Music

Afro-Brazilian musician Jorge Ben Jor clapping his hands over his mouth in the background, partly obscured by a recording mic in the foreground.
Fig 1. Album cover of Jorge Ben Jor's Força Bruta (1970). Source.

Log Entries

11.12.2025 // Ports of Refuge

Rabat, Morocco ⬔

Borrowed amidst criss-crossing tram lines, flat boulevards, narrow cobblestone streets, ruthless taxis, scooters, and all-too-daring pedestrians—there is a little café-shop that always brings me a sense of peace in Rabat. When I walk in, everything hushes, and then the sounds, smells and sights gently pick up again.

Wandering recently between the shop's teas, spreads, shawls and postcards, a book caught my eye. Without much thought, I flipped open the thick hardcover and encountered humanoid birds, exuberant vines, patterned tiles, palm fronds, and other leaves. I was immediately enchanted by the drawings, watercolors and paintings of Abbès Saladi.

A colourful drawing of an elongated bird covered in feathers with human-like feet framed by the trunk of a tree and surrounded by geometric patterns and other feathered limbs and creatures.
Fig 1. A page from the book, Abbes Saladi: Histoires sans fin.

There is something about Saladi's work that makes me think of the film La planète sauvage. I could actually imagine an exhibition of Saladi's drawings set to the film score composed by Alain Goraguer.

An almost desert landscape covered with alien rainbow plants and an odd pink creature in a vine-like cage. Two small humans walk and stand in the bottom right corner.
Fig 2. Scene from the animated sci-fi film, La planète sauvage. Source.

Browsing online, I discover that there is very little information available about the artist (perhaps there is more out there in Darija). Much of his work is in private collections and auction houses. I decide that I will gather a few facts from the book in the shop and create a Wikipedia article (one day, hopefully). In fact, if I had a library of my own, I would have bought the book about Saladi's art right then and there.

These sort of encounters remind me why I set out to travel in the first place. And there have been so many of them so far. It feels as if only moments ago I was admiring Gerard Sekoto's yellow houses in Cape Town and now I am admiring Saladi's sinuous bird people at the other end of the continent. These encounters have only multiplied as I have learned to seek them out. But perhaps what I need now more than anything is time to sit with all of these paintings, poems, bits and pieces of art.

- Andrea