There was a sense of solidarity in seeing so many Black bodies represented from across the globe at this iteration of the foremost platform for architectural innovation, discourse, and exploration. While physical models, speculative buildings and details were certainly present throughout the show, African architects did more than just present structures — they told stories. These architects wove narratives of and from their communities, histories, and aspirations into their designs. The fusion of storytelling with architectural design created a powerful synergy that engaged visitors on an emotional and intellectual level. It reminded us all that architecture is not just about buildings; it is about people and their lived experiences.

My contribution to this approach was Griot — which literally translates to “storyteller” in West African vocabulary. Using the title Dangerous Liaisons — given to a certain part of the overall exhibition — as the point of departure, Griot is positioned between the axes of text and word. Text refers to the timeline, architectural elevations, and mask-artefacts that express Columnar Dis-order. Digitally drawn on recycled Roman paper and collaged through analog processes, each visualisation illuminates historical narratives collapsing architecture, archaeology, and anthropological disciplines. The paper, gathered during my stay in Italy, is typically used as craft paper in restaurants, to be soiled and discarded at the conclusion of one’s meal. It felt appropriate to utilise this material for the speculative drawings as they reinforce tangible place, intention and materiality. Migration, Labour, and Identity are the triumvirate dis-orders — rivaling Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian orders — that do not obey traditional columnar design rules. Three mask artefacts, each situated atop a cylindrical marble plinth, aid and correspond to each Dis-order.

The Identity column, sculpted from a single block of Spanish Marquina marble, through digital and hand procedures, is a full-scale representation of diasporic lineage, culture, and materiality. The granular textures of the exterior reference the history of wooden columns found in historic Africa. Cornrows, dreadlocks, and other hairstyles of African cultural origin are physically translated into its form. The precedence of this connection with physical beautification dates back to early conceptual frameworks of Western columnar design, as identified by Vitruvius. If the original three Greek columns were inspired and created by the form of a woman — who was almost certainly not Black — what could a new column look like if they were?

The Migration column reveals the movement of bodies across water to enslavement. The forced voyage of people from their homeland to various regions around the world are presented in the form of a single ripple that reverberates and creates the column form. The corresponding artefact — a pair of futuristic sea goggles — reinforce the need for a critical examination of shipping and receiving, an underlying issue of carbon-neutrality found at the Biennale.

The Labour column is emblematic of many historical and recent tragedies that have engulfed the Diaspora. Part Covid-19 mask, part slave-auction mask, this pairing of column and artefact portrays the dark history of workforce, economy, and the landscape. Telling these stories through the use of architectural techniques, in my opinion, is more powerful and resonant than in the simple design of buildings.

In keeping with the analogy of text vs. word, ‘word’ refers to the collages depicting the Identity column within the Pantheon. Positioned across from the array of traditional architectural drawings and models, these collages forced conversation between historical structures and these new columns. Drawn on the same recycled paper gathered in Italy, the Pantheon is represented as the historical setting of analysis. By placing the Identity column or dis-order within the famed interior of the Pantheon, one may question which structure predates the other. Are the master builders depicted within the drawing learning from Identity — or is Identity being hidden within the iconic structure? This troubled reading of history dissolves traditional narratives of historiography.

While Griot attempts to tell stories, I was joined in Arsenale by The Funambulist, another storyteller. The conversation between politics, bodies, and space, as typically found in Funambulist articles, mirror those that I attempt to foster on a regular basis through design. Through the pages of the magazine, visitors are confronted with the stark realities of how architecture and urban planning can be wielded as tools of power, exclusion, and oppression. Gentrification, surveillance, the physical barriers that segregate communities and the disproportionate allocation of resources come into sharp focus. The magazine's narrative unveils the ways in which the built environment has historically reinforced societal inequalities and continues to do so today.

What is the connection between the timeless beauty of North African design and the harsh realities of spatial injustice? Their juxtaposition in the Arsenale, as part of the Laboratory of the Future, compels us to examine the ways in which architecture influences not only aesthetics but also society, identity, and power dynamics. By placing these two narratives side by side, the formidable Lesley Lokko and her curatorial team have masterfully peeled back layers of complexity within the architectural realm. We are reminded that architecture is not static but a dynamic force that reflects and shapes the societies in which it exists. It raises crucial questions: How can an understanding of architectural heritage inform our efforts to create more equitable and inclusive spaces? How do the politics of space and bodies intersect with the timeless principles of classical architecture? Instead of asking where is the architecture, perhaps the question should be why has it taken so long?