Tangible Action
In Ouagadougou, I meet designer Hamed Bransonka-Bra Ouattara wearing his everyday uniform – a Faso dan Fani ensemble complemented by a T-shirt featuring the face of pan-African icon, Thomas Sankara, the president who oversaw the formation of Burkina Faso in 1984. “Bonne arrivée!”
Ouattara’s workspace, aptly named Studio Hamed Ouattara, was established in the capital of landlocked Burkina Faso in the early 2000s. Operating using an atelier-apprenticeship model, his buzzing creative hub and workshop is home to a dozen artisans and welders (“soudeurs”) who collaborate under the guidance of Ouattara and his wife, Hahoua. The designer’s dedication to working within this framework serves as a testament to the importance of hands-on learning and practical skills development, reminiscent of age-old traditions observed among bronze casters in Burkina Faso. “I am proud to work this way and of being a pillar of my community,” he tells me, “[is] a sentiment that I believe would resonate with our ancestors as well.”
This atelier approach, which is shared by many designers and artists on the continent, significantly contributes to the flourishing of Africa’s various design scenes, yet is born out of the current limitations of art education in Sahelian countries (Mauritania, Burkina Faso, Mali, Niger and Chad), which are grappling with economic-growth hurdles and terrorist attacks. In 2019, Benin’s Africa Design School, the first formal design school in West Africa, opened its doors, welcoming students from neighbouring countries. Yet according to Ouattara, the enrolment fee of 1,960,000 F.CFA per year (around £2,600) remains “too expensive for potential foreign students coming from Burkina Faso”.
In his workshop, Ouattara and his assistants proudly present me with several pieces currently being welded: Dounan, an elegant, throne-like armchair featuring a fan-shaped backrest, and Game Over, an all-metal table, evoking a popular African strategy game, Awalé. His designs – influenced by both Sudano-Sahelian architecture and Atomic Age style – have garnered growing international recognition, finding a home in esteemed private and public collections, from affluent homes in Abidjan, Miami, Cape Town and Brussels, to the Denver Art Museum and the Brooklyn Museum.
Ouattara’s furniture is characterised by innovative use of scavenged materials, including industrial metal debris and colourful eroded petrol drums – without its own oil production, Burkina Faso imports petroleum in these canisters, which then typically go to waste. This distinctive approach towards materials
is Ouattara’s response to his immediate surroundings, where recycling, limited resources, constant power outages and political unrest (not least the two coups d’état the nation experienced in 2022) are the norm. Despite these challenges, the studio produces limited-edition metal pieces, each of which is meticulously crafted by hand.
Alongside his use of scrap metal, Ouattara is newly interested in salvaged wood, which he and his team find in nearby scrubland. “I am now drawn to working with the wood of dead trees that are plentiful in our bushes, a direct consequence of climate change,” he explains to me. “Their integration into my design is a natural evolution of my craft – a stride toward harmonising with our environment and valuing all of its resources in a spirit of sustainability and reverence for nature.”
Looking ahead, Ouattara envisions expanding his presence with the opening of a showroom in Ouagadougou and the extension of his workspace through a digital laboratory equipped with 3D printers and laser-cutting machines that will be powered through the installation of much-needed solar panels. These endeavours are possible thanks to state funding and the success of his latest series, Bolibana, executed in collaboration with the design galleries Foreign Agent and Friedman Benda. The expansion of Ouattara’s studio is not just a reflection of the growing number of projects he is involved in; it shows an intention to invest in his local community. “By making this significant investment on Burkinabè soil, I am fulfilling my role as a citizen, contributing to the collective effort of reclaiming our space and soul in the midst of terrorism which currently afflicts the Faso and its neighbours, Mali and Niger,” he says.
Today, Studio Hamed Ouattara stands as testament to the transformative power of art and design, creating jobs for talented individuals. It came to light during our conversation that Ouattara professes profound faith – in animism, in art, and in the future of his nation. Following our conversation, he invited me and a group of his fellow artists to accompany him on a journey the next day to the countryside, to a place far away from Ouagadougou’s clamour. As the temperature reached 42°C, we found ourselves enveloped in a secluded haven, an open-air sanctuary inhabited by his sculptures. While I cannot delve further into the details of this particularly private scene, it is clear to me that therein lies the source of Ouattara’s inspiration as a designer.
By turning discarded materials into objects, Ouattara not only enriches Burkina Faso’s cultural heritage but also contributes to ongoing conversations on the management of international trade’s byproducts, fostering a form of sustainable development that centres social impact, both in Africa and in the wider globalisation of contemporary design. “Navigating through this crisis requires tangible actions,” he says, “with spirituality as a social and creative underpinning.”
Words Louise Thurin
Images Soum Eveline Bonkoungou
This article was originally published in Disegno #37. To buy the issue, or subscribe to the journal, please visit the online shop.