Farah Al Qasimi Crosses ‘Unseen Boundaries’ With Photography

Farah Al Qasimi in her studio in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, surrounded by her photographs. They were all shot in the United Arab Emirates, where she grew up.CreditCreditGabriela Herman for The New York Times
Farah Al Qasimi in her studio in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, surrounded by her photographs. They were all shot in the United Arab Emirates, where she grew up.CreditCreditGabriela Herman for The New York Times
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Farah Al Qasimi Crosses ‘Unseen Boundaries’ With Photography

Farah Al Qasimi in her studio in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, surrounded by her photographs. They were all shot in the United Arab Emirates, where she grew up.CreditCreditGabriela Herman for The New York Times
Farah Al Qasimi in her studio in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, surrounded by her photographs. They were all shot in the United Arab Emirates, where she grew up.CreditCreditGabriela Herman for The New York Times

In the most recent work of the photographer Farah Al Qasimi, people are largely absent, or they are merely suggested. But the interior scenes — all shot in Ms. Qasimi’s home country, the United Arab Emirates — are full of color and pattern.

In “After Dinner” (2018), a pink velvet sofa, pillow and matching drapes take up most of the image; look closely, though, and there is a pair of feet in patterned socks in a corner, belonging to an unseen person who is lying down on part of the sofa. Someone else’s hand and water bottle are emerging from behind a drape.

“Dyed Pastel Birds (30 AED each)” from 2019 shows three little birds in yellow, aqua and pink on a patterned stone floor. In “Rose 1 (Tomato)” (2018), a bright red tomato carved into a flower rests against an intense backdrop of nearly the same shade; Ms. Qasimi did the handiwork herself, after ordering a $5 paring knife on Amazon and teaching herself the technique via YouTube videos.

Those images are among the 10 evocative and somewhat mysterious photographs by Ms. Qasimi being shown at Art Basel this week, in the booth of The Third Line, a gallery in Dubai; a video completes the presentation.

The 28-year-old Ms. Qasimi — now a New Yorker, and one who attended Yale for her bachelor’s and master’s degrees — is getting a lot of attention. A show of her work will be presented at the List Visual Arts Center of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge from July 30 to Oct. 20.

“She’s definitely on the rise,” said Henriette Huldisch, a curator and the director of exhibitions at the List, who first came across Ms. Qasimi’s work online.

“I was intrigued and seduced by her visual language,” Ms. Huldisch said. “The images can be sumptuous, almost like editorial work, but then you realize they are more complicated. There are layers of disguise and camouflage.”

In person, Ms. Qasimi does not conceal, but she does compose her words as carefully as she does her images. Sitting in her tiny studio in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, offering maple-ginger tea to a visitor, she offered a thoughtful assessment of her themes.

“I think about, ‘How do I photograph the unphotographable, or how do I talk about some of the more complicated aspects of a place without using verbal language?’” she said, adding that the subject of the works is not just the Arab world, but specifically Gulf states.

Her interest, she added, is in “social customs as seen through objects” and “an anthropological sense of unseen boundaries.” The two people glimpsed in “After Dinner” turn out to be her close friends.

The 40-minute video being presented at Art Basel, “Um Al Naar (Mother of Fire)” (2019), is a “horror comedy” starring a ghost, Ms. Qasimi said, and one styled like a TV reality show. The headliner is a spirit of Emirati mythology, a jinn, who narrates the changes she has seen in the United Arab Emirates since the federation was formed in 1971.

The place of women in her home region, and of sexual and gender roles generally, comes up in her work a lot, sometimes obliquely. A 2016 photograph, “Nose Greeting,” shows two Arab men in the traditional local embrace, but something in the scene could be read as friendly or intimate.

Asked if it was tough to be a woman in the Arab world, Ms. Qasimi at first rejected the question’s premise. “It’s tough to be a woman anywhere,” she said.

She went on: “I think what’s particular about the Emirates is that Emirati women have a lot of relative freedom. But then there are other unspoken rituals or social boundaries that do make it difficult. I’m interested in what those invisible lines look like and how are they signified.”

Ms. Qasimi comes by her love of vivid hues honestly. “It’s a hyper-colorized world,” she said of Abu Dhabi, where she grew up.

At Yale as an undergraduate, she explored the medium she would later adopt fully. “I took a lot of really angsty black-and-white photographs,” she said of her early ventures. “It didn’t really click for me until I took color photography. I fell in love with the transformative quality of a color photograph.”

Ms. Qasimi took three years off before going back for her master’s, at one point working as an administrator at N.Y.U. Abu Dhabi. She has moved very quickly into teaching, which she now does at Pratt, the Rhode Island School of Design and N.Y.U.

Ms. Qasimi shows with the New York dealer Helena Anrather, but said she made a point of maintaining her relationship with Abu Dhabi’s Third Line.

“It’s important to show in the Emirates because essentially the work is about the Emirates,” she said. “It only functions properly if it is accessible and legible to a local audience.”

To get the quality she desires, Ms. Qasimi prints the images herself, on a large-format printer she bought with funds from the Artadia Prize, awarded to her last year by the New York New Art Dealers Alliance.

If she needs a break from work, she has a futon on the floor in her studio, covered with blankets and sheets in a riot of stripes and patterns. “I’m like that bird that feathers its nest with shiny things,” Ms. Qasimi said.

The nap nook dovetails well with the interest in domestic scenes in her work. “I’ve always been interested in the history of interior décor and taste in the gulf, and what it represents,” she said.

Though Ms. Qasimi is always able to put a savvy intellectual frame around her themes, some of them at least bubble up from a more personal place.

“My grandmother was somebody who made her own blankets,” she said, adding that her recent focus on domestic spaces “feels like a way of maybe shining light on something that is often seen as craft or hobby and maybe giving it significance or, for me, admiration.”

(The New York Times)



Elusive Wild Cat Feared Extinct Rediscovered in Thailand

This handout picture taken with a camera trap and released on December 26, 2025, by Thailand's Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation (DNP) and Panthera Thailand shows a recently rediscovered flat-headed cat in southern Thailand's Princess Sirindhorn Wildlife Sanctuary. (AFP / Thailand's Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation (DNP) / Panthera Thailand)
This handout picture taken with a camera trap and released on December 26, 2025, by Thailand's Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation (DNP) and Panthera Thailand shows a recently rediscovered flat-headed cat in southern Thailand's Princess Sirindhorn Wildlife Sanctuary. (AFP / Thailand's Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation (DNP) / Panthera Thailand)
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Elusive Wild Cat Feared Extinct Rediscovered in Thailand

This handout picture taken with a camera trap and released on December 26, 2025, by Thailand's Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation (DNP) and Panthera Thailand shows a recently rediscovered flat-headed cat in southern Thailand's Princess Sirindhorn Wildlife Sanctuary. (AFP / Thailand's Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation (DNP) / Panthera Thailand)
This handout picture taken with a camera trap and released on December 26, 2025, by Thailand's Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation (DNP) and Panthera Thailand shows a recently rediscovered flat-headed cat in southern Thailand's Princess Sirindhorn Wildlife Sanctuary. (AFP / Thailand's Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation (DNP) / Panthera Thailand)

An elusive wild cat long feared extinct in Thailand has been rediscovered three decades after the last recorded sighting, conservation authorities and an NGO said Friday.

Flat-headed cats are among the world's rarest and most threatened wild felines. Their range is limited to Southeast Asia and they are endangered because of dwindling habitat.

The domestic cat-sized feline with its distinctive round and close-set eyes was last spotted in a documented sighting in Thailand in 1995.

But an ecological survey that began last year, using camera traps in southern Thailand's Princess Sirindhorn Wildlife Sanctuary, recorded 29 detections, according to the country's Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation and wild cat conservation organization Panthera.

"The rediscovery is exciting, yet concerning at the same time," veterinarian and researcher Kaset Sutasha of Kasetsart University told AFP, noting that habitat fragmentation has left the species increasingly "isolated".

It was not immediately clear how many individuals the detections represent, as the species lacks distinctive markings so counting is tricky.

But the findings suggest a relatively high concentration of the species, Panthera conservation program manager Rattapan Pattanarangsan told AFP.

The footage included a female flat-headed cat with her cub -- a rare and encouraging sign for a species that typically produces only one offspring at a time.

Nocturnal and elusive, the flat-headed cat typically lives in dense wetland ecosystems such as peat swamps and freshwater mangroves, environments that are extremely difficult for researchers to access, Rattapan said.

Globally, the International Union for Conservation of Nature estimates that around 2,500 adult flat-headed cats remain in the wild, classifying the species as endangered.

In Thailand, it has long been listed as "possibly extinct".

Thailand's peat swamp forests have been heavily fragmented, largely due to land conversion and agricultural expansion, said Kaset, who was not involved in the ecological survey but has researched wild cats for years.

The animals also face mounting threats from disease spread by domestic animals, and they struggle to reproduce across isolated areas.

While the rediscovery offers hope, it is only a "starting point" for future conservation efforts, he said.

"What comes after this is more important -- how to enable them to live alongside us sustainably, without being threatened."


Hooked on the Claw: How Crane Games Conquered Japan’s Arcades

This picture taken on June 6, 2024 shows a claw crane game shop in Akihabara district of Tokyo. (AFP)
This picture taken on June 6, 2024 shows a claw crane game shop in Akihabara district of Tokyo. (AFP)
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Hooked on the Claw: How Crane Games Conquered Japan’s Arcades

This picture taken on June 6, 2024 shows a claw crane game shop in Akihabara district of Tokyo. (AFP)
This picture taken on June 6, 2024 shows a claw crane game shop in Akihabara district of Tokyo. (AFP)

As school and work wrap up, crowds fill Tokyo's many bustling arcade halls -- not to battle it out in fighting games, but to snag plush toys from claw machines.

In one of these gaming hubs in the Japanese capital's Ikebukuro district, aisles of crane games stretch as far as the eye can see.

The crown jewels of the arcade industry, they occupy the building's first two floors, relegating video games to the basement and upper levels.

"Crane games are keeping the sector afloat," said Morihiro Shigihara, an industry expert and former arcade manager.

"Arcade operators, machine manufacturers, and even prize suppliers depend on this business," he told AFP.

Some 80 percent of the 22,000 arcades Japan had in 1989 have shut down, but revenues have held up thanks to claw machines, according to the Japan Amusement Industry Association.

Their share of revenue has climbed since 1993 from 20 percent to more than 60 percent, the association said.

Suzuna Nogi, a 20-year-old student, visits these arcades at least twice a week in search of "big plushies" on which she can spend up to 3,000 yen ($19) at 100 yen per try.

"What I like best is the sense of accomplishment," she said, even though there is no guarantee of success.

Nogi added that she enjoys "the thrill of not knowing whether you'll manage to grab something or not".

The sensitivity of the claw arms is adjusted by operators "based on the cost of the prizes and revenue targets", Shigihara said.

"You can also make the game easier to compete with a nearby arcade."

- From cigarettes to candy -

This year, the industry is officially celebrating the 60th anniversary of these construction crane-inspired machines in Japan.

But they have actually been around since before World War II, said Benoit Bottos, who wrote his doctoral dissertation on the subject at Japan's Chuo University.

Older models, installed in cafes or bowling alleys, sometimes offered lighters and cigarettes, but those prizes quickly gave way to children's candy.

In the late 1980s, the machines began to gain traction, notably with game company Sega's 1985 invention of the "UFO Catcher", which switched up the older version that forced players to lean in and look down.

"The old ones were a bit dark. So we opted for a brighter, showcase-like style where you can see the prizes right in front of you," said Takashi Sasaya, a Sega executive.

But the real stroke of genius "was putting plush toys in the claw games", said Bottos.

Manufacturing giants like Sega or Bandai, involved in both video games and toys, then began negotiating licenses for anime and manga characters, with Sega notably securing Disney rights.

"That largely explains the success of these machines," said Bottos, who describes them as "somewhere between a vending machine, a game of chance and a game of skill".

- 'Transformation' -

The success of claw games also feeds on Japan's booming fan culture of "oshikatsu", with many people devoting more and more time and money to supporting their favorite idol.

Part of asserting their fan identity involves collecting character merchandise.

"I love Pokemon, so I often come looking for plush toys and merch from the franchise," said professional Pokemon card player Akira Kurasaki, showing off nails decorated with his most beloved characters.

Arcade operators have taken this enthusiasm to heart, tailoring their prize selections to the demographics of their neighborhood and organizing events around certain characters.

"New prizes are introduced almost every day," said Sasaya, the Sega executive.

The hegemony of claw machines has also gone hand in hand with a gradual transformation of urban hangouts.

Arcades -- seen in the 1970s and 1980s as dark, male-dominated places linked to crime -- "tried to attract a new audience" of women and families, Bottos said.

"The crane game is emblematic of that transformation."


Hawaii’s Big Island Bans Feeding Feral Cats in an Effort to Help Endangered Native Species

Liz Swan sets up food and a trap for stray cats near the Kealakehe Transfer Station and Recycling Center, Tuesday, Dec. 2, 2025, in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii. (AP)
Liz Swan sets up food and a trap for stray cats near the Kealakehe Transfer Station and Recycling Center, Tuesday, Dec. 2, 2025, in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii. (AP)
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Hawaii’s Big Island Bans Feeding Feral Cats in an Effort to Help Endangered Native Species

Liz Swan sets up food and a trap for stray cats near the Kealakehe Transfer Station and Recycling Center, Tuesday, Dec. 2, 2025, in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii. (AP)
Liz Swan sets up food and a trap for stray cats near the Kealakehe Transfer Station and Recycling Center, Tuesday, Dec. 2, 2025, in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii. (AP)

Throngs of feral cats emerge from the shade of parked trucks and bushes as soon as the familiar Subaru Forester pulls into a dump on Hawaii's Big Island. They run after the vehicle to a certain meal — a gravy train that might not be around much longer.

A Hawaii County law set to take effect at the start of the new year bans feeding feral animals on county property. It's an effort to protect native species, such as an endangered goose called the nene, from a super predator introduced to the islands by Europeans in the 18th century.

But the measure doesn't sit well with many cat lovers, including the driver of the Subaru, Liz Swan, who has been feeding feral felines on the Big Island for 33 years.

“I don’t believe the cats should be exterminated at the expense of the nene,” Swan said. “They’re both living creatures.”

It's unclear how many feral cats — abandoned pets and their descendants — live on the Big Island. Estimates range well into the tens of thousands, with pockets of dense colonies supported by people. Opponents of the ban say it will hamper their efforts to contain the population by trapping and neutering the animals and that hungry cats will then have to hunt for food.

A variety of threats

About 200 cats live at the Kealakehe Transfer Station and Recycling Center, not far from the bustling tourist district of Kona.

Swan shows up every late afternoon with water and kibble, and says she's never seen a nene anywhere near the dump. Despite living amid trash, the cats there generally appear robust, most of them missing the tip of an ear, indicating they’ve been spayed or neutered.

The cats threaten the native species directly — by killing them — and indirectly, biologists say. Food left out for the cats can attract native animals, bringing them into closer contact with humans. Cat feces can also spread a parasite that causes toxoplasmosis, a disease that has killed endangered Hawaiian monk seals and native birds.

Last year, a male nene — pronounced “neh-neh” — was struck and killed by a car as it crossed a road in Hilo, on the eastern side of the island, to reach a cat feeding station. The goose's surviving mate, which also had a gosling die of toxoplasmosis in 2024, has recently taken on another partner and is nesting in a Hilo park, the state Department of Land and Natural Resources announced this month.

A nene stands near a sign reading "DO NOT FEED NENE" at Hapuna Beach, Tuesday, Dec. 2, 2025, in Kamuela, Hawaii. (AP)

The county's feeding ban will help protect them, the department said.

A Hawaiian biologist's view State wildlife biologist Raymond McGuire recently checked for nene nesting sites among the barren black-rock fields near a shopping center at the Waikoloa resort. It's not their traditional habitat, but he has seen the geese fly in to grab food — risking getting hit by cars — and last year some nested there.

As he approached, a pair of feline eyes peered out of a crack in the lava rock. Cats emerged from their nooks, perhaps mistaking him for someone who might offer food.

McGuire was relieved to see there were no nene nearby, but frustrated with evidence the cats are being fed: empty water bowls and aluminum pans.

He's a cat owner — "my favorite animal is a cat" — but as a Hawaiian whose love of nature inspired him to pursue conservation work, he believes there is no room for them where native species are struggling to survive.

“There's so many birds that my kids will never see, that I got to see,” he said, referring to native forest birds. “I think about my ancestors and I do wonder: Are we honoring them well in what we do? Because they did take steps to protect them.”

Feral cats are a problem in many places, but Hawaii's sensitive ecosystem is full of species that evolved without mammalian predators, making them especially vulnerable, McGuire said.

'I felt bad for the cats'

Hawaiian culture is closely tied to Hawaii’s animals; aumakua, or ancestral spirit guides, can take animal form, noted Big Island Mayor Kimo Alameda. His family's aumakua is the shark, he said.

After the county council passed the measure with a veto-proof 6-2 vote, Alameda decided to let it take effect without his signature. Opponents persuaded him it would harm the cats.

“I had a soft spot for that,” he said. “I felt bad for the cats.”

The debate was so contentious that some opponents sent him hate messages, Alameda said.

The mayor said he hopes police consider enforcement a low priority. Violations carry fines of up to $50 for a first offense and up to $500 for subsequent offenses.

Will the ban prompt feeders to work in secret? The answer is simple to Makaʻala Kaʻaumoana, a cultural practitioner — someone who works to preserve Hawaiian cultural traditions — on the island of Kauai.

Trapping, neutering and releasing cats makes no difference because they can still hunt, she said.

“The cats have to be removed," she said.

Debbie Cravatta, who feeds cats in her West Hawaii neighborhood, questioned why.

“It’s a native species — why does that reign over a domestic cat that somebody dumped out pregnant and that had six kittens out in the wild?" Cravatta said. "Why is that life more valuable than this life?”

Opponents also argue the ban might only push feeding efforts underground.

“I'm not going to let them starve,” Swan said.