MARSEILLE.- From May 15, 2026 to January 3, 2027, the [mac] Museum of Contemporary Art of Marseille presents an exhibition dedicated to the contemporary French artist of Russian and Algerian origin, Louisa Babari. Entitled AFRICA, this immersive project explores the ancient and mythological layers of North Africa through a body of photographic, visual, and sound works, where history, fiction, and memory intersect. Designed in partnership with the Passages Contemporary Art Center and with the support of the Pierre Barbizet Conservatory, the exhibition is part of the Rencontres d’Arles program the Grand Arles Express. It has also received the Saison Méditerranée label. The exhibition is accompanied by the sound project Public Voices, produced with the support of Rhizome Art Center.

The [mac] invites Louisa Babari to take over the experimental space of the [mac]room.

In 2024, the [mac] Museum of Contemporary Art of Marseille acquired Journal of an Algerian Student in Moscow, a major work by Louisa Babari composed of family archives retracing her father’s journey in the USSR between 1962 and 1972. Through this intimate micro-history, the artist offers a counterpoint to colonial and postcolonial iconography, sketching an “off-ground” Algeria and opening a critical dialogue with dominant historical narratives. Seeking to deepen this approach, the [mac] entrusted Louisa Babari with the experimental [mac]room space. The exhibition AFRICA, developed in partnership with the Passages Contemporary Art Center in Troyes, is part of a long-term research process combining image archaeology, Amazigh mythology, and contemporary creation. The exhibition is accompanied by a sound piece specially conceived by the artist, in collaboration with students from the electroacoustic music class of the Pierre Barbizet Conservatory, under the direction of Jean-Luc Gergonne.

AFRICA: Between Amazigh Mythology and Contemporary Creation

The exhibition title refers to the Berber goddess Africa—Ifri or Ifru—a mythological figure associated with fire, war, fertility, and trade. Through this reference, Louisa Babari examines the origins of the name “Africa” and its gradual extension to the entire continent, from ancient North Africa to its contemporary reinterpretations. The exhibition unfolds through a series of photographic works, collages, photomontages, and sound creations devoted to Berber and Numidian civilizations within the Algerian context. The artist’s research into her surname—derived from the Babari tribe, originating in the Aurès—nourishes an imaginary world populated by warrior figures, riders, Barbary lions, and Barb horses, forming an ancient bestiary reactivated through immersive installations. By intertwining history, personal intuition, and artistic production, AFRICA offers an aesthetic and subjective reflection on an ancient, precolonial, and mythological Algeria—still largely absent from dominant representations.

How did this exhibition project at the [mac] in Marseille come about?

The project began with an initial meeting with Stéphanie Airaud—director of the [mac] and curator of the exhibition—during a show in the Île-de-France region. It truly took shape after I received the AWARE Prize. At that point, a momentum developed, leading to the idea of two distinct yet interconnected exhibitions (in Marseille and Troyes), conceived as complementary facets of the same body of work. At the same time, the acquisition of some of my works by the Museums of Marseille and the CNAP strengthened this context, embedding my practice within public collections and supporting its development. The project was built around two main axes of my practice: on the one hand, a reflection on genealogy and family archives—whether real or fictional; on the other, a broader historical exploration reaching back to Antiquity and questioning the history of Algeria and North Africa. This approach is deeply connected to my “counter-historical” practice, which forms a core foundation of my creative process. At the [mac], it takes the form of an immersive installation conceived specifically for the space, in dialogue with objects from the collections of the Museums of Marseille. The project is also part of a network of collaborations, notably with Rhizome Art Center, giving it both a local and international dimension.

If you had to describe the genesis of AFRICA, what was the starting point: an image, a word, research into your name, or an encounter with the figure of the goddess Africa?

The starting point was very clearly the question of my surname. Like many people, I wondered about the origin of my name. Through research, I discovered that “Babari” is a very ancient ethnonym, attested in North Africa since Antiquity. This discovery was deeply moving. Thanks to the work of archaeologist Ahmed M’Charek, a professor at the University of Tunis, I understood that this name appears in sources related to the Numidian kingdom and Roman Africa. I wanted to explore this connection between an intimate history—that of a name—and a much broader history, that of ancient North Africa. The title AFRICA came afterward, resonating with this history. It refers both to Roman Africa—Africa Nova—and to the earlier figure of the goddess Africa, a Libyan deity associated with fertility and the hearth. The title also evokes how cultures meet, transform, and are transmitted across the Mediterranean space.

You evoke an ancient, Amazigh, and mythological Algeria that remains largely absent from dominant representations. Do you feel you are repairing a lack of images,
rewriting a narrative, or inventing a new mythology?

I wouldn’t say that I am “repairing” something, but there is indeed a desire to produce images and narratives that have been less visible. The history of ancient North Africa is often told through the lens of Rome. Roman studies have long occupied a central place—which is understandable—but this has left in the shadows the peoples who lived in these territories before and during Roman domination. What interests me is bringing these histories into view in all their complexity: the Numidians, Libyan populations, and the exchanges between the Greek, Punic, Roman, and Berber worlds. These are incredibly rich civilizations. My work is not that of a historian. I draw from history, but also from intuition and imagination. It is less about rewriting history than about creating images capable of conveying the depth and complexity of this memory.

Your work combines historical research, family archives, personal intuition, and photomontage. At what point does history shift into fiction? And how do you find a balance between rigor and imagination?

I don’t conduct extensive research prior to producing my work. However, I did read a great deal for this project. From my encounters with archaeological material, I retained a very subjective impression—a partial, fragile memory. I did not retain everything from a strictly scientific perspective. In this exhibition, I created collages that function somewhat like visual excavations: I assemble fragments of sculptures, silhouettes, landscapes, and ruins. These are not historical reconstructions—they are possible visions, fragments of stories. I would say that fiction emerges at the moment the image takes shape, when the fragments come together. That is when we move from archive to creation.

Photography also plays an important role in the exhibition. Why?

Photography has been central to my work for a long time. For this exhibition, I created a slideshow of black-and-white photographs of statues and ancient objects. These images play on a tension between the fragility and the timelessness of statuary. The stone is eroded, cracked, sometimes almost erased, yet the faces remain incredibly present. I try to transform these fragments into timeless portraits. Photography thus becomes a way of creating a dialogue between past and present, of revealing a human presence through the mineral quality of these ancient objects.

The exhibition also presents archaeological objects. What role do they play?

We have included several objects from the collections of the Mediterranean Archaeology Museum of Marseille (MAM), part of the Museums of Marseille: Numidian, Punic, and Roman pieces. These objects engage in dialogue with my works. For example, there is a stele, a figurative glass medallion, a spearhead, and Roman columns. There is also a piece that particularly interests me: an animated reproduction of an ancient inscription mentioning the defeat of the Babaris by a Roman governor in the 3rd century. The presence of these historical objects creates a continuity between contemporary works and the material traces of this history.

With Public Voices, you bring poetry into public space. Why was it important for you that these voices be heard in the street, and not only in a museum? Is it an artistic, political, or deeply personal gesture?

Poetry is, at its origin, a deeply popular art form. It is meant to be spoken, shared, and heard. In many cultures, it circulates in the streets, in cafés, in gatherings. Today, public space is saturated with noise, speed, and constant demands. Poetry interrupts this flow. It creates a pause. People can stop for a few minutes, listen to a text, catch a word or a sentence. For me, it is both an artistic and a political gesture. Poetry introduces a different temporality into the city. It opens up a space for listening and reflection.

As visitors move through AFRICA, what would you like them to feel or to question? If the exhibition were to leave a lasting impression, what would you want it to be?

First, I would like to share a personal fascination with Antiquity that has been with me since childhood. But I would also like the audience to experience this sense of the long passage of time—the feeling that these very ancient histories continue to run through us today. This exhibition speaks about memory, about “new ancestors,” and about the circulation between cultures. The history of the Mediterranean is made up of encounters, exchanges, and mutual influences. If AFRICA leaves a lasting impression, I would like it to be this idea: that these ancient histories belong to all of us, and that they can still shape the way we look at the present.