You begin a journey never knowing where it will take you.

Introduction

For the Argentinian artist Andrea Alkalay, a photograph is not the finished work but part of a hybrid form that integrates other textures and materials. It is a mixed-media approach she has developed to dig more deeply into the complex relationship between culture and nature, between the abstract and the haptic. Made far from her homeland, her artworks arise from time spent in West Asia amid the ancient traditions and contemporary innovations of cultures negotiating the shifts and fixities of identity. The materials she adapts to her creative process speak to notions of value. The embellishment of gilding, the repurposing of detritus, traces of the past to be preserved as history or swept into forgetfulness.

Made during a series of artist residencies, her work demonstrates the benefit of unfamiliar physical and cultural contexts as catalysts for imaginative insight. As an artist she avoids simple description or analytical comparison. Instead, she creates artworks that open an affective conversation between viewer and object that echoes that between artist and context. That is, not a simple telling or showing, but establishing a sense of a shared exploration of something that must be felt before it can be sensed. Sensed before it can be comprehended.

Underlying this work is the idea of sedimentation – of the laying down of the particles of times past as the foundation on which renovation can build and regeneration bring life to the new. It is an organic process, specific in its cultural detail but universal in the broader human condition to which it gestures – that we are all temporary beings arising from the sediment to which we will soon enough return.

Alasdair Foster

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Interview

What draws you to photography?

It’s not just about documenting; it’s about experiencing, understanding. A gesture as much as a record. Photography is both material and intellectual – a way to absorb a place, feel it, hold it in memory. For me, no other medium provides that same interplay of immediacy and reflection.

How did the series ‘Kutho’ begin?

This series was inspired by a Burmese Buddhist conceptual practice of merit making (kutho means ‘merit’). It is an empowering ritual that involves applying gold leaf to relics and sacred objects. This is believed to bring the individual better karma. The practice is exclusive to male devotees; women are forbidden from approaching due to our perceived ‘impurity’.

I was drawn to the way in which these rituals serve as tools in the journey of liberating the soul. What interested me was how the simple gesture of applying gold leaf can be enabling. The idea that an offering can both confirm belief in the next life while somehow empowering us in this one. That idea really stuck with me.

By applying gold to my photographs, I wasn’t trying to replicate the ritual but to place it within a contemporary art context in order to reflect upon its potential meanings. What happens when you take a sacred gesture and reframe it through a personal lens – even as an act of quiet rebellion, especially when it is done by a woman who would not have been permitted to perform it in its original context?

And, of course, you shift it between cultural contexts.

I often ask myself: how does the way we live shape the world around us? Traveling through different regions and cultures of the world has helped me reflect on universal questions. The way in which an idea or action that is very specific or rooted in one particular place can reflect something universal. In this case, I had never imagined that Buddhist philosophy could intersect with religious exclusion. It was that contradiction that inspired the work.

I wasn’t trying to make an overtly feminist statement. Nothing – not time, not history – is ever linear. I prefer to inhabit the ambiguity that questions can create. And, through this series, I wanted to explore notions of power and the tension between what is visible and what is hidden… between religion and spirituality… between the parallel, sometimes antagonistic, worlds of cult and the occult.

It’s not something I am expecting the viewer to pick up on instantly – unless you read the concept text (which I guess is common enough in contemporary art). What matters to me is that the images suggest something, that they trigger a question. Obscuring with gold – why? I’m not decorating – I’m covering things up. It’s about that tension between what is shown and what has been hidden. That’s enough of a starting point…

The other two bodies of work I would like to discuss were both created in Saudi Arabia, culturally and geographically far from Argentina. How did you find it working there?

You begin a journey never knowing where it will take you. Immersing myself in such a different culture – where religious practices are deeply rooted, traditions are strong, and the desert landscape is vast and powerful – was a profound experience. My work changed radically. I let myself be permeated by centuries of history, the dizzying speed of transformation, the generosity I encountered, and the sense that past and future are all happening at once.

How did ‘Rock Cycle’ begin?

I made this work during a residency in Al-Balad, the historic district of Jeddah and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Al-Balad is an ancient port on the Red Sea and the main gateway to Mecca. It was once a key stopover along the silk and spice routes. Today, the city is in a state of constant transformation with heritage buildings being rapidly restored or even more rapidly demolished.

My studio was in Rubat Al-Khunji, a building dating back to 1813. Immersed in such a rich historical setting, I focused on the idea of restoration. The historical depth and vibrant energy of the place inspired me to explore photocollage. I became fascinated by the coralline limestone and construction techniques used in these ancient homes – how they’ve aged with dignity over centuries, in contrast with newer buildings that deteriorate within decades, becoming neither historic nor timeless, but simply old. Material and memory are inextricably intertwined.

How did your ideas develop?

I was inspired by the idea of ruins as testimonies of resilience – traces imprinted on place, suggesting a residual entropic presence. I wanted to tap into the expressive potential of material language – merging memory, environment, perception. I focused on the tension between absence and presence – how demolition becomes preparation for reconstruction, and disconnection becomes a path to reconnection. At its core, this work is about uncovering layers of heritage as systems of meaning; about the way in which buildings can be recovered and reimagined as part of a circular flow of thinking.

The future is uncertain, and the rapid population growth often clashes with ideas of tradition, future use, human displacement, environmental impact, preservation. Viewing progress through the lens of revival allows us to learn from the past, better understand the present, and rethink what we value – shaping an emerging world that is always under construction.

By using found materials, I wanted to allude to the site’s ancestors and the feel of the space, expanding the photographic image beyond its two-dimensional frame.

You use layering and texture in interesting ways.

Restoration is the act of returning something to a former state – but nothing ever stays the same. Here, both of these artworks [above and below] speak about processes of transformation. They are supported by wood salvaged from a demolition site. These rods allude to the way in which the old houses built with coralline limestone were held together by structural beams. Using the language of materials in this way helps the viewer to read the space. Similarly, the addition of gold leaf is symbolic of value, suggesting the process of revaluing the past in order to imagine the future.

‘Crack Path’ [above] is a photocollage of a ruined wall constructed in four layers. These walls have an abstract aesthetic shaped by time. They tell their own stories. To emphasise this, I cut the photographs along the lines of fracture, edging each cut layer with gold. I thought about the way in which the passage of time has been revealed through weaknesses in the stone. In this way, the cracks become memory paths. Born from the conflict between the present and the weight of history, they combine ideas of destruction and repair.

In ‘Memory Restoration’ [above], I included fragments of peeling paint that I had collected from demolished homes – physical traces of lived experience. I gilded each fragment on the reverse, placing some on the surface of the image and stacking others on a brick collected from one of the new construction sites. In this way, the debris is positioned on top of what is built over it – as if elevated on a pedestal. Like broken memories, these flakes of paint suggest the passage of time and the fragility of what remains. They speak of what once was – homes, stories, people – now abandoned, yet still resonating. Lending a ghostly presence to what is now absent.

The final series I would like to discuss is ‘Unearth’.

That project began in Riyadh during the 2023 Intermix Residency: Art & Fashion Reimagined, organised by the Saudi Ministry of Culture. My studio was in the JAX District – the new cultural hub on the outskirts of the city. What interested me here was the feeling of repetition, of cities all starting to look the same as consumer culture spreads throughout the world. Our sense of self shifts depending on where we are and what surrounds us. So, when local textures are replaced by the polished surface of the global, we change too. But I was inspired by the site’s history and, in this series, I wanted to dig down to the origins of the Kingdom, both archaeologically and symbolically.

The landscape makes it clear. Canyons cut through the earth reveal geological layers of volcanic rock and ancient sediment – like lines in a book waiting to be read. ‘Unearth’ became a reflection upon the terrain that connects the surface of the modern city with the deeper story that lies beneath.

Why did you choose these unconventional surfaces on which to print?

During the residency I was surrounded by textile artists who made me see the nature of construction differently – not just as structure, but as pattern and weave. Just as fabric is made of threads, cities grow with grids and rows of bricks.

On my way to the studio, I collected material remnants from dumpsters and flea markets – concrete bricks, old books, textile waste – and searched archives for ancient maps and archaeological images. Working with thread, stitching, collage, screen printing, glass, and phototransfer, I reconfigured and juxtaposed these various elements. I wove photographs like the warp and weft on a loom. I unravelled fabrics as a kind of excavation. I transferred an image of an ancient artefact onto concrete bricks. I created a pattern from a photograph of tent stakes arranged like a constellation. It was a process of trial and error – exploring ways to connect image and surface to reveal the sedimentary nature of objects.

What underlying ideas are you exploring in these images?

I am deeply concerned about the tension between urban expansion and the need for equilibrium in nature. This work is a reflection on the fragile balance between the two. Through it, I wanted to explore the impact of what we leave behind – the traces that shape our surroundings. The sedimentations of history that allow us to perceive what once was.

In doing this, I am drawing on the way in which the nomadic Bedouin tribes of the region adapt to the changing availability of natural resources. There is something powerful in their ability to reuse and repurpose, in their use of portable textiles in their architecture. It’s a quality I sought to evoke through visual layering.

How have these two bodies of work been received by audiences in Argentina compared with Saudi Arabia?

While viewers in both places felt an emotional resonance, the way meaning was constructed varied, shaped by each audience’s relationship to their own territory.

In Saudi Arabia, the response was deeply connected to local narratives – it opened meaningful opportunities for exchange and revealed many points of shared connection. Meanwhile, in Argentina, audiences engaged with the work more conceptually through its materiality. Because the work incorporates elements brought from the original sites, they lend the pieces a kind of aura. This sense of authenticity helps to emphasise the common concerns that can be shared across very different cultures.

As an artist, I find deep fulfillment in seeing how art can serve as a bridge connecting territories and amplifying voices beyond political or religious boundaries. And both projects have been exhibited in other countries and cultures including Chile, India, Slovenia, and the USA.

In making the three series we have discussed here, what have you learned about yourself personally that you did not previously understand?

I realise how much my gaze has evolved. Every place I’ve explored leaves a trace that, sooner or later, reemerges in my work – whether I’m aware of it or not. Over time, that accumulation has helped my way of seeing become more complex. I often return to old images, and what I find interesting is the way in which their meaning can shift over time. That’s also kind of magical. Images are not fixed; they are alive, and they evolve with me. But there are never any certainties… and I’ve learned to embrace uncertainty with patience. To have courage in front of the void.

Over the past ten years, my practice has moved from pure photography to mixed media. In that time, I’ve stopped worrying about mastering any given technique. What matters to me now is being intentional and precise with every element I choose to bring to the work. What truly matters to me is carving out a personal path that opens to new worlds. To do this I must allow enough time to seek inspiration and personal development. That’s where I am today – in a constant state of growth and learning.

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This interview is a Talking Pictures original.

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