Battoula by Ghada Al Suwaidi
A Qatari woman in traditional dress, painted in the same soft pastels as the port's walls.
Battoula — named for the traditional face covering worn by women across the Gulf — is Qatari artist Ghada Al Suwaidi's contribution to the Mina District walls, painted for World Wide Walls: Doha 2023. It depicts a woman in traditional Qatari dress, but rendered in unusual, softened colour: the artist matched her palette to the pastel façades of the port itself, so the figure seems to emerge from the building rather than sit on top of it. It's a quiet, deliberate piece of localisation — a local artist putting a distinctly Qatari subject on a Qatari wall, in a festival otherwise full of international visitors, and letting the architecture set the tone.
Exhibo editorial
Among the 13 artists of the 2023 edition, only three were Qatari, and Al Suwaidi's Battoula is one of the clearest statements of homegrown identity in the district. The choice to dissolve the figure into the port's own colours makes the point gently: this heritage belongs here, on this wall, in this light.
How to find it
On a façade among the pastel lanes of Mina District; the soft-toned figure blends with the building colour, so look closely as you walk. Pairs naturally with the other Qatari works (Noura Al Mansoori) on the same stroll.
Similar places
All placesRelated stories
Why Doha Is Full of Roundabouts
An old circle at a crossroads, sharpened by British road engineering, became the way an Arabian city found its way and remembered itself — and it took the bulldozers to reveal it.
In a city where a landmark was more useful than an address, Doha's roundabouts became its navigation, its landscaping and its national image all at once. Now they're being torn out for signalled junctions — and the affection for them arrived, as one scholar put it, only posthumously.
The Animal We Drew Everywhere Once It Was Gone
From Neolithic rock to airline tailfin — how the Arabian oryx vanished from the desert, came back from nine animals, and multiplied everywhere as a symbol in the very decades it was gone.
The last wild Arabian oryx was shot in 1972. By then it was already a picture — carved on Bronze Age tombs, mistaken by the ancients for a unicorn, praised by poets as the eyes of the beloved. This is the story of an animal that went extinct in the wild and was brought back from nine survivors, and of the strange gap between the creature and the emblem it became: fast, sharp and ascendant on a nation's tailfin, while the animal itself survives by standing still in the shade.
Seventy Thousand Solomons: The Empire That Performed a Legend
A demon catalogue in the conqueror's library, a sixteenth-century text where kingship is an office held seventy thousand times, and the columns a sultan dragged across three provinces to prove he held it.
Mehmed II kept a Greek catalogue of demons in his library at Topkapı. Seventy years later a sultan named for a prophet was rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem and hauling Roman columns out of Egypt and the Lebanon into a mosque above the Golden Horn. In between, Ottoman writers turned Solomon from a warning into a job — and the empire applied for it in stone.