On Elephantine Island, time is not measured. It is felt.
Water slows gestures, softens steps. One enters another rhythm, far from modern urgency. No discourse, only sensations: light, the breath of the river, the silent presence of things. Feluccas dancing in the wind.
I settled into a small room in a Nubian family home, perched on the rooftops, facing an open-air kitchen where everyday life unfolds under the open sky. The vaulted brick roof, typical of Nubian architecture, opens onto a splendid view of the Nile. In the morning, light glides gently across the water. In the evening, the river becomes a mirror, crossed by reflections of light, with Aswan on the horizon. Up there, I feel protected, as if held in a cocoon outside of time. I integrate.
The island is a labyrinth of narrow, ancient alleys, where one constantly loses one’s way. I wandered through them for a long time, unable to orient myself, accepting this loss of bearings as an invitation. It was through these wanderings that my research on Nubian benches emerged, rising from the collective into my awareness. Benches for speaking, waiting, sharing. Simple places where life still circulates slowly.
At the far end of the island, near the ruins of the temple dedicated to Khnum, creator deity associated with the source of the Nile and the shaping of human beings, the site marks a threshold: between birth, memory, and passage. In these ruins, I felt very strong memories. Ancient, deep sensations. Something that recognizes itself without words.
I have always been drawn to Upper Nubia, without knowing why this territory called to me like a magnet. I later discovered that this region of the Nile lies between southern Egypt and northern Sudan. My travels are often the result of a sensation that rises, of a call. They rarely begin from a touristic intention.
Here, this attraction finally takes form. I feel as though I am meeting an old friend. In the pharaonic era, Elephantine Island was a place of passage and exchange, a living threshold where water, peoples, beliefs, and goods crossed paths before continuing their journey along the Nile.
Nubia was the territory of great African civilizations, including the Kingdom of Kush. But more than history, it is the living culture that moves me. On Elephantine, it is still transmitted through daily life: on rooftops, around benches, in kitchens, to the rhythm of the river.
This stay is not a discovery. It is an ancient call, finally heard.
I recognized a place that already knew me.
Before leaving the island, I made a few preparatory gestures. I purchased Nubian scarves from a weaver, as well as incense, myrrh and other resins, and dried roses. Simple materials, chosen with care, intended for my artistic project in the village of Gharb Soheil, the next stage of my journey. These objects are not souvenirs, but companions in passage, already charged with meaning, called to transform in another place, in contact with other gestures and other presences. In my artistic practice, handmade objects, cultural or drawn from everyday life, carry a particular strength: imbued with gestures, time, and life, they become sensitive partners in the work rather than mere material elements.
