Is Kehinde Wiley’s Dakar Residency a Bridge or an Oasis?

Named after the volcanic rocks on the beach it overlooks, Black Rock Senegal has big, almost contradictory ambitions—to connect artists to Africa and cushion them in comfort.

It was me or the horse: someone had to budge. It's a rough road to Kehinde Wiley's luxurious arts villa, nestled deep in North Dakar's maze of unmarked dirt paths, boutique hotels, and vacation condos. Forget an exact location—I'd been told to proceed along the main thoroughfare, turn left at a rundown pastry shop, then left again on a narrow dirt road. Now a horse and buggy, straining with produce, were blocking my way.

I yielded, stepping into a puddle. But five minutes later, I was ushered into a different universe.

Kéwé Lô, Black Rock Senegal's upbeat young director, welcomed me into the ultra-sleek, Abib Djenne-designed building for a tour. Private apartments and studios, a lush tropical garden, and a scenic rooftop view of the Atlantic are just a few of the amenities available to Black Rock's residents. Every year, the competitive programme welcomes 16 out of over 1,400 applicants for rotating residencies of one to three months.

Comfort is assured. Speaking to the villa's opulence, Wiley told Vogue in 2022, 'there's a level of quality I demand.'

During their stay, artists dine together, host performances, and make site visits throughout the city. Along the way, they partner with local artisans to more fully immerse themselves in Dakar's vibrant arts community.

Many residents go on to circulate local expertise abroad. In 2019, textile artist and D.C. native Sonya Clark worked alongside Ousmane Ba to perfect an intricate wax-resist technique called sgraffito. Those skills have found new life in Clark's installation Twist Trace, an invented alphabet 'that mimics the curl pattern of African hair and challenges the Roman alphabet's erasures of indigenous scripts.'

With this year's cohort hailing from 10 different countries, there's a spirit of international exchange.

'There is no single beneficiary or narrative, and for the better,' said board member and former resident Scott Andresen.

Though Black Rock casts itself as a neutral forum, there's a political subtext to its founder's vision. Cake and Bible diplomacy, meet canvas and brush.

'Black Rock stands as the direct answer to my desire to have an uncontested relationship with Africa, the filling in of a large void that I share with many African Americans,' Wiley said when he established the project in 2019.

These ambitions dovetail neatly with the State Department's official line: boost U.S. investment, promote soft power, and stress the affinity between American and African cultures.

Back home, Wiley is an establishment darling. Best known for his 2018 portrait of President Obama, Wiley also clinched a 2015 commission for the U.S. embassy in Santo Domingo and a medal from the State Department.

His current exhibition at the Quai Branly in Paris, A Maze of Power (26 September 2023–24 January 2024) is a series of portraits of African heads of state. The image suite explores Wiley's passion for 'power and the ways in which it can be seductive and far-reaching.'

Though the project depicts these statesmen on their terms, Wiley's attitude towards their politics is oddly cavalier: 'I didn't ask them to have a certain record in terms of respect for human rights, the democratic process, or cumulative terms in office.'

On the ground, Black Rock Senegal's operations benefit from the same neutral proximity to power. While the residency seeks to expose foreign artists to the local scene, it also shields them from its less salubrious aspects. In Senegal, same-sex sexual activity is illegal and punishable by up to five years' imprisonment.

Kehinde Wiley is publicly queer, as are several current and former residents. That doesn't stop Senegalese president Macky Sall from maintaining friendly relations with the residency (the two posed for photos together in celebration of Black Rock's opening), despite having declared in 2016 that 'never, under my authority, will homosexuality be legalised in the Senegalese lands.'

Institutions meet institutions, not individuals.

Wiley's idea of art as diplomacy is also a challenge in Senegal, where art is already central to national identity. Senegal's first president, Léopold Sédar Senghor, led an era of sweeping state-assisted cultural development.

Now, foreign-backed projects like Black Rock raise the spectre of colonial extraction, as well as the troubling conceit of untapped authenticity—some primal knowledge nested in African craftsmanship. At Black Rock, I speak to a resident who was touched by a visit to a local village that 'felt close to the earth, a place where the matrilineal wisdom gets passed along.'

While it's tempting to frame any Western intervention as a poverty safari, Black Rock's local leadership are committed to due care. Helmed by an administrative team of mostly under-30s plucked from the local arts scene, the residency serves as a launchpad for Dakarois talent — many of whom return for exhibitions, technical workshops, and professional development training developed by Kéwé Lô.

Another Dakar gallerist, Jennifer Houdrouge of Selebe Yoon, is extra vigilant about the reception her artists meet abroad.

'Africa is a scene where everyone has projected their fantasies. We have to be careful with our terms, and not let an artist's identity be used as currency,' she said.

In Dakar's downtown plateau, I meet Riad Fakhri, the man in charge of the exhibition and residency space Agence TRAMES. Fakhri tells me that 'art is at the core of the debate to transform society. And the only question seriously worth asking ourselves is whether that society is fair, or whether it could be improved.'

That ethos is visible in the space, which favours dialogue. The ground floor opens onto the street, and the rooftop terrace is packed every Thursday for TRAMES' public performances and in-house bar. This is where the hustle-and-bustle of Dakar takes on a vital mass — a city of over a million with hardly a traffic light, where the street is always pulsing with Mbalax dance music, street hawkers, and blaring taxis.

I think back to Black Rock's inner courtyard, where, save for a bubbling fountain, there's perfect silence.

Black Rock is an alluring destination for artists. Its comfort and quietude lend themselves to deep thought and creative play. It also offers a gateway to explore Dakar and engage with the community—including the social and political issues it faces—but that is work for which the residents, not the residency, are ultimately responsible. —[O]