SV:   I was born and raised in a small, previously apartheid township called Laudium, but I spent much of my childhood at my grandfather’s stores on Ntemi Piliso Street in the heart of Joburg. Many South Africans didn’t (or still don’t) have the opportunity to interact with worlds outside of their own – spaces were (and are still) very much segregated. I think that walking the streets in the city, especially walking to the Joburg library, let me into worlds that I wouldn’t have seen otherwise – and I’ve always had an interest in this, in finding and creating worlds, and seeing what I truly consider architecture – the fabric of the city – as interesting starting points from which to imagine new worlds. I always had this desire to work in the city and to have a practice that brings together different parts of the city into the same world. So, I think how architecture came to me is through this – through the city and through fiction.

Joburg is rough, gritty, ruthless and fast in the nicest possible ways and the meanest possible ways. It is burden and opportunity at the same time, at many different levels. Its tensions and its histories and legacies of segregation and exclusion means that at every turn there is work to do. But it is also a vastly and vibrantly creative world of inspiration (in the other disciplines, not in architecture). There is a sense of something other – other stories, other magic, other soul – that is waiting to be unlocked and translated into form.

I felt very deeply that there was a lack of response from architecture to what is actually happening in the city. Counterspace was born out of this dissatisfaction – out of a frustration with the complicity of the architectural profession and canon in my context, in perpetuating inherited and imposed narratives and forms.

I really wanted to make work that troubles and counters these constructed narratives about ‘lack’ on the African continent – I believe that here, in the fringes and the margins, we can find what truly Johannesburg and African design languages can look like, and I wanted to work with and for this idea. The rest is history.

TW:   Which philosophies formed from growing up in Laudium in Johannesburg, and how do they continue to inform your work?

TW:   You have worked with the Serpentine and Notting Hill Carnival. In which ways does your work centre on community?

SV:   Home is a verb, a set of acts, practices and rituals. Awwal Bait (literally meaning ‘first house’) refers to the reverence and symbolic unity evoked by the Kaaba in Makkah, and underscores the importance of the geographic location of this biennale. At the same time, it reflects on the construction of ‘home’ through our spiritual and cultural rituals in Islam; acts which both unite us and celebrate our diversity and cultural hybridity. As the source of Islam, The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is the custodian of the two holy mosques and the sacred landscapes surrounding them – a spiritual home for Muslims from across the world that also invites contemplation of belonging. 

In these rituals, we refer to our Awwal Bait, our shared spiritual home. The theme looks at how the source has travelled, as we reflect on the migration of the first Muslims from the Awwal Bait to the city of Madinah. Many contemporary migrations in our world are synonymous with loss and displacement. In many of these scenarios, rituals become constructions of belonging – bridges between here and elsewhere and colour a collective imagination of Muslims the world over.

However diverse, and wherever we are, Awwal Bait – Makkah (and Madinah, the city Prophet Muhammad PBUH migrated to) – are present in our rituals of worship. It is present through invisible lines of direction, reverence through study and memory; or through our daily rituals and forms of cultural life. It is held in the hearts of all Muslims. This shared source manifests unity in core philosophies of Islam, an understanding that we are connected to each other through our shared rituals, as we physically and metaphorically turn toward our shared home. Several historical and archaeological fragments inspire, narrate and render visible wisdoms, imaginations and futures of ‘home’ and spiritual placemaking; from the scale of the body to the scale of the cosmos. 

The artists have explored these themes through contemporary interpretations of the following instruments of home:

Etymologically, the Arabic word Qibla (قبلة) means ‘direction’. In Islamic ritual and law, it refers to the direction of the Kaaba during forms of worship. As we observe the daily prayers, we turn to face Makkah five times a day, directing our focus and energy to this centre of gravity. When we pray, we are united with Muslims around the world – in a collective, planetary gathering. 

In this section, facing inward toward the holy sites through historical artefacts and archaeological finds from the region; we reflect on our daily salaah, as it references the holy sites and directs us heavenward. 

Through the adhan, undulating across the world with the movement of the sun, Allah is exalted every second of the day. Through the practice of our daily salaah, we are united in ritual. Prerequisites for salaah include ritual purity, heightened consciousness, and a syncing with the movement of the sun over the course of the day. Focusing on these themes of salaah, we invite artists to reflect on the wisdoms of our daily meditative rituals in engendering transcendence. 

The musalla conceived by Sara Alissa and Nojoud Alsudairi for the Biennale reflects on one of the Prophet’s (pbuH) first spaces of prayer. During the many visits and experiments exchanged with Sara and Nojoud, we discussed the Islamic theories of what constitutes a musalla. It is a place designated for prayer, but one which has yet to be fully consecrated as a mosque (which requires the declaration of a boundary, the appointment of an imam, and the programming of Jumah prayers). 

In a similar celebration of humble everyday prayer, Cosmic Breath by Joe Namy orchestrates an ongoing call to prayer (adhan) across time zones and from unexpected locations – a petrol station in Jakarta, a parking garage in Detroit, and a chip shop in Cape Town.

Our second theme, Hijrah, translates as ‘migration’. It references the ways in which the Islamic faith has travelled outward from its point of origin through the rest of the world, and looks at the construction of cultural belonging and sites of cultural hybridity.

Drawing on the potential of intersecting histories and the power of shared spaces, Bricklab’s artwork for the Biennale reflects on the historic Hajj housing in Jeddah, in particular, the accommodation built for pilgrims arriving by air. Soon to be demolished, the building was once the gathering place for thousands of Muslims from around the world on their way to Makkah. Outside it, pilgrims from all over the world would trade goods they had brought with them, weaving this everyday economic activity into the pattern of their pilgrimage journey. His experience of the pilgrims’ accommodation was formative to the politics of civil rights leader Malcolm X, whose postcards home described living as part of this global community.                

Across the Biennale, we are reminded of those forms and moments which spark community. We see a reconstruction of a medieval well along the Darb Zubaidah, one of the longest pilgrim roads of the early Islamic period, in conversation with Alia Farid’s serpentine seating structure, which choreographs the existing furniture in the Hajj Terminal. Lubna Chowdhary’s work reflects on communal rituals surrounding food, taking the form of an ‘endless’ iftar table, its modular parts running some 40 metres in length and embodying generosity in its multiple possible permutations. Over the course of the Biennale, these spaces will host gatherings at which to share both food and ideas. They also remind us of the influence of the influx of people over time on the food of the Makkah region, and the hybrid DNA of Hijazi cuisine. Rund Alarabi’s series of large-scale photocollages brings together similar strands of her ‘homes’, Jeddah and Khartoum, Sudan, reflecting on the cosmopolitanism that the pilgrimage brought to Jeddah.

These and other works remind us of the importance of the rituals and sites associated with Hajj as nexuses in facilitating exchange. As places to gather, share, meet, and differ they are engines of cultural production, hybridity and, by extension, empathy and understanding. Through being with each other we access knowledge and find our home.

Seeing the Biennale come to life through the voices and perspectives of our artists has been profound. Each of them has boldly and sensitively taken on the opportunity of this platform to contribute to an emerging discourse on Islamic arts that we hope will continue. At its essence, this Biennale is about giving contemporary objects a home by giving them a lineage and giving historic objects a home by giving them a future. As artistic director, it is an honour to develop the first Islamic Arts Biennale within this iconic, culturally symbolic and welcoming structure.

TW:   Where is your favourite culturally curious spot in London?

SV:   I’ve been deeply inspired by London, its people and histories of movement. The Serpentine Pavilion 2021 and its extended programme have been developed based on daily inspirations, findings and ingestions of the city. Through the commission, we were able to extend the pavilion to the city, four fragments are installed in selected locations across London to support and facilitate gatherings and impromptu interactions and honour places that have held communities over time. New Beacon Books in Finsbury Park, one of the first Black publishers and booksellers in the UK; multi-purpose venue and community hub The Tabernacle in Notting Hill; arts centre The Albany in Deptford; and the new Becontree Forever Arts and Culture Hub at Valence Library in Barking and Dagenham, which was established this year to commemorate the centenary of the UK’s largest council housing estate.