From Ghanaian courtyards to city streets abroad, libation remains a bridge between the living and the departed

Before the speeches begin and before the drums find their rhythm, a quiet ritual often unfolds. A bottle is uncorked.

A small amount of drink touches the earth. Names are spoken. Heads bow. For a moment, those who are absent become present.

In Ghana, libation is far more than a ceremony. It is an act of remembrance rooted in the belief that death does not sever a person’s connection to family and community.

Across many ethnic groups, ancestors are regarded as active members of society—guardians who continue to influence the fortunes, health, and wellbeing of the living.

The details vary from one community to another. In some homes, schnapps is preferred. Elsewhere, palm wine or water may be used.

The words spoken differ between Akan, Ewe, Ga, Dagbani, and other languages. Yet the purpose remains remarkably consistent: to acknowledge those who came before and invite their blessings.

What makes libation particularly fascinating is how its spirit has travelled far beyond its traditional setting. Across the African diaspora, echoes of the practice can be found in unexpected places.

In parts of the Caribbean and the United States, people still pour a drink onto the ground in memory of a loved one. The gesture may not always be described as libation, but the message is strikingly familiar: the departed have not been forgotten.

As migration, urbanisation, and modern lifestyles reshape cultural practices, libation continues to endure. It survives because it fulfils a deeply human need—the desire to remain connected to those who shaped our lives.

A few drops on the ground may seem insignificant. Yet within that simple act lies a profound idea: that memory is a form of presence, and that conversations with our ancestors never truly end.

For many gallery visitors, the first instinct is to ask what a painting means. Standing before the abstract works of Nicholas Kowalski, however, a different question emerges: What does it make you feel?

That subtle shift lies at the heart of contemporary abstraction, a genre often misunderstood as distant or inaccessible.

Yet in Ghana, where visual storytelling has long thrived through symbols, textiles, body adornment, and traditional motifs, abstraction may be more familiar than it first appears.

Recent works exhibited at Tiga Art Gallery demonstrated how colour, texture, and movement can communicate experiences that words struggle to capture. Rather than presenting recognisable landscapes or portraits, the paintings invited viewers to navigate emotional terrain.

Thick layers of paint rose from the canvas like sculpted memories, while energetic brushstrokes suggested moments of tension, joy, uncertainty, and reflection.

Kowalski’s artistic approach is particularly interesting within Ghana’s evolving cultural landscape. Born of Ghanaian and Polish heritage, he occupies a space between multiple traditions and perspectives.

That dual inheritance is not expressed through obvious cultural references but through a willingness to embrace complexity, contradiction, and experimentation.

His observation that he creates from what he feels, thinks, and sees in the world speaks to a broader truth about artistic practice.

Abstract art is not an escape from reality; it is another way of processing it. In societies undergoing rapid social, economic, and cultural change, such forms of expression can offer a valuable space for contemplation.

As Ghana’s contemporary art scene gains increasing international attention, exhibitions like this highlight a growing appetite for art that prioritises emotional engagement over easy interpretation.

The viewer is no longer a passive observer but an active participant, bringing personal memories and meanings to each encounter.

Perhaps that is abstraction’s greatest gift: not providing answers, but creating room for discovery.

For centuries, the walls of Christiansborg Castle have stood quietly above the Atlantic, overlooking waves that once carried millions into lives they never chose. Yet there are moments when silence is no longer enough. When performance enters these historic spaces, the stones themselves seem to speak.

That is the enduring power of site-specific theatre. Unlike a conventional stage, places marked by trauma hold memories that no set designer can recreate.

Every doorway, corridor and dungeon carries the emotional residue of real lives. Audiences are not simply watching actors portray history—they are standing inside it.

Where Performance Meets Memory

Across Africa and the diaspora, artists are increasingly using theatre to bridge the gap between historical records and lived emotion.

Documents can tell us how the transatlantic slave trade functioned. Performance helps us imagine what it felt like.

Music, movement and silence often communicate what language cannot. A bowed head, the rhythm of bare feet across stone, or the echo of a drumbeat can evoke grief and resilience with remarkable force. These artistic choices invite audiences to engage not only with facts but with empathy.

For younger generations, especially those raised in a digital world, immersive performances can make distant history feel immediate.

They encourage difficult conversations about identity, belonging and the enduring consequences of slavery without reducing the past to dates in a textbook.

A Living Heritage for Future Generations

Ghana’s forts and castles are recognised as places of remembrance, but remembrance is not a static act. It evolves as each generation finds new ways to interpret the past.

When artists transform heritage sites into spaces for reflection, they expand their purpose beyond tourism.

They become classrooms without walls, memorials without barriers and gathering places where descendants, visitors and communities confront history together.

The true value of such performances lies not only in honouring those who suffered, but in reminding today’s audiences that cultural heritage is alive.

Every story retold, every song performed, and every step taken through these historic spaces ensures that the echoes of the past continue to shape conversations about justice, identity, and our shared humanity.