{"id":13412,"date":"2026-09-10T10:00:33","date_gmt":"2026-09-10T08:00:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/boasblogs.org\/?post_type=dcntrdebates&p=13412"},"modified":"2026-08-11T10:33:23","modified_gmt":"2026-08-11T08:33:23","slug":"exhibiting-sufi-art-and-culture-in-france","status":"publish","type":"dcntrdebates","link":"https:\/\/boasblogs.org\/de\/dcntr-debates\/debate-4\/exhibiting-sufi-art-and-culture-in-france\/","title":{"rendered":"Exhibiting Sufi Art and Culture in France"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"The

Fig. 1<\/strong> The museum\u2019s front \u00a9 Varvani GmbH<\/p><\/div>\n

Introduction<\/b><\/h3>\n

The Mus\u00e9e d\u2019Art et de Culture Soufis MTO\u00ae (MACS MTO\u00ae) is the first museum in the world dedicated to exploring the principles of Sufism and its artistic and cultural expressions. Housed in a 19th-century mansion in Chatou, on the outskirts of Paris, it features a unique permanent collection of objects related to Sufism and contemporary artworks lent by artists, as well as galleries from around the world.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Generally defined as the spiritual aspect of Islam, Sufism is considered a path of spiritual elevation in which devotion expresses itself through an inner journey. The first Sufi masters are attested from the early days of islam in the 7th and 8th centuries. The name Sufism became common in Western languages in the 19th century, though classical Islamic texts used the Arabic term ta<\/i>\u1e63<\/i>awwuf<\/i> to describe the practice. While ta<\/i>\u1e63<\/i>awwuf’s<\/i> etymology is debated, interpretations converge around renunciation, purification, and inner refinement as means to self-knowledge.<\/p>\n

The project was initiated by the MTO Shahmaghsoudi School, a Sufi school dating back to Uways al-Qarani (594\u2013657) which flourished mainly in Iran and is now present worldwide. Today, the museum is a French association financed solely by private funds. The museum ultimately aims to establish itself as a permanent landmark in the French and international cultural scene.<\/p>\n

Several museums around the world are dedicated to specific Sufi schools and contexts. The best-known example is the Mevl\u00e2na Museum in Konya, originally a Sufi lodge, but other examples exist in other parts of the world. In Europe and Northern America, Sufism is often mentioned in museums in a rather anecdotal or superficial way.i<\/sup> Some rare exhibitions or displays recently dedicated more space to Sufi cultures.ii<\/sup><\/p>\n

Since its opening in September 2024, each exhibition at the MACS MTO carries a strong spiritual charge that confronts me, as head of conservation and art historian, with methodological and ethical questions. The challenges of my institution are many: how to give a taste of the universality of Sufi art and culture in 500 m\u00b2 of exhibition space? How to respectfully and accurately exhibit a complex practice that has existed for centuries and continues to be followed in many different ways by billions of people? How to present Sufism, which is very little known in France, to a general public, while answering more in-depth questions from academic and\/or practicing audiences?<\/p>\n

The workshop \u201cMuseum Charge(s): Curating Spiritual Presences\u201d helped me further articulate these dilemmas through feedback from fellow researchers, curators, artists, and museum professionals, and through comparisons with issues and concerns we have in common. It soon appeared that the first specificity of my case is the provenance of the collection. Unlike colleagues such as Susanne Rodemeier, curator at the Marburg Museum of Religions, the question of the objects\u2019 provenance in a colonial context does not arise in my institution. Indeed, the MACS MTO\u2019s collection was not collected by Western explorers or collectors. Mainly consisting of objects from Iran and Central Asia, the collection belonged to a Sufi school and was placed in the museum\u2019s care through a permanent loan. But this origin raises other questions of ethical and collaborative museology.<\/p>\n

The contributions of various participants highlighted several common issues:<\/p>\n

    \n
  1. The respect due to the symbolic and spiritual significance of objects applied to conservation, restoration, and presentation to the public;<\/li>\n
  2. The necessity to take into account the perspectives of practicing communities and involve them in the museum\u2019s scientific discourse;<\/li>\n
  3. The dialogues engaged with contemporary artists, particularly those who are unfamiliar with the spiritual and\/or religious practices presented;<\/li>\n
  4. The search for new methods to highlight intangible practices;<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

    The following development is my attempt to provide a methodological answer to these topics, with examples taken from the latest exhibitions at MACS MTO.<\/p>\n

    Beyond Orientalism: the respect of the objects\u2019 symbolic value<\/b><\/h3>\n

    A core characteristic of Sufism is its rich symbolism, mainly known through poetry, and material culture. In Sufi thought, each reality is expressed through an external form (\u1e93\u0101hir)<\/i> and an internal meaning (b\u0101\u1e6din)<\/i> (Chittick 2015 ; Esposito 2004). Images and metaphors, such as the references to wine, physical beauty and earthly pleasures, are widely used to convey teachings, illustrate subtle or deeper spiritual concepts, and help the students reflect on and fully understand the chosen subjects (De Brujin 1997). Therefore, symbolism is understood as a method in itself at the MACS MTO: the first floor of the museum is mainly devoted to the symbolism of objects such as canes, rosaries, locks, etc. Two types of artefacts receive special attention in how they are restored and displayed: kashk\u016bls<\/i> (containers carried by dervishes, a term I will define later) and khergheh<\/i> (cloaks).<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    \"A

    Fig. 2<\/strong> A 19th-century coco de mer kashk\u016bl<\/em> with a hunting scene. Historic collection of the MACS MTO \u00a9 Jean-Yves Lac\u00f4te<\/p><\/div>\n

    \"A

    Fig. 3<\/strong> A 19th-century coco de mer kashk\u016bl<\/em> with a hunting scene. Historic collection of the MACS MTO \u00a9 Jean-Yves Lac\u00f4te<\/p><\/div>\n

    Present in many museum collections worldwide, the kashk\u016bl<\/i> is inseparable from the image of the Sufi. The Persian etymology of the word conveys the idea of carrying this object on one’s shoulder (Qazvini and Kermani 2018). Its hollow oval shape symbolizes renouncing material attachments and refers to the spiritual poverty of its owner, who is ready to receive divine knowledge. Given its profound meaning, craftspeople and artists turned this object into a true work of art, crafted from a variety of materials including wood, metal, and ceramics, and sometimes adorned with fine decorations. In Iran and Central Asia, kashk\u016bls<\/i> were made from coco de mer<\/i>, the fruit of a palm tree native to the Seychelles. Carried by the waves, they are believed to have washed up on the shores after a long and arduous journey, similar to that of the Sufi disciples on their inner, spiritual quest.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

    Displayed in museums around the world, these objects are most often simply placed on a display case shelf or hung on mannequins in a staging of the figure of the wandering dervish. The very concept of dervish, whose Persian etymology evokes spiritual poverty, has been the subject of numerous superficial interpretations in Europe and North America. It is sometimes associated with the expression \u201cwhirling dervish\u201d describing the Sufis followers of the Mevlevi school, or with the antinomical hermit belonging to the Qalandar school depicted in ethnographic photographs of Central Asia in the early 20th century (Karamustafa 2014; Micklewright 1992; Zarcone 2013). However, dervish in its strictly spiritual sense refers to the \u201cseeker,\u201d the one who follows a path of detachment from earthly possessions (Ebrahim and Hirtenstein 2017).<\/p>\n

    \"The

    Fig. 4<\/strong> The kashk\u016bl<\/em> installation (conception by Le Socle) of the MACS MTO during the first exhibition. \u00a9 Flint culture<\/p><\/div>\n

    To highlight this object, the MACS MTO has given it pride of place at the very beginning of the exhibition. The display consists of three vertical bars fixed to a base, each holding a kashk\u016bl<\/i> and two \u201ctrees,\u201d the first bearing three coco de mer kashk\u016bl<\/i>, the second three metal ones. The rounded body of the object is nestled in a cradle and the chain is supported by an arch above, allowing visitors to see the object as it would have been worn on the shoulder.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

    The whole ensemble is almost designed like a contemporary sculpture. The absence of glass allows unprecedented proximity to the artefact, and the pedestal display creates a unique sense of lightness. The success of this presentation is due to several contributors: the curators, the scholars specialized in Sufism and the display designers and museographers.<\/p>\n

    \"A

    Fig. 5<\/strong> A 20th-century Iranian Khirqa (robe) Sheepskin embroidered with cotton thread Historic collection of MACS MTO Photography \u00a9 Jean-Yves Lac\u00f4te<\/p><\/div>\n

    Wool cloaks called khirqa <\/i>or khergheh <\/i>are another significant example of artifacts steeped in symbolism. While Sufi attire varies from one school to another, certain garments distinguished by color or materials have major spiritual significance. Made of rough wool or sheepskin, the khirqa <\/i>symbolizes humility, detachment from worldly concerns, and the openness of the heart.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

    In some Sufi orders, it embodies the master\u2019s spiritual authority, passed on to the disciple deemed ready to carry on the teaching.i<\/sup> The gesture of draping the cloak on the shoulders of the masters\u2019 successors is a reminder of the story in which the Prophet Muhammad draped his robe over his family members, hence, the Arabic expression Ahl al-Kis\u0101\u2019<\/i> or Ahl al-\u2018Ab\u0101<\/i>, meaning \u201cthe People of the Robe\u201d (Esposito 2004, 9).<\/p>\n

    The museum\u2019s khirqa <\/i>and khergheh <\/i>belonged to masters of the Oveyssi school of Islamic Sufism and have been passed down from the end of the 19th century to the present. These are unique and irreplaceable pieces that embody the concept of spiritual transmission and the presence of the masters of the past.<\/p>\n

    This high spiritual value has a direct impact on curatorial choices, and conservation and restoration decisions. Special instructions are given to the restorers, who are also responsible for mannequin display: the khergheh<\/i> are never presented closed, but always open, in keeping with their symbolic meaning and the way they were worn over clothing. Signs of wear and visible repairs made by owners or caretakers were not removed, to testify to the garments\u2019 journey. Here, compliance with specific standards is necessary for the object to retain its spiritual significance. This method guarantees the authenticity of the museum’s approach and demonstrates respect for Sufi practices. This aspect echoes Valentina Gamberi’s curatorial project analysing the sensitive topic of objects\u2019 desacralization in museum collections.ii<\/sup><\/p>\n

    The art of listening: exhibiting sam\u0101<\/i>\u2019 and working with practitioners<\/strong><\/h3>\n

    During the workshop, my experiences echoed strongly with Sili Rout\u2019s presentation. Drawing on reflections on curatorial choices at Indira Gandhi Rashtriya Manav Sanrahalaya (IGRMS), she explained the relevance of community participation to the display of religious artefacts in museums. The point she raised about the spiritual agency of communities whose practices are presented in museums particularly struck me. Curators cannot and should not work alone on such subjects: collaborative work with scholars, source communities, and other professions is the only way to avoid reproducing patterns of thinking steeped in Orientalist and colonialist patterns.<\/p>\n

    In discussions at MACS MTO, this intention is reflected in the museum\u2019s organisational structure: a scientific committee composed of scholars specialized in Sufism and its artistic expressions and\/or islamic art, Sufi practitioners and musicians, ethnomusicologists and professionals from the world of French museums oversees the scientific discourse and allows a plurality of voices to be heard. This advisory body acts as a safeguard to ensure the museum’s credibility.<\/p>\n

    As an art historian who is not a specialist in Sufism, I see this collaborative work as a great opportunity. The expert advice and guidance of the scientific committee members are invaluable for presenting certain artefacts correctly. I will take the example of another type of Sufi attire, the service garment (leb\u0101s-e khidmat<\/i>), which required special attention for the latest exhibition.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

    \"Iranian

    Fig. 6<\/strong> Iranian 20th-century service garment with zonnar belt and sam\u0101‘ hat (UK, 2014) White cotton, black cotton threads, white wool felt embroidered with blue cotton thread and metallic thread, blue and gold silk satin ribbon Historic collection of MACS MTO Hat : Courtesy of MTO Zendeh Delan\u00ae Photography \u00a9 Jean-Yves Lac\u00f4te.<\/p><\/div>\n

    Service garments are usually plain, white, and closed at the front, symbolizing the disciple\u2019s commitment to their inner spiritual journey. The immaculate color is reminiscent of the shroud (kafan<\/i> in Arabic), the simple, perfumed white cloth that envelops the deceased.i<\/sup> The belt tied at the waist of the garment, called zonnar,<\/i> is of singular importance in Sufi practice. Tied in a specific manner, it represents the strands of one\u2019s being, the many qualities, tendencies, and capacities that make up the human self. Binding these strands together around the waist symbolises readiness and sincerity to begin the spiritual journey.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

    The length of the zonnar<\/i>, the number of strands, and the distance between each knot carry both functional and symbolic meaning within the tradition. In a curatorial context, this belt is tied by sam\u0101<\/i>‚ practitioners known to the museum team, or at least according to their precise instructions. These moments when the curator or restorer steps aside to make room for Sufi practitioners are of paramount importance.<\/p>\n

    For the exhibition \u201cQuand le miroir se souvient du pas\u201d (\u201cWhen the Mirror Remembers the Trace\u201d), the 20th-century service garment is displayed with a hat of recent manufacture which is specifically used for current sam\u0101<\/i>‚ practice by the Zendeh Delan\u00ae ensemble.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

    \"Sam\u0101'

    Fig. 7<\/strong>\u00a0Sam\u0101‘ demonstration at the museum by the ensemble Zendeh Delan\u00ae Photography \u00a9 Varvani GmbH<\/p><\/div>\n

    Sam\u0101<\/i>‚ (\u201caudition\u201d in Arabic) is a contemplative practice combining singing, music, and body movement. The ceremonial splendor of this tradition is mostly known in Europe through the practice of followers of the Mevlevi order, incorrectly referred to as \u201cwhirling dervishes\u201d. Yet at its heart, sam\u0101<\/i>‚ is understood and practised by Sufis as spiritual audition, deep listening and a pathway to inner transformation. Practitioners gently revolve around themselves like the planets around the sun at the same speed. Some gestures express distinct states or emotions, such as one hand pointing to the sky to collect divine grace, and the other pointing to the earth to redistribute it to humankind.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

    Presenting the service garment and the sam\u0101<\/i>‚ hat together allows us to explore certain spiritual concepts within the exhibition. For example, in Sufi terminology, \u201cservice\u201d (khidmat<\/i> in Arabic) is a form of commitment in which the student consciously devotes themselves to altruistic and charitable efforts, while practising humility, sincerity, and shedding one’s ego. Furthermore, this presentation echoes the way the MACS MTO organises sam\u0101‘<\/i> demonstrations alongside Sufi musical ensembles. The museum makes a point of never presenting this practice as a performance or a dance, which would undermine its profound spiritual meaning.<\/p>\n

    A successful dialogue with a contemporary artist: Rada Akbar and Haft Peykar<\/i><\/b><\/h3>\n

    Collaboration with contemporary artists was another topic discussed during the workshop. For some of my colleagues, these collaborations have been fruitful, whereas for others, they have ended in misunderstandings or additional difficulties. Ipek M. Sur and Katharina Sabernig noted that contemporary art can act as an intermediary, capable of defusing tensions arising from religious and\/or spiritual taboos.<\/p>\n

    Within my institution, this collaboration is part of the museum\u2019s DNA. To enable visitors from all backgrounds to relate to the museum\u2019s discourse and to shape their own visit experience, the MACS MTO seeks to highlight artistic creativity and the universal concepts common to all forms of Sufism. The museum also firmly believes that contemporary art is often best suited to conveying certain abstract and metaphysical concepts. Collaborating with contemporary artists from all around the world not only allows the museum to remain rooted in the present but also opens up dialogue with other cultures and backgrounds. As such, the team insists on engaging not only with artists who practice Sufism or are aware of it, but also with those who do not.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

    To demonstrate, I wish to give an example of a recent successful collaboration. For its second exhibition entitled \u201cCorps \u00e0 cordes : Vibrations et r\u00e9sonances\u201d (\u201cResonant: Bodies, Songs and Strings\u201d), the MACS MTO invited the curatorial collective RCI (Initiative for Practices and Visions of Radical Care), represented by Elena Sorokina, Simona Dvorak and Nata\u0161a Petre\u0161in-Bachelez, to create an exhibition project. On this occasion, the conceptual artist, photographer and activist Rada Akbar (Kabul, 1988) worked closely with the museum\u2019s team.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

    \"20th-century

    Fig. 8<\/strong> A 20th-century lithographed edition of the Khamseh<\/em> (The Five Treasures<\/em>), opened to a page from the Haft Peykar<\/em> (The Seven Beauties<\/em>). Historic collection of MACS MTO<\/p><\/div>\n

    For this exhibition, Akbar drew on the rich symbolic system of Haft Peykar<\/i> (Seven Portraits<\/i>), a classic of Sufi-connoted literature. This poem, written in 1197 by Nizami Ganjavi, is among the most famous texts in ancient Persian literature. Haft Peykar<\/i> tells the story of the Sassanid King Bahr\u0101m G\u016br (r. 420\u2013438\/39\u00a0CE) on his journey of enlightenment. He discovers seven portraits of beautiful princesses and falls in love with them. To honor them, he builds seven uniquely colored pavilions and visits a different one each night for a week. In a Sufi context, the poem has deep underlying meanings (Talattof and Clinton 2000).<\/p>\n

    According to Sufi scholars such as \u2018Ibn Arabi, Al-Ghazali or Junayd Baghdadi, spiritual elevation happens in seven stages, also called stations (maq\u0101m<\/i> in Arabic) (Sells 1996 ; Schimmel 1975). The Sufi interpretation of this tale would allow each princess to be identified with each station. Furthermore, the symbolic richness of the poem assigns each of them a day of the week, a part of the world, a color, and a planet (Cross 2016).<\/p>\n

    Inspired by this literary masterpiece, Akbar created for the museum two sculpted, paper-cut dresses representing the Queen of the Sun<\/i> and the Queen of the Moon<\/i>. The princess of the Sun, associated with yellow, appears second in the tale, on Sunday, whereas the princess of the Moon, associated with green, is visited on a Monday. Akbar incorporated traditional Afghan craft techniques and materials and borrowed from the visual codes of Persian miniatures. Each piece stands as a tribute to the women who have preserved poetry and cultural memory across generations.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

    \"Rada

    Fig. 9<\/strong> Rada Akbar, The Queen of the Sun No2<\/em> and The Queen of the Moon No3;<\/em>\u00a0From The Roarers series<\/em>, 2025. Sculpted paper dress, semi-precious stones, gouache, watercolor paint and gold leaf. Courtesy of the artist, with the help of Sepideh Ziaei and the support of MACS MTO<\/p><\/div>\n

    \n

    Expressing the intangible in museum space: the visitor\u2019s experience<\/h3>\n

    Fang-I Chu\u2019s presentation emphasised visitor\u2019s participation as a way to deactivate traumatic memory tensions. At the National Human Rights Museum, visitors are invited to write locally inspired religious petitions or intercessory prayers for the spirits of victims. The idea of participatory customization of the museum experience is, in my opinion, one of the ways communities can reclaim the space on their own terms. Regarding the latest MACS MTO exhibition, this aspect is enhanced by the thoughtful use of immersive technological tools.<\/p>\n

    \u00a0<\/span>From the outset, the museum wanted to use technology as a vehicle for helping visitors understand complex spiritual concepts. This approach was driven by the fact that a large part of Sufi culture is embodied in intangible practices which are difficult to grasp outside direct experience. The fine line is to avoid using technology as an entertainment and decentralization device, without crossing the fine line to proselytism.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

    \u00a0<\/span>For the latest exhibition, the museum\u2019s team developed a VR dhikr<\/i> experience, designed to provide visitors with an immersive encounter with a living Sufi practice. Rather than simply presenting this ritual through descriptive text or video, the goal is to allow visitors to observe and intuitively experience its embodied and affective dimensions through a more experiential mode of engagement.<\/p>\n

    Dhikr<\/i> („remembrance“ in Arabic) is a central and distinctive practice within Sufism. While its outward form varies across Sufi schools and regional traditions, the inner aim remains consistent: the cultivation of presence, purification of the self, and nearness to the Divine. This is achieved through the repetition of the Names of God, Qur\u2019anic verses, and phrases such as L\u0101 il\u0101ha ill\u0101 All\u0101h<\/i> („There is no god but God“), often interwoven with Sufi poetry. These recitations may be whispered or chanted aloud, and are frequently accompanied by breathwork, bodily movement, and rhythmic coordination (Avery 2015 ; During 2023).<\/p>\n

    \"Overview

    Fig. 10<\/strong> Overview of the VR dhikr<\/em> experience project for exhibition #3 \u201cQuand le miroir se souvient du pas\u201d, \u201cWhen the mirror remembers the trace\u201d<\/p><\/div>\n

    In place of a narrated or interpretive experience, the VR dhikr<\/i> installation invites visitors to enter the sensory and atmospheric world of a contemporary Sufi dhikr<\/i> gathering. They are to be seated near a bench and offered a headset to explore this spiritual practice through active observation, engaging not only visually but also spatially and emotionally with the ritual\u2019s ambience.<\/p>\n

    By stepping into this immersive environment, visitors may begin to sense how ritual repetition, sonic rhythm, and collective presence shape the spiritual lives of practitioners. In this way, the installation echoes anthropological approaches that prioritize embodied experience, attentiveness, and multisensory learning as ways of understanding religious or spiritual life.<\/p>\n

    Interpretive wall texts will provide context, but the experience itself will be unmediated by narration, encouraging visitors to draw their own impressions and reflections. This approach aligns with the museum\u2019s broader aim to present Sufi culture not only as a historical subject but as a living, evolving tradition.<\/p>\n

    From an educational machine, the museum becomes a place of open interpretation and personal reflection. The presence of curators tends to fade into the background in favour of the visitor.<\/p>\n

    Conclusion<\/b><\/h3>\n

    The reflections generated by this workshop led me, in different ways, to the same conclusion: when it comes to religious or spiritual charge(s) in museums, curators must set aside their traditional persona of \u201call-knowledgeable\u201d figure and work collaboratively with source communities, artists and other professionals within and outside their field. The death of the curator(s) in the traditional sense is (thankfully) confirmed, since they cannot pretend to achieve an authentic and ethical approach on their own. But what are the boundaries of such collaborations? Where do we draw the line?<\/p>\n

    Without pretending to a universal answer, in the case of the MACS MTO, methodologies were thought carefully among a diverse scientific committee:<\/p>\n