Lawrie Shabibi presents Marwan Bassiouni: New Western Views, the first solo exhibition in the region by the Swiss-Egyptian-American photographer Marwan Bassiouni. Running through 5 November, the exhibition brings together a selection of the artist’s large-scale photographs created between 2018 and 2022 in mosques across the Netherlands, Switzerland, and the United Kingdom.

Stunning, stunning series. The true heaven for perfectionists.

At the heart of the series is a simple yet profound device: a window. Each photograph looks outward from the interior of a mosque onto the surrounding Western landscape — streets, suburban houses, supermarkets, car parks, and sports fields — revealing the coexistence of Islamic and Western worlds within a single frame. The vantage point inverts the familiar colonial gaze: instead of “looking at” Islamic architecture from outside, the viewer now sees the contemporary West through the architectural and spiritual language of a mosque.

Bassiouni’s images are meticulously composed and technically layered. By combining multiple exposures, he restores the balance of light that the human eye perceives but the camera alone cannot record. The result is an image of serene equilibrium — between interior and exterior, sacred and everyday, East and West. This formal precision mirrors the artist’s conceptual aim: to highlight the quiet presence of Muslim communities embedded in European society and to propose a new visual dialogue grounded in coexistence rather than opposition.

In New Western Views, Bassiouni extends his long-standing interest in how faith, place, and identity intersect within contemporary culture. The exhibition invites viewers to look beyond stereotypes and engage with photography as both documentation and meditation — a space where light becomes a metaphor for understanding. Through these tranquil windows, the artist asks not only what we see, but how we see.

— Marwan, what first inspired you to begin this project?

— I moved to the Netherlands in 2014 with a background in photography and documentary work. In school, I reconnected with my faith and became interested in how Islam — and Muslim and Arab communities — are represented. I wasn’t drawn to “making work about Islam” so much as making work about the perception of Islam. One day, I photographed a window in a mosque, focused on that frame, and something clicked. That became the seed of New Western Views.

— So is the work a pushback against Orientalist ways of seeing?

— In part. I wanted to suggest another way of looking — one that exposes the biases in how Islam is often pictured — without being reactive. The subject is mosques and landscapes, yes, but the deeper subject is perception. I am not trying to argue; I am trying to construct images that make viewers question how these spaces have been photographed.

— Who did you imagine as the audience?

— Ultimately, I am trying to make good photographs that carry a feeling — light on a carpet, a chair by a window, a particular colour relationship. That is universal. When I am working, I often forget I am in a mosque; I am absorbed in the poetry of what is in front of me. The political and social context is always there, but I oscillate between that and the immediacy of looking.

— Your compositions feel very deliberate — precise geometry, balance, detail. What is your process for finding “the perfect window”?

— Actually, nothing is staged. I scout, choose views that will translate as photographs, and then work technically to approach what the eye can perceive, not just what the camera can record. I’ll make multiple exposures — typically for inside and outside — and blend them to recover the sensation of being there. I am not breaking documentary truth; I am restoring what the camera can’t hold in a single shot.

— Why focus on interiors rather than photographing mosque exteriors or architecture at large?

— My entry point wasn’t architecture; in fact, I even failed this subject in university at first. It was the perception of Islam. I did try some exteriors, but the interior view — landscape seen through a mosque window — opened the project. It let me address the Western perspective and who frames the scene. Over time, the “rules” of the series emerged, and I followed where the project led.

— Does your own background (Swiss-Egyptian-American, living in the Netherlands) make the work a kind of self-portrait?

— It influenced me, of course, but the aim wasn’t self-portraiture. I wanted to respond to propaganda and stereotyped images with urgency and care. Art must be personal to be real, but that is different from making the work about myself.

— How have audiences in different countries responded?

— Reactions vary widely — emotion, gratitude, anger, indifference. Some people won’t enter the exhibition once they learn the subject; others have told me the work helped them reconnect with their faith. I try not to predict responses. My responsibility is to make the strongest images I can, for the right reasons.

— Was it difficult to photograph inside mosques?

— There is no Islamic prohibition on photographing immobile subjects or interiors, though people are another matter. Logistically, yes — it takes travel, scouting, permissions, timing, and careful postproduction to honour the materials and light. I introduce the project to communities, show examples, and most places are welcoming.

— You have shown country-specific chapters before. Is this the first time you are presenting multiple countries together?

— Yes. I have previously exhibited the British, Swiss, and Dutch chapters separately and once mixed some works at an art fair. This is the first solo bringing several geographies together, with some new pieces and some prints shown for the first time in this constellation.

— What do you hope Dubai audiences might take away?

— I don’t want to pre-load the viewing. I think of looking as both a window and a mirror — what you see is also a reflection of your own heart. If an image can be meaningful and memorable — worthy of existing among the billions we produce — then it has done its work.

— Who has influenced you?

— Rather than one photographer, it is fragments: painters like Kandinsky for the experience of looking; filmmakers like Andrei Tarkovsky for insisting each medium be true to itself. His question — “What is the purpose of life?” — helped me start from zero and think about what photography can be without imitating painting, theatre, or pure activism. I respect many photographers — Robert Frank among them — but Tarkovsky’s view of art and time shaped my approach to photography’s own language.

— Which Tarkovsky films resonate most?

— The Sacrifice (1986) was the first I saw, and it stunned me, especially in how it brings questions of faith into cinema. Mirror (1975) is also important — less about “story” than memory. His work invites you to look longer and think deeper; that is something I strive for in photographs.

— How do you manage permissions and follow up with the communities you photograph?

— I carry a book of the work, explain the project, and seek consent. Sometimes I share final images afterwards, sometimes not — it depends on the contact and context. In some countries, there are formal approval processes; if timing doesn’t allow, I move on. The UK chapter alone includes over a hundred mosques, so keeping up with everyone isn’t always possible.

— What do you ultimately want your pictures to do?

— To translate light — to connect interior and exterior in a single breath — and to let two worlds meet without spectacle or apology. If the photographs open a quiet space where someone truly looks, that is enough.