Aliou Diack: Nature’s Paintings

Aliou Diack was born in 1987 in Sidi Bougou, Mbour Region, Senegal. After moving to the city, art became Diack’s way of recreating the natural environment in which he had grown up. He studied at the National School of Arts in Dakar, where he worked with mixed media and mastered techniques that went far beyond drawing and painting. In his works, textures and colours come together in a poetic harmony to create polymorphic forms of nature that are not immediately recognisable or distinguishable. Shade moves freely like air; textures seem to breathe. They capture natural symbiosis, as though each piece is an atom among billions of others that form the world.

Later this year, Diack will begin his residency at space Un in Tokyo, a newly conceived arts space focused on Contemporary African Art. Space Un was initiated by Edna Dumas, an established collector based between Kobe, Paris, and Berlin whose primary focus is Contemporary African Art, and co-founded by Yuta Nakano and Lothar Eckstein. It offers a unique platform of cross-disciplinary programming that aims to spark a dialogue between Japanese and African cultures through art. While in Morocco for an art fair, SLEEK meets with the artist to talk about his process, the similarities between Senegal and Japan, and the importance of listening to nature. 

SLEEK: Your fascination with nature began as a child, when you would observe and document its intricacies through drawing. What is your first memory of nature?

Aliou Diack:  My first memory of nature is when I was farming with my grandfather. I witnessed how the process of farming – planting a seed, nurturing it, and watching it grow – shared many similarities with the process of art. 

S: And when did this fascination with nature turn into a desire to recreate it through art?

AD: When I was a child, I was always creating things, not just drawings. I remember going into the forest with my friend, and we would try to create an installation, a house of sorts, for the animals. At the time, I didn’t know it was art that I was making. 

S: At the age of 10, you moved from Sidi Bougou, a village in the Senegalese forests, to the heart of Dakar. How did this experience of moving from the country to the city impact your connection with nature?

AD: The first time I visited Dakar was when my father took me on a holiday to my grandmother’s house. I remember I was crying a lot because I didn’t want to leave my friends, my village, or the forest. Art became my way of reproducing the original environment from which I came. I think that if I hadn’t moved to Dakar and therefore felt the distance from the nature of my home in Sidi Bougou, then maybe I wouldn’t have become an artist. 

S: Did your way of painting come to you very naturally, or was it a process of experimentation?

AD: At the beginning of making a piece, I never know what I want to do. Like a farmer does with a seed, I put my pigment on the floor of the canvas and, from time to time, give it water and let nature present its form. You cannot decide how to connect and create a form – just as a farmer cannot decide which kind of fruit the tree will have. You have to wait until something comes alive. The same is true for my work. I try to find life inside metaphysical forms. 

S: You work with natural pigments, sometimes sourced locally and sometimes made by yourself. In doing so, do you feel more connected to the earth than when you’re working with, say, acrylic paint?

AD: My grandfather first introduced me to this kind of pigment. I understood that it would be paradoxical for me to create work about the environment while using industrial materials. In using nature’s pigments, I am taking from the earth but bringing it back to life through art. People too often take from nature, but they never give back. My role as a person and artist is to give back. 

S: In the West, a lot of value is placed on the idea of control. However, there are limits to controlling nature. It has a powerful freedom that we must respect.

AD: People like to have control, but really, you can’t control anything. Everybody talks about nature and their love for it, and yet they fail to see the tree outside their house and ask whether it needs some water despite it being the source of oxygen. 

S: How do you know when a piece is finished?

AD: For me, it is never finished – just like nature. And I always say that these paintings are never my paintings; they are nature’s. At one point, I might think I’m finished, but then I’ll return to it a few months later and find myself wanting to add to it. Today I might see one thing in front of me, but tomorrow I might see another. 

S: Later this year, you’ll begin your residency at space Un in Tokyo, a newly conceived arts space focused on contemporary African art. When you find yourself in new countries and cities, how do you stay connected to nature – whether spiritually or physically?

AD: The first thing I do whenever I go somewhere new is take my time to listen and ask. For example, before you take a leaf from the tree, you have to ask the tree. All my painting is just a kind of listening.  

S: Speaking of this kind of care towards nature, you also seem to have a very generous relationship with the people around you. There’s a sense of contribution and care. Do you think this sensibility comes from the place where you grew up?

AD: I grew up in a very social village in Senegal, and perhaps this is why I have always wanted to work with the people around me. I cannot do it alone. I need people around me; people are energy. The energy I can share with humans is a very important thing to me as an artist. 

S: This idea of collective community is also deeply rooted in Japanese culture. Are there other similarities you can see?

AD: Yes, there are lots of similarities shared between Senegal and Japan. I think above all, we share this true appreciation for the Earth, a true recognition and gratitude for all it gives us. 

Credits: 

Words: Molly Maltman
Photography: Badr El Hardag.

As featured in SLEEK 80 – FORTUNE. Available in print and digital here.