Dima Srouji
On Narration and Ornamentation

In 2022, Dima Srouji was conducting research at University College London when she made an astonishing discovery: its Institute of Archaeology had been founded on the back of excavations in Gaza in the 1930s. Led by British archaeologist Flinders Petrie, the excavations in Tell el-'Ajjul employed Palestinian labor and saw artifacts dispersed, some winding up at the British Museum and The Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge in the UK. Petrie also took human remains in pursuit of racial theories associated with eugenics. In a bitter irony, Srouji handled some of these objects at the British Museum around the time it removed the label ‘Palestine’ from maps and information panels in its ancient Middle East galleries. 

Co-curated with Hooda Shawa, Srouji developed Gaza Unearthed, a permanent installation for the Palestinian Museum that confronts the violence of colonial excavation while reclaiming Palestine’s extraordinary heritage. Her concern extends beyond restitution. ‘We all know what the institutions have done, like the Benin bronzes. We don’t have those conversations around Palestinian artifacts,’ she explains. ‘My focus is for Palestinians to know about the richness of their heritage.’

The first iteration of this project is now open in Doha. The installation includes large-scale bronze replicas of ancient gold jewelry – including amulets depicting Astarte, the goddess of love and war – made by artisans in Egypt, ‘to bring back [the] relationship between Gaza and Egypt,’ alongside a 35-minute film. ‘We blew them up to give them the power that they deserve and to make sure the scale of the story is reflected in the scale of the artifacts,’ says Srouji.

Rand Abdul Jabbar
Belonging and Migrating

When lusterware first caught Rand Abdul Jabbar’s eye, she did not know that this shimmering ceramic tradition had roots in her homeland, Iraq. An encounter with the Museum of Islamic Art’s collection in Doha sent Abdul Jabbar on a journey through centuries of craftsmanship: from Abbasid Baghdad to Egypt, Syria, Iran, and Spain. There, in Manises, she found Arturo Mora, one of the few remaining artisans practicing the intricate technique.

Lusterware’s magic lies in transformation: metallic compounds and a carefully controlled, oxygen-starved firing combine to give ceramics an extraordinary sheen. Abdul Jabbar traveled to Spain to learn the process, eventually collaborating with Mora on over 20 vessels. ‘There are two ways to do it. In Manises, they throw wild rosemary into the kiln, and the oil that comes out creates the fiery, smoky environment; and the Kashan technique that throws sugar balls into it,’ she notes. ‘There is something mystical, almost alchemical, about turning ordinary things into gold.’

Borrowing historical forms and decorative vocabularies from the regions where lusterware flourished, Abdul Jabbar created a collection of objects for Design Doha that traces the craft’s remarkable travels while introducing her own contemporary language. ‘I felt a sense of pride learning about my own history,’ Abdul Jabbar reveals. ‘I have a huge affinity and love for crafts, how they persist, and new meanings and purposes for them; it was beautiful to see how it moved and transformed and takes history with it.’

Mirna Bamieh
On Land – Agrarian Practices

There is a line in Mirna Bamieh’s nine-minute film, Quiet Plenty for Worlds to Come (2026), that lingers after the screen goes dark: ‘We build for those not yet named, for hands we will never meet.’ It’s an apt introduction to Vessels of Underflow: Quiet Plenty for Worlds to Come (2025-26), a series of 11 ceramic pieces that the Palestinian artist created for Design Doha. The works are part of Bamieh’s ongoing research into vessels from ancient cultures, and how their forms and functions might offer templates for civilizations to come.

Working from a studio in Lisbon, Bamieh allows forms to emerge through the process of making rather than by imposing a predetermined form. Some vessels feature concealed channels that allow liquid to flow unseen between chambers, others are adorned with mythical guardians. There is grief here, particularly in work made since 2023, but there is also an insistence on imagining a future worth making things for. ‘I thought of hidden tunnels in vessels and how we can build communities in moments of darkness and disasters,’ the artist notes. 

Bamieh’s fascination with interconnected vessels began in Morocco in 2017, when she encountered an Amazigh pottery tradition practiced by a dwindling number of women. ‘It wasn’t properly documented because it’s a women-led tradition,’ says Bamieh, who trained with one of its remaining practitioners, Aïcha Tabbiz, whose hands feature in the film. Historically used for offerings of milk, wine, or water, these interconnected forms became the starting point for the work shown at Design Doha. ‘Hopefully these vessels will show that we tried to save what we could,’ she says.

Ola Znad
Crafts, Technology, and Community

Architect Ola Znad was born in Baghdad and raised in Bahrain; her family left Iraq in 2003 following the US-led invasion and she has yet to return. Her recent work explores the vernacular craft traditions of the Ahwari (or Marsh Arab) people: a community indigenous to Iraq’s southern wetlands. Her interest began while pursuing her master’s degree in architecture at University College Dublin. Frustrated by accounts of reed architecture written from a Western perspective, she sought out the craftspeople themselves. An introduction to master builder Abu Saleh evolved into an enduring collaboration with the Ahwari community.

At the 2024 edition of Dubai Design Week, Znad presented A Present/Absent Mudhif, a recreation of the marshlands’ celebrated mudhif – a traditional guesthouse made from bundles of reeds. For Design Doha, she reimagines these architectural forms in SHABBAH (2026), a furniture collection inspired by the ceremonies and gatherings held within mudhifs. ‘I didn’t want it to be only architectural,’ says Znad. ‘I wanted to honor the hospitality.’ The collection comprises a table, chairs, stools, and benches made with reeds harvested in Iraq.

Transporting the reeds from Iraq took about three months, reflecting the logistical challenges of working across borders. But the greater challenge to this traditional way of working is the depletion of the marshlands’ water, with reduced river flows and constant drought threatening both livelihoods and the reeds upon which this ancient craft depends. For Znad, design is not simply about preserving a building tradition; it is about sustaining the communities who keep it alive. ‘This all stems from a longing for my country,’ Znad elaborates: ‘this created a bond between me and the people of Iraq.’

Ammar Kalo
Landscapes of Production – Landscapes of Extraction

Who would have thought that ceramic insulators on electricity pylons could inspire furniture? For architect and designer Ammar Kalo, these industrial objects – designed to support electrical conductors while isolating the flow of current from their supporting structures – became the unlikely starting point for a ceramic table and sculptural light presented as part of Design Doha.

An associate professor at the American University of Sharjah, where he also serves as Director of Labs at the College of Architecture, Art, and Design, Kalo approaches design through an intimate understanding of materials and how things are made. He takes inspiration from architect Louis Kahn’s famous conversation with a brick, which insisted it wanted to be an arch. Kalo applies a similar philosophy to his own practice and approach to materials. ‘Before starting a project, I have to know what it’s made of,’ he says. ‘I want to know what it wants to do and what it can and can’t do.’

Made in Lebanon, the two pieces on view also reference electrification and urbanization in desert landscapes. Their distinctive forms emerged from the possibilities and limitations of clay, a material he had not previously worked with. The result is unusually playful for a designer who typically favors smooth, elegant forms. ‘I wanted to challenge the color and form, so as not to become too serious,’ Kalo explains. ‘As a personality, I’d say these are fun and quirky.’