The artist who works from home prompts an open invitation for drop-ins. I assure you we are busy working and often work late into the night to find solitude. Nothing feeds the soul and sparks the imagination more than a residency. Residency allows time for contemplation away from everyday interruption.

Imagine that the residency occurs in one of the world’s most remote places, the Moroccan desert. The vast expanses of powdery red dunes, the flat’s complex minerality, and intense dust storms followed by clear starry skies inspire awe. Much has been written about artists and the sublime. For instance, the famous watercolourist William Turner tied himself to the mast of ships that sailed into wild storms to elicit an otherworldly sense of self and wonder that translated into his painting. A sublime experience is truly a gift for an artist, and it can be found in Morocco.

Arrival in Marrakesh

I arrived at the airport in Marrakesh in March and loaded a new SIM card. Do I draw money from the airport ATM? I’m still waiting. This was fortunate as other artists on the residency had funds withdrawn from their accounts with no cash output at the same machine.

A visit to the police to report it was fruitless. Travelers beware. I was lucky to avoid the problem when withdrawing money from Jemaa El Fna, the city square.

The Medina of Marrakesh is a gated old city with a large square that overwhelms the senses. Horses are still used, and a line of carts stationed at the square’s edge emits the pungent smell of urine that greets you before entering the expansive outdoor market.

Stalls offer fresh fruit, sweet delicacies, ceramics, metalwork, leather goods, textiles, spices, and the odd monkey or snake charmer. Around the perimeter are busy eateries with fragrant traditional fare simmered in tagines or grilled on braziers.

The covered Souks, a labyrinth of traditional shops, are branching out to one side of the square. On the opposite side are the endless arched alleyways. Off one of these alleys is the Riad, a place with an interior courtyard where I am staying. All surfaces are richly decorated in paint, tiles, or carving. They say blue and green should never be seen, but here, every shade of green and turquoise sings as it does where the grass meets the sky. The patterns in Muslim art are abstracted florals or Arabic script, as all forms of representation of living beings are considered idolatry in the Qur’an.

One by one, the other seven artists arrive from Italy, Germany, Canada, Austria, and the Netherlands. We meet for a sneaky wine disguised in a paper cup on the Riad roof. Drinking is not illegal for foreigners, but it is Ramadan, and the need to respect local customs is more potent during the period of religious fasting.

A collection of artists of all types

We are a collection of artists of all types: performance, experimental sound, videography, curators, and I am a BioArtist. I hack science tools and methods and work with living organisms to create art. All have been invited to participate in a residency organised by the Ansible Institute, a transitory fictive research laboratory facilitated by artist-writers Martina Raponi and [M] Dudeck.

The 2024 residency is the second of its type hosted by Café Tissardmine near Erg Chebbi, the largest sand desert in the Moroccan Sahara. These dunes rise from the surrounding rocky desert known as the Hamada. We feel like a group of space cadets embarking on a new adventure. The Ansible’s role is to explore speculative futures with narratives of space colonisation, queer and feminist futures, alternative ecologies, and fictive space theologies to shape a post-future.

We map and deconstruct the world through collective dialogue, workshops, reflection, and work sharing. There is also time to focus on creative work in any media. I am also here to develop a collaborative work with Dudeck called Skin Scroll, to be shown at Newmarch Galleries in Adelaide in December 2024.

Immersing in the Sahara: Café Tissardmine and artistic exploration

We take a twelve-hour bus trip, and where the road ends, a four-wheel drive takes us to our destination, Café Tissardmine. Here, the various artists experiment with the inherent qualities of the desert.

They capture the wind, collect fossils, search for meteorites with magnets on sticks, stargaze and work with EMR to record sound. Sandstorms can last for days. Clear skies are devoid of industrial and light emissions, which makes stars visible.

The area is a geologist’s dream. We scan the 300-million-year-old former ancient seabed littered with marine fossils and the odd meteorite. Meteorites are smooth and shiny as they are scorched upon entry into the atmosphere. We take care not to confuse them with meteor-wrongs produced by local fauna.

When alone, I read about the textile art of the local Amazigh women whose work is embedded with symbols of customs and beliefs. Amazigh is the indigenous term known parochially as Berber. Berber was the name assigned to the population by the Romans and is linked to the word barbarian.

That was how Romans described those who spoke a language other than their own. So many Amazigh traditions resonate with those my mother described from the rural Greece of her childhood.

Our videographer, Antoinette, records the residency for a future documentary film. What sounds like nonsense is research, with most participants teaching at universities. University studies of creativity have shown that it is strongly associated with the ability to play. Creativity is hacking materials for use in new or unusual ways, thus promoting risk and problem-solving.

Café Tissardmine is a compound renovated by English-born artist Karen Hadfield and local Berber Youssef Bouchedor. Karen spent much time in Australia and ran the Adelaide Fringe Festival in the noughties.

After that, she met Youssef, the love of her life, and decided to stay in Morocco. Artists of all types are welcome guests to the Café. Accommodation fees are reasonable for rooms in the traditional Amazigh mud and straw building or the nearby huts. Although the building has private bathrooms, water and power are scarce. They are not to be wasted. A sign says, “No hairdryers, please.” A local cook in the traditional Moroccan style prepares tasty food. At mealtimes, guests are invited to dine al fresco. Karen calls everyone to the table with an Aussie Cooee!

Karen can also organise excursions. To feed everyone, she makes weekly trips to the closest village, Risani, to stock up. We are invited to join her for lunch and shop at the markets. Transport is by four-wheel drive over fossiliferous limestone flats with lanes marked by stone markers. On this day, there is a sandstorm that makes visibility low.

Experiencing the sublime: Reflections and cultural connections

After the quiet of the isolated compound, the markets overwhelm the senses. Karen buys the freshest of sardines for the evening meal. They are to be gutted, boned, and sandwiched with herby chermoula before being cooked over vegetables. We pass by several butchers routinely tiled with bubble-gum pink tiles. She asks us not to photograph them as they do not like it.

She buys two types of olives from a shop that sells abundant varieties: harissa, green, sundried, and black. An introduction to her spice merchant follows this. Spice shops double as apothecaries, and each spice or herb is attributed with medicinal value. After a glass of Moroccan mint tea is offered to welcome customers, an abundance of spices, fragrant oils, and cosmetics are sampled. Eyes, regardless of gender, are rimmed with Kajal. We are told it is made of olive pips. It is naturally antibacterial.

There are several shops selling rugs and textiles. Some buy a Djellaba, the hooded robe worn by Moroccan men. We buy hand-worked metal mirrors in triangular shapes to pierce the evil eye. After making our purchases, we lunch on a traditional Berber type of pizza at a local restaurant across from the markets. We watch people go by, transporting their goods by hand-pulled carts and on donkeys. Things do not change quickly here.

Another popular activity is to climb sand dunes that reach 150 meters. Elegantly shaped by the wind into sinuous curves, they provide the most awe-inspiring views. We are dropped at their edge as a group and walk the powdery soft ridges. There is nothing on either side to anchor oneself, and one must precariously walk like a duck to achieve balance. It is challenging, but the group’s excitement is palpable.

legantly shaped by the wind into sinuous curves, they provide the most awe-inspiring views.

In the desert, one feels small and insignificant but also of greatness and wonder. Standing against a mighty windstorm, staring into the vastness of the uninterrupted night sky, or climbing vertiginous dunes, we experience the sublime. It is an aesthetic that Western philosophers, psychologists, and neuroscientists theorise about.

The philosopher Edmund Burke defined it in 1756 as “delightful horror”. This paradox is profoundly satisfying and conjures a spiritual experience in which intellectual ideas about humankind’s place in nature can occur. In this way, we can transcend current knowledge systems and build a world of our own experience.

Niki Sperou is a South Australian artist with a longstanding engagement within the nexus between art, science and culture. Her interest in contemporary innovations in technology, the body and her cultural background have led her to draw parallels between biotechnology and ancient Greek cultural paradigms.