The Magnificent Museum of Islamic Art in Doha

By: Ehsaan Mesghali

Designed by I.M. Pei, who was literally begged out of retirement, this dream job embodies the founding principles of Islamic geometric elegance. Pei is renowned for his renovation to the most well known museum in history, the Louvre. His glass pyramid pavilion that many felt violated the sanctity of the once barren courtyard of the Parisian museum is a testament to his affinity for telling a complex tale with very little characters. Upon accepting the commission, Pei took an opportunity to leisurely travel the Muslim world in search of inspiration, for we all know the best way to experience a building is in person.

In describing the project, Pei states that he aimed to embody the “essence of Islamic architecture.” This is an important point to mention. When designing buildings for Islamic occupancy or even in the Islamic world, an immediate question emerges that needs to be addressed rather clearly. In spite of centuries of archetypes and design traditions that dictate what is defined as “Islamic” architecture, how does the designer arrive at a solution that resolves these traditions with modernity at large? It would be easy to simply take the design from an 18th century fortress, rebuild it in white concrete, and call it “modern,” but what Pei wished to arrive at was a more informed treatment of the issue. In establishing that the design aims to arrive at the “essence” of what Islamic architecture is all about, he allows himself the freedom to design a solution that will be at its heart Islamic, but not necessarily a direct manifestation of what others might define the term by. Pei exhibits a truly profound understanding of these complexities in another interview: “Contemporary architects tend to impose modernity on something, there is a certain concern for history but it’s not very deep. I understand that time has changed, we have evolved. But I don’t want to forget the beginning. A lasting architecture has to have roots.”

Pei has mentioned that he was most fascinated in this commission because it would allow him insight into a culture he was not all too familiar with: “Islam was one religion I did not know,” Pei admits, “so I studied the life of Muhammad. I went to Egypt and Tunisia. I became very interested in the architecture of defense, in fortifications.” This starting point is clearly visible in the end result, a truly monolithic approach that relates both strength and simplicity. Some might argue that the museum is too simple, and point to the more complex examples among prominent Islamic Architecture. Pei in a masterful gesture had made the building act on the outside much like it acts on the inside, a canvas. The chief player in the theater of architecture is one actor and one actor alone: light. The simplicity of the volumes staggered on top of each other provide countless opportunities for shade and shadow. Subtle and not so subtle changes in angle register the building in a thousand different ways, the building can be orange, gray, white, and purple, all in a simple cycle of the day.

This idea brings us to the site selection, or rather the lack thereof. Pei had a very clear agenda in mind which was only discovered after the design intention was revealed. The executives at the museum proposed various sites downtown and on the shore, but none appeased Pei. He eventually convinced the authorities to build him a site of his own, asking the ruling Emir, Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa al-Thani, to construct a brand new private island to secure the building’s absolute isolation. “I worried a lot about what will come after,” says the weary Pei, “even a beautiful piece of work can be overshadowed, destroyed by something else.” The Emir was asked, and the Emir delivered, however it is fair to mention that this entire idea of cultural revival in Qatar is due largely to the efforts of that very Emir. His daughter Sheikha al Mayassa, who was instrumental in pushing the project forward, mentions that her “father’s vision was to build a cross-cultural institution…it is to reconnect the historical threads that have been broken, and finding peaceful ways to resolve conflict.”

The structure can be described as the stacking of simple volumes, each slightly smaller than the last, in the form of rectangles and octagons. As Pei puts it, “The museum is an object, it should be treated as a piece of sculpture.” The hollow interior atrium climbs up slowly, culminating in a dramatic oculus framed by a stunningly chiseled interior dome. Pei has mentioned frequently that through all his travels one building in particular stood out to him as a point of inspiration, the Ahmed ibn Tulun Mosque in Cairo. “I found the most wonderful examples of Islamic work in Cairo, it turns out. I’d visited mosques there before, but I didn’t see them with the same eye as I did this time. They truly said something to me about Islamic architecture. The museum I’m designing is more influenced by the Mosque of Ibn Tulun than any other building. This mosque is very austere and beautiful its geometry is most refined. You think of Gothic architecture, it’s so elaborate. This is the opposite, so simple.”

There’s a notable amount of control exhibited in the patron’s experience of the building, as everyone arrives at the foot of the monument after traversing an angled bridge off the mainland, framed on both sides by palm trees. Some argue the angle was specifically determined as the degree at which shade and shadow are most clearly evident from ground level, further emphasizing the presence of light as a central theme in the design solution.

The museum of Islamic Art in Doha is a much needed institution dedicated to bridging our world closer together. The collection, perhaps unlike other similar examples, goes out its way to include pieces that are not inherently “Islamic” in nature, yet hint at a time when a common global culture existed, where Islam played a central role in the exchange of relevant ideas, and that is truly priceless.

Images courtesy of Islamic Museum of Islamic Art Doha