to stay focused and keep learning. That challenge is part of what makes it so rewarding when you get it just right.
As a head chef, what are you like? Are you a disciplinarian? Or are you more laidback?
Honestly, I can’t stand chefs who shout. We’ve seen it too many times in movies and on TV: the angry chef screaming, throwing pans, creating fear in the kitchen. Unfortunately, this happens in a lot of kitchens. But this is not leadership. This is not how great food is made. The kitchen is not a battlefield, and the people around me are not soldiers or slaves — they are humans, artists, professionals. As any of my team will tell you, I’m calm; I like to joke, and I create a relaxed environment. That doesn’t mean we’re not serious. When it’s time to push, I push. But we push together — fast, sharp, focused — as a team. Respect is the true foundation of a great kitchen. When people feel valued and inspired, not afraid, they cook with love. And that love is what reaches the plate.
Chef Vincenzo Palermo’s spaghetti al pomodoro recipe
Ingredients:
200 gr spaghetti from gragnano
300 gr San Marzano peeled tomato
Fresh basil
2 cloves of garlic
Salt
Pepper
4 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil
Parmesan cheese
Instructions:
In a pan, gently sauté crushed garlic in olive oil.
Add the tomatoes and let cook for about 10–15 minutes and add salt and pepper.
In a pot, put water and salt and make it boil.
Boil spaghetti until al dente, then transfer it to the sauce with a bit of cooking water.
Toss everything together and finish with fresh basil and a drizzle of olive oil.
Serve it with a gentle parmesan cheese on the top.
Buon appetito!
Highlights from Bashir Makhoul’s ‘The Promise’ at Zawyeh Gallery
- Highlights from Bashir Makhoul’s ‘The Promise,’ on show at Zawyeh Gallery, Dubai until June 30
‘Drift’
The Galilee-born British-Palestinian artist’s solo show’s title, according to the gallery, “encapsulates a poetic and ambiguous statement of intent — an assertion that is both an event and a transformation. A promise is made and, inevitably, can be broken.” That is the duality at the heart of Makhoul’s practice, as is the recurring motif of the house.
‘Deep Wounds’
This work is part of a series of painted wooden sculptures, each of which bears a carved hollow scar, disrupting its ‘wholeness.’ “These wounds are marks not just of trauma but also spaces of beginnings, resonating with Edward Said’s notion of origins as an act of cutting open, a rupture that invites multiple directions.”
‘My Olive Tree’
Makhoul has been experimenting with electroplated 3D printing to produce crystalline machine-generated structures that “paradoxically resemble organic formations” such as those seen in this work representing Makhoul’s own tree which stands between two plots of land he does not own.
Saudi pavilion makes a splash at London Design Biennale
DHAHRAN: “Good Water,” the Saudi National Pavilion that reimagines our relationship with water, is sure to be popular with visitors at the London Design Biennale, which opens today.
Examining water systems, accessibility, equity and scarcity, the pavilion was commissioned by the Architecture and Design Commission and supported by the Ministry of Culture. Presented under the leadership of commission CEO Sumayah Al-Solaiman, it marks the fourth time the Kingdom has taken part in the event.
“In a Biennale that explores the intersection of inner experiences and external influences, ‘Good Water’ reflects the spirit of inquiry we hope to share with the world,” said Al-Solaiman.
“With this pavilion, we are proud to support the next generation of Saudi practitioners and provide platforms that amplify their voices on the international stage.”
Saudi artists Alaa Tarabzouni, Dur Kattan, Fahad bin Naif and Aziz Jamal worked as co-curators, collaborating across various disciplines.
“In the team, we don’t have specific roles,” Jamal told Arab News. “We all collaborated on everything. So the video, we all shot together — we all wrote together. We all have different backgrounds in the arts sector but we’ve worked together (in the Saudi art scene) for the past five years and that’s actually how we came together; it’s more of a democratic process and there’s no kind of strict guidelines.”
At the heart of the Saudi contribution in London is the sabeel, a traditional water fountain usually placed and funded privately in a shaded outdoor communal space. It is meant for use by anyone in the community, free of charge.
The sabeel is an enduring symbol of hospitality and generosity, deeply rooted in the Arabian Peninsula and found in many spots throughout the Middle East.
“Growing up in Dhahran, you would see sabeels everywhere. Our house didn’t have one, but there was a mosque in front of our house that had one,” Jamal said.
The London installation strips the sabeel of nostalgia and re-centers it as a contemporary, working object. Visitors are invited to fill their cups — literally and figuratively, as they pause to reflect on the often unseen systems, labor and energy that make the flowing “free” water possible.
Stacks of paper cups will be provided, bearing the message “Good Water: 500 ml = one AI prompt” in vibrant color. There will also be refillable water bottles so spectators can have a “water-cooler moment” to chat, sip and ponder.
The pavilion also features four videos, filmed at an old water factory in Riyadh, showing the painstaking journey of water from droplet to distribution. The screens trace the production process across different sizes of bottles, with each film lasting under 10 minutes.
Jamal’s relationship with water shifted since he started working on this project.
“I have to say, watching and going to visit the water factory (in Riyadh) and seeing the enormous effort that it takes to fill up one tiny water bottle — you don’t take that effort for granted anymore,” he said.
“Before, if there was a little bit of water in my water bottle, I would just leave it, but now it’s like, I make it a point to drink (it) all … to finish my water bottle, because it’s not just a matter of just getting the water filled up, it’s testing it, going through inspection, doing all the mineral checks. It has made me more conscious of every drop.”
Jamal’s aim is for visitors to the pavilion to quench their thirst with that same realization.
“What I really hope for is for people to interact with the piece,” he said. “We want that act of generosity to come through and we want people to drink the water.”
The eco-conscious will be glad to know the sabeel will dispense locally sourced water — not any transported from Riyadh. It will also be indoors.
A printed catalogue written by the curators will also be available, offering further context in the form of essays, research material and images of water infrastructure and sabeels from across the Middle East and North Africa region.
Saudi Arabia is one of the most water-scarce countries in the world. Only 2.5 percent of the world’s water is freshwater, and even less is accessible for drinking. The Kingdom is the largest producer of desalinated water globally, supplying over 60 percent of its potable water, according to the Saudi Pavilion team’s research.
“We thought (the sabeel) was a perfect anecdote to describe the attitude and the general principle behind this concept of water as a human right and not as a luxury,” Jamal said. “It’s free drinking water, but it’s from a private source. So we felt it really encompassed this specific phenomenon in Saudi, of paying it forward and offering water to people who don’t have access to it.”
With “Good Water,” the Saudi National Pavilion puts this scarcity — and the labor behind everyday hydration — center stage.
“Our research was about water and access to water,” Jamal added. “When we were first conceptualizing the piece for the London Biennale, we were looking at the infrastructure and water and access and what’s the hidden cost of free water in Saudi — and specifically looking at the object(ive) of a sabeel: What does this act of generosity and act of making water into a human right mean, and what is the hidden cost of that?”
Though the widespread distribution of plastic bottles has displaced the sabeel to some extent, Jamal emphasized its enduring relevance, especially in a country with scorching summers and large outdoor workforces.
“I think people are on the go, so they need something convenient, but I think water bottles haven’t killed off sabeels completely,” he said. “A lot of the workforce in Saudi, who have more direct contact under the sun and the streets — they still use it all the time. It’s not just drinking water — it’s cold drinking water, and in Saudi that’s very important.”
Jamal joked that after nearly a year of working on this project, the team would raise a glass of water in celebration.
The pavilion will be open until June 29 at Somerset House.
Highlights from the Venice Biennale of Architecture
- Following our in-depth coverage of this year’s Saudi and Qatar entries, here are three more must-see pavilions at this year’s biennale
Following our in-depth coverage of this year’s Saudi and Qatar entries, here are three more must-see pavilions at this year’s biennale.
Bahrain
At first glance, Bahrain’s pavilion isn’t much to look at. A modest modular structure consisting of a raised platform, a suspended ceiling, and a central column, it lacks the artistic clout of other pavilions. And yet, this passive cooling installation designed for public spaces was awarded the Golden Lion for best national participation.
“Heatwave” presents a meaningful and practical response to the climate crisis. By reimagining traditional Bahraini cooling systems, such as wind towers and shaded courtyards, it provides an innovative response to rising temperatures. The pavilion’s design integrates a geothermal well that draws in cool air from below the surface, paired with a solar chimney that releases warm air upwards. Together, these elements form what the designers describe as a “thermo-hygrometric axis,” a system that maintains a mild, regulated indoor climate.
In the exhibition space, where excavation for a geothermal well was not feasible, the system relies on mechanical ventilation, drawing air through a canal-facing window and guiding it through a network of ducts and nozzles to create a controlled microclimate. Importantly, it is designed to be scalable and adaptable to a wide range of environments.
Commissioned by Shaikh Khalifa bin Ahmed Al-Khalifa, president of the Bahrain Authority for Culture and Antiquities, and curated by architect Andrea Faraguna, the pavilion functions as a full-scale, inhabitable prototype. Aimed primarily at meeting the challenges faced by construction workers in the Gulf, the pavilion’s design was developed in collaboration with structural engineer Mario Monotti and thermomechanical expert Alexander Puzrin.
Britain
“I call this pavilion a reverse case because it also makes a statement against British colonial rule,” says Yara Sharif, one of the co-founders of the Palestine Regeneration Team (PART). “After all, they were the ones who initiated the exploitation of Palestinian resources. So having a platform within the British Pavilion is, in itself, a statement — a reverse case that says, ‘We are also here to occupy you.’ It’s also a way to challenge the mental occupation; the idea of portraying Palestinians as passive subjects.”
PART’s “Objects of Repair” is a small but vitally important component within the British pavilion’s “Geology of Britannic Repair,” a UK-Kenya collaboration that seeks to expose and rework the entangled legacies of architecture and colonization. In a series of installations, the exhibition proposes earth-bound solutions that resist extractive practices and respond to climate, social, and political upheaval. The British Pavilion received a special mention for national participation.
At the core of PART’s installation, created by Sharif, Nasser Golzari, and Murray Fraser, lies the Travelling Lab, a project inspired by Gazans’ reappropriation of rubble to create new architectural ‘skins.’
“The whole idea behind the Travelling Lab is that it continues to develop and evolve as it moves,” explains Sharif, who is also a co-founder of Architects for Gaza. “We call it a way to cultivate hope, but also to create a matrix of possibilities that may suggest new scenarios and aesthetics to challenge the ones we’re familiar with. The aim of the pavilion is not to create a beautiful object; it’s to provoke a collision, spark discussion, and to draw attention to a context that is continually being rendered invisible.”
Uzbekistan
One of the first things you see when entering the Uzbekistan National Pavilion is a heliostat – a mirror system designed to track the sun and reflect its light onto a fixed point. Beyond it lie a control room table, a monumental glass chandelier created by Irena Lipene, and a giant solar screen. All belong to — or are reconstructions of those found at — the Sun Institute of Material Science in Tashkent, one of the city’s Soviet-era modernist structures.
The landmark building, originally known as the Sun Heliocomplex, is the inspiration behind “A Matter of Radiance,” the pavilion’s exhibition. Curated by GRACE studio’s Ekaterina Golovatyuk and Giacomo Cantoni, the exhibition explores the scientific and cultural relevance of the Heliocomplex. In particular, its potential as an international scientific hub.
“This was a catalyst building for its time,” says Gayane Umerova, chairperson of the Uzbekistan Art and Culture Development Foundation, who commissioned the exhibition. “The architecture was profound. The designers were given remarkable freedom, and I think it’s important for us to not only celebrate it, but also preserve it.”
Opened near Tashkent in 1987, the Heliocomplex is one of only two major solar furnaces in the world designed to study how materials behave under extreme temperatures. It is also one of 24 key modernist sites spread across the capital, 21 of which have been granted national heritage status.
“It’s important for us to show that this is not just a monolith,” says Umerova of the Heliocomplex, which is currently being used for civilian scientific research. “It’s an art object, in a way, but it’s a living structure.”
