As the Aichi Triennale Considers Humanity’s Fragile Bond with Nature, Hoor Al Qasimi Reflects on Its Role

"The exhibition raises questions about our relationship with the earth, with the environment, with each other and with the built environment as well," Al Qasimi tells Observer.

A surreal outdoor installation in a forest, featuring an enormous gray sculptural form resembling a fossilized creature or root system winding through autumn leaves and slender tree trunks.
Adrián Villar Rojas, Mi familia muerta (My Dead Family), 2009. Photo: Carla Barbero

Launched in 2010, the Aichi Triennale emerged out of the 2005 World Expo (Expo 2005 Aichi), continuing the spirit of global exchange and innovation sparked by the exposition. Quickly establishing itself as one of the most respected international exhibitions in the region, the Triennale takes place in Nagoya, a coastal city on Japan’s Pacific side. Known as Owari during the Edo period, Nagoya later became a key industrial and shipping hub in postwar Japan, with major companies like Toyota shaping its development. Spanning from the Aichi Arts Center in Nagoya to various locations across the city and the more traditional Seto City, the Triennale embodies the tension between rooted traditions and rapid modernization, as well as the interplay between traditional craftsmanship and cutting-edge technology that defines contemporary Japanese society.

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The sixth edition of the Triennale, set to run from September 13 to November 30, 2025, will be led by artistic director Hoor Al Qasimi, who also serves as president and director of the Sharjah Art Foundation. One month before the opening, Observer sat down with Al Qasimi to learn more about this edition and discuss the role of biennials and triennials in a rapidly changing world.

This year, the Aichi Triennale will feature works by sixty-two artists and groups from twenty-two countries and territories under the highly poetic title “A Time Between Ashes and Roses,” which explores the contemporary divide between humans and nature, along with the fragility of our times. “It’s about our primordial connection to nature,” Al Qasimi tells Observer. “I wanted to juxtapose these two extremes of our relationship with the environment—both generative and destructive.” She selected a poetic title not only because poetry holds deep personal significance, but also because it leaves room for interpretation, expressing a more universal sentiment.

A woman stands against a textured brick wall, wearing a striking bright red cape with gold buttons and embroidered floral motifs on the chest pockets. She pairs the outfit with black pants, black boots, and a chunky gold bracelet. Her dark hair is styled simply, and she gazes directly at the camera with a confident, composed expression
Hoor Al Qasimi. Photo: Sebastian Boettcher

The title is drawn from a 1970 poem by Syrian poet Adonis, a figure who embodies both the spirit and the troubled history of the contemporary Arab world. In the poem, Adonis wonders how trees can continue to blossom amid war and destruction. “A time between ashes and roses is coming. When everything shall be extinguished, when everything shall begin,” reads the poem, capturing in just a few lines the perpetual cycle of birth, death and renewal that defines the universe.

“The exhibition aims to raise questions about our relationship with the earth, with the environment, with each other and with the built environment as well,” Al Qasimi explained. Interestingly, many Japanese viewers interpret the title as “heavy,” likely because it echoes the country’s own historical traumas, especially given that this edition of the Triennale coincides with the 80th anniversary of the attack on Hiroshima.

In addressing these timely questions, Al Qasimi has embraced a global curatorial perspective, selecting an exceptionally diverse group of international artists. While many participants are based in Japan, there is significant representation from the Middle East, along with artists from Asia, Africa, the Americas, Oceania and Europe. Given Al Qasimi’s central role in shaping the artistic ecosystem of the UAE and the broader Gulf region through the Sharjah Art Foundation, it is unsurprising that many of the artists—though perhaps lesser known in international circles—hail from that region.

A layered, dreamlike painting by Kamala Ibrahim Ishag featuring numerous faces and figures enclosed in translucent cube-like frames, with a central larger cube containing a seated woman, rendered in muted earthy tones with streaks of green, pink, and gray creating a fluid, atmospheric effect.
Kamala Ibrahim Ishag, People in Crystal Cubes, 1984. Photo: Shanavas Jamaluddin, Courtesy of Sharjah Art Foundation Collection of Sharjah Art Foundation

When asked whether there’s a particular narrative or recurring theme among artists from the region, Hoor Al Qasimi emphasizes the diversity of their perspectives and research. While they draw from local identities and traditions, she notes that they also engage with broader global issues. “From the individual to the collective, they are all questioning the meaning and impact of our presence in this world, in this moment. I think they’re all addressing different aspects of it, because their practices and locations are different.”

This edition of the Triennale explores the complex relationship between humans and the planet as viewed through a geological timescale rather than the anthropocentric lens of nationhood, territory or ethnicity. The works do not focus on boundaries, but on entanglement—the interconnected system that binds us. They address universal principles: trust, nurturing and the ability to complement one’s surroundings and environment.

In a world consumed by an ever-growing number of unresolved conflicts, contemplating the idea of war feels not only timely but essential. The exhibition approaches it as a means of examining war’s impact not only on society and ecosystems, but at a deeper, geological level—understanding trauma as something embedded in the earth’s enduring timeline. It’s a long-term perspective that shifts the focus away from immediate causes or territorial disputes and instead opens up a planetary view.

Among the notable international names featured in the exhibition, Cannupa Hanska Luger—a Mandan, Hidatsa, Arikara, Lakota, Austrian and Norwegian artist—will present his concept of Future Ancestral, fusing sci-fi and Native American culture to challenge and reframe 21st-century understandings of Indigenous identity. His work emphasizes the relevance of Indigenous knowledge in addressing today’s global challenges. For the first time in Japan, Simone Leigh will exhibit ceramic and bronze sculptures that draw from traditional African forms to center Black female subjectivity and labor, resonating with Wangechi Mutu’s exploration of interconnectivity and hybridity—beings and species rendered through a feminine sensibility rooted in a primordial relationship with the earth and filtered through African spirituality and ancestral traditions.

Al Qasimi sought to use this Triennale as an opportunity to spotlight contemporary Japanese artists, who comprise a significant portion of the lineup. That required extensive research, not only in the country’s major cultural hubs but also through collaboration with Japanese curators closely attuned to the evolving landscape of the national art scene.

She appointed Iida Shihoko, who served as curator at the Tokyo Opera City Art Gallery for 11 years, having begun as assistant curator in 1998 during preparations for the gallery’s opening. The curatorial team also includes Irizawa Masaaki, a specialist in contemporary ceramics and current curator at the Aichi Prefectural Ceramic Museum; Ishikura Toshiaki, an anthropologist and associate professor in the Department of Arts & Roots at the Akita University of Art, who focuses on Pacific Rim comparative mythology and multispecies artistic anthropology; and Cho Sunhye, assistant curator at the Fukuoka Asian Art Museum.

For performing arts, Al Qasimi enlisted Nakamura Akane, a performance producer who served as program director at ST Spot Yokohama from 2004 to 2008 before founding precog Co., Ltd., which she now leads. On the learning and education side, Al Qasimi is collaborating with architect Tsuji Takuma, whose work centers on the theme of intermittent yet fluid transitions within buildings and spatial environments.

A colorful, abstract painting split into two panels, depicting distorted, organic humanoid forms in vivid swirling colors against contrasting black and pink backgrounds.
Kato Izumi, Untitled, 2023. Photo: Kei Okano Courtesy of the artist / ©2023 Izumi Kato

“There are a lot of artists out there in Japan, but they don’t always have the opportunity or platform, especially those who don’t live in the main cities,” acknowledges Al Qasimi, after spending more than a year engaging with the scene. “I’m still interested in doing more research,” she adds. Still, it’s difficult to identify a single theme or dominant sensibility in contemporary Japanese artistic practices, which tend to be highly diverse. “They’re all pretty different in their own ways,” she notes.

To reflect the range of Japanese artistic output and the evolution of different aesthetics, the list also includes two manga artists from different generations. Morohoshi Daijiro (b. 1949) works in the realm of science fiction, blending humor, ancient folklore and Japanese popular culture to imagine a post-human underworld that coexists with everyday life. In contrast, the enigmatic Panpanya—a manga artist active online and at doujinshi (self-published works) conventions since the 2000s—is known for intricate, dystopian narratives rendered in obsessive detail.

Both artists provide important links to Nextworld (1951) by Osamu Tezuka, a foundational science fiction manga that serves as another reference point anchoring this year’s Triennale theme. Set during the Cold War era, Nextworld critiques escalating tensions between global superpowers while exploring themes of apocalypse and renewal that remain eerily relevant today.

Another notable Japanese artist in the Triennale is Kato Izumi, whose internationally recognized work blends abstraction and figuration in kaleidoscopic forms that probe the human condition. His paintings and sculptures suggest an infinite range of transformation, transfiguration and hybridization, gesturing toward a post-human future.

 A minimalist display on a white shelf featuring a row of small glass jars with cork lids containing various organic materials suspended in liquid, alongside two reddish clay vessels and small sculptural objects arranged in between.
Cannupa Hanska Luger, A WAY HOME, 2020. Photo: Steve Mann 2020

Notably, the majority of participating artists and groups are non-Western—a curatorial decision that opens deeper space for exploring alternative paradigms and perspectives rooted in ancestral knowledge systems and Indigenous worldviews. These frameworks often stand in stark contrast to the extractive, capital-driven mentality that has shaped the modern world.

Yet because biennials are also meant to engage with the specific socio-cultural and geographic context in which they take place, Observer asked Al Qasimi how this edition of the Triennale responds to the history and cultural fabric of Aichi and, more broadly, Japan. She answered that the search for traditional knowledge and wisdom will be especially apparent in Seto City, where the Triennale will investigate the region’s long history of ceramic craftsmanship and its entanglement with broader narratives about the evolution of civilization.

For instance, Guatemalan artist Marilyn Boror Bor will address the deconstruction of colonial narratives and the revitalization of Indigenous languages and traditions. Her work involves encasing Indigenous pots in concrete, creating a potent metaphor for colonial imposition and the environmental and cultural impacts of industrialization.

Syrian artist Simone Fattal, also known for her poetic and metaphorically rich work in clay and ceramics, will present pieces that delve into myths and ancient civilizations. Her practice explores enduring questions of displacement and identity within the broader human condition.

A ceramic vessel shaped like a bird, with a rounded white body, a brown and black head resembling a duck, and a spout extending from the back, set against a plain white background.
Marilyn Boror Bor, They too, the mountains, gave us back concrete, 2022. Courtesy of the artist

When it comes to audience engagement, Al Qasimi confirms that this edition of the Triennale was conceived with a specific awareness of its Japanese audience—particularly in Nagoya. One example is the installation by Basel Abbas and Ruanne Abou-Rahme, which combines sound, image and text to create an immersive, performative narrative set to unfold inside a club.

The role and responsibility of biennials and triennials today

Toward the end of our conversation, given Al Qasimi’s role as director of the Sharjah Art Foundation—which organizes one of the most influential biennials in the world—we asked her what role biennials still play today. With their global proliferation, occasional instrumentalization and the backdrop of ongoing geopolitical instability, do these platforms remain relevant as spaces for intercultural exchange?

While Al Qasimi acknowledges that every biennial is different, she stresses that their impact on the host city and its local communities is essential. “A biennial has to engage with the city. It can’t be isolated,” she says. “Some biennials are reduced to museum shows, but for me, the exciting ones are the ones that venture into public spaces, engage with people and develop as collaborative processes.” She reiterates that context is everything.

An immersive video installation in a dark gallery lit with magenta and blue light, featuring multiple projected images on walls and freestanding panels, including a large projection of a woman’s profile with the text “An echo Buried Buried Buried” in English and Arabic.
Basel Abbas and Ruanne Abou-Rahme, May amnesia never kiss us on the mouth: only sounds that tremble through us, 2020-22. Christian Øen | Photo: Christian Øen © Astrup Fearnley Museet, 2023.

However, this kind of impact requires full immersion and an embedded relationship with place. Drawing from her experience in Sharjah, Al Qasimi is adamant that maintaining a consistent team over time is essential. “For me, what’s always been important is not just what you produce in terms of exhibitions, but who you are as a team. A lot of biennials just pop up, disappear and start over,” she reflects. “I thought it was important to work with people who know how to work well together, who understand the ins and outs of everything. You cannot replace them every time; it’s not sustainable.” Teamwork, she says, is crucial to the success of large-scale exhibitions. In Sharjah, they’ve been working with the same team for more than 20 years. “They know all the artists, they know everything. That’s something really special.”

Another key factor is continuous audience outreach. “When you disappear for two years, that’s a long time for people. They grow up, they get distracted. You have to remind them who you are and bring them back,” she explains. “But if you’re a long-term foundation, constantly engaging with the public, you always have an audience.” Over the past two decades, she adds, Sharjah has quadrupled its audience. In the end, Al Qasimi concludes, it all comes down to having a long-term vision because that’s what allows for lasting impact.

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As the Aichi Triennale Considers Humanity’s Fragile Bond with Nature, Hoor Al Qasimi Reflects on Its Role