Modern Painters

76 MODERN PAINTERS JUNE/JULY 2016BLOUINARTINFO.COMdown is the least of the thingsthat could happen.” In anabsolute monarchy, the redlinesare sometimes a mystery.In spite of such restrictions,Qatar’s capital continues toattract celebrity artists. Nextyear, Marina Abramovic ́ willconduct a series of lectures andperformances, and exhibit atAl Riwaq. “It is not easy tohave a show in Qatar concerningmy kind of work,” Abramovic ́told me by phone. (When Iasked her to expound on atopic she did not broach in herremarks at the Art forTomorrow conference, shereplied, “If I want to have theshow in Qatar, I shouldn’tsay anything.”)She went on to praiseSheikha Al-Mayassa, to whomKoolhaas introduced her atthe Venice Biennale. “In thepast, who sponsored art?”Abramovic ́ asked, rhetorically.“It was popes, kings, andaristocrats. And now it’s royalfamilies or industry.” She citedRichard Serra’s sculptures``````in the Qatari desert (East-West/West-East, 2014), which shecalled “one of the best pieces heever made in his life.” Butcan art transcend its materialcircumstances, its relation-ship to capital, or are suchmomentous sculpturesinseparable from the princess(and the political system) whocommissioned them?``````In Doha, some of the mostprovocative questions aboutart and politics are beingposed, surprisingly enough, inRIÀFLDOPXVHXPVThe Mathaf Arab Museumof Modern Art grew out of oneroyal’s private collection andhas already expanded toinclude 8,000 pieces. Displayingcanvases of modern Arabmasters who are scarcelyrepresented at American andEuropean institutions, itholds the potential to changethe way we talk about art inthe region. “This collectionis invaluable,” said Al-Qassemi,``````the Emirati art collector.Furthermore, the Mathaf—Arabic for “museum”—iscreating an online Encyclopediaof Modern Art and the ArabWorld, an emerging resourcethat so far includes 40 peer-reviewed artist biographies,high-resolution images, and ahandful of critical essays; a boonfor scholarship considering that,even in Arabic, art publicationsare rare, often out of print, andriddled with inaccuracies.In capturing politicallysubversive moments in recentArab history, the Mathaf subtlycritiques the present. Thework of Egyptian painter Inji(IÁDWRXQFDQEHVHHQKHUHDVpart of a survey of works fromthe collection, on view through6HSWHPEHU(IÁDWRXQKDGpainted portraits of Egyptianworkers until she wasincarcerated by the regime ofGamal Abdel Nasser for herpolitical activities. While inprison, from 1959 to 1963, shepainted fellow inmates, staidwomen in black-and-whitestriped suits, and trees growingoutside the barred windows.1RWIDUIURP(IÁDWRXQ·Vpaintings, Big Brother looms:While photos of the emir hangin all Qatari lobbies, here theviewer is treated to a 10-by-10-foot painting of the former emirand his wife, courtesy of YanPei Ming.A security guard had beenfollowing me from room toroom at the museum—I guesshe was bored. On that recentSaturday afternoon, I was theonly visitor in the Mathaf’s59,000-square-foot space. Hesuggested I visit a room thatheld Street Language #22/23, a2011 mixed-media piece by60-year-old Doha-born artistFaraj Daham. It depicts 12masked men, sporting baseballhats or hard hats, who gaze atthe viewer; they stand againsta bright-yellow backdrop,beyond a barrier of caution tape.Maybe they are protesters orterrorists, but I saw them asworkers shielding themselvesfrom the sweltering sun. The13-foot canvas rouses theFRXQWU\·VVLJQLÀFDQWODERUFRQWURYHUVLHVRQO\RQHLQÀYHresidents is Qatari, and therest are foreign laborers, manyof whom lack basic political``````or economic rights—a situationthat the Guardian has likenedto “modern-day slavery.”As I continued to exploreDoha’s museums, I realized thatone of the few ways locals canengage with a fraught presentis through an exploration ofthe past. The Slavery Museum,a renovated Qatari formerslave owner’s home, confrontslabor issues that would not becovered in the local press. Themuseum’s elegant English andArabic displays describe how,in the pearl and date-cultivationindustries, slaves wereexploited until 1929; variousexhibits detail the horrorsof enslavement across allcontinents. But perhaps themost vital piece of writing inthe museum is a small sidebar,near a photo of foreign migrantworkers lunching in the sun,LQWKHÀQDOURRP ́0DQ\construction workers in therapidly industrializing parts ofthe world, especially theGulf region, are considered tobe contractually enslaved.”As I exited the museum, adozen workers in neon-yellowvests, yellow hats, and red facemasks were paving the newroad connecting the museumsto their parking lots. It wasn’tunrealistic to suppose thatthey lived in tent cities on Doha’soutskirts, part of the mass oflaborers responsible for the city’sgrandeur. On numerousoccasions journalists have beenejected for their investigations.In May 2015, for instance,authorities detained andinterrogated a BBC team visitinglabor encampments deemedoutside the purview of theirRIÀFLDOSUHVVWULS7KUHHUHFHQWTimes articles about Qatar’sart and museums have failedto properly address theseissues. Yet a March 2016 reportpublished by AmnestyInternational illustrates thatthe mistreatment of laborerspersists in spite of thegovernment’s professed policychanges. “Our goal is to createa legacy of improved conditionsfor workers in Qatar and toset the standard for both laborrights and human rights inthe Gulf region,” the Ministryof Foreign Affairs wrote inresponse to Amnesty’s report,which focused on stadiums``````Khalid AlbaihRIGHT:Trapped, 2015.Digital printon canvas,23½ x 23½ in.BELOW:Censorship, 2015.Digital printon canvas.``````KHALID ALBAIH``````O