The Islamic Republic, which killed hundreds of thousands of people in Iraq and Syria, killed and tortured hundreds of thousands of Iranians in the most brutal way after all these years, and which now wants to have nuclear weapons: we, the Iranian people, who have lived with them for half a century, know how ridiculous their claim to be peaceful was.
Ali Sbeity painted vibrant portraits and landscapes of his rural hometown in Southern Lebanon, often sharing his works on his Facebook. He participated in numerous local arts exhibitions and created murals for schools in Beirut.
Two hundred and fifty-six Quran memorisers—Palestinians who have committed the entire holy book to memory—sat in the place while companions beside them listened attentively, following each word carefully to ensure the recitation remained flawless. The gathering, titled Safwat Al-Huffaz—The Elite of Quran Memorisers, has become a special collective way of observing Ramadan in Gaza.
The Ministry of Cultural Heritage, Tourism and Handicrafts said on Saturday that at least 56 museums, historical monuments and cultural sites in Iran have been damaged over the course of the war, which began on February 28, state-run news media reported. The heritage sites damaged include the Qajar-era Golestan Palace in Tehran.
Distance does not soften the terror. It only deepens my helplessness. In moments like this, I realize that geography is not measured in miles, but in attachment. War rearranges distance. These days I find myself returning to "The Conference of the Birds," the 12th-century poem by Attar of Nishapur, seeking meaning through ancient wisdom about spiritual journeys and transformation.
This targeting success surely owes much to advanced electronic surveillance and deep cyber penetration of Iran's weapons systems and infrastructure. But in this war, as in the 12-day war last year, Israel and the United States are obviously benefiting from intelligence from some Iranians themselves, who are willing to risk their lives to help bring down the Islamic Republic.
There is a scene in "Morgenkreis | Morning Circle" (2025), a 16-mm film by Berlin-based Palestinian artist Basma al-Sharif, that unfolds at the threshold of a daycare center. A young boy clings to his father, his fists locked into the fabric of his coat, his arms wrapped tightly around him. The father gently tries to pry himself free while a daycare worker crouches nearby, attempting to distract the child and coax him inside. It is an ordinary moment, one that anyone who has ever been a child - or cared for one - recognizes instantly, as well as the gut-wrenching feeling it provokes.
Two or three weeks ago, I would've thought that Iran might be free by the time I was 90, and I could die there. I had this vision of me walking through the airport with a cane. Now, at age 48, I can see myself making a trip back to Iran within the next year, and potentially living there permanently within the next five.
I noticed the swelling of the double bass first, quickly followed by the fluttering of brushed cymbals. A saxophone pushing against the edges of a melody swiftly married the notes together, chords drifting haphazardly before reaching a slow, pulsing groove. The jazz quartet performed in front of a liquor cabinet lined with whisky bottles; low-hanging lights teetered overhead, throwing shapes on the monochromatic marble-tiled floor. Outside, a leafy veranda was filled with diners, the music drifting through flung-open doors and windows.
Twenty-one-year-old Moez al Shreiti was given up by his Tunisian mother at birth but is absolutely determined to find out where he comes from. His search takes him on a roller-coaster journey to find answers to the question that's dominated his young life. This observational film follows his sometimes painful search with all its obstacles, going to courts and hospitals and trying to get hold of official records.
Sitting at the western tip of one of Abu Dhabi's many coastal islands, Saadiyat Cultural District's transformation from an expanse of featureless sand into the home of one of the world's most ambitious cultural projects has taken almost two decades. But, after years of construction shrouded in clouds of windblown dust, the much-anticipated cultural quarter has come into its own almost overnight, earning itself a spot on Condé Nast Traveler's list of The Best Places to Go in 2026.
Unlike virtually all other non-European ethnicities, SWANA - or Middle Eastern/North African (MENA), as used in the show - is grouped under "White" on the US census. It's not just the census, though. It's medical forms, college applications, just about anything with a check box for ethnicity. Efforts have been made to change this, with some success. More institutions are adding a separate category on forms - and one might appear on the 2030 census.
The most beautiful places in Oman are diverse, stark, and staggering. With ancient ruins, fragrant souks, and picturesque mountain villages, there is no shortage of man-made wonders. But it is the country's geology that delights best. In this desert nation, beauty is defined by water: the white sands of surf-battered beaches, gurgling wadi streams, and cloud-shrouded massifs where pomegranates hang heavy.
"The show is about giving the pen back to the writer, giving the paintbrush back to the artist, during this time of genocide," the Ridikkuluz told Hyperallergic in an interview at the gallery. "And when there's been so much censorship, these are artists that might not have been able to do this anywhere else."
Five bronze towers soar 400 feet above Saadiyat Island, the ever-expanding cultural district just off the coast of Abu Dhabi. The structures-which recall the wings of a falcon, a highly prized symbol in the United Arab Emirates-are the architectural signature of the Zayed National Museum, which opened in December. Two weeks before, another vastinstitution, the Natural History Museum, debuted. They will be followed later this year by the most ambitious of all-the late Frank Gehry's Guggenheim Abu Dhabi.
The quadrennial exhibition introduces a new type of transnational, transdisciplinary program to Doha, rooted in issues that affect both Qatar and the wider region. The artists exhibiting broadly represent the diverse nationalities that live in Qatar, while their work reflects the shared geographical, environmenta