Amidst the whirlwind of the Dakar Biennale, Zéna Zeidan’s ‘Mutation’ captured the collective imagination. A single Instagram post announcing the opening was enough to draw a large crowd to the show, thanks in party to the alluring image shared – a woman in a glamorous ensemble, her longer-than-life tresses flowing, towered over the Dakar Plateau skyscrapers, while a bird of prey interrupted the otherwise serene blue sky. The opening at La Cave unveiled the artist’s full series of similarly arresting photographs and granted guests time to wander around the Plateau neighbourhood. As golden hour blended with the dust settling from a typical Dakarois day, large intersections of its determined population spilled into Plateau’s storied streets, where the old and the new coexist ¬– at first glance, amicably.

“Through these monumental figures, I aim to cast a new light on the city’s architectural heritage, bringing forgotten, overlooked or undervalued buildings into focus,” Zeidan explains. “My intention is to create compositions where the figures and their surroundings echo one another.”

The Dakar-born, Guinea-raised, Paris-educated filmmaker expresses her deep devotion to photography through analog film and uses her practice to highlight the authentic yet fading landscapes of Plateau. By juxtaposing these exaggerated female forms against a selection of ordinary buildings – housing, offices, or educational spaces that have long been integral to Dakar’s urban fabric and the daily lives of its inhabitants – the work prompts deeper reflection on our relationship with space, heritage and the undeniable need for preservation.

“Following the destruction of a series of emblematic buildings in Dakar, I felt an urgent need to highlight the architecture of the Plateau – this neighbourhood that has always seemed so perfect to me, both in the way its colours shift as the sun moves across the sky and in the way its buildings, regardless of their era or influence, had found their place, seamlessly blending into the urban landscape. Whether well-preserved or weathered, they retained the soul of the Plateau,” she says.

Dakar’s architectural identity has been shaped by a myriad of cultural influences. Among its earliest settlers were the Lébous, who, after a victorious battle against the Mandinka, established a sophisticated system of governance and cohabitation. This led to the creation of Pencs – communal housing compounds which became traditional lodestars and marked the first phase of Plateau’s evolution into a multicultural city centre. At the heart of each Penc stood a great palaver tree within an open space, where community members gathered to discuss current affairs. Over time, it became an enduring symbol of social cohesion, with ‘Penc’ often used colloquially to refer to the tree itself.

As the first legacy of Lébou supremacy, it also bore witness to the colonial identity shaped by the French. This architecture left its mark in waves – from Neoclassical landmarks to Art Deco artefacts – until the French sought to attune their imprint to local semiotics as means of cultural integration. This was swiftly followed by Léopold Sédar Senghor’s vision of redefining the national identity through the arts – departing from Western traditions and drawing inspiration from African heritage, particularly Sudano-Sahelian influences.

Today, the confluence of a dynamic economy, thriving creative scene and influential political climate has fuelled rapid development, reshaping Dakar’s skyline at an unrelenting pace. Glass and concrete facades rise daily, altering the landscape in both scale and function. The transformation feels inexorable – an evolving architectural discourse in which history and climate-conscious design are too often drowned out by real estate pressures and the race toward modernity.

Zeidan asserts that these newly built environments don’t have the same intuitive intelligence as their forebears. “Designed to adapt to the local climate, the historical structures were built using available materials and the expertise of local artisans. Expansive balconies provided shade from the sun, while brise-soleils and lattice screens allowed air to circulate and cool interiors. The buildings were oriented to capture prevailing winds. White Rufisque stones were used to reduce heat absorption and tree-lined avenues were planted to provide shade, filter dust and maintain humidity. All these techniques are disappearing today, despite their role in enhancing the Plateau's living environment… In recent years, soulless structures have replaced historic buildings, emerging without any effort to integrate.”

In her visual poetry, one encounters the essence of perpetuity: infinite braids, celestial textiles – the new-age weavers of bonds magnifying humankind nonetheless. After all, the palaver tree arose from a desire to exist and safeguard one’s valuables, values and narrative. “I was born in one of the Plateau’s buildings, at Croix de Berthel, and lived there until I was seven. As a child, I would climb onto the rooftops to watch the neighbours in the shared courtyard below. Leaving Senegal was a heartbreak, but I carried with me the memory of our apartment and the path I took to school at Notre Dame, passing by the Cathedral. I remember Le Paris cinema, the Independence Square, the Presidential Palace, my aunt’s house – where I used to play, now long gone – and my grandmother’s home,” she laments. “I would like Plateau and its buildings to regain value in the eyes of Dakarois and Senegalese, to spark their interest in their history and recognise them as part of their heritage. I hope they see them not only as backdrops imbued with a certain poetry but also as treasures worth preserving and protecting.”

More than an ode to Dakar and its architecture, ‘Mutation’ is a profound and timely dialogue – one that could unfold as far as a form of reparation. To some, the loss of Penc compounds and, generally speaking, historical vestiges, is a violation of cultural dignity that demands recognition. In her master’s thesis, ‘Dakar-Plateau ou les dessous d’un centre-ville en modernisation’, architect Mame Ndiémé Faye – born into a Lebou family –underscores the significance of Lebou traditional architecture as spaces of power and authority, both spiritually and socially. Given the Pencs current state of ruin and invisibility in Plateau, she advocates for a spatial reorganisation, ensuring their urban integration, and pushing for their inclusion in the Grand Dakar 2035 vision.

More recently, in Casablanca, Villa Carl Ficke – a Neoclassical building from the 20th century, which once served, among other functions, as an all-female school – was restored after half a century of abandonment to become a cultural space dedicated to the city's memory. It includes a resource library, preserving and showcasing the materials used in the rehabilitation process – a first in Morocco. This approach, if implemented here, would affirm the resilience of its community in preserving their history and upholding the transmission of a collective memory.