(English) The Narrator and the Artist in the Abbasid Era: Al-Hariri and Al-Wasiti

 Ashraf Aboul-Yazid

In 2018, my book (Naguib Mahfouz | The Narrator and the Artist) was published by the Egyptian General Book Organization, in which I explored the experiments of Egyptian painters inspired by the works of the great novelist. This year, its English edition was released in Cairo by (Al Nasher), and its Serbian edition by (Utopia Publishing House) in Belgrade. The reason for recalling this is that I was recently invited to speak about another narrator and artist who lived in the Abbasid era, leaving behind both a narrative and artistic legacy: Al-Hariri’s Maqamat in Al-Wasiti’s manuscript.

On the banks of the Nile, I was hosted in the program Dhifaf (“Banks”), broadcast on the specialized cultural TV channel Al Arabi 2, presented by Alaa Karaja and Khaled bin Ahmed Al-Khalafawi. This daily show sheds light on major cultural activities across the Arab world, along with international cultural events of interest to the Arab public. Its unique and engaging segments cover literature, cinema, and theater, while also reviewing book fairs, film and theater festivals, art exhibitions, and analyzing the latest literary publications. The episode I joined was part of the initiative Qatar Reads, which had chosen Al-Hariri’s Maqamat for its campaign: One Book, One Community.

Dr. Hamad bin Abdulaziz Al-Kawari, Minister of State and President of Qatar National Library, praised in a report aired by the program the initiative and its supreme goal: encouraging reading in Arabic. He added that the campaign had proved that Arabic texts transcend eras and can be read even a thousand years after their time—this is the magic of the Arabic language.

Also featured was Nada Behzad (Qatar Reads Initiative ), who spoke of the works of thirty visual artists inspired by the Maqamat and its age, reaching even into fashion design. This reminded me of a chapter I devoted to how the works of Naguib Mahfouz were reimagined by young fashion designers in fine arts colleges!

Yahya ibn Mahmoud al-Wasiti (7th AH / 13th CE century) was not merely a miniature painter but can rightfully be considered a visual historian of Abbasid life. He elevated the art of miniature illustration in manuscripts to a new level, where painting was no longer mere ornament, but a medium to document the details of society, thought, and culture in his time.

When asked about the importance of the artistic commentaries on Al-Hariri’s Maqamat and the role of the narrated tales in portraying the reality of the 11th century, I answered that the illustrations are the magic wand that carries us into their era. Artistic annotations are vital, for they transform the manuscript from a “literary text” into a visual historical document. They clarify clothing customs, urban spaces (markets, schools, mosques), forms of celebration and work, and reveal how later readers and historians visually understood the text.

In response to the question about the features of Al-Wasiti’s miniatures compared with Persian, Byzantine, and earlier traditions, I noted that his work carries a realistic narrative tone and focuses on daily life more than the mythical elements or courtly settings common in some Persian schools. His compositions often open into wide spaces beyond traditional frames, with varied, vivid facial expressions—unlike the rigid faces of earlier schools. Unlike East Asian miniatures, he was less concerned with landscapes.

On Al-Wasiti’s treatment of Arabic calligraphy and miniatures in his visual commentaries, I remarked that while today’s Arab and Asian cities are crowded with foreign signs, Al-Wasiti’s city was free of any non-Arabic signboards. He did not separate image from script; rather, he treated text and calligraphy as one entity. In his manuscript, he left spaces for the text surrounded by double-page spreads or full-page illustrations. His visual commentaries show that Arabic script is not merely a margin, nor is the image an isolated caption, but together they form an integrated communicative structure—sometimes even floating frames.

Asked about the influence of Al-Wasiti’s style on contemporary Arab artists, I highlighted its impact on book design and its inspiration across the Arab world, not just in Iraq. I recalled in particular the legacy of the late Mohieddin Ellabbad, the great book designer.

I also said that Al-Wasiti was the first visual artist to hold an exhibition: he displayed his manuscript illustrations at the Mustansiriya School, inspiring many and delighting visitors. His work moved from clear illustrative narration to, at times, abstract ambiguity—through the reduction of forms, simplification of lines, and rhythmic composition. He provided a model modern Arab artists can read as a bridge between traditional manuscript art and contemporary experimentation.

The reflection of his style—blending calligraphy, visual art, and the features of Arab life and environment in his era—appeared in his depictions of daily life: the market, the council, the school, the journey, prayer. As a result, his visual imagination acquired both documentary value and expressive depth.

Finally, when asked about the presence of Al-Wasiti’s paintings in the Arab artistic imagination today, what makes them timeless, and the role of their documentary value, I replied that his works are a unique blend of narration and documentation. I invited artists working with artificial intelligence to transform these miniatures into immersive realities that would revive the Abbasid era.