When the past is reimagined: how ancient jewellery got a makeover

When the past is reimagined: how ancient jewellery got a makeover

by | Opinion

when the past is reimagined

How ancient jewellery got a makeover

Published January 28, 2026

Jewellery has always had a powerful role in connecting us to the past. But what if the jewellery we see in museum displays isn’t quite as ancient as we’re led to believe? Or what if jewellery made just a century ago is mistaken for something millennia older? It happens more often than you’d think.

In this blog, I’ll introduce my new research project Jewellery Between Worlds, that I conduct as Visiting Research Fellow of the Netherlands Institute for the Near East at Leiden University.

In this project, I take a closer look at how the boundaries between archaeology and ethnography blurred in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and how that blurry line continues to shape our understanding of ancient Southwest Asia. I’ll explore how ancient jewellery has been altered, how more recent jewellery has been mislabelled, and how museum displays influence what we think the past looked like.

Jewellery that time-travelled…the wrong way

Let’s start with the ancient pieces themselves. Many items labelled as ancient in museum collections were never actually excavated in controlled digs. Instead, they made their way into collections through the antiquities trade (sometimes legally, more often not) and without any archaeological context.

And that’s where the fun (or frustration, depending on how you look at it) begins.

People of the 19th and early 20th centuries often had strong ideas about what jewellery should look like. So ancient beads and pendants were frequently restrung into contemporary fashion statements. A 1920s-style flapper necklace made from Egyptian antiquities—reassembled to suit Jazz Age tastes. Or take the beaded necklaces from the tomb of Djehuty, now in Leiden: they were likely restrung shortly after excavation, without any real record of their original arrangement. You can see one of the necklaces in the image gallery below. One of the things I examine is if this was done by sellers, or by curators – or both.

Even on professional excavations themselves, jewellery wasn’t always recorded with care. Beads, in particular, were fragile and tricky to recover, because their stringing had long since disintegrated.

As a result, we’re often looking at reconstructions, at 19th or 20th century designs using ancient components – yet presented as ‘authentic’ ancient necklaces. Have a look at the two necklaces below: they are eerily similar in their design.

When 2oth century jewellery masquerades as ancient

The confusion runs both ways. Museum collections also hold pieces that are actually ethnographic (so, made in the 19th or early 20th century and used by local communities) but labelled as ancient.

That is because jewellery, for a very long time, has not been studied as historical source in its own right, but at best as accessory. What also isn’t helping, is that very often, museum curators were men.

The thing is that this misidentification doesn’t just muddle museum catalogues. It reshapes how we imagine the past, often with an unconscious bias: assuming that non-Western cultures don’t change much over time, and that what peasants wore in the 1900s must look more or less like what pharaohs wore thousands of years earlier. It’s an old trope, and one that has been remarkably persistent.

Dressing the ancient past in the present

Even today, our mental image of ancient Southwest Asia is still shaped by these missteps. People in movies, TV-shows or sometimes simply images set in the past, are only too often adorned with ethnographic pieces from very different periods and regions.

What interests me here are the different approaches to material relics of the past. The accuracy of a building can be checked against archaeological sources. The same goes for jewellery: there is a ton of evidence of what people wore in the past. But somehow, that rarely translates into reconstructions of that past.

And so 19th century ideas about both the past and contemporary cultures continue to persist in visualisations of the past – and that’s a dynamic I want to explore further in this project.

Jewellery Between Worlds – my new research project

Jewellery isn’t just beautiful—it’s a historical source. It tells stories of who wore it, when, and why.

But it also tells stories about us: the collectors, curators, and viewers who handle and interpret these pieces. When an ancient necklace is restrung into a flapper fashion statement, or when 19th-century jewellery is rebranded as ancient, we learn as much about modern tastes and assumptions as we do about the ancient world.

This entanglement of old and new, fact and fashion, archaeology and ethnography, is part of the story of both archaeology and ethnography about a century ago. I think it’s high time we start to disentangle those views: if we don’t, it becomes a flaw in the system.

In 2026, I’ll be diving into storerooms and archives, to see if I can shed more light on how the the past and present came to be mixed up, and what we can do to educate both ourselves and the general public.

And finally: this is a self-funded position, meaning one I’m not getting paid for.  I think it’s important anyway, so I’m embarking on it regardless. If you feel like supporting me in this journey in other ways than by enrolling in a course, you can do so through this link – thank you!

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Find out more about the meaning of personal adornment in the e-courses!

More posts on jewellery and adornment? Browse them all here!

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The Bedouin Silver blog gives credit where credit is due! Transparent referencing and citing sources helps us all grow. Would you like to do the same and quote this article? Here’s how:

S. van Roode, [write the title as you see it above this post], published on the Bedouin Silver website [paste the exact link to this article], accessed on [the date you are reading this article and decided it was useful for you].

The Bedouin Silver Jewellery Blog: Sigrid van Roode

Sigrid van Roode is an archeologist, ethnographer and jewellery historian. Her main field of expertise is jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia, as well as archaeological and archaeological revival jewellery. She has authored several books on jewellery, and obtained her PhD at Leiden University on jewellery, informal ritual and collections. Sigrid has lectured for the National Museum of Antiquities in Leiden, Turquoise Mountain Jordan, and many others. She provides consultancy and research on jewellery collections for both museums and private collections, teaches courses and curates exhibitions. She is not involved in the business of buying and selling jewellery, and focuses on research, knowledge production, and education only. Sigrid strongly believes in accessibility of knowledge, and aims to provide reliable and trustworthy content: that’s why the Bedouin Silver blog provides references and citations.

This blog is free: if you’d like to support independent, self-funded research, please consider enrolling in a course or a jewellery talk, or donate here directly.

The proceeds directly support travel costs, book purchases, and the time needed to wite articles like this one: thank you so much for your support!

Behind the scenes of independent research

Behind the scenes of independent research

by | General jewellery topics

What it takes to be a jewellery historian

Behind the scenes of independent research

Published January 2, 2026

I thought I’d share a bit of real talk about life as an independent researcher – the part that is not often addressed because it is, in all honesty, not that glamourous. However, over the course of several talks with fellow self-employed specialists with similar experiences, I found that this is also the part that actually might need spelling out.

And so this once, I’m going to do just that.

I’m not employed by a university or museum: I work independently, which means I fund all of my research myself. That’s the unglamourous part right there. So how does that actually work? Let me take you behind the scenes into the nitty-gritty of the work!

Why I’m an independent researcher

I’m an independent researcher because this field is my passion, there aren’t all that many curatorial or lecturer positions at museums or universities available, and I believe I a have a useful contribution to make. That’s the simple truth of it. I chose this, and I love it.

Because I work independently, I don’t have an employer, which has lots of benefits, but also means I don’t receive a salary. I’m self-funded – in the most literal sense of the word. All research, travel, writing, and website maintenance is paid for out of my own pocket. 

Being an independent researcher in my case means running a business, with all the administration, responsibilities, and costs that come with it.

I’m breaking that down for you here, so you’ll get a feeling of how my work (and that of other self-employed specialists) operates.

The hidden costs of jewellery research

What does being an independent researcher mean financially? Here is what I spend resources on.

Let’s start with the very blog you’re reading. Keeping this website and the online course platform running costs, all-in, a substantial amount per year. Simply being visible online and having your infrastructure in place comes with its own baseline costs.

Then there’s travel: visiting exhibitions, or attending conferences all require resources. That’s not just the conference fee or exhibition entrance fees, but also hotels and transportation. I love conferences: it’s always great to meet new people, see old friends, and exchange ideas and knowledge!

Another ongoing investment is my own reference library. Over the years, I’ve built a significant collection of jewellery books and articles – and that continues to grow. With so much AI-generated content swirling around online these days, I find it important to turn to actual books: they offer depth and context that you will not find as easily online.

Side note: contrary to what some might assume (and a few people even have told me outright), reviewing books for this blog isn’t a budget-friendly way to expand that library! In fact, it ties directly into the biggest investment I make in my work: time.

Why time is my most valuable asset

Time is the one resource I need for everything I do. Researching, writing, creating courses or social media content: all of that takes hours, days, even weeks. 

Researching and writing a blog article, including creating the images to go with it, can take up to 3-4 hours. That’s because I include references and want to make sure you get solid information on jewellery. Compiling my monthly Newsletter (subscribe here if you haven’t already!) takes up half a day. The absolutely lovely feedback I receive after each and every emailing tells me that that is time well spent!

However, it’s time I can’t spend elsewhere earning an income.

That is, by the way, why I’m always surprised when asked to give a talk or consultation for free. I truly love sharing knowledge, as you know, and I do my best to keep much of it accessible – but just like everyone else, I have my housing to pay, groceries to buy, and the heating bill to cover. If I could pay my mortgage by delivering a talk at my local bank office…well, let me just say there’d be a lot of jewellery-savy bankers out there by now!

The same goes for book reviews. Receiving a review copy is always a joy: opening the package, flipping through fresh pages, and diving into a new publication is truly exciting. I adore books! But make no mistake: it’s also work. Reading a book with a reviewer’s eye, placing it within the wider field of jewellery studies, and writing a thoughtful, contextual review can take several days.

Long story short: what you see on the blog is the final stage of quite a bit of unseen work behind the scenes. The same holds true for, for example, performers: you don’t see the amount of time spent practicing, studying, inspecting and mending outfits behind their flawless performance.

Sigrid van Roode presents a talk about jewellery from Lebanon in the National Museum of Antiquities, Leiden

The hidden costs of talks

That unseen work behind the scenes is also applicable to talks and lectures. Let’s pick that apart, too, because the amount of work for a talk behind the scenes is not always immediately apparent.

A talk does not begin and end with the hour spent speaking. For in-person talks for example, the travel time to and from the venue may be substantial and take me a full day, even in a tiny country like mine.

Preparing a lecture, especially when it is built from scratch, takes multiple days of research, writing, and assembling a carefully structured slide deck. I don’t just slap some pictures on a slide and be done with it: I want the audience to really enjoy the talk.

So, when you book me (or any independent researcher) for a talk, the fee may seem high for a single hour at a podium, but is below minimum wage for the full working week behind the scenes needed to prepare. That’s the reality of working in the humanities – if I were in tech or sports, I suppose no one would blink twice if I charged the actual time involved.

I think it’s necessary to be honest about the amount of work that goes into preparing a talk, not only to you, but also to ourselves as humanities scholars: if you’re reading this as a speaker and it resonates with you, it’s time to acknowledge that presenting a talk is not something you just wiggle in the rest of your workload.

No grants, no salary: how do I fund my work?

I cover part of these costs through my online courses, which make an important contribution to keeping this work going. If you have taken one of them: thank you so much, honestly!

In addition, I work on commissioned research, such as inventorying and correctly describing museum collections, or writing a dedicated article or book.

Bookings for talks and courses are also a valuable source of support, but, as I explained above, the fees do not cover the actual amount of time involved.

Besides, and that’s another thing you might not think of in the first place, there’s this little thing called taxes. That fee I charge for a talk or a consultation? Nearly half of that goes to income taxes. Unglamourous, I know.

Why I’m sharing this, and how you can help

Why am I sharing this with you?

Not to complain – far from it. I chose this path, I’m proud of what I’ve built, and I love what I do.

Being an independent researcher doesn’t mean swanning around amidst sparkling jewellery.

It means working hard to respectfully study, share, and preserve cultural heritage through careful research and teaching. There is a lot of Orientalist mythmaking out there, and a surge in AI-generated content not necessarily based in facts, so I will continue to do my best to serve you human-researched, factually sound information on jewellery history.

If you’ve found joy, inspiration or insight in my blog articles, Newsletter, or social media content, and would like to support me in other ways than by enrolling in a course, you can do so directly through this link.

Every contribution – big or small – helps to keep the research going and the blog running.

That’s the unglamourous part of being an independent researcher: I hope this peek behind the scenes has given you some insight in the realities of what a jewellery historian does, besides looking at jewellery!

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Find out more about the meaning of personal adornment in the e-courses!

More posts on jewellery and adornment? Browse them all here!

Join the Jewellery List and receive new articles, jewellery news and more in your inbox!

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Discover more on jewellery today!
The Bedouin Silver blog gives credit where credit is due! Transparent referencing and citing sources helps us all grow. Would you like to do the same and quote this article? Here’s how:

S. van Roode, [write the title as you see it above this post], published on the Bedouin Silver website [paste the exact link to this article], accessed on [the date you are reading this article and decided it was useful for you].

The Bedouin Silver Jewellery Blog: Sigrid van Roode

Sigrid van Roode is an archeologist, ethnographer and jewellery historian. Her main field of expertise is jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia, as well as archaeological and archaeological revival jewellery. She has authored several books on jewellery, and obtained her PhD at Leiden University on jewellery, informal ritual and collections. Sigrid has lectured for the National Museum of Antiquities in Leiden, Turquoise Mountain Jordan, and many others. She provides consultancy and research on jewellery collections for both museums and private collections, teaches courses and curates exhibitions. She is not involved in the business of buying and selling jewellery, and focuses on research, knowledge production, and education only. Sigrid strongly believes in accessibility of knowledge, and aims to provide reliable and trustworthy content: that’s why the Bedouin Silver blog provides references and citations.

This blog is free: if you’d like to support independent, self-funded research, please consider enrolling in a course or a jewellery talk, or donate here directly.

The proceeds directly support travel costs, book purchases, and the time needed to wite articles like this one: thank you so much for your support!

Arabic kohl and its material culture: history, tradition and UNESCO recognition

Arabic kohl and its material culture: history, tradition and UNESCO recognition

by | General jewellery topics

Arabic kohl history and tradition

Arabic kohl and its material culture: UNESCO recognition

Published December 12, 2025

Kohl eyeliner has just been recognised as UNESCO intangible cultural heritage.

In December 2025, kohl was inscribed on the UNESCO Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. That is hugely significant, because it recognises the importance of the heritage of adornment. Like henna, which I wrote about in an earlier blog, kohl is much more than a beauty product: it is a practice, a tradition, and a form of expression. So, let’s take a closer look kohl, and what its material culture can tell us about beauty, identity and memory!

Why did UNESCO recognise Arabic kohl as intangible cultural heritage?

First, let’s look at what the World Heritage inscription actually says. The UNESCO description highlights the multi-layered role of traditional kohl in Arab societies:

‘Arabic Kohl is both a craft and a social practice that is integral to the lifestyle of Bedouin and nomadic tribes, as well as rural, marshland, and fishing communities in the Arab region. It is a fine black powder used as eyeliner by people of all genders, serving not only as a cosmetic but also for protection against wind, sand and sunlight. A part of everyday life, special occasions and religious rituals, it is made from natural ingredients, with the preparation varying according to local environments and lifestyles. Kohl is made either at home or in gatherings, mostly by women, who transmit the related knowledge and skills to their daughters and granddaughters. Arabic kohl is typically stored in decorative containers called ‘makhala’, which are often passed down as family keepsakes. The practice is also transmitted through oral traditions, community events, schools and cultural institutions. In addition to being a symbol of community identity and a key part of daily beauty routines, kohl is used as a physical and spiritual healing remedy. It promotes dialogue and fosters meaningful exchanges between nations and communities of women. Kohl-rimmed eyes also serve as a strong form of female expression, particularly in societies where only eyes are visible due to face coverings.’ [1]

This powerful recognition shows that Arabic kohl is a living, breathing tradition. It’s about the how, not just the what. Like henna, the art of applying kohl is not just make-up or beautification. It’s a system of knowledge passed on through generations.

Which countries submitted the nomination for kohl as intangible heritage?

The nomination for kohl as intangible cultural heritage was submitted by a number of countries: Iraq, Jordan, Libya, Oman, Palestine, Saudi Arabia, Syria, Tunisia, and the United Arab Emirates.

Although these are the nations that submitted the nomination, I’d invite you to bear in mind that the practice of kohl exists in a much wider region and in many different forms. The practice of kohl is also not limited to Arabic communities, but is part of many other cultures, too.

Just one example: the oldest form of kohl known to date comes from ancient Egypt, where eye make-up palettes appear at the end of the 4th millennium BCE. Egypt, however, is not among the countries that submitted the nomination of this cultural heritage – that does not automatically mean kohl doesn’t exist in Egypt. That is not what this inscription on the Intangible Cultural Heritage list claims: it is a recognition of a living cultural practice, and in this case, the scope has a narrower geographical reach than that of the actual practice itself.

(but with that long history of kohl, I was personally surprised to see Egypt did not join the nomination)

Kohl as a living tradition

Kohl, obviously, is not a thing of the past, but a living practice. If you have ever visited anywhere in North Africa or Southwest Asia, you’ll have seen it on offer and in use. The recipes vary widely, but the basic goal is the same: to create a smooth, fine black powder. This could be made from something as simple as burnt charcoal, lamp black or pot soot (sarral kohl) or more specialised substances like antimony or galena (athmad kohl).

Application methods of this powder also varied: from saliva and water for everyday use, to rosewater and orange blossom water for more luxurious occasions. In some traditions, aromatic resins such as burnt ambergris, frankincense or ‘ūd (aloeswood) were added to the mix.

The material culture of kohl: containers, adornment, and meaning

Where there’s kohl, there’s a container [2]. These are generally called makhala, and the needle used to apply kohl to the eyes is known as merwad. That’s the same word used for the needle to apply perfumes: merwad means stick, needle.

Besides practical containers, makhala are very important in ceremonial use. In Beit Dajan, Palestine, brides would dance on their wedding while holding their kohl container: person, adornment, social status and object are one and the same.

Elsewhere, kohl was a popular gift from pilgrims returning from the Hajj. This was antimony kohl (athmad) mixed with water from the ZamZam well. Their function here extended beyond cosmetics: they combine religious concepts of purity and cleanliness with adornment.

How kohl containers reflect local values

The form, decoration and materials of kohl containers vary across the region. In some areas, they belong more to the realm of jewellery, made of silver or copper, and intended to be seen. I’ve written about similar practices in Afghan vanity sets in this blog.

They may even have gendered distinctions: men do not generally wear adornment, but kohl is worn by men, women and children. Men, too, had to carry their kohl containers on their person. In those cases, the containers took the shape of masculine attributes: silver bullet-shaped containers or versions of gunpowder horns. That is not to ‘hide’ the fact that men use make-up: kohl containers simply take the form best suited to their wearer.

In other regions kohl containers are part of dress and costume, the container itself covered in fabric. By studying the decoration of these containers and comparing them to regional jewellery styles, we begin to see where these objects fit into personal adornment. Were they worn on a person? Displayed in the house? Kept in private, away from prying eyes? These questions help us understand what these containers meant to their users.

Kohl as identity, resistance and care

While kohl enhances beauty, it also has protective and healing roles, both natural and supernatural. Natural ingredients such as antimony were considered to strengthen and purify the eyes. It also protected against evil spirits, and applying it is an act of purity and cleanliness in itself. This ties into a wider tradition where adornment is protective as well as decorative. If you have been following this blog for a while, you know that is a theme that recurs across jewellery, scent, textiles, body aesthetic and more!

Kohl: a world heritage of adornment

Kohl’s inscription as World Heritage is a recognition of an ancient practice. And as with henna, recognising kohl as intangible cultural heritage brings attention to the people who keep these practices alive: the women who prepare it, apply it, teach it, and wear it. Because heritage is not just objects: the objects are only the material component of something much larger.

Kohl and its containers form part of an entire system of knowledge, care, expression and identity: if we look at them as one component in a network of beliefs, actions and objects, we learn so much more!

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Find out more about the meaning of intangible personal adornment in the e-courses!

More posts on jewellery and adornment? Browse them all here!

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References

[1] See the UNESCO inscription here https://ich.unesco.org/en/RL/arabic-kohl-02261

[2] See Paint it, Black by Jolanda Bos (2019): the only book to date with an extensive overview of kohl containers from past to present.

The Bedouin Silver blog gives credit where credit is due! Transparent referencing and citing sources helps us all grow. Would you like to do the same and quote this article? Here’s how:

S. van Roode, [write the title as you see it above this post], published on the Bedouin Silver website [paste the exact link to this article], accessed on [the date you are reading this article and decided it was useful for you].

The Bedouin Silver Jewellery Blog: Sigrid van Roode

Sigrid van Roode is an archeologist, ethnographer and jewellery historian. Her main field of expertise is jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia, as well as archaeological and archaeological revival jewellery. She has authored several books on jewellery, and obtained her PhD at Leiden University on jewellery, informal ritual and collections. Sigrid has lectured for the National Museum of Antiquities in Leiden, Turquoise Mountain Jordan, and many others. She provides consultancy and research on jewellery collections for both museums and private collections, teaches courses and curates exhibitions. She is not involved in the business of buying and selling jewellery, and focuses on research, knowledge production, and education only. Sigrid strongly believes in accessibility of knowledge, and aims to provide reliable and trustworthy content: that’s why the Bedouin Silver blog provides references and citations.

This blog is free: if you’d like to support independent, self-funded research, please consider enrolling in a course or a jewellery talk, or donate here directly.

The proceeds directly support travel costs, book purchases, and the time needed to wite articles like this one: thank you so much for your support!

Exploring the Traditional Jewellery House at al-Shindagha Museum

Exploring the Traditional Jewellery House at al-Shindagha Museum

by | Museums & Exhibitions

Museum review

Exploring the Traditional Jewellery House at al-Shindagha Museum

Published November 20, 2025

Introduction to the Traditional Jewellery House

Al-Shindagha Museum in Dubai is a cultural village unlike any other, with 22 beautifully curated houses nestled along the historic Dubai Creek. I introduced the museum itself in this blog – in this post, I take you inside one of its most engaging exhibitions: the Traditional Jewellery House. This house is part of the museum’s wider effort to document life, trade and culture in the Emirates, through material objects and immersive storytelling.

While I’ll dive deeper into the history and meanings of Emirati jewellery in a separate post, this visit is all about how jewellery is presented within the museum experience – and what that tells us about culture, memory and community.

Adornment in Emirati culture: jewellery for men and women

This exhibit starts by challenging a long-standing stereotype: that jewellery is the domain of women only. Side by side, a woman’s belt (hiqb) and a men’s ornate dagger (khanjar) and belt illustrate this similarity. I liked that the museum challenges the notion that adornment is only for women from the start.

The gold belt is a personal piece, a present from a proud father to a daughter on her day of graduation from high school – a wonderful first glimpse into the many meanings of jewellery.

Pearls, craftmanship and trade

The next room is dedicated to pearls, trade, jewellery craftmanship and global trade routes that brought precious materials to the Gulf. It beautifully contextualizes the maker-side of jewellery, which is as much a part of jewellery’s history as the wearing-side of it.

Then, a wall-sized map points out where the main materials to make jewellery with, came from, illustrating the interconnectivity of cultures. You know I love distribution maps, so this room was a highlight!

Iconic Emirati designs still worn today

The next museum room displays six iconic jewellery pieces, each paired with a postage stamp dedicated to traditional UAE jewellery in 2006. These pieces are all modern creations as they are still available in the Gold Souk today.

As a side note: I could not help but notice that with the murtasha necklace, the long dangling pendants were accidentally mounted with their reverse side facing forward – the dangles consist of graceful 8-shaped links, of which the centre part is decorated with a tiny gold flower. This creates an opulent view, but in the modern piece on display, the links are facing forward and the decoration would rest against the chest.

The room is an introduction into jewellery, and the text panel announces that there is much more and varied jewellery to be seen in the museum. So, onwards we go!

Cultural influences on Emirati jewellery styles

The next room introduces silver jewellery from Oman and explains how this was traded into the UAE, until it was replaced by gold halfway through the 20th century. This historical link between Oman and the UAE is essential to understand the developing styles of Emirati jewellery. That goes for the cultural influences from Iran and India, too, and this is acknowledged in the previous room, with the iconic pieces, as well. The museum has done a commendable job in taking the time and creating the space to address this connection.

It is too often I see jewellery presented as if its people lived in isolation, as if jewellery suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the form it has today, and as if today’s borders miraculously shape the past. That oversimplifying does not do justice to either the jewellery, or the place that past cultures had as hubs of exchange and trade.

The al-Shindagha Museum takes care to point the underlying dynamic of trade and exchange behind jewellery, and I think that is one of the most valuable lessons to learn about jewellery.

Bridal jewellery in Emirati weddings: customs and reality

From there, the storyline takes us to bridal jewellery: a woman would receive the most important part of her personal jewellery on the day of her wedding. Here, too, the exhibition explains the differences between cultural expectations and everyday reality: not everyone could afford the splendid gold jewellery required, but a bride had to wear it. So, a system of loaning jewellery developed, a practice continuing until this day.

Wearing the tassah: experiencing Emirati bridal adornment

In this room, visitor may try on a replica of traditional bridal attire, the headdress known as tassah. I found that an incredibly valuable experience: not only because the jewellery is spectacular, but also because it is meant to be worn and move in sync with its wearer. In placing the ornament on my head, I got a feeling for how it affects posture as well as a sense of beauty and grace – an experience I would never have had by just looking at a piece.

A glimpse into 1920s Emirati jewellery: a family collection

Through a room with more jewellery styles and ring types, we arrive at the final exhibition room: a full set of jewellery from the 1920s, on loan from a family. I could have spent hours here, pouring over the delicate details of head adornment, necklaces, bracelets, rings, toe rings…

The Traditional Jewellery House: reflecting on the cultural significance of Emirati jewellery

The final room offers quiet reflection: you sit alone before a large murtasha necklace, enclosed by gentle latticework. It’s a beautifully designed space that invites contemplation on the emotional and cultural depth of Emirati jewellery traditions.

The House of Traditional Jewellery in al-Shinadagha Museum offers a beautiful introduction into traditional Emirati jewellery. Through actual pieces, immersive experiences, video fragments and stunning photographs, you get a vivid sense of the history and meaning of jewellery in Emirati culture.

The only thing that left me wondering is regional diversity in jewellery styles within the Emirates: this is abundantly shown for dress in the House of Beauty and Adornment, but notably absent here. I’m not sure if this means that such diversity did not exist, or that we witness here the ‘canonisation’ of jewellery styles, if you will: the slow formation of an accepted and solidified repertoire of jewellery.

And, if you’ll indulge me for a final wish… after having seen this stunning pavilion, all I wanted was to make my way to the gift shop to learn more about traditional jewellery – but there was nothing available on this topic. I really hope that in the future, the al-Shindagha Museum will offer catalogues of their collection: that would make an already perfect visit unforgettable.

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Find out more about the history of jewellery in the e-courses!

More posts on people and cultures? Browse them all here!

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Discover more on jewellery today!
The Bedouin Silver blog gives credit where credit is due! Transparent referencing and citing sources helps us all grow. Would you like to do the same and quote this article? Here’s how:

S. van Roode, [write the title as you see it above this post], published on the Bedouin Silver website [paste the exact link to this article], accessed on [the date you are reading this article and decided it was useful for you].

The Bedouin Silver Jewellery Blog: Sigrid van Roode

Sigrid van Roode is an archeologist, ethnographer and jewellery historian. Her main field of expertise is jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia, as well as archaeological and archaeological revival jewellery. She has authored several books on jewellery, and obtained her PhD at Leiden University on jewellery, informal ritual and collections. Sigrid has lectured for the National Museum of Antiquities in Leiden, Turquoise Mountain Jordan, and many others. She provides consultancy and research on jewellery collections for both museums and private collections, teaches courses and curates exhibitions. She is not involved in the business of buying and selling jewellery, and focuses on research, knowledge production, and education only. Sigrid strongly believes in accessibility of knowledge, and aims to provide reliable and trustworthy content: that’s why the Bedouin Silver blog provides references and citations.

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Al Shindagha Museum Dubai: introduction

Al Shindagha Museum Dubai: introduction

by | Museums & Exhibitions

A guide to Emirati culture & heritage

Al-Shindagha Museum, Dubai

Published November 19, 2025

What is al-Shindagha Museum? An introduction to Dubai’s heritage district

Situated on the shores of Dubai Creek is al-Shindagha Museum, a vast complex that is both historical village and museum. The al-Shindagha neighbourhood reflects what old Dubai looked like before the building boom of skyscrapers. In this article, I’ll introduce the museum itself to you: its layout, themes and what to expect. In related articles, listed at the end of this post, I will zoom in on the adornment shown in al-Shindagha museum, because that just does not fit in one article!

How the museum is laid out: houses, themes and visitor flow

Rather than one large building, the al-Shindagha museum comprises some 80 heritage houses that have been repurposed as exhibition pavilions. Now just to be clear: none of this is old or original. Every single house you see has been either rebuilt, or heavily restored.

The ‘before and after’-photos in the pavilions on Dubai’s history show the amount of work that has gone into recreating this past world: they show dilapidated buildings on one side, and the restored versions you walk among today on the other. I always love these ‘makeover’ photos – not only because they show the care and attention that have gone into these buildings, but also because it’s important to be aware that this is, to a certain extent, a created world.

The museum experience itself is like walking through a small historic village: of the 80 houses, 22 open into a themed exhibition that invites you to pause and reflect.

The decision to present each topic in a house of its own makes for a very manageable museum visit. None of the museum is too large or overwhelming, and yet you are offered a wealth of information.

It’s like walking around a blog series, if you will – strolling around a historical neighbourhood, while sampling a range of topics. You choose your own itinerary, and enjoy the topics you’d like to learn more about. That strolling through the village also has another benefit: it’s never too crowded, and should a pavilion be receiving a group just as you arrive, you can just go and visit another one, and circle back later.

It took me two visits of 4 hours each – but then again, I really wanted to see everything at leisure.

What you’ll see in the main pavilions

Each pavilion offers a doorway into the museum’s wide‑ranging narrative. For example:

  • The Dubai Creek: Birth of a City pavilion tells how trade, pearling and settlement along the creek laid the foundation for modern Dubai.
  • The Life on Land series of houses explores the desert, mountains and coastal environments and how Emiratis adapted to them.
  • The Culture of the Sea pavilion dives into the maritime heritage of the emirate, including pearl‑diving and dhow‑building.

In each house, you’ll wander through its rooms following a well laid-out route. This takes you from an introduction to the subject at hand to its history, and very often also its application in today’s world. For example, in the Poetry House you will not just learn about historic and Bedouin poetry, but also how eloquency is still valued today.

This breadth of subject matter is part of what makes the al-Shindagha museum so fascinating: it offers broad cultural and historical framework. It’s also why I will continue this blog post with a series zooming in on the adornment pavilions, because these were so informative that fitting them in here wouldn’t do them justice.

Activities and workshops in al-Shindagha museum

Besides the museum houses, there is also a lot going on in al-Shindagha museum. Many houses offer explanations by a cultural guide: a knowledgeable person explaining more about the topic shown and answering any questions you might have. They can stay with you throughout your visit through the house, or just give you an introduction at the start: I loved how they were super friendly, welcoming and flexible in their approach.

Depending on availability, several houses offer workshops: I received henna on my hand in the People and Faith House, while the cultural guide explained more about its significance and history. A beautiful way to make your visit last after you have left the museum!

Throughout the year, there are many activities celebrating Emirati traditions: check the website of the museum (at the end of this article) to see which workshops, talks and activities are planned. I really like this way of bringing a museum to life and allowing visitors to experience different aspects of culture and history – if I lived in Dubai, I’d probably be visiting often to attend talks or, who knows, to give them myself. It’s a beautiful, lively podium for cultural history.

Practical tips before visiting al-Shindagha Museum

Here are a few pointers I thought you might want to know before visiting the museum.

The museum buildings themselves have pleasant air conditioning, but apart from the visitor centre area there are no shaded places to sit and very few trees outside. The many benches on the promenade along the creek are in the sun. Some of the alleyways are covered with cloth, as it would have been in the past, which provide shade – but in general, the wanderings through the museum alleys can be quite hot. Stay hydrated!

As with everything in the U.A.E.: dress respectfully. You can’t waltz in in shorts, beachwear or flipflops. Added benefit: dressing modestly also helps protect your skin from the sun. Just for inspiration, see the above photo of me in the house of People & Faith: a sleeveless dress paired with a blouse goes a long way.

Wear shoes you are comfortable walking in: it literally is a village, and you will be wandering from house to house. There is a buggy service that takes you along the creek, back to the visitor centre.

Make sure your phone is charged: not only because you will want to take a gazillion photos, but also because no paper tickets are issued. You will be asked to photograph a QR-code, which will them be scanned at the entrance of every building (pro-tip: save this photo in your Favourites-folder so you can easily find it again). A great way to save on paper waste!

Facilities: almost every pavilion has toilets, something I really appreciated (if anyone from a museum reads this: we ladies really need our bathroom breaks, and only too often we end up waiting in endless lines – not here!). There are a visitor centre, a hotel, a gift shop and a few restaurants on site, all located near each other on one end of the village. Some of the exhibition houses have their own gift-shop built in, but none of these were operational during my visit in November 2025 – should that change, I’ll add that here.

A note on sensory experiences during your visit

The museum visit is immersive — most houses include some form of sensory stimulant, such as gentle music, scent diffusers, atmospheric lighting or film projection.

None of this is too loud or too glaring – in fact, I’d say it beautifully enhanced my visit. But I also found that after several houses (in my case meaning after several hours), the cumulative effect began to take its toll on my concentration and absorption of information.

Finding a quiet, shaded spot to decompress proved a bit of a challenge: although the area itself is peaceful, most of the benches are located in full sun, as I mentioned above.

If you’re sensitive to sensory input, take your time to visit and see if you can insert a break every now and then – maybe have a drink at the visitor’s centre or at one of the restaurants.

Why al-Shindagha Museum is worth visiting

In the hyper-modern, fast city of Dubai, this museum offers a grounded and thoughtfully curated link to the emirate’s deeper roots. After visiting, you’re bound to notice architectural, craft and cultural references around the city with a clearer eye.

For anyone interested in material culture — whether jewellery, dress, traditional craft, maritime trade or desert life — the museum is a strong starting point. It frames those varied topics within the context of Dubai’s transformation. You’ll see Dubai with different eyes after your visit.

So, if you find yourself in Dubai and want a meaningful introduction to the heritage side of the city, I would highly recommend a visit to the al Shindagha Museum!

See more about the museum here.

Related posts on the al-Shindagha Museum collections

Traditional Jewellery House: more on traditional Emirati jewellery

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The Bedouin Silver blog gives credit where credit is due! Transparent referencing and citing sources helps us all grow. Would you like to do the same and quote this article? Here’s how:

S. van Roode, [write the title as you see it above this post], published on the Bedouin Silver website [paste the exact link to this article], accessed on [the date you are reading this article and decided it was useful for you].

The Bedouin Silver Jewellery Blog: Sigrid van Roode

Sigrid van Roode is an archeologist, ethnographer and jewellery historian. Her main field of expertise is jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia, as well as archaeological and archaeological revival jewellery. She has authored several books on jewellery, and obtained her PhD at Leiden University on jewellery, informal ritual and collections. Sigrid has lectured for the National Museum of Antiquities in Leiden, Turquoise Mountain Jordan, and many others. She provides consultancy and research on jewellery collections for both museums and private collections, teaches courses and curates exhibitions. She is not involved in the business of buying and selling jewellery, and focuses on research, knowledge production, and education only. Sigrid strongly believes in accessibility of knowledge, and aims to provide reliable and trustworthy content: that’s why the Bedouin Silver blog provides references and citations.

This blog is free: if you’d like to support independent research, please consider enrolling in a course or a jewellery talk. The proceeds directly fund my research work: thank you so much for your support!