Aga Khan Museum

Listen for the water first. In the garden outside the museum, shallow pools sit perfectly still, and on a calm day they hold the whole sky. The ground underfoot is pale stone and clipped grass. Traffic hums somewhere beyond the trees. Then you turn toward the building itself, a low white form with sharp, angled edges. Depending on the hour, it looks almost silver, or soft grey, or bright as paper. Welcome to the Aga Khan Museum.

This is a museum of art from the Muslim world. Its galleries hold objects from Spain and North Africa, across the Middle East, through Iran and Central Asia, and into South Asia. The collection covers more than a thousand years. You will find manuscripts, ceramics, metalwork, textiles, tiles, and scientific instruments. It is one of the first museums in North America devoted entirely to this subject. It opened to the public in September 2014.

The museum was founded by His Highness the Aga Khan, the hereditary spiritual leader of the Ismaili Muslims. The Ismailis are a branch of Shia Islam, with communities spread across many countries, including a large one here in Canada. The Aga Khan who created this place was Prince Karim, the fourth to hold the title. He died in early 2025, and his son now leads the community. His idea was simple, but ambitious... a place where people could meet this art and these cultures face to face.

Now look again at the building. It was designed by Fumihiko Maki, a Japanese architect who won the Pritzker Prize, often called the highest honour in architecture. Maki worked with one central theme — light. The outer walls are clad in white granite from Brazil. The walls are angled, not flat, so the sun moves across them in shifting planes through the day. Walk around the outside slowly, and the building seems to change its shape as you go.

Here is a detail many visitors miss. Step into the central courtyard, and look closely at the tall glass walls around you. The glass carries a fine geometric pattern. It is a modern take on the mashrabiya, the carved wooden lattice screen found on traditional houses across the Islamic world. Those screens let in air and light while keeping privacy. Here, the pattern throws soft shadows across the stone floor, and those shadows slide slowly as the sun crosses the sky.

The courtyard sits open to the sky at the heart of the museum. This is an old idea. Across the Muslim world, homes, mosques and palaces were often built around an inner courtyard. It gave a sense of calm and enclosure, away from the noise of the street. Maki brought that idea into a Canadian setting. Stand in the middle for a moment. Notice how the sound of the road disappears, and how the space feels quieter than its size suggests.

Now to the collection itself. Some of the most precious objects are pages from illustrated manuscripts. Look for folios from the Shahnameh, the Persian Book of Kings. It is an epic poem written about a thousand years ago by the poet Ferdowsi. It tells the legends and history of Iran's kings and heroes. Painters in later centuries illustrated it in miniature, with gold, lapis blue, and tiny figures so detailed you may want to lean right up to the glass.

Science has a place here too. The museum holds manuscripts linked to Ibn Sina, the Persian scholar known in Europe as Avicenna. His Canon of Medicine was studied by doctors for centuries, in the Islamic world and in European universities alike. Look also for astrolabes, the brass instruments used to track the stars, tell the time, and find the direction of prayer. They are beautiful objects, but they were also working tools, held in real hands under real night skies.

The galleries do not show only religious art. Yes, there are pages of the Quran written in elegant calligraphy. But there are also bowls painted with poetry, dishes made for feasts, and pieces made for royal courts. Calligraphy appears everywhere — on pottery, on metal, on silk. In this tradition, beautiful writing was one of the highest arts. Even if you cannot read the script, try to follow the rhythm of the lines with your eyes, the way you might follow music.

Beyond the permanent collection, the museum runs temporary exhibitions, and these change through the year. It also has a theatre for concerts, talks and performances, often featuring musicians from across the Muslim world and its diaspora. So a visit here can mean much more than looking at objects in cases. You might hear a lute, or a voice singing Persian poetry, drifting out across the foyer. It is worth checking what is on before you arrive.

Step back outside, and look across the garden. The landscaped park that connects the buildings was designed by Vladimir Djurovic, a landscape architect from Lebanon. It draws on the formal gardens of the Islamic world, with their straight paths, still water and careful order. Facing the museum across the park is the Ismaili Centre, a place of gathering and prayer for the Ismaili community. It was designed by the Indian architect Charles Correa, and it is crowned by a glass dome.

Think about the setting for a moment. This is not downtown Toronto. You are in the north of the city, near a busy highway, among office buildings and suburban streets. That choice is part of the surprise. A museum of Persian miniatures and Andalusian ceramics sits a short drive from shopping malls and commuter traffic. In a city where so many people have roots in other countries, that feels fitting. The museum is a place where many of Toronto's own stories meet.

Before you leave, stand once more beside the pools. Watch how the white walls of the museum sit in the water, upside down and perfectly still. If a breeze comes, the reflection breaks into pieces, and then slowly gathers again. Notice the light on the stone, and how it has shifted since you arrived. As you walk away, turn back once. The building will look a little different than it did when you came in... and that, quite gently, was the whole idea.