Reframing support, slowness, and long-term commitment as African artistic ecosystems shift and return to the continent.
5 May 2026
For over a decade, the founder of AKKA, Lidija Khachatourian, has operated with a quiet but deliberate consistency, first in Dubai and now in Venice, centring African and diasporic artists within a model that extends far beyond the exhibition format. Rooted in care, continuity, and direct material support, its approach has resisted the pace and pressures of the market. Yet as artistic energy increasingly consolidates on the continent, driven by returning diasporas and self-sustaining networks, AKKA finds itself at a turning point. In this moment of recalibration, the gallery begins to rethink its role, moving toward deeper, research-led collaborations in which exhibitions emerge not as endpoints but as the visible traces of longer, more meaningful engagements. Lidija Khachatourian spoke to ART AFRICA about her unique approach to bridging the gap between the traditional gallery model.
AKKA Projects, Venice.
Suzette Bell-Roberts: Being the only gallery in Venice dedicated to African and diasporic artists places you in a singular position. How do you hold that space while consciously moving away from a purely market-driven model toward something more research-led and custodial?
Lidija Khachatourian: That singularity is something I hold with both a sense of responsibility and humility. It was never a position I sought for its own sake; it emerged from a genuine conviction that these artists, these histories, and these conversations deserved a dedicated, serious, and sustained presence in a city that has long been one of the world’s most important stages for contemporary art.
Moving toward a more research-led approach is a natural evolution of that conviction. The market has its role, and I do not dismiss it. Sales create sustainability, and sustainability creates freedom.
The custodial role, for me, is about ensuring that the story of the work is told correctly and completely and presented with the care it deserves.
Lidija Khachatourian, Founder and Director of AKKA Projects.
What initially drew you to Venice, and how does the city support your commitment to slower, more considered forms of engagement rather than high-volume programming?
Venice chose me as much as I chose her. What drew me here was precisely what makes it unlike any other art city. There is something in its architecture, its rhythms, its very geography that resists urgency. You cannot move quickly through Venice. And I think that slowness, which can frustrate people, is actually a profound invitation to look longer, to think more carefully, to let things settle rather than consume and move on, you walk, you get lost, you arrive somewhere unexpected, and you slow down.
For a program built around artists whose work asks for that kind of attention, it felt like a natural home.
The Biennale, of course, brings an extraordinary convergence of collectors, curators, critics, and institutional voices from across the world. That moment of concentrated attention is invaluable. But what I have come to value just as much is the life of the space between those peaks, the quieter seasons, when the city returns to itself, and the work can breathe, and when the relationships that matter the most are nurtured.
Alexandre Kyungu, Untitled, 2024, Incision on rubber (car tyre inner tube), 245 x 178 x 5 cm. Copyright the Artist, Courtesy of AKKA Project.
Your model has always extended beyond exhibitions, from acquiring works to supporting studio spaces and materials. How do these forms of care shape the kinds of artistic practices that emerge within your programme?
When an artist knows that a work has been acquired not as a speculative asset but as a genuine act of belief in their practice, it changes how they work. It creates a foundation of trust that enables risk-taking.
Studio support and material assistance matter in an equally direct way. Some artists we work with are navigating contexts where resources are scarce or unreliable. When we remove that concern, the artist is more relaxed and can focus solely on creating. What we have learned over time is that this kind of support, though less visible than an exhibition, is often as transformative.
David Abebe, BlackBox solo exhibition, installation shot. Copyright the artist. Image courtesy of AKKA Project.
You initiated the ArtAndAboutAfrica grant during the COVID period. Looking back, what did that moment reveal to you about urgency, responsibility, and the role a platform like yours can play in times of crisis?
The lockdown exposed how fragile many artists’ positions truly are, particularly those dependent on residencies, fairs, and institutional invitations that disappeared overnight. For artists on the African continent, many of whom were already operating without the safety nets available to their counterparts in the West, the collapse was immediate and severe.
What it revealed to us was that a platform carries a responsibility that goes beyond its programmatic identity. In a moment of crisis, the question is: “What is needed now?” Acting quickly, even imperfectly, with real resources directed toward real people.
You’ve spoken about a shift in where energy is now concentrated, with more activity happening on the continent itself. How has this influenced your thinking around Venice as a site of exhibition?
Venice has always been a place of encounter. A city built on water, shaped by centuries of trade and cultural exchange, where different worlds have always arrived, mingled, and transformed one another. It remains, in that sense, a deeply symbolic space to present work that carries its own histories of movement, exchange, and complexity.
Since the conception of the AKKA Project, travelling and spending time with artists have been the highlights of my work. It is where the real understanding happens. And now, more than ever, I feel the need to be genuinely present on the continent: staying longer, moving slowly and learning more.
Alongside that, I want to create opportunities for collective travel, bringing together collectors, curators, and cultural voices on group visits to African cities and art communities, not as tourism, but as a shared practice of looking, listening, and learning.
Venice remains an important site of encounter, but the conversation it hosts becomes richer through direct, sustained engagement with the places and people it seeks to represent.
Osaru Obaseki, The Residency Outcome, installation shot. Copyright the Artist, Courtesy of AKKA Project.
If exhibitions are no longer the primary driver, but rather the outcome of a longer process, how are you reimagining the structure and timeline of your projects?
The timeline has to begin with the artist and their practice. Practically, it means beginning with research, spending time with an artist, understanding what questions are driving their current work, and asking what forms of encounter or production might genuinely serve that inquiry.
You’re moving toward deeper, more collaborative engagements. What kinds of partnerships or dialogues feel most necessary at this stage, and what do you look for in a collaborator?
What we look for is alignment around the artist’s interests and realities, for whom depth is not a compromise but a method. That extends to curators, writers, institutions on the continent that are building infrastructure with genuine long-term intent, and collectors who understand that acquiring a work is the beginning of a relationship, not the conclusion of a transaction.
Gallery installation view.
How do you balance maintaining a commercial framework while ensuring that the work remains grounded in research, continuity, and long-term artist development?
This is the true question… commercial activities (sales, art fairs, institutional acquisitions) generate the resources that make everything else possible.
The balance lies in selectivity and transparency. Our intention is to participate in commercial activities with special projects that help the artist’s trajectory.
As AKKA enters this next phase, what does a “significant project” look like to you, and how do you hope it will impact both the artist’s trajectory and the broader ecosystem?
A significant project, to me, changes something, not just in terms of visibility but what becomes possible for the artist afterwards. That might look different each time. For one artist, it is a major institutional exhibition that places their work in a new conversation. For another, it is the time-and-material support to develop a body of work they could not have reached otherwise. For another still, it is the right introduction, at the right moment, to the right collector or curator.
In terms of the broader ecosystem, I think the impact is most meaningful when a project does not simply celebrate excellence in isolation but actively shifts how certain artists, geographies, and ways of making are perceived and valued.
AKKA Project Venice, Ca’ del Duca 3052, Corte del Duca Sforza, San Marco 30124, Venezia, Italy.
