Bahrainis see pearls as the flower of immortality. For thousands of years, divers plunged from dhows – with weights tied to their legs and baskets around their necks – into the waters framing the Gulf archipelago, scouring the seabed for the country’s renowned natural pearls. In the early 1930s the pearl market collapsed (around the time when oil was discovered). But the tradition of bringing to light the beauty of the land remained, and now it’s the country’s artists and architects who are tasked with continuing the search. Though not as flush as some of its more famous, go-big-or-go-home GCC (Gulf Co-operation Council) neighbours, Bahrain’s careful yet decentralised ecosystem of cultural interventions – fostered by the relentless vision of several key local figures – has created a rare paradigm in the region. Here is an art and design community marrying cosmopolitan ambitions with deference to its distinctive regional history as an ancient trading hub.

“Artists here are showcasing work that touches us and represents us,” says Shaikha Latifa bint Abdulrahman Al Khalifa, director of The Art Station. “It is not the Middle East as depicted from the outside. It has to do with our memory, our past and our identity; that is why what’s happening now is so special.” Located in Muharraq, an island across an inlet from Bahrain’s capital, Manama, The Art Station is a six-month-old cultural complex housed in an ivory and sky-blue former shopping mall from the late 1970s. It is one of a clutch of new creative undertakings in Bahrain. It’s part of what Al Khalifa sees as a transformation marked by “a certain kind of authenticity,” she says. “It’s very palpable.” One of the main figures at the forefront of Bahrain’s cultural momentum is The Art Station’s founder, Shaikh Rashid bin Khalifa Al Khalifa, an artist, philanthropist, member of the royal family and a kind of godfather for all things contemporary art in Bahrain.

Al Khalifa was one of the founding members of the Bahrain Arts Society when it was started in the 1980s. Since then, he has exhibited his artwork internationally; his pieces span landscapes through abstractions to brightly coloured aluminium optical art reliefs. He later opened the RAK Art Foundation, which includes among its initiatives his former family home-turned-museum. For him, The Art Station was designed to provide a means for artists to expand and reimagine different versions of their practice. This was something that was “just non­existent” when he was a young artist here, he says. “Back then, there were only self-taught artists, those who just started their own initiatives, painted local scenes and sold them to some of the few tourists who visited the island at the time.”

Beneath the arched colonnades of The Art Station is a central courtyard shaded by palm trees wrapped in white lights and flanked split-level studios for artists that are subsidised by the organisation. At different stages of their careers, some focus on fine arts, while others explore ancient regional traditions such as basket weaving.

Next to a café that abuts the compound, construction workers are hammering walls, expanding the non-profit’s footprint. In the few months since it opened, The Art Station has hosted workshops and supported international residents, collaborating with institutions, academics and artists from Bahrain, the US and Georgia, all aiming to create a talent pool in a country without a formal art school. “I think what they’re doing today with The Art Station – the tools it’s giving young artists – is so important and it was really missing,” says Anissa Touati, a transnational curator who has worked with a number of institutions, including the Musée d’Art et d’Histoire in Geneva, and is currently an advisor to the RAK Art Foundation.

Over the bridge in Manama is the lush, gated compound of Al Riwaq Arts Space, one of the city’s earliest non-profits devoted to contemporary art. Founder Bayan Al Barrak Kanoo moved to Bahrain from Baghdad in the mid-1980s. Back then, the business of selling and exhibiting art in the country was more informal – there were a smattering of patrons, pop-ups in hotels and invitations for artists to show their work at international exhibitions. Kanoo started out by selling the work of Iraqi artists in Bahrain. The demand, she says, was insatiable and something clicked. A few years later, she expanded her scope, turned her focus to the nascent Bahraini art scene and started Al Riwaq Art Space. The name means “covered portico”, a design motif in traditional Islamic architecture.

Kanoo’s decision to pursue her ambition to champion art in Bahrain was impeccably timed. A few short years after Al Riwaq opened in 1998, a globalised art world started paying serious attention to the Middle East. The first auction by Christie’s in Dubai took place in 2006; Art Dubai debuted at about the same time and museum outposts including those of the Louvre and Guggenheim in Abu Dhabi were announced.

Since opening Al Riwaq, Kanoo has launched a slate of cultural initiatives – including residency exchanges (which have hosted 40 artists to date), art fairs and festivals that work in tandem with Bahraini businesses. This has created the conditions for much-needed infrastructure. “The target is to always push the boundaries,” she says. “Don’t be scared.”

Kanoo moved into her current location, thick with bougainvillea and towering palm trees, in 2022. The many buildings here reflect the extent of her drive: one houses a co-working space, café, library, concept shop and workshop space; another contains multiple exhibition rooms and offices for staff, including William Wells, founder of Cairo’s storied Townhouse Gallery, who is now responsible for curation and running the educational programme here. Behind the main building and the half-moon shaped lawn is a collection of studio spaces.

On the evening Monocle visits, there is an exhibition of work by Bahraini artist Waheeda Malullah. Encased in frames are photographs of chunks of charcoal brightly painted and laid out in a grid; the effect splits the difference between an architectural mosaic and modernist abstraction. Upstairs, Kanoo has gathered several of her past and current artist residents to discuss how Al Riwaq, together with rising cultural investment across the region – most notably neighbouring Saudi Arabia’s multibillion-dollar push that includes initiatives such as the Misk Art Institute – is creating a dynamic young laboratory for regional talent that can go on to participate in all aspects of the art industry. “The pipeline of artists, researchers, curators and writers –everyone you need for the art world to thrive and survive – is an ecosystem that needs to be created,” says photographer Khurram Salman, who was an artist-resident here last year. “Riwaq is one of the only places that has been pushing the boundary.”

The next morning, on a balmy April day, Yasmin Sharabi, director of the RAK Art Foundation, takes us on a tour of the most ambitious project to date: the Daima Museum of Middle East and North African Art (Daima means continuity in Arabic). When it opens in December, it will be the country’s first contemporary art museum. Behind the towering aluminium doors, bubble-wrapped paintings are stored against white walls that have transformed the former villa into an expansive, ultra-modern gallery. Sharabi sees the museum as a space that will allow a younger generation “to re-envision their future through the arts and to bring Bahraini artists with prolific careers” into the conversation. Bahraini artists, she says, have hitherto been paid little attention but deserve to be included in the wider narrative of Middle Eastern art.

On the museum grounds, the final touches are being put on a pair of Buckminster Fuller-designed geodesic domes covered in shards of clay and sand-coloured stone. The effect is mesmerising, simultaneously futuristic and ancient. The tiling, like the land around it, is poised to absorb the heat here (summer temperatures can exceed 40c and months pass without rain). Once the interior is complete, it will house the Bahrain headquarters of the United Nations Industrial Development Organization, along with several cultural accelerator programmes. More wings are in the works, including one devoted to East Asian art. “In my view, there’s nothing better than visiting a museum,” says Rashid Al Khalifa. “If I had my way, I would have more museums per square metre in Bahrain than anywhere else.”

Back in Muharraq, a brutalist concrete canopy floats over the southern tip of The Art Station. Designed in 2019 by Swiss architect Valerio Olgiati, the otherworldly intervention, with its open-air ceilings and cut-out light-wells, was designed to shade a former warehouse that stored timber logs for boats and the ruins of a madbasah, a structure that houses dates ready to be pressed into syrup. It is part of the Pearling Path, a 3.5km Unesco World Heritage Site, designated in 2012, that traces the history of Bahrain’s pearling industry from the centuries-old urban centre to the coastline.

The pathway meanders between some carefully restored traditional Bahraini architecture, interspersed with some arresting contemporary structures and renovations. One such building is the Siyadi Pearl Museum designed by Bahrain-based Dutch architect Anne Holtrop, which is filled with Cartier masterpieces and lustrous cracked-open winged oyster shells. The museum’s rugged walls are covered in silver leaf and the colours will shift with continued exposure to the salinity in the air. “It’s like photography; it’s recording the quality
of the environment,” says Holtrop. Outside, light bulbs – designed to look like pearls and perched atop concrete columns flecked with mother-of-pearl – act as cairns for visitors making their way through narrow alleyways. The designs of the 17 public squares that form part of the Pearling Path – some feature pools of water, others semicircular benches surrounded by flame trees – give space for visitors and locals to rest. Meanwhile, ramshackle homes, renovated and open to the public, mindfully expose details of the people who called this quarter home: a medicinal garden and apothecary of a resident doctor; homes of divers and wealthy merchants; and a family’s majlis (meeting room).

Like much of Muharraq’s transformation, the initiative, which was officially opened in February 2024, was helmed by Mai bint Mohammed Al Khalifa, a member of the royal family. Over the years, she has held different ministerial positions, was the president of the Bahrain Authority for Culture and Antiquities (BACA), opened museums and helped inscribe all three of Bahrain’s Unesco Heritage Sites, including Qal’at al-Bahrain Fort and the Dilmun Burial Mounds.

Today she runs the Shaikh Ebrahim bin Mohammed Al Khalifa Center for Culture and Research, which she founded in 2002. The Center has been responsible for renovating multiple spaces in Muharraq, including some that are part of the Pearling Path, and the House of Architectural Heritage. Designed by Leopold Banchini Architects and Bahrain-based Noura Al Sayeh Holtrop, this concrete cube with moveable glass walls hosts
exhibitions and a small library.

“What makes Bahrain really interesting in terms of the cultural development is that it never really happens in a void,” says Al Sayeh Holtrop, who joined the government as head of architectural affairs in 2009. The following year, she co-curated Bahrain’s pavilion at the Venice Biennale and won the coveted Golden Lion award. Later, she assumed the role of director of the Pearling Path. (She met Anne Holtrop during the competition to design the Bahrain pavilion for the Milan Expo in 2015 and the two later married after its opening.) “The end product and the end interest is culture itself, and not culture as a by-product or a means of achieving something else,” she says.

That ethos prioritising cultural integrity over commercial flash has had a marked effect on Ali Ismail Karimi, the 35-year-old Bahraini co-founder of Civil Architecture, a cultural practice with an emphasis on making buildings and writing about them. “For me, the sense is that you don’t have to be a large corporate firm to be doing interesting cultural projects in Bahrain,” he says, sitting in a café overlooking the coastal Qal’at al-Bahrain Fort, a Portuguese-era limestone citadel on the site of the Dilmun empire’s one-time capital. In the coming months, he will move one branch of his practice here into a new government-supported development that is transforming former homes into a café and offices for those working in the creative sector.

In Bahrain, he says, “It’s easy to see how things change, how small interventions here can make a big difference.” As he talks, the tide begins to retreat and horseback riders gallop along the muddy seabed. “It’s almost a maquette of the world.”