Oman and the UAE between them offer a fascinating range of architecture both ancient and modern, from the time-warped mudbrick forts and mountain villages of the Omani interior to the ultra-modern skyscrapers of Abu Dhabi and Dubai – a striking physical symbol of the whirlwind changes which have swept through the region in recent decades. The traditional architecture of Oman is as fine as anything in the Islamic world, with a staggering collection of majestic castles dotting the country’s mountains, coast and desert, along with innumerable watchtowers, walled towns and villages, and intricately engineered falaj systems – a marvellous compendium of local building traditions, making exemplary use of the very simplest building materials. The more forward-looking cities of the UAE, meanwhile, are rapidly transforming themselves into showpieces of modern architecture at its most extravagant and inventive, attracting a string of top international architects and boasting a range of iconic contemporary landmarks, including Dubai’s celebrated Burj al Arab and Burj Khalifa, the world’s tallest building.
A wind tower at Al Bateen dhow harbour, Abu Dhabi.
Chris Bradley/Apa Publications
Traditional materials
Traditional buildings in Oman and the UAE often give the marvellous impression of having grown organically out of the landscapes in which they sit, their ochre-coloured walls blending seamlessly with the surrounding mountains or desert, so that it is sometimes difficult to know where nature ends and building begins, with forts moulded around the contours of the rocks on which they sit and mudbrick villages rising out of the earth from which they were created.
Looking forward, the region’s finest architectural creation will undoubtedly be the Saddiyat Island development in Abu Dhabi, with major landmarks by top architects including Norman Foster, Frank Gehry, Jean Nouvel, and Tadao Ando.
Much of this sense of connection between building and landscape derives from the ingenious use of locally available materials: mudbrick, coral, mountain rock, palm-thatch, mangrove wood – but little (if anything) imported or foreign. The simplest form of traditional building in the region is the barasti hut, fashioned from nothing but trimmed palm branches and leaves tied together to form impromptu shelters – impermanent but surprisingly effective in providing a modicum of shade, while the permeable palm-frond “walls” allowed breezes to blow through, taking advantage of whatever breezes were available. These were the types of dwelling which most Emiratis and Omanis of the coastal regions lived in right up to the 1950s and 1960s, and replicas can be seen in various museums and forts around the region.
A night view of Sheikh Zayed Road in Dubai.
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Larger buildings were generally fashioned from mudbrick. Mudbrick (or adobe, from the Arabic al tob, meaning “mud”) was made from alluvial clay, containing fine particles of grit and silt, mixed with chopped straw to strengthen the resultant bricks. A fermenting agent, such as sugar-cane syrup, was also sometimes added. The resulting mixture was then left to “cure” for four or five days before being moulded into bricks.
Stone was also often used, often in combination with mudbrick: either slabs of locally quarried rock in the mountains or coral-stone (fesht) along the coast – look closely at the walls of many of the region’s lowland forts and traditional buildings and you can still make out the delicate outlines of submarine sponges and other corals. Stones were cemented together using layers of pounded gypsum, while walls were strengthened by the insertion of mangrove poles bound with rope.
More elaborate structures, whether mudbrick, stone or a mixture of both, were often faced with sarooj, a type of mortar-cum-plaster. Sarooj was made from a mixture of mud and limestone burnt together at extremely high temperatures for up to a week. The resultant ash was then mixed with water (again, sometimes with the addition of a fermenting agent) and the paste used to bind bricks and stone, and to provide the smooth and shiny plaster finish which can still be seen on the walls of many Omani forts today.
Imported materials were only rarely used – roofs and doors of Indian teak and other hardwoods can sometimes be found, although most timbers used are locally sourced mangrove poles, used not only to strengthen walls but also to form roofs, usually with a layer of palm leaves laid on top.
Inside Nakhal Castle on Oman’s Batinah Coast.
Chris Bradley/Apa Publications
Houses and forts
Fine old traditional houses can be seen across the region, many of them now restored as museums (such as the Heritage House in Dubai, Bait al Naboodah in Sharjah and Bait al Zubair in Muscat) – although it’s worth remembering that these elaborate mansions are far from typical of the living arrangements enjoyed by the former population at large, most of whom lived in simple, ephemeral barasti palm-thatch huts until quite recent times.
Traditional houses follow a fairly standard pattern, arranged around a central courtyard (housh), sometimes with a verandah (liwan), providing a space where inhabitants could cook, play, take the air and graze a few animals in complete privacy; some courtyards even boast a well and perhaps a couple of trees. Exterior walls are usually plain and largely windowless in order to protect the privacy of those within. Rooms usually include a majlis (meeting room) in which the family would have received guests and exchanged news (some larger houses have two separate majlis for men and women), along with assorted bedrooms, kitchens and storerooms. In the UAE, most large houses also boast one or more wind towers. The overall effect of most traditional houses is often understated, verging on the austere, although the overall plainness is often relieved by richly carved details including lavish wooden doors and screens, or by geometrical floral designs framing windows, doorways and arches, made from gypsum coloured with powdered charcoal.
Traditional local architecture was remarkably well adapted for its environment (unlike today’s modernistic high-rises). Walls were built thick and windows kept small to exclude the scorching heat outside, while both coral and adobe helped to preserve the coolness of the interiors thanks to their excellent natural insulating properties. Houses were also built close to one another, partly for security, and also to provide shade in the narrow alleyways between.
The innumerable forts of the region follow a similar pattern in terms of their overall construction and internal living arrangements, though obviously they tend to be much larger in size, and boast additional defensive features.
Al Alam Palace.
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Contemporary Islamic architecture
Despite the advent of concrete and steel, many of the region’s modern buildings still follow traditional patterns. The layout of the modern Emirati and Omani villa, for instance, retains the slightly embattled appearance of an old-fashioned traditional dwelling, usually enclosed in high walls to protect the privacy of those within and standing proudly apart from its neighbours. Religious architecture too remains virtually unchanged, with all mosques in the region following decidedly old-fashioned designs, such as the landmark Jumeirah Mosque in Dubai of 1978 (essentially a replica of a medieval Egyptian Fatimid mosque) or the Grand Mosque in nearby Bur Dubai, rebuilt in 1990 along decidedly traditional lines. Many modern buildings in the UAE also continue to sport emblematic wind towers, even if they no longer have any practical function.
More original reworkings of traditional regional architecture can also be seen. Perhaps the most inventive is the flamboyant Al Alam Palace in Muscat, with its multicoloured, pseudo-Islamic tilework, stone-carving and pointed arches given a colourful contemporary makeover, or the same city’s vast Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque, a slightly minimalist reworking of the traditional Grand Mosque, or even the spectacular Royal Opera House Muscat, another fine example of Omani modern architecture. The even more extravagant Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque in Abu Dhabi follows a similar theme, with a range of international Islamic influences going into its eclectic design. The jewel in the crown is arguably the new souk in Abu Dhabi designed by Norman Foster, which successfully blends elements of traditional Arabian architecture with stylish contemporary decor. The striking new Louvre Abu Dhabi, opened in 2017, employs a similar fusion of Eastern, Western, traditional and modern styles.
Also notable are the many striking examples of faux-Arabian kitsch which have begun mushrooming across the region. Dubai has shown a particular fondness for the style – unoriginal and even rather cheesy, although the sheer extravagance with which some examples have been carried through compels reluctant admiration, as in the vast Madinat Jumeirah complex, with its hundreds of sand-coloured wind towers, or the opulently decorated interiors of the atmospheric Souk Khan Murjan – both of which present contemporary Islamic designs with a touch of Hollywood, or perhaps Disney. The landmark Emirates Palace in Abu Dhabi is another good example, the extravagant interiors being particularly fine.
Many modern Dubai buildings are designed in traditional Emirati style.
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Futuristic architecture in the UAE
Modern architecture has flourished in the Gulf, and the speed at which places like Dubai and Abu Dhabi have grown has resulted in one of the most spectacular building booms of modern times – at one point in the mid-noughties it was estimated that, astonishingly, a quarter of all the world’s construction cranes could be found in Dubai alone. The exploding real-estate market, ready supplies of apparently limitless finance and widespread availability of large plots of unused land all conspired to turn Dubai, in particular, into an enormous building site, further heated by a general absence of the sort of zoning rules, planning permissions and conservation issues which so often haunt major new constructions in the West (and in striking contrast to Oman, where governmental restrictions have ensured that cities across the country have preserved their traditional low-rise, white-washed outline – the absence of high-rise buildings in Muscat is particularly striking).
The wide open desert spaces of Dubai and Abu Dhabi thus provided a kind of tabula rasa on which architects could doodle – and then see their doodles take shape with lightning speed. The results are inevitably mixed. Some of the modern architecture in the Gulf is spectacularly ugly, some is notable as much for its sheer quirkiness as for its ultimate success, although the region also boasts a clutch of undoubted modernist masterpieces, as well as some superb urban architectural ensembles, such as the teetering high-rises of Sheikh Zayed Road in Dubai or the shiny mass of glass-fronted high-rises looming above Abu Dhabi’s corniche.
Dubai is a veritable encyclopaedia of contemporary design ranging from the good through to the bad, the mad and the downright ugly. Some of Dubai’s most memorable buildings are decidedly quirky in inspiration: the strange Dusit Thani hotel, for example, inspired by the traditional Thai wai greeting, with hands placed together in welcome (although it actually looks more like an enormous upside-down tuning fork), or the landmark Etisalat Building, topped by what looks like a vast golf ball (a design now copied in other Etisalat buildings in Dubai, Abu Dhabi and elsewhere).
The publicity and marketing potential of landmark buildings was recognised early by Dubai ruler Sheikh Mohammed, who commissioned the Burj al Arab to provide Dubai with an international icon to rival the Eiffel Tower or Statue of Liberty.
Many of the city’s finest buildings pay oblique homage to the emirate’s former maritime traditions, with various sail-shaped architectural motifs, exemplified by the celebrated clubhouse of the Dubai Creek Golf Club (1993), a fascinating sculptural creation whose instantly recognisable outline is inspired by the triangular shapes of the traditional lateen sail. The sail motif is invoked again in the superb National Bank of Dubai (designed by Carlos Ott, 1998), its towering Creekside facade comprising a single enormous “sail” surrounded by highly reflective aluminium cladding, mirroring boats on the waters below. Best of all, however, is the superlative Burj al Arab (Tom Wright, 1999), whose land-facing side provides Dubai with its largest and most magnificent architectural sail, memorably illuminated at night. The newest addition to this list is the long-awaited Dubai Opera, opened in 2016, which was built to resemble a traditional dhow.
Although most of the region’s finest modernist icons can currently be found in Dubai, Abu Dhabi has gone to great lengths to catch up with its chic neighbour. When it’s completed, the city’s new Cultural District on Saadiyat Island will host a cluster of five museums all housed in stupendously modern buildings designed by world-famous architects. The first to open was the much-fêted Louvre Abu Dhabi, completed in 2017.
The wind tower provides courtyard cooling at the Khalifa University campus in Masdar City.
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High-rise cities and environmental concerns
Dubai is now the tallest city in the world, outstripping traditional skyscraper hotspots like New York and Hong Kong, with 28 of the world’s 200 tallest buildings (compared to 13 in New York and seven in Hong Kong), while Abu Dhabi, too, is looking increasingly to the clouds, with a current total of five buildings in the top 200. Pride of place goes to the jaw-dropping Burj Khalifa, far and away the world’s tallest man-made structure, while other landmarks include the twin Emirates Towers (formerly the tallest buildings in the Middle East) and the soaring Gevora hotel (the tallest hotel in the world).
Masdar City
Oddly, it’s Abu Dhabi, the most oil-centred of the Emirates, which has taken the first steps towards addressing environmental concerns with its vast new Masdar City development (www.masdar.ae), close to the international airport. Masdar is intended to house around 50,000 people and become the world’s first zero-carbon, zero-waste city, relying entirely on renewable energy. Cars will be banned inside the city, while a perimeter wall will exclude hot desert winds, and narrow shaded streets inside will funnel cool breezes across the city. The whole development is due for completion in 2020–5, but parts have already opened to visitors.
Impressive though they undoubtedly are, the massed high-rises of Dubai are, as environmentalists often point out, remarkably badly suited to the Gulf. The vast quantities of glass, steel and aluminium cladding in which such buildings are characteristically wrapped act as enormous heat-traps, sucking up sunlight from the fierce desert sky and tending to overheat constantly – with the resultant need for endless air-conditioning to cool them back down again. The need for similarly energy-intensive elevators and pumping systems to move people, water and other necessities up and down such huge structures is another environmental burden.