An hour later, we left the highway next to a sign for the “Camel Underpass” — a tunnel for dromedary camels to roam freely — and crunched onto a dirt road. At first glance, the landscape appears unremarkable, dotted with rusted oil barrels, but rocky cliffs in the distance loom through the heat haze. As we sped toward them, their strange top-heavy shapes became clear: like living waves, their sunken sides crests on a sea of fine golden sand. Then, even stranger, four massive steel monoliths rose between them, a 1-kilometer-long black rectangular void: clearly man-made, but as raw and unsettling as its surroundings.
Artist Richard Serra’s creation East-West/West-East is art liberated from the gallery, a sculpture without exhibition notes, gift shops or WiFi. In the desert, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, it invites big thinking: thinking about isolation, resilience, and the relationship between humans and nature. “I’ve been here countless times, but it still takes my breath away,” Samruiddin said, as we walked among the 14-meter-high steel plates, our T-shirts flapping in the hot, dry wind.
I can only nod in agreement, marveling at the sheer scale and ambition of this artwork – an irresistible metaphor for its homeland. I’m here to search for the past, for my homeland: although Qatar is proud of its roots, it’s impossible to “go back” here. Like its star-studded architecture, majestic museums and busty bodybuilders in the Pearl Emporium, Qatar always has surprises up its sleeve – even if you think you’ve seen it all.
