Value, we’re told, lives in the object—gold locked in rock, wealth shaped into form. But what if value isn’t in the material at all, but in the eye that beholds it?

That quiet provocation sits at the heart of Senegalese artist Caroline Gueye’s latest work, Wurus, set to debut at the 61st Venice Biennale.

At first glance, the installation draws on gold’s long and complicated story—its celestial origins, its role in trade, its entanglement with power. But Gueye resists the obvious. Gold is not the destination here; it is the doorway.

Through polymer, bronze, and brass forms, she builds a layered experience that moves from science to sensation, asking visitors to reconsider how value is constructed in the first place.

Curated by Massamba Mbaye, Wurus unfolds as a physical journey. Works appear through narrow openings or sit embedded within the architecture, forcing the viewer to shift position, to look again, to question what is seen and what is assumed.

It’s an approach that feels strikingly relevant to West African histories, where gold has long been both a source of wealth and a site of extraction, negotiation, and loss.

For Ghanaian audiences, the resonance is immediate. From the ancient Akan gold trade to contemporary debates around mining and environmental cost, gold carries layered meanings that extend far beyond its market price.

Gueye’s work taps into this shared regional memory, but reframes it—placing emphasis not on ownership, but perception.

Her background in astrophysics quietly shapes the work, not as spectacle but as method. The idea that gold originates from cosmic events reframes it as something universal, even fleeting.

In that sense, Wurus feels less like an exhibition and more like a question: if value is not fixed, who decides what matters?

It is a striking proposition—one that feels particularly resonant in cities like Accra, where speed often outruns reflection.

In Lomé, during a recent “Carte Blanche” session, Dr. Anas Atakora did not simply read poetry; he issued a quiet challenge to how we inhabit urban life.

Across West Africa’s expanding cities, the conversation about development is usually framed in steel, traffic, and skylines.

Atakora’s work disrupts that narrative. His poetry insists that the city is not just built—it is felt. It presses against the skin, lingers in memory, and quietly reorganizes the rhythms of daily existence.

Listening to his excerpts, one is reminded of Makola’s dense hum or the restless tide of Osu at dusk. These are not passive spaces; they shape emotion, dictate pace, and sometimes erode the ability to pause.

Atakora’s sensorial approach restores that pause. He draws attention to the overlooked: the fatigue in crowded streets, the intimacy of shared spaces, the quiet negotiations between belonging and displacement.

What makes his voice compelling is not novelty but insistence. The urgency he speaks of is not his alone—it echoes across contemporary African poetry, where writers increasingly grapple with the psychological weight of urban transformation.

Yet, Atakora’s grounding in personal memory—his mother, his grandmother—anchors his work in something enduring. In a rapidly shifting world, his poetry becomes an act of resistance: a refusal to let the city flatten human experience into mere movement.

In that sense, his words do more than describe urban life—they reclaim it.

Calls for stronger government investment in Ghana’s arts sector took centre stage in Accra last week, as leading artists and academics warned that the country’s cultural momentum could stall without urgent support for infrastructure and preservation.

The appeal came during a conference organized by Foundation for Contemporary Art Ghana in collaboration with TRAFO Centre for Contemporary Art. The gathering brought together artists, curators, students and cultural stakeholders to assess the state of Ghana’s art industry and its future direction.

Despite Ghana’s growing international profile in contemporary art, speakers argued that progress has largely been driven by individual effort rather than coordinated state backing.

Karikacha Seidou, Dean of the Faculty of Art at Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology, described the current moment as a “golden age of art,” but cautioned that the absence of sustained public investment could undermine these gains.

He pointed to the limited number of museums and galleries, alongside the neglect of public art, as key challenges facing the sector. According to him, strengthening institutional support would not only preserve Ghana’s cultural heritage but also create opportunities for emerging artists and educate younger generations.

Seidou also placed Ghana’s artistic achievements within a broader historical context, noting that many of today’s successes build on cultural foundations laid during the era of Kwame Nkrumah. He cited the global recognition of Ibrahim Mahama, who topped the ArtReview Power 100 list in 2025, as evidence of the country’s growing influence on the international art stage.

Attention also turned to the fate of Ghana’s public monuments. Adwoa Amoah, co-director of the Foundation for Contemporary Art Ghana, highlighted how several historical monuments commissioned in the early post-independence period have either disappeared or fallen into obscurity following political transitions.

She said a recent exhibition by the foundation had reignited debate over whether such monuments should be restored or replaced with new forms of public art that reflect contemporary realities. For Amoah, public art remains central to shaping national identity and fostering civic dialogue.

Participants agreed that without deliberate policies and investment, Ghana risks losing parts of its cultural memory even as its contemporary art scene gains global acclaim.

The conference underscored a growing consensus: that safeguarding the nation’s artistic legacy requires not only creative energy but also sustained institutional commitment.