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Islamic and Arab art institute opening in New York aims to challenge stereotypes.

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Islamic and Arab art institute opening in New York aims to challenge stereotypes.

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Is an Islamic tradition that dates back thousands of years as a universal language that can bring together divided communities.Her work is considered minimalist constructive, futurist and doesn't resemble Islamic architecture but in her diaries she speak about how it has such a great influence in her work. There are galleries that represent artist from the region but do they have homes institutionally. New York City is a very welcoming place, if I didn't have New York's support, I wouldn't be doing this. Wherever we are, we will exist, A space, as it is, shouldn't define us. We hope to engage beyond that.

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Sheikh Mohammed Rashid Al-Thani noticed something missing in New York City's cultural institutions - there is the Swiss Institute, the Asia Society and the Jewish Museum, but there isn't anything to represent Arab Muslim artists, until now.

Al-Thani, who is part of the ruling family of Qatar, is opening up New York City's first Institute of Arab and Islamic Art on 4 May.

The 2,500 sq ft space will host exhibitions with Muslim and Arab artists, foster interfaith dialogue with public discussions and will be home to a new bookstore. According to Al-Thani, who is the founding director, he wanted to set straight some Muslim stereotypes.

"If we dig into how Arabs and Muslims are stereotyped, they go way back," said Al-Thani. "It made sense to me there had to be an art and culture institute that represents the Arab and Islamic region, as there isn't really one here in New York."

Even with Islamophobia and Trump's recent Muslim ban, Al-Thani has been working towards the institute since 2014. One inspiration was Orientalism, a book about Middle Eastern stereotypes written by Palestinian American cultural critic Edward Said in 1978. "Whether it was the exotic woman with the grapes or the Ottoman empire; there were always were misconceptions and stereotypes that tagged along historically," said Al-Thani. "The way it has evolved historically up until now has become more politically oriented."

The first exhibition is a four-woman group show called Exhibition 1, which is themed around Islamic architecture and geometric design. "Sacred geometry," as it's often called, is an Islamic tradition that dates back thousands of years as a universal language that can bring together divided communities.

"Our main objective is to challenge stereotypes if people have them and engage them on Islamic civilization beyond the religious context," said Al-Thani. "We are hopeful and will do everything in our capacity to see our culture is represented and open up a cross-cultural dialogue with New York City."

The artists showing include Saudi Arabian artist Dana Awartani, who creates mandala-like paintings with ancient flower motifs alongside the works of Iranian artist Monir Shahroudy Farmanfarmaian, who combines traditional Iranian folk art with modern abstraction.

They're also showing works by New York-based Indian artist Zarina Hashmi, who uses the Islamic decorative arts to represents political borders, and Nasreen Mohamedi, a pioneering Indian artist who changed the face of minimalism. "Her work is considered minimalist, constructivist, futurist and doesn't resemble Islamic architecture but in her diaries she speaks about how it has been such a great influence in her work," said Al-Thani. "We are hoping people see it's beyond what the eye can see."

In New York City, there are Islamic and Arab-focused art galleries such as the Iranian art dealer Leila Heller's gallery and CRG Gallery, which gave Palestinian artist Mona Hatoum her first New York solo show. "There are galleries that represent artists from the region but do they have homes institutionally?" asks Al-Thani.

He cites Here and Elsewhere, an exhibition of 45 Arab artists shown at the New Museum in 2014. "These conversations are never continued consistently and we hope to change that," he said.

This isn't the first attempt. Brooklyn real estate developer Sharif El-Gamal planned to build a Muslim cultural center in 2010, but received death threats, as it was often referred to as the Ground Zero Mosque. "There are religious centers and community-based centers across America but they're not for art," said Al-Thani. "New York City is a very welcoming place, if I didn't have New York's support, I wouldn't be doing this."

The institute will be located at 3 Howard Street in Manhattan, a temporary space until the end of July. Then, the institute will either stay or move to another location, depending on funding.

The ruling Al-Thani family has collected Arab art for decades, but that doesn't mean they're footing the bill. "A lot of people have misconceptions when they hear my family name and think my family has funded this project," said Al-Thani, "which is not true and not accurate at all."

The non-profit institute is funded by a small group of donors through a fundraising gala Al-Thani hosted last year. However, bringing on more patrons hasn't been easy.

"When you just have an idea, it's hard to get people to support you," he said. "We're hoping patrons see the importance of what we're doing. I always say, 'Wherever we are, we will exist.' A space, as important as it is, shouldn't define us. We hope to engage beyond that."
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Islamic and Arab art institute opening in New York aims to challenge stereotypes

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Sheikh Mohammed Rashid Al-Thani noticed something missing in New York City's cultural institutions - there is the Swiss Institute, the Asia Society and the Jewish Museum, but there isn't anything to represent Arab Muslim artists, until now. Al-Thani, who is part of the ruling family of Qatar, is opening up New York City's first Institute of Arab and Islamic Art on 4 May.

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The powerful young gallery owner shaping L.A'.s art scene

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The powerful young gallery owner shaping L.A'.s art scene

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Papillion stood up in her purple pants and great shoes and proclaimed. Her shows , which feature the work of Black artist on the rise, already draw some of the most powerful collectors in the world. Joplin have come calling on the L.A art scene, of course. To me Papillion's gallery recalls W.E.B. DuBois' dream for black drama. Two panels of a Black man at an ATM cover an entire wall of Pallion's office; it's the work of Haitian-born, New York-raised, L.A.-based artist Andy Robert. At Howard, she studied the classic at first, learning Latin Greek and Egyptian. She joined an Egyptian art class, and in the terms of falling in the love with visual arts, that was "the tip of an iceberg for me" she says. Now people know her name when she comes into the room, and that's a different way to advocate.

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Boy, can artist Derek Fordjour remember the first time he met Michelle Papillion. They were in a room full of big names and up-and-comers at the estate of a very important Black artist. Papillion stood up in her purple pants and great shoes and proclaimed: "I run a gallery in the hood."

Since then, Papillion's gallery has shifted quarters, but not too far, and today you can find it below a neon sign - PAPILLION, it spells, in flamingo-pink capitals - in Leimert Park, Los Angeles. Nearby, there's Jamaican food, African-style silhouette murals and a whole lot of dudes drumming in the parking lot for a Friday afternoon. Maybe it's an unlikely birthplace for the next great renaissance of African-American art. Or maybe it's the perfect one. Whatever the case, Papillion's ambitions recall nothing less than the Harlem of 90 years ago. Her shows, which feature the work of Black artists on the rise, already draw some of the most powerful collectors in the world. "We're in the beginning of it," she tells me when I visit.

She looks weirdly fashionable in her oversize gray hoodie, hoop earrings, black pants and all black sneakers - even the Reading Rainbow mug she's clutching seems somehow cool. Papillion isn't the only reason that New York and London bigwigs like Jeffrey Deitch and Jay Jopling have come calling on the L.A. art scene, of course. Los Angeles looks a lot more like Brooklyn nowadays, with artists going at giant canvases in abandoned warehouses and an accompanying gentrification. But art in the City of Angels has a different kind of aesthetic - bigger pieces, bolder colors, outdoor installations - and a more inclusive, less elitist vibe. "People need to feel comfortable in this environment," Papillion says.

To me, Papillion's gallery recalls W.E.B. DuBois' dream for Black drama: It would be by, for and near African-Americans - though it'd be inaccurate to suggest that Papillion is only for Black audiences. Visitors are greeted by one of Fordjour's canvases, featuring faceless Black men lined up as targets in a carnival game. Two panels of a Black man at an ATM cover an entire wall of Papillion's office; it's the work of Haitian-born, New York-raised, L.A.-based artist Andy Robert. A collage of magazine photos by Suné Woods (formerly a photographer), stressed and manipulated, hangs with a texture like overlapping tissue papers. "Curatorially she's doing all mediums," Shelley Holcomb, cofounder of Curate L.A., says, with "really young artists that are subsequently gaining attention internationally." Indeed, the day I visit, she's just met with a couple of collectors from Tokyo.

In some ways, Papillion's work runs parallel to that of Theaster Gates, the South Side Chicago revitalist, in whose property she made that declaration about the gallery in the hood. Making the space around her beautiful is Papillion's art project. "There are no galleries on this side of town owned by people of color. Period." To do good for a community is an art in and of itself, she says. And there's much good to be done in Leimert Park, a predominantly Black neighborhood with the second-highest property crime rate in the city, according to the Los Angeles Times.

Papillion is protective, even possessive, of the dozen Black artists she's shepherded to wider renown. Sometimes she is downright political. In Artforum, in the pages where owners typically advertise upcoming exhibitions, she took out an ad that said, "Dear Art World, Let's End Police Terrorism #blacklivesmatter." Last Martin Luther King Jr. Day, Papillion underwrote a colorful float, designed by one of her artists, to represent the Crenshaw neighborhood, near Leimert Park. One of the sayings plastered on it was "Black money matters." It's rare of a gallerist to be that explicit - and loud - about her politics.

But activism was in the water she drank, growing up in Oakland. Her mom was an educator, and her dad an architect. At Howard, she studied the classics at first, learning Latin, Greek and Egyptian (yes, she can read all three and waves off my impressed expression). She joined an Egyptian art class, and in terms of falling in love with visual arts, that was "the tip of an iceberg for me," she says.

It's not easygoing, of course. Finding emerging artists is like winning the lottery, and turning unknowns into collectors' darlings takes an eye, nurturing, skill, advocating, branding - as well as time and justice. Of the 10 people on the Most Powerful Art Dealers list that Forbes put out in 2012, none were women of color. But Papillion, has already come far, says Fordjour, who remembers coming up with her: "We were all at this scrappy space at the same time," he says. Things have changed: "Now people know her name when she comes into the room, and that's a different way to advocate."

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The Powerful Young Gallery Owner Shaping L.A.'s Art Scene

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Boy, can artist Derek Fordjour remember the first time he met Michelle Papillion. They were in a room full of big names and up-and-comers at the estate of a very important Black artist. Papillion stood up in her purple pants and great shoes and proclaimed: "I run a gallery in the hood."