Arabs & Arabian Records Aggregator. Chronicler. Milestones of the 25 Countries of the Arabic Speaking World (official / co-official). AGCC. MENA. Global. Ist's to Top 10's. Records. Read & Enjoy./ www.arabianrecords.org
Pioneering Saudi filmmaker Haifaa Al-Mansour has been appointed to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences’ Board of Governors, the Red Sea Film Foundation announced on Instagram.
“As one of three newly named governors-at-large, Al-Mansour will represent the Directors Branch and bring her singular voice, vision, and global perspective to the Academy’s leadership for the 2025–2026 term and beyond,” they captioned the post.
“An incredible milestone for one of Saudi Arabia’s most celebrated filmmakers. We’re proud to see her continue shaping the future of cinema on a global stage.” In 2012, Al-Mansour made history as she released her first feature film “Wadjda.” It was the first feature film shot entirely in the Kingdom and the first feature-length film made by a female Saudi director.
Over the years, Al-Mansour has also become one of the most in-demand television directors in Hollywood, helming episodes of hit series including “Archive 81,” “City of Fire,” “Tales of the Walking Dead,” and “Bosch: Legacy.”
In 2019, Al-Mansour’s feature film “The Perfect Candidate” was submitted as Saudi Arabia’s official entry for the International Feature Film Award at the 92nd Academy Awards, but it was not nominated.
19 June marks 7th death anniversary of Amal Farid (1938-2018), an iconic Egyptian actress who captured hearts with her elegance and innocence.
Amal Farid was born on 12 February 1938 in Cairo’s Abbassiya district.
Farid’s career was launched at the hands of Baba Sharo (Mohamed Mahmoud Shaaban) in the early 1950s, when she was hired to work on his children’s radio show.
She was recommended by writers Mostafa Amin and Anis Mansour to appear in her first movie Mawed Maa El-Saada (A Date with Happiness), with mega star Faten Hamama in 1954.
This was soon followed by roles alongside the greatest stars of her time—most notably Abdel Halim Hafez, with whom she shared the screen in the classic film Layali El-Hob (Nights of Love, 1955), marking beginning of a connection that stirred rumors of a relationship between the two.
The starlets for whom Abdel-Halim sang in movies were very few. Amal Farid was among them, however, and she was envied by almost every girl in the Arab world for decades after Abdel-Halim sang Kefaya Norak Alaya in the film, where he and Farid danced in an iconic romantic scene.
Farid said in interviews that it was Abdel-Halim who asked for her by name to star alongside him in the movie.
Farid, who was known for her elegant and convincing acting style, worked most frequently alongside Ahmed Ramzy and the famous comedian Ismail Yassin.
She was fortunate to find directors who were able to utilise her talent in various roles. Such directors include Fateen Abdel-Wahab, Salah Abou Seif, Kamal El-Sheikh and Hussein Helmy El-Mohandes.
Farid was not always the main starlet in movies, but her presence was always felt, and she always made her mark with her convincing performance.
Director Henry Barakat brought Farid out of the pure girl role in Banat El-Yom (1957), where she embodied the personality of a spoiled, selfish girl. In the film, she provokes the hatred of the audience when she tries to spoil her sister’s love affair a nobleman played by Abdel-Halim, whom she accuses of trying to rape her out of jealousy.
The role was a surprise when the movie came out in 1957, but critics appreciated her performance and recognised the talented, capable and credible actress.
Farid’s filmography includes Banat El-Yom (1957), Seraa Maal Hayat (1957), Min Agl Emraa (1959), Ismail Yassin Fil Tayaran (1959), Banat Bahri (1961), Zekrayat El-Talmaza (1965), and Geziret El-Oshak (1968).
Farid gave up on her acting career in the late 1960s and moved to live with her husband in Moscow. She returned to Egypt a decade later and received a number of smaller roles, but her film career never picked up with the same strength.
Farid spent her final years in a home for the elderly in Cairo, and went through surgery months before her passing on 19 June 2018 at the age of 80.
The Championship, which was held with participation of huge numbers of Olympic & world champions, took place at Hamdan Sports Complex and organized by Hamilton Aquatics and ESM Academy in collaboration with the Dubai Sports Council, as part of the Council’s policy to attract & develop sports talents, and in line with Dubai Government’s vision to attract & develop talents in all fields.
The Arab male & female swimmers have attained new records at the level of their national federations during this Championship. In this regard, the Tunisian swimmer Habiba Belghaith has set a new Tunisian record in the 50 M breaststroke (women’s category) with a time of 32.35 seconds, surpassing the previous Tunisian record of 32.68 seconds which was achieved by her compatriot Sara Lajnef.
Tara Aloul of Jordan finished the 200 M race (women’s individual category) within a time of 2:24.78 minutes to break her previous record of 2:25.56 minutes.
Zaid Al-Saraj from Saudi Arabia has attained a new Saudi national record in the 50 M freestyle (men’s category) with a time of 23.22 seconds, surpassing the previous record of his compatriot Yousef Bu Arish with 23.35 seconds.
The Lebanese swimmer Lynn Al-Hajj achieved a new record for the Lebanese open swimming in the 200 M breaststroke (women’s category), as she recorded 2:32.74 minutes, breaking her previous record of 2:33.22 minutes.
The British Olympic champion Ben Praud secured 1st place in the 50 M freestyle with a time of 21.99 seconds. The Switzerland’s Noé Pont, the bronze medalist in the 100 M butterfly at Tokyo Olympics 2020 and three-time world champion, has opened his 2025 season by setting a new world record of 22.83 seconds in the 50 M butterfly during the Championship.
The Lebanese swimmer Lamar Al-Hajj from Decathlon Club was named as the Best Junior Female Swimmer, while Santiago Valbuena from Dhahran Youth Swimming Club in Saudi Arabia won the Best Junior Male Swimmer’s Award. The All-Stars Swimming Academy from the UAE claimed the Best Junior Club’s Title.
The Netherland’s Tessa Jelly from Feyenoord Albion Swimming Club won the best swimmer’s title in the women’s open category, besides the short distances’ title. The Netherlands’ Shawn Nieuwold from Feyenoord Albion Swimming Club won the best swimmer’s title in the men’s open category, and gained the short distances’ title. “My Swim Club” from Dubai won the Best Club’s title in the Open Category.
Distinctive Participation:
Dubai Open Swimming Championship was held with distinctive participation of 1,294 male & female swimmers who competed in 136 different races in juniors & professionals categories, represented 122 global clubs of 30 countries from the various continents of the world; these are: Algeria, Oman, Australia, Pristina, Azerbaijan, Qatar, Bahrain, Romania, Belarus, Russia, Egypt, Scotland, England, Serbia, Estonia, Seychelles, Faroe Islands, South Africa, India, Switzerland, Iran, Tanzania, Jordan, Thailand, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Kuwait, Lebanon, Uganda, in addition to the UAE.
Olympic Champions:
The Championship witnessed participation of elite of Olympic champions & world record’s holders, besides group of elite of swimmers from various countries of the world, and therefore the event has become one of the top competitive swimming championships. Among the prominent participants in this Championship were the British Olympic champion Duncan Scott, winner of 8 Olympic medals & 20 global medals / the Swiss Noy Bonte, who gained Olympic bronze medal and 19 world medals / the British world champion Ben Praud, the winner of Paris Olympics 2024 silver medal besides 29 world medals / the Canadian Marie-Sophie Harvey, winner of 21 world medals /Lara Van Niekerk, winner of two world medals.
Model & Lifestyle Influencer Nour Arida Joins Serena Williams in Audemars Piguet Campaign.
When Audemars Piguet picked the faces for its 150th anniversary campaign, it chose icons. Nour Arida was the only Arab woman among them.
In the world of luxury watchmaking, Arab women aren’t often on the moodboard. But this year, that changed.
For its 150th anniversary, Audemars Piguet didn’t just call in the usual faces – it summoned a lineup of global icons. Serena Williams. Winnie Harlow. Tamara Kalinic. And, for the first time ever, an Arab woman: Nour Arida.
Draped in AP’s legacy, the Lebanese model-slash-creative-slash-cultural force owned the frame.
“I always try to push boundaries,” Arida says, in what might be the understatement of the year. “It’s like being part of a real family, being part of the AP family.”
Dr. Bashair Ibrahim is a symbol of hope, a testament to the strength of the human spirit, and a living example of perseverance.
Her story of overcoming disability is an inspiration to anyone who has faced adversity.
Ibrahim spoke to Arab News about how she navigated a challenging career, fueled by unwavering determination and a profound passion for healing.
“One of the most rewarding aspects of working as a pediatrician is the opportunity to care for children, especially at such a young age when they haven’t yet formed judgments or perceptions about disability,” Ibrahim said.
“I find that my connection with them is pure and genuine; they see me for who I am, not for any physical limitations. We build trust and warmth in a very natural way.”
Ibrahim’s journey, marked by both triumphs and systemic barriers, offers a vital perspective on inclusivity, accessibility, and the importance of challenging societal norms.
Her interest in medicine was sparked early, spending time around medical equipment due to mobility challenges.
“As a result of being in a car or using a wheelchair, I started to see a lot of machines, a lot of devices, X-rays, devices they use, needles,” she explained.
This ignited curiosity, leading her to explore the intricacies of the human body and medical science. This was not a deterrent; it fueled her path to healing.
“These experiences from a young age make one stronger,” she said.
Her fascination with science continued, and she began volunteering for lab activities — excelling in biology. This early experience combined with an interest in medical dramas solidified her career aspirations. The allure of understanding the human body and alleviating suffering proved irresistible.
“I liked the science itself,” she recalled. “I was learning more about humans, about how organs work, what diseases can come from that.”
Applying to medical school presented hurdles. Many universities lacked accessibility for individuals with mobility impairments.
She recounted a disheartening experience at one university where the main entrance was only accessible via a long staircase.
Despite finding an alternative route, the dean still denied her access citing concerns about opening hours.
This highlighted a frustrating reality: systemic biases can hinder progress, even when solutions exist.
Undeterred, Ibrahim sought admission to another private university. The director made a comment that stuck with her, asking: how would a patient treat a patient?
For Ibrahim, this dismissive remark is one example of societal biases surrounding people with disabilities in healthcare.
It underscored the need to challenge preconceived notions and recognize potential regardless of physical limitations.
“It never made sense then, it doesn’t make sense now,” she said, emphasizing the enduring impact of prejudice.
Despite these obstacles, Ibrahim remained committed. She specialized in pediatrics, driven by a deep-seated desire to positively impact children’s lives.
“What also makes this work deeply meaningful is the respect I often receive from families,” she explained.
“Many parents have told me they admire the way I’ve pursued a career in medicine despite the challenges that come with having a disability.
“Their appreciation reminds me that I’m not only helping their children medically, but also offering a visible example of resilience and determination.
“That mutual respect, and the human connection it fosters, is something I treasure deeply in my work.”
Ibrahim is acutely aware of misconceptions surrounding doctors with disabilities.
“One of the biggest misconceptions about doctors with disabilities is the stereotype that we are limited in our ability to practice medicine effectively,” she noted.
“I often notice surprise when families meet me for the first time, but I see that as a chance to challenge those assumptions through my work.”
She has adapted her approach to ensure her disability does not compromise care quality.
“I perform the full physical examination while seated, and I’ve adapted my approach to ensure that nothing is compromised in the quality of care I deliver.
“Over time, families come to see that my disability doesn’t define my capability.”
She believes that mentorship is crucial for aspiring medical professionals with disabilities, emphasizing the importance of role models who understand both the clinical demands and personal challenges they face.
Her message is clear: equal access, thoughtful accommodations and representation are essential, and her story is a testament to how people can overcome barriers and achieve their full potential.
source/content: arabnews.com (headline edited)
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Dr. Bashair Ibrahim overcame prejudice and lack of accessibility to achieve career success. (Supplied)
My dearest friend Fatima Hassouna has been martyred.
Writing this feels unreal – as if I am waiting for her familiar voice to echo in my ear.
We had a playful way of saying “hello” to each other. And Fatima had the most magical of laughs.
She could disarm you instantly.
But the silence remains and the void caused by her absence is too vast to comprehend.
Fatima was a photographer and a filmmaker. More importantly – for me – she was an extremely warm human being.
She was strong and – in a good way – stubborn.
I knew Fatima from childhood. But life – as it often does – had pulled us apart for many years.
It wasn’t until Israel launched its genocidal war against Gaza that we became close again. This happened unexpectedly during a film project.
Fatima was behind the camera, and I was there with a pen in order to write articles.
Our reunion – despite the chaotic circumstances – rekindled something profound. Our shared grief and resilience made our friendship deeper.
Fatima was deeply committed to her craft. She never simply documented a moment. She became part of it.
She had a rare ability to earn trust quickly.
The subjects of her photography were not just faces or stories. They were people she befriended.
Fatima’s camera wasn’t a barrier. It was a bridge.
She always said that she wanted not just to carry a message but to show kindness to the people she filmed or photographed.
At Fatima’s core was a sense of purpose. She came from a place of love.
We lived just a street apart in Gaza City all our lives.
After the genocide began, we would walk everywhere together. There were no taxis around and prices were rising ever higher.
Each morning, Fatima would call.
“Wait for me,” she would say. “Let’s walk together.”
And so we did.
Those walks were more than just a means of getting from A to B. They were our little escapes.
We shared everything: sorrows, secrets, silly thoughts.
I never had to pretend to be anything I wasn’t when I was with Fatima.
There were no walls between us. Just warmth and honesty.
Tender rebellion
When Fatima got engaged recently, her happiness was contagious. Despite the hunger, and the overwhelming darkness that Israel’s genocidal war had brought, she lit up like a child planning a birthday party.
We would go to the market almost daily, hunting for clothes that she could wear as she went out with her fiancé.
I remember how excited she was, how we laughed even as we carried heavy bags for long distances.
Her joy in those days amounted to a tender rebellion, a statement that love and life still mattered in the face of devastation.
We developed a ritual with our friends.
Every week, we would gather in one of our homes. We cooked whatever food we had, brewed bitter tea – we had no sugar – and sang.
We sang until the pain dulled and the laughter returned.
Those nights were our anesthesia. They allowed us to breathe in suffocating times.
Fatima was always our anchor.
She told stories, and her laughter filled the room. We could see sorrow in her eyes, but it was mixed with hope.
An unbreakable hope.
Fatima had an enchanting voice when she sang. Like something from heaven.
When the sound of Israel’s drones became too much for me to bear, I would listen to a recording of Fatima singing. Her voice brought me peace.
It served as a reminder that something pure still existed in this world.
Friendships formed – or in this case, revived – during genocide are unlike any other. They are shaped by shared experiences of hunger, sleepless nights and the constant nearness of death.
When Fatima was killed, it was like a limb had been severed from my body. I felt incomplete.
I still do.
Every night, I continue to wait for her call. I wait for the way she would tell me – without preamble – how she was feeling that day.
She would always wish to God that she would never be deprived of me.
But now I am deprived of Fatima. And it hurts more than words can express.
Fatima and I worked as a team. During the genocide, we would go down to al-Yarmouk – the football stadium that has became a huge shelter for displaced people – she with her camera, I with my notebook.
We inspired each other.
Fatima told me that she loved how I put people’s experiences into words.
“I love your ideas,” she said. “They make me want to shoot better.”
I wish that she was still around to tell her how much I loved her eye for a good photograph or image.
How she saw not just the suffering in a person but the soul behind it.
How she brought dignity to every frame.
Last winter, we were working in al-Yarmouk stadium, where the conditions were especially dire. Seeing the suffering around her, Fatima said that we must help.
I asked her to speak with the director of the film project she was working on about distributing blankets. She did and soon we were part of a mission to not only document hardship but to relieve it.
That day, we weren’t just storytellers. We were part of the story.
And Fatima was glowing. She had done something she had always dreamed of: She had made a difference.
Fatima was only 25.
Just 25.
Yet her heart carried the weight of centuries, and her spirit was brighter than a thousand suns. She was childlike and wise, gentle and fierce, brave and vulnerable.
She was exceptional. I carry her memory with me every moment.
I see her in the morning light, in the silence of a street where we once walked, in the stories we still need to tell.
Losing her is unbearable. But remembering her – keeping her voice, her laughter, her vision alive – is my way of holding on.
She was my sister, my confidante, my light.
May the world never forget the name Fatima Hassouna.
May the stories she told outlive the genocide that took her.
And may we all learn from her to live with courage, to work with purpose, and to love – always – with everything we have.
Asmaa Abdu is an academic writer and a project coordinator at the UCAS Technology Incubator in Gaza.
In an interview with The New Arab, Nahil Bishara’s grandchildren speak about their grandmother’s artistic legacy and her role in preserving Palestinian identity.
History is full of remarkable yet forgotten women whose stories have yet to be told.
One such case is the late Palestinian artist and designer Nahil Bishara, an active and erudite woman who sought to preserve her Palestinian identity through endless creativity despite living through constant political instability in her homeland.
“Generally, artists at the time created art to sell, but she never created art to sell. She created art to anchor her Palestinianness”
Nearly three decades after Nahil Bishara’s passing, her grandchildren are ready to share her story with the world.
“She was always up to something artistic,” the artist’s UAE-based grandson, Assad Bishara, told The New Arab.
“She was somebody who wanted to master any kind of artistic medium she could get onto her hands. Whatever she got her hands on, she created something out of it,” Assad added.
Echoing this sentiment is his sister, Talia Bishara, a public relations specialist in culture, who fondly remembers her grandmother as a woman of taste of the Sixties era.
“She was an elegant woman, whose hair was styled in a chignon with a million pins,” recalled Talia.
“She wanted to project an image. Her persona in society was also very important. Generally, artists at the time created art to sell, but she never created art to sell. She created art to anchor her Palestinianness.”
From Ramallah to Jerusalem
Nahil was born in Ramallah in 1919, shortly after the end of the First World War, and spent most of her life in Jerusalem, where she nurtured her artistic talent.
In 1940, at the age of 21, the artist married Dr Assad Bishara, a renowned gynaecologist who, as Talia claimed, “a whole generation of Palestinians were born under his hands.”
According to Talia, Dr Assad was open-minded and supportive of his wife’s dreams.
As Talia puts it, “Whenever I speak about my grandmother, I have to speak about my grandfather too. He was a larger-than-life person. He wasn’t the type that restricted her to staying at home and raising a family. She did those things, but on top of that, she was exploring her artistic talent and supporting her community of Palestinian women.”
Beyond her personal achievements, Nahil also lived through important political events of the twentieth century, including the Nakba — the mass displacement of Palestinians — which led to the Israeli occupation in 1948.
‘A force and an avant-gardiste’
During this period, Nahil was offered a rare opportunity to study in England, but she refused, choosing instead to remain in her country as an act of defiance.
A woman who made history, she became the first Arab and Palestinian to study art at the Bezalel School of Arts and Crafts in Jerusalem, which had been founded as a Jewish art institution in the early 1900s.
Interestingly, at the time, Nahil was one of the few Palestinian artists to formally study art. But her education didn’t stop there.
Always striving to expand her mind and skill set, she undertook a design course by correspondence with an American university in Washington, DC. Then, in the 1960s, Nahil found herself in the Italian city of Perugia, where she studied classical painting and ceramics.
Known for always being on the move, Talia shared, “All her life, my grandmother loved art. She was a force and an avant-gardiste. She wanted to be ahead of everyone in her time.”
‘She wanted to constantly create’
To this day, Nahil is remembered as a Renaissance woman.
The educated artist spoke four languages (including Italian and French), tried her hand at stitching, woodworking, and glassblowing, hosted cultured dinners, volunteered at refugee camps, and mastered interior decoration.
Her most significant project was decorating the interior of the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) building in Jerusalem, which was later converted by the Israelis into a hotel called Aelia Capitolina. Today, the hotel is known as the Legacy Hotel.
“People were visiting Jerusalem from all over the world. I think she felt a responsibility to show the world a different image of Palestine”
By using locally sourced materials, Nahil designed its chandelier (made with Palestinian refugees), crafted wooden tables, and donated around 30 of her paintings to the establishment.
“I think she saw that there was power in creation, rather than focusing on destruction. She wanted to constantly create,” explained Talia.
“People were visiting Jerusalem from all over the world. I think she felt a responsibility to show the world a different image of Palestine.”
Another momentous event in Nahil’s career occurred in 1964 when she was commissioned by the Kingdom of Jordan to create a bust of Pope Paul VI in honour of his pilgrimage to Palestine. Today, the bust sits in the Vatican.
‘Capturing everything she could to preserve Palestine’
Exploring Nahil’s artistic legacy, she was known for creating religious landscapes, depictions of Palestinian refugees, and floral arrangements, the latter of which her husband particularly enjoyed.
“She was concerned with the preservation of identity because it was being erased”
Her grandchildren believe that her art carries a strong message beneath the surface, with Assad sharing, “For her, it was about capturing everything she could to preserve Palestine. She was concerned with the preservation of identity because it was being erased.”
During The New Arab’s interview, Talia showed her grandmother’s artwork of female refugees, one of whom is holding a child, painted in 1948.
Talia explained that she was literally holding a piece of history in her hands, adding, “When I watch the news today, it’s like history is repeating itself,” referring to the ongoing bombardment in Gaza.
“A portion of our civil society has been cut off and turned into refugees who live in tents, and this was something that had to be captured,” commented Assad on the theme of displacement in Nahil’s art.
Celebrating a forgotten artist
In 1997, Nahil died of cancer, yet her memory remains alive in the hearts and minds of her family and friends.
Recently, the once-forgotten Nahil has slowly been re-entering the public sphere. Thanks to Talia, Nahil’s name now appears in Google searches, and some of her artworks have found homes in public cultural institutions, such as the Barjeel Art Foundation in the UAE and Dar El Nimer in Lebanon.
According to Talia, some museums have expressed interest in acquiring Nahil’s work since she became more vocal in sharing her grandmother’s story.
For Talia, this recognition has motivated her to one day publish a catalogue of Nahil’s artworks.
“My whole life I wanted to do something for her,” Talia said.
“I didn’t study art but I know its importance and can feel it. I started connecting with art people, but it wasn’t an easy journey. It fuelled me even more after the 7 October attacks,” she added.
“Everyone should be interested in championing these names and putting them on the stage because you need the past… The past is your present. It’s our role to preserve it.”
Egyptian star Angham will perform at London’s Royal Albert Hall on 23 September, marking a significant cultural milestone as the first Egyptian female artist to grace the iconic stage.
Angham’s performance on this stage comes 58 years after the legendary Egyptian singer and musician Abdel Halim Hafez performed on it in 1967 and received one of the greatest ovations of his career.
The September performance will celebrate Angham’s extraordinary career, spanning over three decades.
Throughout her long artistic journey, Angham has become one of the most influential voices in the Arab world, captivating audiences across the Middle East and North Africa.
“With her powerful vocals, emotional depth, and rich discography, Angham continues to inspire generations and break new grounds in Arabic music as the true enduring voice of Egypt,” read a press release.
Her legacy
Angham was born in 1972 to a family of artists. Her father, Mohamed Ali Soliman, was a composer, violinist, and singer. Her mother was the renowned artist Magda Abdel-Haleem.
She started her career alongside her father in the late 1980s before graduating from the Cairo Conservatory and embarking on her independent path.
Angham has released over 25 albums, including Fil Rokn El Baeed El Hady (In The Far Distant Corner, 1987), Awal Gawab (First Letter, 1988), Shokran (Thank You, 1989), Shayfak (I See You, 1992), Betheb Meen (Who Do You Love?, 1997), Bahibbik Wahashteeny (Loving You, I Miss You, 2005), Mahaddesh Yehasebni (Do not Judge Me, 2010), Ahlam Bareaa (Innocent Dreams, 2015), Rah Tezkerny (You Will Remember Me, 2018), Hala Khassa Geddan (Very Special Case, 2019), and Mazh (What?, 2020).
The star performs extensively in Egypt and across the Arab world.
Royal Albert Hall
London’s Royal Albert Hall, one of the world’s most iconic concert venues, was opened in 1871 by Queen Victoria and named in memory of her husband, Prince Albert.
The hall is renowned for hosting a wide range of events, from classical concerts and opera to rock performances, sporting events, and the annual BBC Proms.
Among the top names that have graced the stage of this hall are Adele, The Beatles, Eric Clapton, Luciano Pavarotti, Diana Ross, cellist Yo-Yo Ma, pianists Lang Lang and Martha Argerich, and world-renowned orchestras conducted by Herbert von Karajan and Sir Simon Rattle.
The hall has also hosted high-profile events, such as Cirque du Soleil.
Its distinctive circular architecture and domed roof make it a landmark of Victorian design and a centrepiece of British cultural life.
Presale tickets for Angham’s concert will start from Wednesday, 30 April, followed by general sale on Friday, 2 May.
The New Arab sat down with Yemeni documentary photographer and storyteller Thana Faroq to discuss intentional photography, craft, and nurturing intimate narratives of displacement and resilience.
Thana Faroq is a Yemeni photographer and educator based in the Netherlands. Her photography projects, which have been supported by the Arab Documentary Fund and the Magnum Foundation among others, blend text, physicality, emotional density, and visual storytelling, to explore immigrant lives and the complexities of belonging and trauma.
The New Arab interviewed Thana Faroq on the occasion of her new book, How Shall We Greet the Sun, which follows a group of displaced young women including Faroq herself, as they negotiate their multilayered presence in the Netherlands.
“My work is mainly driven by current events and broader themes, such as intergenerational trauma and memory resilience in relation to migration and refugees”
The New Arab: You’ve completed several series and projects, including your new photo book, How Shall We Greet The Sun. How do your various projects communicate with one another?
Thana Faroq: At the core of all my work, including How Shall We Greet The Sun, lies an exploration of women’s resilience, adaptability, and the quest for belonging. These themes are the threads weaving my projects together, creating a continuous dialogue.
A consistent focus in my projects has been on the aftermath of pivotal events, particularly in migration. I’m drawn to understanding and portraying the lingering effects, the changes, and the adaptations that individuals and communities undergo in their post-disaster homes.
My projects often converse with each other, providing different facets of a broader narrative about migration, displacement, and the aftermath of these transformative events.
It is essential to explore these events not only in terms of their immediate impact but also in the ripples they create over time. How does our survival, resilience, loss, and search for identity and belonging look like? While my earlier works might have explored the immediacy of events, more recent ones, like How Shall We Greet The Sun, dive deeper into the lasting, often nuanced, emotions and memories that remain.
Do you feel that your work has evolved in terms of craft, technique, and vision? I saw that you have incorporated more poetry and written text recently.
Certainly. I spent my formative years in Yemen and from the age of seventeen, my educational journey took me across the globe, in Canada, the US, and the UK, which significantly broadened my perspectives.
It’s also crucial to acknowledge the life-altering events I’ve encountered: the war in Yemen, the subsequent move from my homeland, and the pursuit of asylum in the Netherlands. These profound experiences have shaped my life and continue to influence my understanding of the world.
This, in turn, has expanded my artistic vision. I’ve become more intentional about the themes I choose to explore and the stories I wish to tell.
Over the years, I’ve continually sought to refine my craft, exploring new techniques, tools, and mediums, especially sound and moving images. I love writing and it has become part of my creative journey and output.
I can’t label my written explorations as ‘poetry’ in the traditional sense, but I do have a deep affinity for playing with words, treating them as visual elements in their own right. I don’t view them merely as ‘texts’ but as visual companions to my images.
When paired with my visuals, these words offer an additional narrative layer, adding complexity and depth to the story I’m telling.
How do you approach storytelling in your work? Stories have a beginning, a middle, and an end, but using real-life subjects means that this linear, theoretical approach might prove restrictive.
I agree with you and I don’t personally stick to the classical structure of storytelling. All my stories are rooted in real-life experiences which means I will have to challenge this conventional approach of storytelling.
I ask myself very often: does a linear progression truly capture the essence of this experience, or is a non-linear narrative more authentic? And so my starting point might differ, I might start in the middle of a story with an emotional state that sets the tone for the narrative. My approach focuses on deep research and understanding. I immerse myself in the subject matter.
This helps me understand the nuances, the emotions, and the various perspectives that exist. Though all my projects exist in a final outlet (for example, a book) the creative process is never linear. I have a lot of responsibility to stay true to the essence of my subject’s experiences and sometimes this means breaking away from traditional structures or inventing new ones.
Also, storytelling isn’t just about the narrative; it extends beyond the mere sequence of events or plot points that make up a story. It’s about conveying experiences, emotions, and messages. For me, it’s about the use of texts, imagery, and symbolism to evoke feelings and provoke thought.
Though photography is my main medium, I include sensory elements, such as sounds and texts which can elevate the story and make it more immersive, especially in installation settings. This multilayer experience is powerful. I’m deeply intentional in my approach.
Before capturing or selecting an image, I reflect on its purpose: ‘What story am I conveying? How does this differentiate from the masses? What emotions or messages am I trying to evoke? This reflection ensures that my work carries depth and isn’t merely a fleeting visual in an endless scroll.
Are you looking for that person’s specific story in your photos or rather how they symbolise something bigger, larger than their own selves?
My work is mainly driven by current events and broader themes, such as intergenerationl trauma and memory resilience in relation to migration and refugees.
Every individual is a microcosm of the larger society they inhabit, and their stories, while personal, often resonate with universal themes. I work to make my images evoke shared experiences or emotions for a wider audience and, to a certain extent, the individual here becomes a symbol of something larger while ensuring that the individual’s story doesn’t get lost in symbolism.
Narratives that illustrate their character, resilience, culture, family ties, and personal history can help dismantle stereotypes and build a deeper understanding. This also means providing contextual cues within the composition. I write a lot during the process and these texts allow the viewers to draw connections between the personal and the universal.
“Photography, as I see it, is a shared endeavour from the research phase to execution. I prefer to refer to those I photograph as ‘collaborators’ involved every step of the way, valuing their insights and feedback. This often paves the way for deeper intimacy”
How do you nurture trust and intimacy with your subjects? Is there a story you chose not to tell?
My personal background plays a crucial role. As a woman refugee myself who has experienced the impacts of war and trauma first-hand, I share a common ground.
When I interact with my subjects, I approach them not just as a photographer, but as someone who has walked a mile in similar shoes. I don’t shy away from sharing my personal journey when appropriate, as I find that this openness can lead to mutual trust and safety.
Photography, as I see it, is a shared endeavour from the research phase to execution. I prefer to refer to those I photograph as ‘collaborators’ involved every step of the way, valuing their insights and feedback.
This often paves the way for deeper intimacy. Open communication and transparency are also pivotal. I make it a priority to be clear about how the photographs will be utilised, whether as an exhibition, a book, or any other medium, which helps bolster trust and comfort.
I approach each shoot with sensitivity, recognising and respecting the emotions and vulnerabilities of my collaborators. This journey of empathy, trust, and intimacy is complex and requires time, honesty, and sincerity.
There have been instances where I’ve chosen not to share certain stories out of respect for the privacy of those photographed.
For instance, in my recent book How Shall We Greet the Sun, there are many emotional transitions that migrant women undergo as they settle in a new place. Discussing these transitions isn’t always easy. I only choose to reveal such narratives when my collaborators are ready and confident to share them with the world.
For the young generation of aspiring artists in Yemen and elsewhere, could you share what helped launch your career and any advice you may have for others who can’t rely on institutional support and backing?
In my journey as an artist and photographer, I’ve come to understand a few key truths that I believe have been instrumental in shaping my career, especially in places like Yemen where institutional support might be sparse.
While talent is a gift, discipline and hard work are choices. Talent might get you started, but discipline will carry you through. It’s crucial to stay true to your artistic vision.
Instead of creating what you think others might want to see, focus on what you passionately believe needs to exist in the world. Also, the art world and photography, like any other field, constantly evolve.
Stay open-minded and eager to learn from others, peers, mentors, friends, and family… every interaction can offer a fresh perspective that can enrich your work.
Farah Abdessamad is a New York City-based essayist/critic, from France and Tunisia / Follow her on Twitter:@farashstlouis
All 4 Saudi contestants won awards, including a silver medal and a bronze
This year’s competition was held in Pristina, Kosovo, on April 11-17
Saudi Arabia’s math team won four awards in the recently concluded 2025 European Girls’ Mathematical Olympiad (EGMO).
The April 11-17 competition, hosted this year in Pristina, Kosovo, featured 217 female students representing 56 countries.
All four Saudi contestants won awards, with Fatimah Buali capturing a silver medal, Sarah Aljughayman winning a bronze, and Retaj Alsaleh and Albatool Alaidarous both garnering an honorable mention, according to the EGMO site.
The latest score has raised the Kingdom’s medals tally in the annual competition to 36 awards, including 2 gold medals, 7 silver medals, 15 bronze medals, and 12 certificates of appreciation.
The Kingdom was represented by the King Abdulaziz and His Companions Foundation for Giftedness and Creativity (Mawhiba), which screens and prepares Saudi children in international scientific competitions and Olympiads.
Saudi Arabia is among the non-European countries that have regularly participated in annual EGMO event, which started in 2012. Among the other regular participants are Japan, China, Australia, Brazil and the United States.
