"Zaferizing" against the current : Hoping for a National Art Gallery

I have always believed that painting is a way of transforming darkness into light. My work—what I call the Zafer style—was born from that need. A need to take what is heavy, complex, sometimes painful, and turn it into something vibrant, colourful, almost joyful. Not to deny reality, but to reshape it and to breathe hope into it.

And yet, to be an artist in Mauritius is to constantly face a paradox.

We live on an island of extraordinary beauty. The light here is unique. The colours are alive. The landscapes feel like they are already painted. And still, art itself is often treated as something secondary… something optional. Since our independence in 1968, art has never truly been placed at the center of our national identity. There is no National Art Gallery to carry our stories, no strong institutional structure that tells artists: your voice matters. Get a Business Registration Number at the Registrar and you will find out that the business description “Artist” does not exist. This says it all…

We visual artists would need a National Art Gallery to display the work of generations of artists that have contributed to the Mauritian culture. We would need a government that helps us bring our art abroad. We have embassies all around the world, they could organise Mauritian art shows. The Mauritian government could rent exhibition spaces in major Art fairs around the world and proudly display Mauritian art. But so little is donne...

So we learn to exist without it.

We create in the margins.

We build our own spaces and it is not always easy.

There are moments of doubt. Moments where you ask yourself if this path makes any sense. If all the energy, the time, the emotional investment is worth it in a place where recognition is limited. But for me, painting was never a choice. It is something deeper. Something essential. My paintings are not just images. They are fragments of my inner world. Every geometric repetition, every bold colour, every touch on the canvas is part of a process—almost therapeutic. A way to find balance. A way to move forward. A way to heal.

And maybe that is where the real meaning of being an artist in Mauritius lies. Because when there is little structure, the act of creating becomes even more powerful. It becomes an act of resistance. An act of belief. I often think about artists like Vincent van Gogh—misunderstood in his time, yet deeply committed to his vision. His work reminds me that art is not always immediately recognised, but that does not make it any less essential.

Art is the soul of a country. It is what remains when everything else changes. It is what connects generations. It is what allows people to feel, to reflect, to dream. Mauritius has a rich identity, a blend of cultures, histories, and voices. And yet, we are still learning how to express that identity through art in a collective way.

So, in the absence of large institutions, we become the carriers of that expression.

We paint it. We perform it. We share it.

We “Zaferize” it.

To be an artist here requires courage but also faith. Faith that what we are building, brushstroke by brushstroke, matters. Faith that even if the structures are not there, the movement is already alive. Because even in a place where art is still finding its place, creation remains a powerful act of hope.

And hope, like colour, always finds a way to exist.