I didn’t quite know what to expect from AlUla. You see the photos, otherworldly landscapes, monumental rocks that seem sculpted by time and wind and silence, but they still don’t prepare you for how it actually feels to be there. We travelled as a family, which always shifts the perspective of a place. You notice different things. You move slower. You open up to wonder.
Beauty in quiet details By Sabine Marcelis
Artist and Designer
What struck me first was the scale, that vastness of space pressing in on all sides, the way it holds you. It’s humbling. But then, as you start walking, breathing it in, the details pull you in too: the strata in the stone, each layer a different tone of ochre or rust or sun-bleached beige. A physical record of time. I found myself taking photos of details like shadows on a rock, cracks, gradients of colour. It was a reminder that beauty doesn’t need to be loud. It just needs to be honest.
Visiting Desert X in the middle of this landscape was deeply impactful. The artworks didn’t dominate the environment, they entered into conversation with it. Some mirrored the horizon, some disappeared into the sand, others drew attention to things you might otherwise overlook. It made me think about the vast potential of working with a place, not just in it. AlUla gave me so many ideas, not only about form and material, but about presence and context. The possibilities are endless when you can imagine nature to be your collaborator. I left feeling energised to create more site-specific work, something that breathes with its surroundings. To work with sand, water, wind, the sun.
What struck me first was the scale, that vastness of space pressing in on all sides, the way it holds you. It’s humbling. But then, as you start walking, breathing it in, the details pull you in too: the strata in the stone, each layer a different tone of ochre or rust or sun-bleached beige. A physical record of time. I found myself taking photos of details like shadows on a rock, cracks, gradients of colour. It was a reminder that beauty doesn’t need to be loud. It just needs to be honest.
Visiting Desert X in the middle of this landscape was deeply impactful. The artworks didn’t dominate the environment, they entered into conversation with it. Some mirrored the horizon, some disappeared into the sand, others drew attention to things you might otherwise overlook. It made me think about the vast potential of working with a place, not just in it. AlUla gave me so many ideas, not only about form and material, but about presence and context. The possibilities are endless when you can imagine nature to be your collaborator. I left feeling energised to create more site-specific work, something that breathes with its surroundings. To work with sand, water, wind, the sun.
What moved me deeply was witnessing the way artists like Hallhaus, Leo Orta, and Leen Ajlan were truly embedding themselves in the local fabric. Not just conceptually, but physically, emotionally, and collaboratively. Visiting Leo’s workspace, where he had been based for four months, I saw first-hand how his relationship with local craftsmen had evolved into something truly genuine. These weren’t just collaborators; they had become his friends. Young fabricators dropped by casually, exchanging high-fives with Leo and walking off together with arms slung around each other. It was a complete and natural integration of two worlds. That kind of mutual respect and energy is rare, and incredibly inspiring
A place, however, is mainly made of people. Listening to their stories, their needs and expectations is key to start any design activity. At Kéré Architecture, we always engage with the community of users in a participatory process, in order to design with and for the people that will later take ownership of the spaces. A dialogue with the local inhabitants of the Oasis and the city of AlUla Central has been launched early on in the process. This community-driven approach allows us to conceive of socially sustainable projects that integrate in the context with delicacy, putting people at the centre. Listening to the place also entails engaging with all aspects of the local building practices, from local resources to typical construction techniques, and deeply understand the cultural knowledge embedded in the land, to provide a design response grounded in its territory.
AlUla made me slow down, which doesn’t happen often. It reminded me of the importance of stillness in the creative process, the way ideas can rise up when you’re not chasing them. I wasn’t there to work, but the landscape certainly worked on me.
As a family, the experience has become a core memory. My son still asks when we will go back to the desert. For him, it was one big playground. Alula offers this rare duality, it’s both monumentally grand and deeply intimate. It invites you to zoom out and in at the same time. To think about ancient civilizations and your child’s laughter echoing through a canyon. To see design in erosion, in shadow play.
I left with more than memories. I left most of all inspired. And I think that’s the gift of AlUla. It doesn’t try to impress you. It simply is.
As a family, the experience has become a core memory. My son still asks when we will go back to the desert. For him, it was one big playground. Alula offers this rare duality, it’s both monumentally grand and deeply intimate. It invites you to zoom out and in at the same time. To think about ancient civilizations and your child’s laughter echoing through a canyon. To see design in erosion, in shadow play.
I left with more than memories. I left most of all inspired. And I think that’s the gift of AlUla. It doesn’t try to impress you. It simply is.
Sabine Marcelis
Artist and Designer
Artist and Designer
Follow us
