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Marrakech

Gueliz

12 galleries · 4 museums · 0 places

About this district

Exhibo editorial

Gueliz is Marrakech's new town — the grid of wide boulevards and art-deco façades laid just outside the medina walls, with the Atlas visible down the long avenues on a clear day. It is where the city's commercial gallery scene concentrates: upmarket contemporary rooms, a restored mining building turned three-floor exhibition space, and, on its north-eastern edge toward the medina, the garden-and-museum complex that draws more visitors than anywhere else in the city. This is the modern, planned, walkable Marrakech, meant to be strolled — café terraces, boutiques, a gallery every few blocks. The register is polished. The art is destination-scaled.

Galleries

Museums

Islamic Art Museum — museum cover

Islamic Art Museum

Public institution
MACMA — museum cover

MACMA

Public institution
Musée Yves Saint Laurent Marrakech — museum cover

Musée Yves Saint Laurent Marrakech

Public institution
Pierre Bergé Berber Museum — museum cover

Pierre Bergé Berber Museum

Public institution

Places

No published places in this district yet.

Stories

All articles
The cobalt-blue studio wall of the Jardin Majorelle in Marrakech, set against green foliage and terracotta pots in bright sun.
Editorial

Marrakech · Morocco

Majorelle Blue: How a Painter (Almost) Trademarked a Colour

How a French painter lent his surname to a blue that Morocco had been dyeing, firing and painting for centuries — and what that tells us about who gets to own a colour.

Everyone repeats the same tidy line: a painter fell in love with Marrakech, invented an electric blue, and trademarked it. Almost every clause is a simplification. The colour was already deep in Morocco's visual language — in indigo, in the cobalt of Fez, in the blue of zellige — long before Jacques Majorelle poured it over a single studio wall. What he actually did was rarer and stranger: not invent a colour, but compose a place, and attach a name to a hue no one can truly own.

Editorial artwork inspired by Arab Modernism, featuring a stylised figure, Arabic calligraphy and abstract geometric elements symbolising the rediscovery of overlooked artists and cultural histories.
Editorial

Dubai · United Arab Emirates

Arab Modernism 101: The Movement That Western Art History Forgot

An entire century of extraordinary painting, sculpture and radical thinking got written out of the global canon. Someone made that decision. And now the market — and the collectors who pay attention — are making a different one.

Great art does not become invisible by accident. Arab Modernism reveals how museums, markets and cultural institutions shape what the world sees — and what it overlooks. A story about artists, recognition and the blind spots that define art history.

A geometric khamsa — an open five-fingered hand with an eye at its centre — in the Kabyle silver style of North Africa.
Editorial

Marrakech · Morocco

The Hand That Everyone Named After Their Own

The Khamsa across North Africa — Marrakech, Tunis, Algiers — and why the oldest thing about it is the shape, not the story.

Everyone calls it something different — the Hand of Fatima, the Hand of Miriam, the Hand of Mary. One five-fingered shape, several holy names, each written onto it by a community that made it its own. From a carved hand over the Alhambra's gate to Kabyle silver, synagogue lamps and a boy on a Marseille motorway, this is the story of a symbol older than the names it carries — and shared by more people than any one of them.

The deep rust-red mega-dunes of the Liwa crescent in the Empty Quarter, rising in smooth ridges under clear sky, with a thin line of green date palms at their base
Editorial

Abu Dhabi · United Arab Emirates

Why Liwa Is Red

The red of the world's tallest dunes isn't a fact about the sand — it's a record of everywhere the sand has been. A drowned sea, an ice-age wind and a buried green Arabia, all pressed into a single colour.

Everyone knows why Liwa is red: iron in the sand. It's true the way "the Gulf is white to reflect heat" is true — the first sentence of a much longer story. The red is a microscopically thin coat of rust on grains of clear quartz, and where those grains came from is almost impossible to picture from the dunes: the floor of a sea that no longer exists, lifted grain by grain and stacked three hundred metres high.