In a world increasingly defined by speed, screens, and data, Pierre-Christophe Gam’s The
Sanctuary of Dreams offers a pause—a space where imagination is not just an escape, but a
form of knowledge. Merging photography, tapestry, drawing, film, VR, and AR, the exhibition
transforms art into ritual, inviting visitors to participate in a living, digital temple shaped by West
African cosmology. Debuting in Lagos, a city whose rhythm mirrors the pulse of the work, the
show explores how creativity, ancestral philosophy, and collective dreaming can guide the way
toward more humane, imaginative futures. In this conversation, Mobology reflects on art as
ceremony, African futurism as philosophy, and the radical power of imagination to connect, heal, and innovate.
The Sanctuary of Dreams merges photography, tapestry, drawing, film, VR and AR. How
do these mediums collectively expand your idea of art as ritual and imagination as
Knowledge?
Each medium speaks a different frequency of the same language. Drawing lays out the
cosmology, film and sound bring rhythm and emotion, and VR or AR open the work into a
participatory field. Together they form an ecosystem of perception, a living altar where
imagination becomes a way of knowing. I’ve always been interested in how art can act as
ceremony, as a collective instrument for reflection and transformation.
You’ve described the show as a “digital temple” inspired by West African cosmology.
How do ancestral philosophies shape this immersive experience?
In West African thought, the world is a continuum, where visible and invisible realities exist in
constant dialogue. The Sanctuary follows that idea. Its five spaces correspond to elemental
principles that guide how we eat, play, dream, love and pray. These aren’t abstract themes but
lived philosophies that carry ancestral intelligence. By translating them into image, sound and
movement, I wanted to build a space that remembers, a space where technology can also hold
Spirit.
Why was Lagos the ideal place for this debut? How does the city’s rhythm influence your
narrative of the future?
Lagos is pure vibration, unpredictable, inventive and full of contradictions. It’s a place where
imagination is a daily practice, not an abstraction. Presenting this work here acknowledges
Lagos as both subject and collaborator. A city where ancient intuition meets digital speed. The
forty new drawings in this exhibition were created with that pulse in mind. Lagos mirrors the
essence of the Sanctuary, a place that dreams while building.
On Art, Ritual and Foresight
You’ve said imagination is “cultural infrastructure” What does that mean in a world
driven by technology and acceleration?
Imagination is the architecture beneath everything we create. It shapes what societies believe is possible. When imagination is neglected, systems collapse into repetition; when it’s nurtured, new futures become thinkable. Cultural infrastructure means the rituals, spaces and practices that keep this capacity alive. Our collective ability to sense, to dream and to act with vision.
The exhibition invites viewers to contribute their own dreams. Why is collective
participation central to your vision?Because the future is a shared project. The Sanctuary
gathers the dreams and reflections of its visitors as part of The Global Mapping of Dreams, an
ongoing archive of desire and possibility across Africa and the diaspora. Each contribution adds another voice to this evolving map. For me, participation is a form of authorship. It turns art from observation into communion.
On TOGUNA World and African Futures
TOGUNA World positions creativity as a foresight tool. How does it challenge Western
narratives about the future and center African perspectives?
TOGUNA World builds on the idea that the future isn’t a timeline but a landscape of
relationships. In many African worldviews, knowledge is passed through ritual, story and
collective experience, not prediction. We use creative practice to activate that wisdom. It shifts
foresight from control to listening, from data to intuition. Africa’s greatest resource isn’t its
minerals but its imagination, its capacity to envision balance even in uncertainty.
How do you see African futurism evolving beyond an aesthetic into a philosophy for
more humane futures?
African futurism carries a deep humanism at its core. It reconnects progress with spirit,
technology with ecology and design with dignity. We’re beginning to see it shape how people
think about governance, community and belonging. It’s less about visual style and more about
orientation, a way of situating humanity within a wider, sacred continuum of life.
On Global Dialogue
Your work has appeared from the Guggenheim Bilbao to Tribeca Festival and now Yenwa
Gallery. How do global audiences respond to African imagination as a force for
innovation?
People are drawn to authenticity. Around the world, audiences sense that African imagination
holds a kind of medicine, a capacity to link memory, beauty and renewal. The response is often
emotional because it restores something many societies have forgotten: that imagination can
heal, not just entertain. It can build bridges where politics cannot.
Having navigated spaces between myth and machine, what do you believe the next
frontier of creative practice will look like?
The next frontier is inner work expressed outwardly. Artists are becoming architects of
atmosphere, designing spaces for introspection, dialogue and collective resonance. The future
of creation will depend on how we rebuild our capacity for connection across disciplines and
across worlds. The most radical act ahead is to make imagination public again.
