This article appeared in Being Muhannad Shono Issue #70 which delves into the world of Saudi artist Muhannad Shono, exploring his creative journey, artistic process, and global impact. Through visuals and an in-depth interview, it highlights Shono’s works that connect personal memory with universal themes. The issue traces his evolution from early creations to monumental installations, revealing a progression driven by curiosity and innovation. This issue celebrates Shono’s global success and his curatorial role in the 2025 Islamic Arts Biennale.
Issue #70 ‘Being Muhannad Shono’
On This Sacred Day 2022
Photo © Artur Weber.
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.