Designs of the unexpected
We stumble across works by acclaimed British sculptor Henry Moore in the middle of the desert – in the Arabian city of Jeddah
Designs of the Unexpected
IS JEDDAH THE LAST PLACE YOU’D EXPECT TO FIND WORKS BY ARTIST HENRY MOORE? HEAD TO THE BEACH FOR AN INTERNATIONAL SCULPTURE SPECTACLE
report: Warren Singh-Bartlett
AT FIRST SIGHT, Jeddah does little to dispel a traveller’s preconceptions of Saudi Arabia. Seen from the air, the Kingdom’s largest port and the gateway to Mecca looks like just another low-rise metropolis, a far cry from the white-washed, walled town of elegant, coral stone buildings, delicatefiligree wooden balconies and windows that enchanted Muslim pilgrims and Western travellers for centuries.
Old Jeddah began to disappear in the 1940s as the city began to expand. By the 1960s, Jeddah was ultra fast-growing and is now 1,000 times larger than it was 100 years ago. Some of its nicer homes, all decaying gracefully, linger on in the old city, awaiting transformation into restaurants or boutique hotels. But Jeddah’s modern incarnation is a vast carpet of residential compounds and malls knit together by neat, brightly-lit roads and a multitude of minarets. First impressions, however, can be misleading.
Jeddah boasts a surprising artistic treasure trove. Its famous seafront promenade, the Corniche has, over the course of the last 40 years, become one of the world’s largest outdoor art museums. Although it is the last place that you would expect to come across such a discovery, it is home to hundreds of pieces of abstract art by some of the world’s most acclaimed artists – amongst them renowned British sculptor Henry Moore and Spanish Surrealist artist Joan Mirò.
You’ll be able tofind some particlarly recognisable pieces – optical-art genius Victor Vasarely has a series of Rubik’s Cube-like psychedelic tiled sculptures on show and mobile master Alexander Calder has an installation here too. Julio Lafuente’s sculpture, ‘Science and Faith’ is made up of 72 marbles weighing 1.8 tonnes each, all balanced on top of one another in four separate columns. This is one of his demonstrations of antigravity and his equally defiant ‘White Wings’ further underscores this Spanish sculptor’s battle to overcome the laws of physics. Also worth looking out for is Egyptian artist Mustafa Senbel’s simple but moving abstract reliefs of nature.
Then there is the giant bronzefist and a partial face. I imagined they were about as close tofigurative art as Saudi Arabia ever got, with its Islamic aversion to images of living things. One can’t help but wonder if they had been controversial at the time. But several Saudis there assured us that this was no longer an issue, especially as Jeddah has a reputation for being one of the most liberal cities in the Kingdom.
Later that evening, as a brisk sea breeze chased away the day’s heat, I set off in search of pieces by Moore and Mirò, both of whom were artistic giants of the 20th century.
With temperatures from 40-45°C and humidity in the high 90s, Jeddah barely moves by day but towards evening the Corniche is transformed: picnicking families, married couples out for a stroll, gaggles of young men sipping coffee, children playing with balloons, adults indulging in people-watching or contemplating the 260-metre water fountain in the bay next to the Al-Salam Palace – all gathered to the backdrop of the artistic pieces. Swaying through the crowds were technicolour camel carts covered in more lights than a Christmas tree, carrying delighted passengers along the beach. So great is all the people paraphernalia before you, that you could walk for several hours before youfinally notice the sculptures. But it’s certainly worth earmarking time to explore them properly. Public artworks can be found all over Jeddah and since thefirst sculptures went up in the early 1970s, they have spread from the Corniche to nearly every roundabout or interchange in the city.
There are giant incense burners, coffee pots (see page 36), a geometry set, a giant bicycle, a series of traditional oil lanterns and a giant, illuminated globe (see page 40). Some, like the flotilla offishing boats marooned on the crests of concrete waves, celebrate Jeddah’s maritime past. Others, like the sculpture of cars protruding at wild angles from a giant marble-clad cube (see page 37), appear to be public safety warnings, in this case the danger of paying too much attention to art whilst driving.
Household objects are a common subject and, this being the Kingdom of the Two Holy Mosques, so is Islam. So, there is a pair of marble hands poised in prayer, a plethora of crescents and numerous attempts to capture Koranic passages in metal and stone, amongst them an intricately carved marble block that reminds strollers there is no god but God. There’s also a metal exclamation of devotion and most strikingly, Lebanese sculptor Aref al-Rayess’s forest of swords, which is arranged in way that from every angle they spell ‘Allah’, the Arabic word for ‘God’.
Perhaps it was the heat. Or perhaps it was the profusion of religious motifs I’d just walked past, but by the time I found my curvaceous bronze Moore, it seemed overwhelmingly sensual. With its plump curves and round lines, it was just begging to be stroked. And, as the Corniche was still empty I surrendered to temptation. Much, I imagine, to the amusement of passing cars.
Cup of Mocha?
Given Jeddah’s once central role in the early coffee trade – Yemeni, Ethiopian and Mocha beans all passed through here on their way to European coffee houses – it’s hardly surprising that the city has a love-affair with café culture.
Traditionally, coffee would have been served Arabic-style, a yellowish, fruity yet bitter broth that comes sweetened with dates rather than sugar. It is still served all over the Gulf but in recent years, thick, black Turkish coffee as well as alien concoctions like cappuccinos, have shaken up the scene.
These days, café culture largely means Starbucks (the one in Le Mall on Tahliya is particularly popular), Costa Coffee or Lebanese chains like Casper & Gambini (+966 (0)2 665 2552) on Al-Andalus Street. At the upper end of the scale are places like Green Island (02 694 0999) on the North Corniche, where you can either eat or down cups of coffee and vividly-coloured fruit cocktails in wooden bungalows on the water. There are also ultra-modern café/restaurants like the Java Lounge (02 959 9940) in the Palestine Commercial Centre at the junction of Falasteen Street and Al-Andalus.
Far less glitzy but with a crumbling charm of their own are the old coffee houses in the Bab al-Madinah quarter of the Old City. The perfect stop for a cup of Arab coffee after a tour of Jeddah’s ornately decorated merchant’s homes and its bustling bazaars. The best of the lot, although there is little difference between them, is Harat as-Sham (by the footbridge on Zahab Street) and the Fishawy (on Maydan al-Bayal) also has its devotees. Both, however, cater to an exclusively male and decidedly proletarian clientele.
