Issue #70 Being Muhannad Shono by selectionsarts

ISLAMIC ARTS BIENNALE

The Second Edition

WESTERN HAJJ TERMINAL

King Abdulaziz International Airport

Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

KNOW MORE

From January 25 To May 25, 2025

In this special monograph, we invite you into the extraordinary world of Saudi artist Muhannad Shono. Over the past year, we have had the privilege of discovering his captivating work and engaging deeply with the artist himself. This issue unpacks his creative journey, offering insights into his artistic process, his Saudi roots, and the global impact of his work.

The monograph opens with stunning visuals showcasing Shono’s meticulous attention to detail. His pieces, whether composed of delicate lines or monumental installations, reveal a profound connection between personal memory and universal themes. Each artwork is an invitation to explore the layers of meaning embedded within.

Shono’s upbringing in Saudi Arabia serves as the foundation of his artistic identity. Growing up amidst cultural transformation, he found in art a way to navigate and bridge tradition with modernity. These formative experiences are central to his practice, where storytelling meets introspection.

Through an in-depth interview, Shono reflects on the evolution of his major works. We trace the threads that connect his early creations to his most ambitious projects, revealing an organic progression fueled by curiosity and innovation. His art continuously expands, pushing boundaries and reimagining possibilities.

The issue concludes with a discussion of Shono’s global success, including works acquired by prominent institutions and private collectors. His role as contemporary art curator for the 2025 Islamic Arts Biennale highlights his ability to bridge tradition and modernity, fostering dialogue between historical Islamic artifacts and contemporary artistic practices.

This monograph celebrates Muhannad Shono’s vision and artistry. By exploring his world, we are reminded of the transformative power of imagination and the enduring impact of art that dares to dream.

30 - 31 Introduction

32 - 43 Chapter I

The Early Years

32 – 33 Introduction

34 – 43 Early Life

44 – 93 Chapter II Exploration of Identity and Memory

44 – 45 Introduction

46 – 49 Children of Yam

50 – 57 The Silence is Still Talking

58 – 61 On Losing Meaning

62 – 63 On This Sacred Day

64 – 71 The Teaching Tree

72 – 73 Last Garden of Khidr

74 – 75 Absent Sky

76 – 79 A Song of Silence

80 – 87 I See You Brightest in the Dark

88 – 93 The Ground Day Breaks

94 – Chapter III Exploring New Avenues

94 – 95 Introduction

96 – 97 Islamic Arts Biennale 98 - 100 Acquisitions by Museums

COVER PHOTO BY MARILYN CLARK

Founder Rima Nasser

Editor-in-Chief

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Designer

Maria Maalouf

Project Manager

Yasmina Hammoud

Copy Editor

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Building 8, Dubai media city, GF Premises B8-ex33 Dubai Media City, UAE

Fifth Sun,

installation,

The

2017, Mixed media

Ink on hemp fabric, 2.2 m diameter artwork and video projection with sound, 9 minutes, 44 seconds.

Al-Ashirah, 2018, Mixed media installation, 200 polymer clay sculptures, video projection and musical composition.

(This Page) Al-Mars, 2019, Interactive robotic sculptures and etchings on oxidised brass.

(Opposite) Al-Mars, 2019, Oxidised brass sheets, metallic components and robotic motors.

Streams, Dreams, and Flow States, 2019, Sitespecific installation, 3,000 black PVC pipes.

The Caliph Seeks Asylum, 2019, Site-specific sculptural revision of the Arab psyche, 3,500 recyclable PVC pipes. Photo ©️ Artur Weber.

Book of Sand, 2020, Installation, Sand and resin with video projection, 40 x 30 x 5 cm.

The Lost Path, 2020, 65,000 recyclable PVC pipes. Photo ©️ Lance Gerber.

The Mind Ship Exodus, 2021, Tire shred steel wire and metal mesh with video projection, 30 x 17 x 5 m. Photo ©️ Artur Weber.

After the Fall, 2022, Dyed and painted palm, reclaimed sand bricks, resin, mortar, aluminium pegs, structural bricks, landscaping mesh. Photo ©️ Artur Weber.

Letters in Light (Lines we Write), 2023. Photo ©️ Artur Weber.

Muhannad Shono portrait.

Photo © Marylin Clark.

INTRODUCTION

In this issue, we delve into the world of Muhannad Shono, a Saudi artist whose work pushes boundaries and invites us to reimagine our relationship with culture and identity. Known for his intricate blend of traditional and contemporary techniques, Shono’s art resonates with a deep sense of place and space, reflecting the complexities of the modern Arab experience.

Through a diverse array of multidisciplinary mediums—ranging from painting to robotics to immersive installations—Shono’s work compels viewers to engage in a dialogue about heritage, memory, and the nature of impermanence. His narrative exploration is a critical aspect of his artistry, as he reimagines figures and stories, often placing them in contemporary contexts. This approach addresses themes of memory, change, and resilience, capturing the tension between traditional and modern life.

We explore Shono’s journey, from his childhood fascination with comic books to his experiences abroad and the impact of his return to Saudi Arabia on his work.

Welcome to an in-depth exploration of Shono’s creativity and insight, where art emerges as a medium for cultural resistance, connection, and reflection.

Young Muhannad Shono.

THE EARLY YEARS

Growing up in Saudi Arabia, Shono’s world was ignited by comic books. As a child, he found inspiration in the figure of Al-Khidr, the Green Man of world mythology, whose story fueled his creative spark and instilled a sense of resilience in a society that often felt creatively stifling. Despite his yearning for a more artistic professional journey, financial constraints kept him from studying abroad. Undeterred, he channeled his passion into self-publishing and showcasing his work at Comic-Cons, navigating the industry’s often rigid categorisation of artists. His journey took him from

Saudi Arabia to Dubai and then to Sydney, where he worked in advertising. Still, years later, he made his way back home, where he immersed himself in the local art scene. This culminated in his solo exhibition, Children of Yam. Shono invites us into his early memories of illustration, his resistance to the status quo in pre-social media Saudi Arabia, and the beginnings of a remarkable series of exhibitions that would follow.

EARLY LIFE

You are a self-taught artist. Can you tell us about your background, how you grew up and how you came about being who you are today?

I started off creating comics. I was really fascinated by the comic book and visual narrative formats, where I could reimagine reality—a kind of reclaiming. Growing up in Saudi Arabia, I realised early on that there was a fear of what was happening in people’s minds. What I thought was a safe haven—the imagination—was under assault from ideology. There was concern, and rightly so, about the power of the imagination to reshape reality, ask questions, and challenge the status quo. This fear stemmed from the fact that imagination can lead to questioning the rigid, uncompromising narratives that we were expected to follow, narratives that allowed no flexibility or fluidity and demanded absolute obedience.

As a young kid, I was faced with choices. I was told I needed to draw a line through the neck of my characters because “only God can create”, as if to make me feel guilty for the space I had carved out for myself. But I chose not to be made to feel guilty. I ended up studying architecture—though I never practiced. I wanted to pursue something creative, but my family couldn’t afford to send me abroad to study art. Architecture was a creative field I could access locally. I found the creative problem-solving and the idea of manifesting spaces where stories and ideas could unfold very interesting, but ultimately, I think of architecture as linked to the realisation of the imagination, so for me architectural work is also conceptual work.

(Top to bottom) Young Shono.

Who were these characters or what were these stories that you were depicting?

It all started with my fascination for a character called Al-Khidr, the Green Figure. Al-Khidr is a figure from Islamic culture and world mythology, mentioned in the Quran as someone who has adventures and is immortal. What intrigued me about him was that, at a time when I was being told to sever the neck of the characters I was trying to bring to life, this character was the opposite. His role is to be immortal, connected to nature, and when he’s cut down, he returns to life. He embodies resilience. He appears in world mythology, often depicted as a head with plants growing from his nose, mouth, and ears—a symbol of nature, rebirth, regeneration, and the creative spirit. For me, he became a messenger, offering a different way of thinking, urging me to be resilient in the face of those who sought to stifle imagination.

I used to rent tables at Comic-Cons, selling my prints and self-publishing my work. I even republished a book in Riyadh before I left Saudi Arabia, between 2000 and 2004. I was working at a local publishing house, but the book got censored because one of the characters performed magic—and magic was forbidden. Ironically, the first Harry Potter book was

on the shelves at the time. As a local trying to change the narrative, there was more scrutiny on what I was doing, and it felt like there were constant efforts to hold me back. Before 2015, I focused on highly illustrative comics—ink on paper, no penciling.

I created a character called Kamin, who was my addition to the legacy of Al-Khidr. Kamin is reincarnated into a new story. The more he dies, the more stories he tells, and from his mouth, ears, and eyes, lines grow. I would take these books to comic shops, and they’d say, “It’s more of an art book.” Then I’d take them to galleries, and they’d say, “It’s more of a comic book.” This was a recurring issue for me: the constant categorisation of identity and the type of work I was doing. Where does it belong? On which shelf? Rejecting this rigid categorisation—whether in terms of identity, work, or meaning—has been a significant part of how I approach my art.

Shono at a Comic-Con exhibition.

IMAGINATION HAS POWER, IT EXPANDS BEYOND THE MIND AND CHANGES THE WORLD. THAT’S WHY IT’S FEARED.

When did you leave Saudi Arabia, and what path did you take?

I left Saudi in 2004 and moved to Dubai, where I started working in advertising. Being self-taught, I wanted to surround myself with people who were more classically or professionally trained in creative fields. Back then, there was no social media—no real way to connect with other self-taught creatives in Saudi. There weren’t any underground shows, exhibitions, or concerts that I knew of, so creatively, I felt isolated, like I was on an island. I left to experience the broader creative world, and advertising seemed like a space that could harness creative output, though I would later realise it was more about taking advantage of it. However, I understood that it was a vehicle—I could work as a creative in advertising anywhere in the world because the language of advertising was universal. There were formats and formulas.

The more I did it, the more I grew to hate it, but it did allow me to spend three years in Dubai, and later, eight years in Sydney, where I worked for a small agency. During that time, I learned how to focus an idea into a singular point.

When I returned to Saudi in 2015, it was still the pretransformation era of the country, but now there was social media. I quickly found out that I was already quite well-known for my comic book work, as people had seen what I was posting online. Once they realised I was back in Riyadh, I started connecting with the local creative scene, which eventually led to my first solo exhibition at Athr Gallery in 2016, where I showcased Children of Yam.

Was that your first show upon returning to Saudi Arabia? How did your work evolve?

It was my first show in a contemporary art space, and that’s when I realised something interesting about the contemporary art space—it’s much more forgiving when it comes to categorisation. There’s no pressure for the outcome to be anything specific. You’re not creating products that need to serve a particular function. You’re free to mix genres, ideas, and materials in ways that don’t need to lead to a defined result. The process is more playful, more experimental, both in terms of the materials used and the ideas explored. That’s where I found my place at the time, though I’m now transitioning out of that space. The solo show did really well, but I felt like I sold myself.

Shono at a Comic-Con exhibition.

Residency in Bad Gastein, Austria.

What do you feel is the biggest challenge as an artist?

To not lose sight of your inner guiding light, that spark of imagination that inspired you when you were younger. What you held onto in those early years has value and power. The challenge is to keep that light shining, making it even brighter despite attempts to diminish, dim, or extinguish it. The art world can distort, refract, and deflect that light, but you need to safeguard it, value it, and let it shine true within you

(Top) Sydney, Australia (Bottom) London, United Kingdom

(This Page) The Harvest of Dreams. (Opposite) Live wall mural at Loud Art, Jeddah. (Bottom right) Drawing from Kamin.

Drawing from Kamin.

02

The Lost Path, 2020, 65,000 recyclable PVC pipes.

EXPLORATIONS OF IDENTITY AND MEMORY SELECTED WORKS

In Children of Yam, Shono ventured beyond his initial artistic style, delving into how narratives can be reshaped and reimagined across diverse conceptual landscapes. By the time he began developing The Silence is Still Talking in 2019, he had completed a year-long residency in Berlin. Shono returned to Saudi Arabia during a period of profound social and cultural transformation. He experimented with robotics that led to works like The Teaching Tree and On Losing Meaning. Shono also revisited his iconic figure, AlKhidr, in The Last Garden of Khidr in 2020, focusing on themes of limiting the human imagination, and illustrating that suppression is ultimately futile. In 2022, Shono continued to dismantle rigid narratives with On This Sacred Day, capturing his experience in AlUla as he witnessed the burning of palm trees—a visceral response to change. This work reflects on protest and the transformative power of change,

pushing the boundaries of expression. Two years later, through The Ground Day Breaks, Shono takes viewers on a long and remarkabe journey of impermanence and limitlessness through the sand grain.

Here, we explore nine of Shono’s most influential works, delving into his creative process and the captivating stories behind each piece.

CHILDREN OF YAM, 2016

Could you tell us about Children of Yam? It seems to have different parts.

It was a solo exhibition that included an animated film, ink-on-paper works, and sculptures. The experience was a psychological journey because I had to let go of the illustrative, figurative, character-driven world that I loved. In that process, I essentially ‘zoomed out’, pulling away from that world emotionally, mentally, and physically through the work. The characters became almost minuscule, and the focus shifted to the landscape of the narrative. It was difficult because I felt like a sellout, as if I was abstracting the work in the same way I was asked to obscure the figurative when I was younger.

At the time of my 2016 solo exhibition, I had distanced myself significantly from my original approach. Since then, I’ve continued to move further away, exploring how narratives and ideas can reshape and adapt to different visual and conceptual spaces. I allowed myself to go through this journey of abandoning the characters and style I had built, in order to discover something new. In a way, that exhibition marked a significant shift, and looking back, it was a valuable process of growth.

(This Page Above) Children of Yam, The Wall, 2016, Ink on paper and polymer element, 10 x 29 cm.

(This Page Below) Children of Yam, 2016, Still from video installation, 2016. (Opposite) Children of Yam, 2016, Still from video installation, 2016.

In this series of work, paper is seen as the land we find ourselves standing on and the ink: the forces driving us out of our lands. Together, the paper and ink are the record of events. We stand on pages with stories from the past. Pages we cannot open. A book of stories we cannot read. A document of lessons we cannot learn from.

Children of Yam explores these notions through the fictional story of Yam. The forgotten 4th son of the biblical and Quranic character, Noah. Yam refused to climb onto the Ark and chose to seek refuge on a mountain top instead. Though he was vilified in the religious narrative for disobeying his father’s commands, Shono saw in him a figure who chose to turn down doctrine and instead trusted in himself and in his free will. Fear of retribution did not drive him into the safety of his father’s doctrine. To that end the artist assumed that Yam had survived the deluge, and his children became the refugees of the world, forever fleeing floods. His story and the story of his lost children is a story of immigrants through time. They are the forgotten, the inked over and the displaced. Shono draws our attention to the fact that though some of us are sedentary, we too were once, and again will be, displaced.

(This Page) Children of Yam, 2016, Ink, paper, polymer sculptures, 2016. (Opposite Top) Monuments, Page II, 2016, from the Monumenta series, Ink on paper, 29 x 14.5 cm.

(Opposite Bottom) Monuments, Page III, 2016, from the Monumenta series, Ink on paper, 21 x 28.5 cm.

50

(Opposite) The Silence is Still TalkingExtract, Imprint, Memory and Transfer, 2019, Series of 4 unique process-based works of study in pigment, tape and paper. Photo ©️ Mo Eskandrani.

(This Page) The Silence is Still Talking - The Silent Press, 2019, Installation in pigment and paper scrolls. Photo ©️ Mo Eskandrani.

THE SILENCE IS STILL TALKING, 2019

How has your experience in Saudi Arabia been as it pertains to your art?

Since 2015, I started doing a few solo exhibitions and residencies, eventually ending with a year-long residency in Berlin until 2019. I came back to Saudi at a time of change. In 2019, while I was back for my solo exhibition at Athr Gallery, The Silence is Still Talking,

I began to sense something different—a feeling of hope, glimmers of change. At its core, the solo exhibition was about breaking down rigid, defined words and narratives. It’s about grinding something resistant to change, something with a fixed meaning, until it loses its form and becomes illegible. We return to the potential of raw pigments, to something that no longer carries the burden of rigid definition.

We are in a crisis of the word, where language has become rigid, divisive, and literal. In response, Muhannad Shono explores the transformative potential of words by slowing their utterance and studying their nuances. He grinds charcoal into dust, symbolising the infinite possibilities of meaning. These specs represent quantum-like states, embodying the spirit rather than the literal letters of words.

Shono’s work reflects on how language shapes our understanding of the world. His charcoal sculptures, The Hardened Word, represent brittle, dried-out words, signaling the loss of nuance and metaphor. By grinding these sculptures into dust, Shono revives meaning, using vibrations and sound to reanimate the material in his piece, The Matter of Meaning. The exhibition delves into early forms of spoken word, where language was not just verbal but also performed through gestures and sounds. Shono’s Lisans sculptures highlight the performative nature of language, recalling the body’s role in communication. His works, including Mother Tongue and Lullaby Departed, speak to the loss of memory and knowledge embedded in disappearing languages.

Shono also critiques the written word’s history of misuse and erasure, exemplified in The Silent Press, which addresses the power dynamics of textuality. His art invites us to move beyond literal interpretations, encouraging constant cycles of reading, learning, and reinterpretation, as reflected in his series Reformation and Reading Ring.

In The Silence Is Still Talking, Shono asks us to reimagine words as living, evolving entities that shape our understanding of ourselves and the world.

(This Page) The Silence is Still Talking - The Names of All Things, 2019, Live installation with charcoal dust and sound on paper.

Photo ©️Mo Eskandrani. (Opposite) The Silence is Still Talking - The Hardened Word, 2019, Hand-carved charcoal sculptures. Photo ©️ Mo Eskandrani.

The Silence is Still Talking - To Erase Is to Create, 2019, 3 process works of abrasive tape and charcoal pigment. Photo ©️ Mo Eskandrani.

(This Page) The Silence is Still Talking, Our Inheritance of Meaning, 2019, Charcoal print on tape. Photo ©️ Mo Eskandrani. (Opposite) The Silence is Still Talking, Reading Ring, 2019, sculptural loop of charcoal pigment and ink on paper.

ON LOSING MEANING, 2021

Tell us about your work with robotics, and kinetic and stationary installations.

While I was in Berlin, I continued experimenting, especially with robotics, collaborating with professors in the field. I essentially forced myself into their world, and since then, we’ve done a lot of work together.

(This Page) On Losing Meaning, 2021, Robotics petroleum jelly, wax, graphite and pigment.

(Opposite) On Losing Meaning, 2021, Robotics petroleum jelly, wax, graphite and pigment. Photo ©️ DBF.

At first, we were sharing ideas and getting excited, but there wasn’t any funding. They’d get me started on things I could do myself, but suddenly, all these opportunities and funding started coming through in Saudi.

One project we did was The Teaching Tree in Venice, which incorporated a robotic system. Another was On Losing Meaning, exploring a cultural form that represents a word but doesn’t know its own definition. The robot performs mark-making, trying to map out and write down its definition, but since it’s made of pigment, the more it searches, the more it erodes itself. In the process of trying to define itself, it wears away and loses its meaning. This work was about rejecting rigid definitions, doctrines, narratives, and

words—experimenting with how those concepts shift and change.

I’m still trying to understand this new categorisation, but even the categories feel elusive. The language to describe the space I want to step into doesn’t exist yet. It feels like excavating an ancient site, where you have to dig patiently to uncover something new.

Right now, with Book of Sand, the work feels like an archaeological excavation where ideas, spaces, and structures are seeded into the land. On Losing Meaning was commissioned for the first Diriyah Biennale.

A word searching for its meaning. As the form traverses a performative space, it moves freely, creating its own marks as it loses its original form, reading and meaning. Through this, the artist invites audiences to consider notions of fluidity and rigidity within the interpretation of text, and the power of mark-making in the birth of new transformative landscapes of meaning.

The sculptural machine was created in collaboration with the robotics work of Benjamin Panreck and technologist Noah Feehan. Original audio composition by soledxb, is a collaborative composition titled, Chasing the Sun’s Shadow, and was created and composed by Orbital Patterns, Quintin Christian, and Rajat Malhotra, using modular synthesis, organic found sounds, and audio excerpts of conversations with Shono.

On Losing Meaning, 2021, Robotics petroleum jelly, wax, graphite and pigment.

On This Sacred Day, 2022, Reclaimed foundry sand and burning palm matter, Exhibited at AlUla, Saudi Arabia, 2022. Photo ©️ Artur Weber.

ON THIS SACRED DAY, 2022

The work uses black reclaimed foundry sand. During my residency in AlUla, we came across a lot of burned palm trees in the oases where we were working. These trees were blackened, charred stems, and we were told they had been burned intentionally because they were diseased, to prevent the spread of pestilence. But there were other stories too—some said the oasis owners were burning their trees out of frustration or protest. There was a lot of change happening in AlUla, and many people didn’t fully understand how it would impact their livelihoods, families, and jobs.

The work became a sculptural intervention in these oases, representing moments of protest. The structures I created were scattered, almost like catafalques— platforms for burning the dead. I also worked with objects that symbolise change, structures that seem to emerge from the dunes. Whatever lies beneath the surface represents the past, and what protrudes through it reflects visions of the future or the imagination.

There’s an old story of fighter pilots flying over the Empty Quarter in Saudi Arabia who reported seeing structures rising from the dunes, only for them to disappear the next day, as if reclaimed by the shifting sands. These structures, though static, serve as points of reference. Without something static to measure against, the movements of the dunes become invisible. This is what the work is about—it references the changes happening in AlUla’s community and stands as both a marker of transformation and a place of protest.

How would viewers understand this? How do you reach the audience?

For me, everything is interconnected, gradually forming a singular narrative. Part of this process involves understanding how these connections relate to my own experiences. When I speak with people or engage in public discussions, I begin to weave together the threads that link my work to what resonates with me and drives my creativity. I don’t believe that any single piece can capture the entirety of my work; rather, it’s through the journey of repeatedly explaining my ideas that a broader picture begins to emerge.

How was the project perceived in AlUla?

The work was well received, but I think the term ‘protest’ upset some people. Resistance to change is a natural response that often stems from fear, and not everyone has access to master plans or development schemes, or fully understands what they mean for their community. My intention was not to criticise change but to highlight the juxtaposition between change itself and the lack of understanding surrounding it and what that might entail.

For the AlUla Art Residency open studios, Shono presented an installation composed of a black structure of reclaimed sand placed amongst the palm trees of Mabiti AlUla’s palm-grove. Made of sand-cast brick segments, this structure becomes a ritualistic catafalque-like structure where palm materials are laid down to rest, and then burned. A journey of plant, ash, smoke and sky, of cycle of death and renewal unfolding inside a living oasis. Amongst the smoke that rises are stories of comings and goings, loss and remembrance.

The burning of trees has also been noted in the oasis as an act of protest against the coming of change, a lament of the losing of the familiar and the familial. Control burns for overgrown and dense or dry vegetation is often necessary in order to prevent uncontrollable wildfires. Thus purposeful change and transformation becomes urgent to safeguard against fires that may seek to burn the world to ash.

64 THE TEACHING TREE, 2019

The Teaching Tree exemplifies this thread of connection. This experience highlighted the importance of working within a community and having a wider network of people who could carry on the thread of ideas you’re creating. There’s a limit to what one can achieve alone, and sometimes that limitation becomes apparent more abruptly than expected.

The entire installation originated from a single line of palm, which evolved into a living structure that symbolises a breathing imagination, despite attempts to silence it. It represents a journey and a timeline that captures the younger me, who was told not to imagine or create within a restrictive system. Then, I find myself representing a country in the midst of change, one that is pushing me to the forefront. It was an emotional journey, and understanding it was crucial for me.

I chose traditional materials to deconstruct and reimagine a different kind of tree—not the palm tree that officially represents the country, but something more disruptive. This work reclaims the line as a tool for creation and imagination rather than as a means to cut, redact, or restrict.

As for my use of black, it signifies more than emptiness. For me, it represents the redaction of text we often encountered. In the past, when we bought books, images and words were often censored with black ink. I found this fascinating because the black ink obscuring the content drew my attention to what was being hidden or omitted. It trained my imagination to envision what lay beneath the pigment. My work seeks to disrupt the lived world with the power of imagination, which, for me, is represented by the dense black pigment full of potential.

The Teaching Tree, 2019, Sculptural installation, Palm fronds, pigment, pneumatics and metal structure. Photo ©️ Samuele Cherubini.

The National Pavilion of Saudi Arabia at La Biennale di Venezia, curated by Reem Fadda and assistant curator Rotana Shaker, presented The Teaching Tree by Muhannad Shono. Commissioned by the Visual Arts Commission, the installation explored creative resistance and the transformative power of human imagination.

The Teaching Tree is a sculptural installation of palm fronds, pigment, pneumatics, and metal, filling the pavilion like a flowing timeline. It reflects Shono’s reclamation of the drawn line as a symbol of creation and destruction, examining resilience and regeneration in nature and imagination. By questioning singular narratives, Shono explores the potential of writing, thought, and mark-making as acts of creative agency. His work challenges traditional concepts of self, mythology, and the natural world, navigating cycles of birth, death, destruction, and renewal.

Shono describes imagination as an infinite resource: “It passes from the non-existent within our minds, manifesting into reality.” Curator Reem Fadda adds that The Teaching Tree encapsulates the drawn line overgrown, symbolising the irreversible effects of written words and marks on history.

Nat Muller’s essay, Monstrous Fabulation, ties the work to the concept of the “monster”—a metaphor for cultural anxieties during times of transition. As we face global crises, the monster becomes a figure that disrupts and challenges our perceptions, while simultaneously offering new imaginative possibilities. Through this powerful metaphor, Shono’s work asks us to confront the darkness of the world and explore the potential for regeneration and creative change.

(This Page) Making of The Teaching Tree, 2019, Sculptural installation, Palm fronds, pigment, pneumatics and metal structure. (Opposite) The Teaching Tree, 2019, Sculptural installation, Palm fronds, pigment, pneumatics and metal structure.

Photo ©️ Artur Weber.

The Teaching Tree, 2019, Sculptural installation, Palm fronds, pigment, pneumatics and metal structure.

Photo ©️ Samuele Cherubini.

72 LAST GARDEN OF KHIDR, 2020

This work represents a mock execution of the mythical character Al-Khidr, who plays a significant role in my art. Al-Khidr is associated with Osiris, the only pharaoh depicted as green, and the god of corn. He taught the Egyptians how to harvest corn and helped it grow again. After Osiris was killed and dismembered, his limbs and head were planted in different parts of the kingdom in hopes of resurrecting the corn, as he had instructed them.

Al-Khidr also holds an important story in the Quran, where he is depicted as a figure of great wisdom and immortality.

Al-Khidr will come back to life, ultimately changing the course of mankind.

In this narrative, Al-Khidr embodies the idea of resilience. The return to life symbolises that the act of suppressing the imagination is ultimately futile, leading only to the birth of more imagination.

(Opposite) The Last Garden of Khidr, 2020, Ink on cotton paper. Photo ©️ Abdullah AlMeslemani.

(This Page) The Last Garden of Khidr, 2020. Photo ©️ Emad Alhusayni.

The Last Garden of Khidr is the imagined sculptural and illustrative aftermath of restricting the human imagination, a contemporary rendition of the character Khidr, an elusive figure spoken of in various Islamic narratives and found across many world myths and traditions. The origins of the name “Khidr” are obscure, with roots spreading from Quranic traditions into wider cultural lore, as well as traced through Western literary and architectural motifs dating back to the medieval age. One reading is that his name comes from akhdar (green, in Arabic), and he is, therefore, “The Green One” or “The Verdant One,” from whose head a garden grows. The artist mines this abundant tradition to explore ideas of creative freedom.

Aniconism is the avoidance of images of sentient beings in some forms of Islamic art. In more stricter interpretations, this ban extends to God and deities to fictional characters and the depiction of the self. In this stricter uncompromising law, all living beings, and everything that exists fall under a prohibition of the mimicry of life.

The artist recalls how, as a child, art teachers in Saudi Arabia would instruct him and other students to strike a line through the necks of illustrated drawings. This was a technical “work-around” to this religious prohibition conjured up by his teachers, but to Shono’s mind this contemporary commandment constituted a violent act, an attempted beheading of his imagined world and the living creations that dwell within it.

The Last Garden of Khidr is the story of those who choose to reclaim their creative and imaginative minds and refuse to be silenced.

Commissioned by the Saudi Art Council for the group show ‘I love you urgently’ curated by Maya El Khalil.

ABSENT SKY, 2023

This work captures the feeling of disrupting the lived world through the use of a black void or the act of omission, which is a recurring theme in my art. This is evident in pieces like A Song of Silence, a retelling of a story, as well as in my recent installation Absent Sky. The latter features immersive black fabric in a constant state of movement and flux above the viewer, reclaiming the concept of nothingness and transforming it into something disruptive. Absent Sky will be showcased at Expo 2025 in Osaka as part of the Saudi Arabia Pavilion. The installation creates the illusion of a trapped, upside-down sea or an absent sky overhead. The light-absorbing fabric gives a dense appearance, with only the highlights visible when it moves.

A SONG OF SILENCE , 2022

A Song of Silence, 400 black palm stems was a public art commission for Parcours Art Basel, 2022, Curated by Samuel Leuenberger with funding by Athr gallery. The work showed at the Stadtcasino Basel.

‘Perched upon a rock with seven vails fluttering above him, sat the anxious archangel Israfel. For since his creation, he knew one day he would be asked to play the trumpet that rests upon his thigh. Not knowing when this day would come left him feeling nervous for he had never played a single musical instrument nor had he auditioned for this role.

He realised he had been feeling this way for a very long time, almost as long as the conception of time. As the days went on, and the wait grew longer, his insecurities grew louder. He dreaded the day the call would come, what if he made a mess of it all? What if the world saw him as a fraud?

So one day, overcome with nerves he could wait no longer. He left his post when he thought he was not being watched, hiding the trumpet under his wing he hurried to a forest nearby. He found a spot in the middle of the woods to sit and rehearse.

When he blew the trumpet for the very first time, birds dropped like sticks from the trees, insects flipped onto their backs motionless, and all manner of life around him fell silent as every creature in the forest in one breath died. Seeing the destruction he had caused he was overcome with sorrow. Mournful of what he had done, he blew the trumpet in agony once again, reciting a song that brought every creature back to life.

He then broke down the trumpet and replaced it with a branch so he would never play his song of silence again.’

80 I SEE YOU BRIGHTEST IN THE DARK, 2022

I See You Brightest in the Dark explores the idea of using black as a negative to create a positive, while incorporating white thread sculpturally within spaces. This piece attempts to not only address the absence of imagination but also to wield it in new ways.

This concept was further developed at the Islamic Arts Biennale in Jeddah with Letters in Light, Lines

We Write. This two-part installation offered a singular spiritual encounter in one room, while the back room focused on the mass production of that spiritual experience. It represented the school, the mosque, and the act of printing and mass-producing text in a specific manner, raising questions about the relationship between the two spaces. Who was

feeding whom? Was it the factory sustaining the singular experience, or was it the singular experience nourishing the factory? In this work, light animates the threads, enhancing their presence, inviting viewers to step into the threads within the structure.

I See You Brightest in the Dark displays threads of intangible light welcomed in, archived and loomed in multiple stages of dutiful and heartfelt acts of remembrance and acceptance.

‘I miss you still with every visit. I miss you so I wove you a garment of light and thread.’

I See You Brightest in the Dark, 2022.

THE GROUND DAY BREAKS , 2024

This solo exhibition features black sand, which is reclaimed sand from a foundry process. Foundries use black sand for casting metal objects for various industries. The black sand I used is from Saudi Arabia, but it originally starts as pink desert sand. In Saudi, our sand isn’t suitable for construction because it’s wind-formed and too fine to interlock or hold structure. We actually import sand for construction from places like Australia and Spain, where waterformed sand grains are larger and more irregular, allowing them to interlock.

In this body of work, I explore the idea of the earth no longer wanting to offer up eternal forms—it resists permanence, it resists giving shape to narratives, icons, and structures that seek to last forever. The sand grain doesn’t want to be formalised into blocks; it wants to return to the limitless potential of a single grain.

This malleability is key. The sand starts off pink but turns black in the oven as the resin that coats it burns. This process results in “reclaimed sand”, which can be reused multiple times.

The exhibition begins with a formal block of sand, which is broken onto carbon paper. Beneath the carbon paper is another sheet, creating an instantaneous imprint—a new landscape born from the act of breaking the block. This symbolises the toppling of rigid forms, allowing for the emergence of more organic, dynamic landscapes.

One installation within this series involves dot drawing with carbon and paper. I relied on memory and imagination to recall where the last grain of sand sat, while also envisioning the new organic forms that could arise. The resulting works, Night Dew and Seedlings, are in conversation with one another.

Another piece, What Remains, represents acts of restoration. After breaking the sand, I sweep the remnants back together to create momentary sculptural interventions, trying to reconstruct what

once was. In From The Land, an organic harvest emerges from the act of breaking. The grain of sand is buried within itself, then irrigated with gum Arabic, and over many layers, it extrudes new forms. This process reflects the burial and rebirth of the earth, drawing on the concept of harvest emerging from burial.

How fragile is the installation? Is it breakable? Do you move it somewhere else?

The second room of the solo features the major installation, which is like a fountain of youth. But here, the grain doesn’t want to become iconic or monumental. There are 2,000 hand-finished pieces. We cast irrigation pipes inside a block of sand, then broke the block, releasing these pieces. Each one was hand-finished and carefully placed on a bed of sand to form the installation.

This fountain of youth doesn’t offer water; instead, it represents the flow of the grain—moving from a rigid, formal block back to its essence, returning to the infinite potential of a single grain.

The Ground Day Breaks, 2024, A Promise of Breaking. Carbon on paper.

For his solo exhibition The Ground Day Breaks curated by Nat Muller, Muhannad Shono uses reclaimed black foundry sand as the primary material, exploring its duality as both a source of form and its refusal to be confined. Foundry sand, used in industrial processes until it becomes depleted, represents an agent of transformation in Shono’s hands. The exhibition is both poetic and topical, addressing global ecological uncertainties, regional political turmoil, and the rapid social changes in Saudi Arabia.

The central work, The Ground Day Breaks, features 2,000 handcrafted sculptures arranged in a radial pattern, creating a two-way vortex that defies natural laws. This piece, like the rest of the exhibition, captures the intersection of chaos and control, with every grain of sand embodying infinite potential for change and renewal.

Shono’s material practice is a speculative one, using sand to represent movement, fluidity, and transformation. The works A Promise of Breaking and Night Dew further explore the theme of impermanence. In A Promise of Breaking, carbon transfers capture the moment of dissolution, mapping the topography of destruction. Night Dew presents stippled lightboxes, where the grain of sand exists between night and dawn, symbolising latent possibility.

Shono also draws on mythological motifs, notably the figure of Al-Khidr, in From the Land, where sculptures made from sand and resin evoke healing and regeneration. Meanwhile, Folding Grounds presents large strips of coagulated sand suspended like fabric, emphasizing the material’s pliability.

Ultimately, Shono’s exhibition delves into the infinite possibilities contained within a single grain of sand, presenting it as an agent of transformation and a metaphor for the broader cycles of life, destruction, and renewal.

Page) The Ground

The Ground

(This

Day Breaks, 2024, Night Dew. Paper, carbon paper, lightbox.

(Opposite)

9403

The Unseen, 2024.

EXPLORING NEW AVENUES

Shono has recently transitioned from his studio in Riyadh, where he collaborated with fellow artists, to embrace his new role as contemporary curator for the Islamic Arts Biennale. Initially, the prospect of participating as an artist held profound significance for him—he grappled with how he would fit into a Biennale that melded Islamic themes with contemporary thought. Yet, it was this very tension, the “rigidity” he often refers to, that he had long been challenging. Amid a backdrop of significant change within the country, Shono felt a compelling urge to be part of this transformative moment.

With the theme Wa ma baynahouma—And all that is in between—Shono is now exploring his work through a spiritual lens, interpreting it through an unfamiliar language that deepens its meaning. This innovative perspective is precisely what he aims to infuse into his curatorial approach, creating a space for dialogue and reflection.

ISLAMIC ARTS BIENNALE

The second edition of the Islamic Arts Biennale is open from January 25 until May 25, 2025, at the Western Hajj Terminal of King Abdulaziz International Airport in Jeddah. Under the theme of “And all that is in between”, the Biennale explores how faith is experienced, expressed, and celebrated through feeling, thinking and creating. Spanning across five exhibition halls and outdoor spaces, and with more than 500 objects and contemporary artworks on view, it consists of seven unique components— AlBidaya, AlMadar, AlMuqtani, AlMathala, Makkah al-Mukarramah, Al-Madinah al-Munawwarah, and AlMusalla—spread out through the different spaces. Over 30 major international institutions are taking part, with over 20 new commissions by artists from Saudi Arabia and around the world. The Biennale is led by Artistic Directors Julian Raby, Amin Jaffer in his ongoing role as Director of The Al Thani Collection, and Abdul Rahman Azzam alongside Muhannad Shono as Curator of Contemporary Art.

Shono relocated to Jeddah for his role as the Contemporary Art Curator. The theme comes from a verse in the Quran, often echoed in Biblical texts: “God created the heavens and the earth”, khalaq el samawat wal ard, always followed by wa ma baynahouma—“and all that is in between”. The Biennale is not focused on binaries, on the edges of things, or the confinement of ideas. Instead, it is drawn to the liminal, layered, and expansive space between heaven and earth—the things that matter, the nuances, the shades—not just the light and dark.

When Shono first participated at the Islamic Arts Biennale’s inaugural edition as an artist, he had initially wondered how he would fit in, later realising that it was about the change the country was going through—the fact that a Biennale could bring notions of Islam and historical objects into dialogue with contemporary thinking. Now as a curator, he understands that there’s an underlying spirituality in what he does, something he’s been unconsciously processing—spirituality conveyed in a language not necessarily seen or heard before. Shono sees his curatorial role as a natural extension of his current

practice to help influence and shape the change happening in the country.

He is working with many emerging artists, crucial as the country is undergoing change. Shono believes it’s important to give space for these new voices to help shape the artistic landscape. While there are some more established names participating in the Biennale, a significant focus is on emerging and lesser-known talents. In these younger voices, Shono recognizes his earlier self and believes in them as he once believed in himself.

The 2023 Islamic Arts Biennale at the Western Hajj Terminal of King Abdulaziz International Airport, image courtesy of the Diriyah Biennale Foundation.

ACQUISITIONS BY MUSEUMS

The

Unseen, 2024

Louvre Abu Dhabi

The commissioned thread-based installation connects the threads of three religions through a contemplative experience. It focuses on Muhannad Shono’s interest in the phenomena of faith and things that are unseen; a void, invisible yet present that draws in our collective visions and contemplations of our existence. A sphere that is not nothing, but is dense with information, gathering around its circumference. A celestial black hole, a region and space where gravity pulls so intensely that light, matter and narrative cannot escape in such a place.

The Silence is Still Talking, 2019 Centre Pompidou, Paris

The ‘word’ as we know it, has become restrictive, divisive, hardened, literal and unimaginative. To understand and respond to this crisis, Shono journeys into a praxis of the word and a slowing down of its utterance. His proposition is to reform each word object and study the oceans of nuance, laterality and metaphor that accompany these words. He extends his practice of pigment on paper, grinds hardened charcoal words to dust and employs vibrations from inaudible spectrums of sound, to lend them back their voice.

The exhibition explores the infinite layers of meaning encoded in words and how they shape our experience of knowledge and understanding. It seeks to shift us from outcomes of misuse and misunderstanding towards the birth of a deeper understanding of the word, ourselves, others and the Earth.

(Below) The Silence is Still Talking - The Silent Press, 2019, Installation in pigment and paper scrolls. Photo ©️ Mo Eskandrani.

(Right) The Unseen, 2024

Approaching Stillness, 2020

The Black Gold Museum, Riyadh

The commissioned installation speaks of a once life birthing spring of oil that has now left the needs of mankind behind; a mythical well that once quenched our thirst for modernity and now brings deluge to our natural lives. The installation is a meditative performance that invokes harmony and pause and is a

The Wall, part of Three Books, 2016

The British Museum, London

Three Books is a series of sculptural books, each one a seven-day journey and a story of displacement and migration, in which the paper represents the land we find ourselves on, while the ink staining these landscapes represents the forces that are out of our control and that are causing this migration. The Wall focuses on two people separated by a border. They’re trying to reach each other, experiencing isolation and separation, and can’t find a way. They’re lost in the landscape, looking for ladders and bridges, until one of them climbs down into a hole and out the other side to find the other.

machine performance of four chapters: Thirst, Quench, Flood and Drought, seen as four speeds of rotation. This practice of rotation and circumambulation exists in many faith systems, including Islam. The installation invites the audience to participate in a ceremony of rotation. When synchronicity of pace between the object and mankind is achieved, we may momentarily approach stillness.

Children of Yam, The Wall, 2016, Ink on paper and polymer element, 10 x 29 cm.

The Teaching Tree, 2022

Al Qassem Regional Museum, Buraydah

This permanent exhibition is a manifestation of the irrepressible creative spirit and an embodiment of a living imagination, one that grows despite teachings that seek to cut it down. Through this sculptural installation, Shono explores ideas of resilience and regeneration, both in the natural world and within

human imagination, and how each space can influence the state and forming of the other. Shono interrogates the impact of writing and the generation of thought, as well as their respective potentials. For him, embracing the line and mark-making is an act of creative agency. As such, The Teaching Tree builds on central concepts within his practice, questioning the self, tradition, mythology, and the natural world.

The Teaching Tree, 2019, Sculptural installation, Palm fronds, pigment, pneumatics and metal structure.

CULTURAL NARRATIVES

Drawing on centuries of tradition and know-how, artists from the MENA region have created works that reflect their rich culture and transcend regional boundaries. This extensive collection of artworks by established and emerging talents provides a breathtaking visual map of the region's art world, with a collection of unique works. As it travels around the globe, the show shines the spotlight on the great artistic contributions of the region, while transmitting the exceptional character of each country represented.

Join the show, submit your application through the website.

SOME ENCOUNTERS YOU WEAR FOREVER.

RING, EARRINGS AND BRACELETS IN BEIGE GOLD, WHITE GOLD AND DIAMONDS.