Curated by Khalid Albaih, Rahiem Shadad, and Dr Larissa-Diana Fuhrmann, ‘Sudan Retold’ brings together artists, researchers, and designers to reclaim Sudanese histories through art, storytelling, and cultural memory
Sudanese women in thobes. © Faiz AbuBakr
‘Sudan Retold’ began as a simple but radical question. What would it mean to narrate Sudan’s histories through Sudanese voices, and to do so through the language of art rather than official archives. A decade later, the project has become both a landmark exhibition and an expansive publication. First conceived by artist and political cartoonist Khalid Albaih, ‘Sudan Retold’ has grown into a collaborative platform that weaves together personal archives, oral histories, forgotten objects, speculative imaginings, and long-overlooked narratives.
Now on view at Almas Art Foundation in London from 15 October to 14 December 2025, the exhibition presents a multilayered portrait of Sudan built from photography, painting, drawings, and multimedia installations. It follows its debut at Alhosh Gallery in Doha, where the project was first presented to the Sudanese diaspora in the context of the ‘Seeing Sudan’ conference, organised by Georgetown University in Qatar.
Co-curated by Dr Larissa-Diana Fuhrmann alongside Albaih and Sudanese curator Rahiem Shadad, ‘Sudan Retold’ moves between deep historical excavation and imaginative world-building. Its contributors draw from matriarchal lineages, Nubian Christian kingdoms, anti-colonial uprisings, and contemporary memory under conditions of displacement.
At a moment when both memory and place are under threat, ‘Sudan Retold’ stands as a living archive. It refuses erasure by insisting that Sudanese stories — in all their complexity and imagination — continue to be told.
Installation view of ‘Sudan Retold’ at Almas Art Foundation. © Henok Girma
ART AFRICA: ‘Sudan Retold’ began as an effort to tell Sudanese histories differently. How did this project evolve over the past decade into both an exhibition and a publication, and what guided your curatorial approach to representing such a complex, layered history?
Dr Larissa-Diana Fuhrmann: The idea came from Khalid Albaih about ten years ago. Our first workshop was held in Khartoum in January 2017 with historians, artists, and creatives. I was living in Khartoum then, and Khalid flew in from Doha to share his vision for a book that reflected Sudan’s layered histories and present. With support from the Goethe-Institut Sudan, where I was working at the time, we began developing the first chapters. Participants spoke to their families and explored private and public archives, and we followed their ideas as the chapters took shape.
From the beginning, we knew the book needed to bring together different art forms and perspectives, retelling history while imagining futures. Sudan is too often reduced to war and hunger, when its cultural depth spans matriarchies, philosophy, music, and centuries of intellectual and artistic traditions.
The exhibition grew from our desire to bring these stories to life. Exhibiting the works allows people to gather, engage and extend the act of retelling Sudanese history communally.
A Thousand Faces of Sudan. © Ahmed Abushakeema
The exhibition brings together artists, writers, and researchers across generations and disciplines. How did collaboration shape the process of curation and editing, and what challenges or discoveries emerged from working with such a wide community?
At first, collaboration meant physical proximity. We were in the same room sharing meals, sketches, and ideas. Since the war erupted in April 2023, this kind of togetherness has become nearly impossible. Many contributors have been displaced, separated from their families, and are rebuilding their lives elsewhere.
Sudanese artists are now scattered across Nairobi, Cairo, Doha, Kampala, London, Frankfurt and other cities. They are forming new creative hubs, but under immense pressure, limited resources, and the uncertainty of exile. What once happened in studios and galleries in Khartoum has become fragmented communication across physical distance.
Locale, the design collective behind both editions of the book, managed to weave these voices together from afar. Designer Aala Sharfi created a visual language that connected different stories, aesthetics, and languages. It showed how design can become a form of care, a bridge between dispersed communities.
At the same time, inequalities have become painfully clear. The artworks can travel, at least digitally, but many Sudanese artists cannot. Political barriers, economic hardship and passport limitations restrict their movement.
The collaborative spirit still exists, but in new forms. It carries on in shared drives, messages, and the determination to keep telling Sudanese stories despite everything.
Installation view of ‘Sudan Retold’ at Almas Art Foundation. © Henok Girma
‘Sudan Retold’ draws from personal archives, oral histories, and speculative futures. How did you navigate the tension between historical accuracy and artistic imagination?
We always emphasise that ‘Sudan Retold’ is an art book, not a history book. The chapters are based on historical facts, but imagination is part of the storytelling. In our first workshop, when contributors asked what stories to tell, Khalid encouraged them to speak to their families. Many discovered stories that were never part of official narratives.
Sudan’s past is vast and often underappreciated. One chapter by Bokhari Hamid focuses on a Kushite matriarch who fought the Romans. Sudan has more pyramids than Egypt, yet the histories of the Kingdom of Kush rarely receive attention. Another chapter by Dar Al Naim resurrects the lost Christian city of Faras, part of the Nubian kingdoms that thrived for nearly nine hundred years.
Other contributors revisit the Mahdist uprising or retell the uncertain death of British officer Charles Gordon, subverting colonial mythmaking.
Together, these chapters become an act of cultural resistance. They challenge Eurocentric historiography by centring Sudanese perspectives. History becomes alive and dynamic, shaped by those who tell it.
Printed in Sudan. © Reham Mohamed
You also co-edited the accompanying book. How does the publication extend or differ from the exhibition, and what possibilities does print open for preserving Sudanese cultural memory?
The exhibition is a communal encounter. Visitors see original works, sketches, and videos in shared space, and conversations emerge naturally. My co-curator, Rahiem Shadad, who lost his gallery in Khartoum when the war began, brought so much care into shaping that experience. Our different backgrounds and perspectives came together in the curatorial process.
The book invites a slower and more intimate form of engagement. Readers take time with each chapter, imagining what lies between the lines. For the second edition, filmmaker Suzi Mighani joined us as co-editor, and architect and cultural manager Zainab Gaafar coordinated the process. Many people contributed behind the scenes, and their work is embedded in the project even if their names are not always visible.
Print becomes a portable archive. It can travel, be preserved, shared, and translated. At a moment when many Sudanese archives are fragile, inaccessible or destroyed, the book ensures these stories endure. Together, the exhibition and the book create a balance between communal experience and lasting memory.
Installation view of ‘Sudan Retold’ at Almas Art Foundation. © Henok Girma
After its opening at AlHosh Gallery in Qatar, ‘Sudan Retold’ now travels to the Almas Art Foundation in London. How does the exhibition’s meaning shift when presented in different contexts?
In Doha, with a large Sudanese diaspora, the exhibition felt like a homecoming to many. During the opening, there was Sudanese food, music, and even a tea lady. Many visitors said it felt like reclaiming pride and memory amid collective grief.
In London, the context changes. The Sudanese diaspora is engaged, but the setting carries the weight of history as the former colonising nation. ‘Sudan Retold’ challenges inherited narratives about Sudan and presents its histories as complex and self-defined.
At Almas Art Foundation, which has, for the last five years, championed African artists and has dedicated this year to Sudan, the exhibition becomes part of a broader dialogue about representation, visibility, and decolonising knowledge. In each location, ‘Sudan Retold’ builds bridges between home and diaspora, past and future.
The Wise. © Khalid Abdel Rahman
‘Sudan Retold’ foregrounds questions of memory and preservation at a time when both are under threat. How do you think about cultural conservation today, and how can art carry histories forward?
Cultural preservation is not about freezing the past. It is about keeping stories alive by allowing them to transform and speak to the present. At a time when Sudan’s heritage and even its physical spaces are under threat or destroyed, preservation becomes an act of care and resistance.
Art holds what official archives often overlook. It captures oral histories, personal memories, and emotional truths. Through drawings, photographs, installations, and speculative storytelling, artists create a living archive that evolves and responds to the present.
‘Sudan Retold’ preserves by reimagining. It refuses erasure. It remembers what has been while imagining what could be. In that sense, cultural preservation is about ensuring there is something to carry forward.
‘Sudan Retold’ is on view at Almas Art Foundation in London from 15 October to 14 December 2025, following its opening at AlHosh Gallery in Doha. For more information, visit Almas Art Foundation.
Sudan Retold: An Art Book About The History and Future of Sudan was published by Almas Art Foundation and CIRS, Georgetown University in Qatar, in September 2025.
