by Fadhila Al Dhahouri in Culture & Lifestyle on 15th November, 2024
For centuries, the Islamic civilisation was a beacon of knowledge, where art, science, philosophy, and mathematics weren’t seen as separate pursuits but as interconnected dimensions of a holistic worldview. The intricate geometry of Alhambra, the poetic philosophy of Al-Farabi, and the precise celestial calculations of Omar Khayyam all originated from the same intellectual fabric, where spiritual reflections and scientific knowledge coexisted seamlessly. This balanced approach nurtured a Golden Age of innovation and creativity, from the grand libraries of Baghdad to the busy streets of Cordoba, shaping a civilisation that influenced the entire world. Yet today, this rich heritage is often reduced to ornate calligraphy and geometric patterns, overlooking the profound impact art and scholarship from the Islamic civilisation had on the foundations of global thought.
What we often forget is that these geometric patterns that are so central to Islamic art and architecture, are not just about aesthetics—they are rooted in science that is reflected in the design of Allah’s ﷻ creation.
For scientists, thinkers, and artists of that time and region, art wasn’t just a creative expression; it was an act of devotion, a way to engage with the universe that Al-Khaliq (The Creator) and Al-Musawwar (The Shaper) meticulously created. However, as I started to explore Islamic geometry, the practitioners I was learning from often said there were not that many written records because they were only transmitted orally, leaving behind only glimpses of the depth and spirituality that once defined Islamic geometry. From the websites and books I scoured, I saw glimpses of art rooted in mathematics and I also had a feeling that Islam was a driving force, knowing that it is a faith that honours knowledge, truth-seeking, the written word and beauty. However, it was hard to find solid evidence that would give a vivid and consistent picture of Islamic art’s authentic roots and the kind of society that produced it.
Many of us who practised Islamic art felt a sense of collective amnesia, a gap in our understanding of how this tradition emerged. While others, Muslims and non-Muslims, disregarded it as mere aesthetics of the past with no real practical value, I was determined to get to the bottom of it. Through relentless digging, I found sources like Gulru Necipoglu’s 414-page book, The Topkapi Scroll – Geometry and Ornament of Islamic Architecture, which traces the sophisticated geometry that defined Islamic architecture.
This rich tradition did not appear out of nowhere. In the 8th Century, the Abbasid Caliph Harun al-Rashid mobilised a mass translation movement where he ensured that every Greek, Syriac, Persian and Sanskrit work was translated into Arabic. His son, Al-Ma’mum, later established the famous Bayt al-Hikma (The House of Wisdom) in Baghdad, a centre for scholars from across the world, which accelerated this effort. By the 10th and 11th Century, geometry, in particular, was not only widespread and commonplace, but sophistication and innovation started to emerge.
This article is in collaboration with Global Centre of Islamic Art who are celebrating the first-ever Islamic Art Week, a week of discovery, inspiration, creation and celebration. Happening online from Saturday 16th – Friday 22nd November 2024, it promises to be a week of discovery, inspiration, creation and celebration. You can secure all the recordings for the entire week with lifetime access by purchasing the Replay Bundle and grabbing a special 20% discount with code Amaliah20.
A Muslim mathematician, Muhammad ibn Mūsā al-Khwārizmī, elevated the field of geometry with his famous work “al-Kitāb al- Fī ḥisāb al-Jabr Wa’l-Muqābala” around 825 AD. He proposed a wider perspective of geometry, introducing flexible rules that enabled mathematicians to approach problems by creating multiple solutions. In doing so, he expanded and broke free from the boundaries established by the Greeks [1].
Al Farabi’s book, Ihsa Al Alam (Survey of the Sciences) translated by Eilhard Wiedemann, listed six categories of mathematics, arithmetic, optics, astronomy, music, weights, mechanics and geometry [2]. In the late 12th century, Al Amri also specified geometry to be a branch of mathematics. Islamic encyclopaedias consistently classified architecture and other crafts as sub-categories of practical geometry. This was further emphasised by Rasa’il and a group of philosophers and scientists called the Brethren of Purity (Ikhwaan al Safa), who stressed the role of practical geometry in all crafts [3]. They even established a hierarchy, theoretical geometrists were ranked above practical geometrists like engineers, surveyors and architects, who in turn ranked above artisans. A treatise by al-Hasan al-Bayhaqi states that Al-Hakim Abu Muhammad al Adl Al Qajini, an artisan himself, asserted this hierarchy [4]. Another source from the 13th Century by Nasir Al Din Al Tusi, a mathematician in his own right, translated by British publishers Allen & Unwin, also asserted the same hierarchy [5].
We know from Franz Woepcke’s observations of an Arabic-to-Persian translation found in Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris, that Al Buzjana is perhaps the first mathematician who created how-to guides for artisans. Modelled on Farabi’s works, he demonstrated how you could create accurate geometry with simple tools like a set-square, straight-edge ruler and a compass, without needing advanced mathematical knowledge [6]. This proliferated and soon every artisan, across specialisms, was trained in geometry.
What is clear, however, is that what we now call “Islamic art” as it evolved, was not only widespread but also originally understood to be a science; and that ornamentation was the practical application of geometry, inspired fundamentally by faith.
It is written in the Rasd’il (Epistles) of the Brethren of Purity that skilful artisans should imitate Allah’s ﷻ creation to “assimilate His wisdom..as much as this is possible to man”, that the object of artistic creation was “to imitate the science of the Creator” and to “reproduce the signs of His art in the natural production” [7].
They also argued that geometry provides a shared basis for every art and that no art can achieve its perfection without the science of ratios and proportions [8].
Muhammad al-Dawwani in the late 15th Century wrote in a treatise translated by W.F. Thompson, “Nature is superior to art, for it is derived from the highest of sources without the intervention of human judgement; whereas art proceeds solely from such intervention…the perfection of art must lie in the resemblance to nature [9].”
Philosophers and scientists, such as Ibn Sina and Ibn Hazm also discussed beauty and love in their works. The latter wrote in his treatise, Ṭawq al-Ḥamāmah (Ring of a Dove), “As what causes love in most cases to choose a beautiful form…it is evident that the soul itself being beautiful, it is affected by all beautiful things and has a yearning for perfect symmetrical images, it fixes itself upon it’ then if it discerns behind that image something of its own kind, it becomes united and true love is established [9].”
The other two forms of visual “Islamic art”, Islamic biomorphs and Islamic calligraphy scripts are grounded in geometry. The former in spirals is defined by infinitely smaller ratios. The latter is based on the proportion of the circle, widely understood as the source of beauty and practical workability, perfected in Buyid Baghdad by Ibn al-Bawwab, who further refined cursive scripts that were originally systemised by Ibn Muqla.
This deep integration of science, art, and faith was a form of worship, a means of connecting to the Divine through beauty and truth.
This was a way in which people of faith used their practice and innovation across all fields of science, engineering and art to connect to the Divine and the creation of the Divine, seeing it as a form of worship, with an experience of transformation and actualisation derived from the experience of love, beauty and truth.
Many who practice Islamic art today, also express similar experiences and one of the core reasons they wish to grow in it. What is also true, is that whilst patronage from rulers and the social elite often fueled cultural and scientific endeavour, the knowledge and art derived from it were made widespread to the masses. Yes, it was used to construct and adorn palaces and mausoleums to project political prestige and power, but it was also used on kitchenware, furniture and fabrics.
The sciences and art were not exclusively practised by Muslims either. Whether in the 8th century to the end of the 19th century, Christians, Jews, Sabeans and others were engaged at various levels. The knowledge was shared with everyone. And there was a deep respect for the Greek and Byzantine pioneers that they inherited knowledge from, referencing and sourcing their work faithfully, otherwise, we would not know about them today. Despite the ebb and flow of good and bad rulers and the rise and fall of dynasties, this academic integrity and inclusivity remained a cultural norm across regions.
This reflects the Islamic principle that the truth should be made available to everyone without exception, contrasting European artistic tradition which, for a long time, has been the exclusive property of the elite. And far more rich, complex and grounded than the racialised outlook of Orientalists.
If you have not noticed yet, during the Islamic Golden Ages, it was not called “Islamic Art”. It was just part and parcel of their everyday reality and norms. Art, science, engineering and religion were one and the same, harmoniously working alongside one another. So why do we only relate to what is now called “Islamic Art” as an aesthetic? The answer might lie in Western publications from the late 19th to mid-20th century.
Despite their rich legacy, Western institutions largely overlooked Islamic civilisation’s contributions to art and geometry. No Western institution that I engaged with, made any mention of Al Buzjana or the others I mentioned above. Even though, once I found one source, it did not take a lot of effort to find others. Western design theorists in the late 19th to mid-20th century often reduced “Islamic art” to mere ornamentation. Bourgoin, in Les Arts Arabes, while acknowledging the sophistication of Islamic geometric patterns, simply dismissed them as purely ornamental with no significance at all [10]. Herzfeld even commented that Islamic geometry was an “Islamic horror vacui”, that somehow reflected Arab’s psychological fear of empty spaces [11]. This concept was echoed by authors such as Richard Ettinghausen and Maurice S. Dimand who wrote “Mohammedan art is essentially one of decoration, for an empty surface is intolerable to the Mohammedan eye” [12].
Ernst Kuhnel, despite acknowledging the rhythm of the “Arabesque,” insisted it had no symbolic meaning, saying, “It seems unnecessary to emphasise that the arabesque never has any symbolic significance but is merely one ornament from a large stock” [13]. These publications often classified Islamic art through ethnoracial lenses (Arabian, Moresque, Turkish, Persian, Indian), focusing solely on aesthetics, without acknowledging the scientific and spiritual foundations. Many of their work lacked academic rigour, as they used almost no primary sources in their commentaries, although translations were present in Europe. They were merely appealing to the trends of the late Industrial Revolution, where abstraction became increasingly vogue. Perhaps the hyper-focus on the aesthetic overrode any interest in looking deeper via a scientific and historical lens.
As the world began to borrow and adapt the knowledge from scholars of Islamic civilisations, a clear shift took place. The Renaissance brought an era where science, art, the humanities and especially faith, became separated, leading to the divided approach we still see in modern education.
Today, schools often push students into either “arts” or “sciences,” overlooking the holistic view that Islamic thinkers once embraced. This divide not only erases the legacy of scholars in Islamic civilisation who found harmony between science and faith but also limits our ability to reclaim a tradition that celebrates the unity of all knowledge.
To reflect deeply on the significance of the rich legacy of Islamic thought, art and science, it must be made available to everyone in today’s modern setting. Whether you’re discovering Islamic art for the first time or already practising it, join us at the first-ever Islamic Art Week, for a week of discovery, inspiration, creation and celebration. Happening online from Saturday 16th – Friday 22nd November 2024, we have designed this entire week-long virtual festival to be a reflection of the above aspects and principles, focused on the breadth and depth, of the traditional and contemporary, in openness and inclusivity.
If you want to attend live, for part of the week or the whole week, you only need to register for free. But if you do not want to miss a moment or re-live the week, you can secure all the recordings for the entire week with lifetime access by purchasing the Replay Bundle and grabbing a special 20% discount with code Amaliah20.
We are blessed to have 38 artists and masters from all corners of the world, of various backgrounds and creeds, who either practise the traditions of the art or are trailblazers in their own right. It’s global, diverse and open to all, as art and knowledge should be. By honouring all the principles of Islamic art and philosophy, we have a vision that is not only inclusive and celebratory but also authentic to the historical and spiritual foundations of this diverse art form, one that will only benefit everyone. At the Global Centre of Islamic Art, it is our mission to make this a reality, Embracing not just the art itself but also its philosophical, cultural, spiritual and scientific underpinnings.
This Islamic Art Week is only possible because of my global team’s passion, courage and ambition, as well as support from a global array of diverse organisations. All of this is to make the Week an unprecedented and historical moment for the Islamic art space. A moment that will open up inspiration, possibility and expansion.
[2] al-Farabi 1949a, al-Farabi’s classification of sciences Wiedemann 1970, 328-47.
[3] Al-Safa, Khayr Al-Din Ikhwan & Zirikli, (1928). Rasa’il. Maktabat Al-Tijariyah Al-Kubrá.
1: 42. The mathematical sciences are dealt with in epistles 1-10, pp. 23-362
[4] Al-Bayhaqi’s Biographical Entries, Wiedemann 1970, 649, 653
[5] Ṭūsī, Naṣīr al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Muḥammad (1964). The Nasirean ethics. London, Allen & Unwin. Edited by G. M. Wickens.
[6] al-Buzjani, Kitab fima yahtdju ilayhi al-sanic min ac mal al-handasa, Woepcke 1855
[7] Ikhwan al-Safa’ 1978, 56, 44
[8] al-Dawwani 1839, W.F. Thompson, 146-47
[9] Ibn Hazm 1953, Ṭawq al-Ḥamāmah, AJ Arberry
[10] Les arts arabes, Bourgoin, 1873
[11] Herzfeld, Michael 1987, 364-67
[12] A handbook of Muhammadan art, Dimand, Maurice Sven 1930, 12
[13] Encyclopaedia of Islam, i960, Kuhnel Ernest 1960
Fadhila Al Dhahouri is based in Manchester UK and Dibba, Oman, coming from a multi-cultural background of both Arab and South Asian. After graduating, she was elected as the first-ever Muslim, International Student SU President at Cardiff University. While working in the Embassy of Oman, London, she discovered Islamic geometry and co-founded the Global Centre of Islamic Art to transform Islamic art accessible to everyone and dedicated to organising, uniting and empowering the Islamic art community.