After Rain, the theme of the second Diriyah Contemporary Art Biennale, refers to that moment when a storm has passed, and the desert comes alive. It’s a moment Australians who live in the Outback know well, when flowers spring up out of nowhere and animals go partying. In a world growing hotter and drier, this upsurge is a reminder of nature’s irrepressible life force.
In Saudi Arabia, long viewed as one of the most forbidding places on earth, in terms of climate and lifestyle, After Rain has a broader connotation. It refers to a cultural and political awakening that is transforming this feudal kingdom into a modern, globalised society.
Prince Mohammed Bin Salman may have a reputation as ruthless autocrat but visit Riyadh and one sees the other side of his character: as a social progressive who has invested heavily in infrastructure and allowed a greater range of personal freedoms. I’ve never seen a city with so many new hospitals and health care centres, let alone cultural initiatives. There are also plans for an 86-station metro system – read this, Sydney, and weep.
The most tangible improvements may be in the lives of women. Five years ago, women were not allowed to drive cars in Saudi Arabia. They gained permission in 2018. Now the country boasts a female ambassador, a female racing car driver, and even a female astronaut. A Saudi woman has just climbed Mount Everest! The burka, that black, all-over garment which allows only a glimpse of a woman’s eyes, is a choice not an obligation. The hijab often resembles a fashion item, and there are plenty of women who wear no head covering whatsoever – considered a crime in Iran.
You might argue that the optics conceal a more repressive reality, but in my conversations with Saudis I was struck by their genuine belief that the world has opened up for them over the past five years. It’s the same enthusiasm I met in China during times of liberalisation. There’s always the danger that such freedoms can be rolled back, but for the time being there’s only one imperative: Carpe Diem!
Cultural investment is all part of a grand scheme to make Saudi Arabia the tourist capital of the Middle East. The final flourish will be the legalisation of alcohol for foreigners, who need to drink to know they’re having a good time.
Unlike the current Sydney Biennale, which is spread across six venues, serviced by poor public transport and parking, the Diriyah Biennale is housed in six consecutive warehouses in the JAX district, alongside the UNESCO World Heritage site, At-Turaif, the historic house of Saud, a sprawling, mud-brick citadel that has been beautifully preserved and restored.
The creative director is Uta Meta Bauer, a German curator with extensive experience in Asia, and a name for the age of AI. She has put together a team of five assistant curators, only one of them male, and set about researching art and life in the Kingdom. The result is a thoughtful exhibition that includes more than 170 works of art by 92 artists from 43 countries. This compares favourably with Sydney, which boasts 87 artists or collectives, from 47 countries.
Despite Sydney’s love of multiple venues, to have everything in one place is an absolute bonus.
The Diriyah Biennale does justice to the art of the region, so long lacking a showcase, and brings a whole new range of ideas and experiences to an audience with little first-hand experience of contemporary art. One shouldn’t expect radical political statements or riotous sexual content, but there are many works that reflect on climate issues, on Indigenous culture, on war and injustice.
The Saudis may be selling the oil that promotes global warming, but they’re also busy planting 3 billion trees, creating parks and waterways. Like the Chinese, they have decided to live with the contradictions, regardless of the global priorities.
The curators of the Diriyah Biennale have made a huge effort to reach ordinary Saudis and their families, with displays that aim to educate audiences on the environment and other issues. The earnest intentions are rescued by an engaging display that combines small and large-scale installations, using darkness and light to create theatrical effects.
If the Biennale works as spectacle, thanks to clever exhibition design, the curators themselves all seem to have studied – or be studying – “curatorship”, which leads to a heavily intellectualised approach. How great it would be if people studied to be art historians again, motivated by a passion for art! Instead, we are producing ‘industry professionals’ who view art as a research tool to explore social and political problems. It doesn’t mean these students don’t love their subject, or show memorable works, but there’s a depressing tendency to choose a paradigm and select items that illustrate it.
It might also be said that too many curators spoil the broth, when some of the very best Biennales have been the work of benevolent dictators.
The sheer physical presence of some things cannot be explained away, notably El Anatsui’s installations and environments made from thousands of bottle tops, or pieces of shiny foil turned into chain mail. His Logoligi Logarithm was a complete maze in which one wandered through corridors of glittering metal fragments. There may be a point about ‘recyclying’, but it’s the spatial experience that makes an impression.
So too with Kuwaiti artist, Hamra Abbas, whose Mountain 5 used slabs of lapis lazuli fastened on granite, to create a ten-panel ‘portrait’ of K2, the world’s second-highest peak. There’s a lot of history and mythology wrapped up in this mountain, and Abbas manages to capture the ferocity with which it has resisted all comers.
There’s at least one large, impressive painting, by Saudi artist, Alia Amad (b. 1996). In Alwasm, she makes her sandy homeland look like nature’s wonderland. Meanwhile the Polish artist, Malgorzata Mirga-Tas, has produced a series of colourful portraits of Roma people, constructed from second-hand clothing. The series manages to be both decorative and strangely intimate.
Another Saudi artist, Abdulrahman Al-Soliman (b. 1954), contributed a suite of ink drawings made in 1990, during the Gulf War, but shown for the first time here. These Palm, Bow and Fragments drawings respond to the flashes in the night sky, but also to palm trees, seen as a symbol of resilience.
There’s a volume of artist films and videos in the show, including substantial pieces such as such as Yang Fudong’s Blue Kylin (208) and On the Double Dragon Hills (2012); Liam Young’s futurological saga, The Great Endeavour (2023); and Inez Weizman’s absorbing artist documentary about Josephine Baker, “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all of the world…” (2023) told through historical footage and architectural fragments. From the point of view of a local audience, they are an entirely novel experience.
One of the simplest and most appealing projects is Christine Fenzl’s Women of Riyadh, a series of photo portraits of young local women, some of them lawyers or doctors. They stare out at us, looking confident in their achievements, the new face of Saudi womanhood. The photographs may be formally unremarkable, but they celebrate a cultural shift of momentous proportions. They should be contemplated by those who say they will never visit Saudi Arabia because they don’t want to “support” the regime. It could be argued that what visitors are supporting is cultural exchange and an opening up of attitudes. Let go the preconceptions and one can only feel positive about Riyadh’s efforts to transform itself into a model city for the future.
Diriyah Contemporary Art Biennale: After Rain
Diriyah Art Foundation, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
20 February – 24 May 2024
Published in the Sydney Morning Herald, 13 April, 2024
John McDonald flew from Dubai as a guest of the Diriyah Biennale