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Saudi artist Ahaad Alamoudi presents ‘The Social Health Club’ in Basel 

Saudi artist Ahaad Alamoudi presents ‘The Social Health Club’ in Basel 
Saudi artist Ahaad Alamoudi is presenting ‘The Social Health Club’ in Basel. (Supplied)
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Updated 15 June 2025

Saudi artist Ahaad Alamoudi presents ‘The Social Health Club’ in Basel 

Saudi artist Ahaad Alamoudi presents ‘The Social Health Club’ in Basel 

RIYADH: This month, Saudi artist Ahaad Alamoudi is turning up the heat at Basel Social Club — which runs until June 21 in the Swiss city — with her latest installation, “The Social Health Club.” 

Freshly conceived, but rooted in the artist’s past works, the yellow-drenched installation offers a layered, sensory experience — and sharp cultural commentary — as well as a first for the artist: a live-performance element. 

Jeddah-based Alamoudi is known for creating immersive multimedia installations drawing from and exploring the complex dynamics of her evolving homeland. “The Social Health Club” is built around pieces found in Jeddah’s Haraj market in 2018 — a range of exercise equipment including a rowing machine.  




Ahaad Alamoudi. (Supplied)

“These are pieces I collected from thrifting. I like the fact that no instructions came with the machines — I don’t have their name or the source of where they came from or who made them. But they’ve become part of the urban landscape that I’ve been in. And I was trying to create fun within the space,” Alamoudi told Arab News. 

In “The Social Health Club,” the equipment, painted predominantly in vibrantly-saturated monochrome yellow, stands untouched, serving as symbols of a culture obsessed with self-optimization. At the core of the installation is a cameo from a yellow-painted iron previously featured in her 2020 video work “Makwah Man.” (Makwah means iron in Arabic.) 




 Part of Ahaad Alamoudi's 'The Social Health Club' at Basel Social Club. (Supplied)

“A lot of my pieces stem from a narrative I create within a video. In ‘Makwah Man,’ this man wearing a yellow thobe is ironing a long piece of yellow fabric in the middle of the desert. And as he’s ironing, he tells us how to live our lives. But in the process of him telling us how to live our lives, he also starts questioning his own in the process — understanding the role of power, understanding the pressure of change, adaptation,” Alamoudi explained. 

“The yellow exists within the video piece, but he’s also wearing yellow thobe in the video piece. And (in this iteration at Art Basel) there’s also a rack of yellow thobes twirling in the exhibition. For me, the yellow thobe is like a unifying symbol. I’m trying to say that we’re all experiencing this in different ways. So in the performance (for “The Social Health Club”) a man (a local body builder) in a yellow thobe will be performing on these machines. He has no rule book. He doesn’t know anything; he doesn’t know how to ‘properly’ use the equipment. He’s going to go into the space and do things with the machines. 

“The performance will be recorded. But I think it’s more like an activation,” she continued. “It’s not the piece itself. The piece itself exists as the machines.” 

“The Social Health Club” was shaped through close collaboration with curator Amal Khalaf, who combed Jeddah’s market with Alamoudi in search of “machines that were a little bit abnormal, like not your typical machines that people would directly know what it is in the gym,” Alamoudi said.  

“She’s quite incredible,” she continued. “And we really built the space together. Essentially, the main thing that I created was the video; everything else was built off of that. She really helped. She really looked at social change and how we navigate that. Our collaboration was perfect.” 

Yellow dominates every inch of the piece—deliberately and intensely. 

“I obsess over symbols within certain works I create. And with that also comes a color,” Alamoudi said. “I wanted to showcase something that was luxurious, colorful, almost like gold, but it’s not gold. It’s quite stark in its appearance.” 

Yellow is both invitation and warning. “I think that yellow is also quite deceptive. I like it as a color to get people excited to come closer and see what’s happening, but at the same time question what it is — it’s so aggressive that it becomes a bit uncomfortable.” 




 A still from Alamoudi's 2020 video work 'Makwah Man,' which is also part of 'The Social Health Club'. (Supplied)

The viewer’s interaction is critical to the piece’s meaning. 

“I think the machines represent something and they carry something, but they really are activated by the people — what people are doing with them,” Alamoudi said. “And that’s why I’m encouraging a lot of viewers to engage with and use the pieces, or try to use them without any instruction. A lot of people entering into the space (might) fear even touching or engaging with them. Having the performer there activating the structures is going to add another layer to the piece itself.” 

She hopes visitors feel free to explore, unburdened by expectations. 

“People are meant to use it any way that they want to use it. They can sit on it, stand on it, touch it — they can leave it alone,” she concluded with a laugh. 


How a new generation of Arab artisans is reinventing traditional crafts for modern markets and global audiences

How a new generation of Arab artisans is reinventing traditional crafts for modern markets and global audiences
Updated 09 November 2025

How a new generation of Arab artisans is reinventing traditional crafts for modern markets and global audiences

How a new generation of Arab artisans is reinventing traditional crafts for modern markets and global audiences
  • Once-endangered artisanal skills are becoming engines of innovation, turning cultural memory into economic empowerment
  • Women across the region are driving a craft revival, transforming inherited knowledge into livelihoods and leadership

DUBAI: Across the Arab world, traditional crafts are finding new life in the hands of modern makers. From Sharjah to Damascus, Beirut to Amman, artisans are reviving techniques once at risk of disappearing — transforming heritage into livelihoods and art into survival.

In ֱ, 2025 has been declared the Year of Handicrafts — a nationwide initiative led by the Ministry of Culture and the Heritage Commission to highlight traditional crafts and bring them into the modern economy.

Culture Minister Prince Badr bin Abdullah bin Farhan described handicrafts as “a reflection of the creativity of Saudi society through weaving, handmade artifacts and artistic innovations passed down through generations.”

ֱ's Culture Minister Prince Badr bin Abdullah bin Farhan. (SPA file photo)

The program supports pottery, palm-frond work, leathercraft and Sadu weaving, while training young Saudis to turn inherited know-how into sustainable design businesses.

Among those leading the change is Arwa Al-Ammari, founder of ArAm Designs and a member of the Saudi Fashion Commission.

“When I first launched ArAm, many Saudi designers were still in the early stages of exploring how to express their identity,” she told Arab News. “Heritage was often treated as something to either preserve traditionally or reference subtly.”

Through her label, she reinterprets local embroidery and beadwork in contemporary silhouettes — “capturing Saudi culture’s warmth and storytelling traditions, not just motifs.” Her words echo the wider spirit of Vision 2030: innovation rooted in memory.

In Sharjah, the Irthi Contemporary Crafts Council has become a bridge between Emirati artisans and global designers.

Operating under the NAMA Women Advancement Establishment, Irthi trains women in traditional crafts such as Talli (hand-braiding), Safeefah (palm weaving), Sadu and embroidery through its Bidwa Social Development Programme, helping them preserve heritage while turning their skills into sustainable livelihoods.

Safeefah, the craft of palm-frond weaving, is one of the traditional heritage being taught at Irthi’s Skill Development Center in the UAE. (Supplied)

Each year, the council selects the crafts it will highlight and opens workshops tailored to different age groups and experience levels.

According to Sherifa Al-Thuhoori, manager of Irthi’s Skill Development Center, the council operates under “a cohesive annual plan that identifies the traditional and contemporary crafts to be highlighted each year.”

She explained that workshops were designed with clear training stages so that “artisans can progress gradually from learners to advanced levels of craftsmanship.” After each session, participants are evaluated to ensure the effectiveness of the training and to track individual growth.

“These crafts reflect our commitment to advancing artisanal expertise and empowering women to turn their craft into a sustainable livelihood,” Al-Thuhoori told Arab News.

Talli is a traditional craft based on intricate thread weaving using the Kajoujah. (Ithri Council photo)

Talli and Safeefah are central to this mission.

Talli is a traditional craft based on intricate thread weaving using the Kajoujah (also known as Kjouja), a metal tool consisting of two opposing cones topped with an oval cushion.

Threads are wound around spools in varying numbers depending on the design, while metallic threads known as Khousah are woven repeatedly and systematically to create beautifully patterned textiles.

“Safeefah, meanwhile, is the craft of palm-frond weaving,” said Al-Thuhoori.

“It begins with collecting, cleaning and drying the fronds, which are then woven either in their natural color or after dyeing. The final stage involves stitching the woven material into mats, baskets, and other functional objects.”

The Zenobie collection, introduced by Irthi and Nada Debs, is an intricately crafted interpretation of the vessels traditionally carried by Bedouin women. (Photo courtesy of Nada Debs)

Through initiatives such as Design Labs and Crafts Dialogue, Irthi artisans also collaborate with local and international designers.

A notable example, Al-Thuhoori said, was the collaboration between Emirati designer Abdullah Al-Mulla and Spanish designer Pepa Riverto, which merged Safeefah and pottery techniques.

The result was a collection of dining chairs and tables crafted from clay that, when assembled, form sculptural columns — a reflection of how traditional crafts can be integrated into contemporary furniture design.

Since its establishment, the council has introduced well-studied strategies to support artisans across social, economic and creative dimensions.

“We now see strong motivation and healthy competition among the women,” Al-Thuhoori said. “They take pride in innovating within their craft and representing their achievements confidently.”

More samples of the work of artisans trained at Irthi’s Skill Development Center. (Instagram: irthicouncil)
 

One such example is Amna Al-Thanhani, who began as a Talli trainee and has since become a trainer, mentoring a new generation of learners.

Sharjah’s designation as a UNESCO Creative City for Crafts and Folk Art in 2019 has amplified Irthi’s visibility and highlighted its role in preserving and modernizing Emirati crafts.

The recognition, Al-Thuhoori said, has strengthened regional and international partnerships, positioning Sharjah as “a vibrant hub for heritage innovation — where traditional craftsmanship meets contemporary design to build a sustainable creative future.”

The revival of heritage through craft, however, is not unique to the UAE.

In Jordan, hundreds of Palestinian refugee women are preserving another kind of story — stitched into fabric.

At the Social Enterprise Project, embroidery remains a time-honored craft that resists mechanization, with each stitch telling a story. (Supplied)

The Social Enterprise Project, based in Jerash Camp, employs more than 600 embroiderers who produce hand-finished scarves and keffiyehs inspired by traditional Palestinian patterns.

Each artisan signs her piece — a small but radical act of authorship.

According to SEP’s founders, embroidery remains “a time-honored craft that resists mechanization; each stitch tells a story.”

Their work has found new resonance through collaborations with regional designers such as Dana Odeh, founder and managing director of Rock n’ Shine.

She said the partnership with SEP began only months after launching her brand in 2018 while she was living in Russia.

At the Jerash Camp in Jordan, the Social Enterprise Project employs more than 600 embroiderers who produce hand-finished scarves and keffiyehs inspired by traditional Palestinian patterns. (Supplied)

Their work has found new resonance through collaborations with regional designers such as Dana Odeh, founder and managing director of Rock n’ Shine.

She said the partnership with SEP began only months after launching her brand in 2018 while she was living in Russia.

Eager to stay connected to Middle Eastern craftsmanship, she was drawn to SEP’s mission and the women behind it.

“As a Palestinian, when I came across SEP and learned about their work empowering women artisans in Jerash Refugee Camp, something truly moved inside me,” Odeh told Arab News.

“Their story and the beauty of their hand-embroidered creations made me feel deeply connected to my roots and to the strength of my people. I instantly knew that if I were to represent a brand, it should be this one.”

Odeh focuses on keeping heritage intact while giving it modern relevance. She said each design choice began with meaning — motifs that carry emotion or memory — and she aimed to present them “in a way that feels modern and easy to wear.”

Her goal, she said, was to let the craftsmanship shine without making it feel old-fashioned, allowing the artistry of Palestinian embroidery to speak to contemporary audiences.

The embroidery created by SEP’s artists embodies generations of history and identity, according to Dana Odeh, founder and managing director of Rock n’ Shine. (Supplied)

“Since I represent SEP, I always try to stay true to their trademark patterns and authentic designs,” she said.

“These motifs already carry so much meaning and history, and I feel it’s important to preserve that. I might play a little with the colors or the way the embroidery is placed to make it more wearable today, but the heart of it, the traditional stitching and its story, always stays the same.”

Odeh sees her role as a bridge between authenticity and modern appeal.

The embroidery created by SEP’s artists, she said, embodies generations of history and identity, and she works to frame that heritage through current silhouettes and styling so that “the story stays the same, but the way we tell it speaks to more people.”

She said Rock n’ Shine began as a small handmade jewelry project in Moscow, but her discovery of SEP gave it deeper purpose, evolving the brand into a space that celebrates ethical craftsmanship and meaningful design.

“We now work not only with SEP but also with MADE51, a UN initiative supporting refugee artisans around the world. For me, it’s about helping the underprivileged, giving talented artisans the chance to earn, sustain their families, and feel proud of their work — using fashion to create opportunity, dignity and hope,” she said.

At the social Enterprise Project, each artisan signs her piece — a small but radical act of authorship. (Supplied)

At its heart, she added, the brand was about giving meaning to what people wear — pieces that connect beauty with purpose.

In Lebanon, design itself has become a language of resilience.

In May 2024, We Design Beirut transformed the city’s industrial landmarks — Villa Audi, PS Lab, and the Abroyan Factory — into living galleries.

The four-day event, founded by Mariana Wehbe alongside Samer Al-Ameen, brought together furniture-makers, metal artisans, and textile designers to highlight Beirut’s creative pulse.

“Our mandate for We Design Beirut was to ensure the exposure and sustainability of the different segments of the design scene in Lebanon,” Wehbe told Entrepreneur Middle East.

In another interview she added: “Creativity is the heartbeat of Beirut, and it is our intention to make sure it is brought back to life once again.”

Farther east, in Damascus, that conversation continues quietly through Aghabani embroidery — the fine silk-and-gold stitching once prized in Levantine homes. Small ateliers still produce table linens and garments bearing patterns unchanged for a century, even as many artisans have left the country.

Stitch design for Aghabani. (Photo courtesy: Rania Kataf / Syrian heritage Archive)

Their survival is less about commerce than continuity. To them, every finished piece is proof that war has not silenced Syria’s artisans.

Across these landscapes, from government initiatives and design councils to refugee collectives and family workshops, one thing is clear. Handmade traditions are not fading. They are changing, they are being rewoven into new economies, new identities, and new forms of beauty.

In every pattern and stitch, the region’s heritage continues to find its place in the present.