At Hakanto Contemporary, a multifaceted non-profit art space in Madagascar’s bustling capital, Antananarivo, even the food at opening receptions doubles as an interactive installation. Take “Lamba Forever Mandrakizay,” a group exhibition that invited 21 Malagasy artists to reflect on the lamba—a rectangular textile worn as a shawl or sash, and present in ceremonies of both birth and death. Often woven from silk or cotton, the lamba symbolizes continuity across generations and cultures, from the Merina people of the central highlands to the Bara communities of the southern plateaus.
In response to the show’s theme, chef Lalaina Ravelomanana—who helms the city’s acclaimed Marais restaurant and is the first African chef inducted into the Académie Culinaire de France—crafted an eight-course menu, each dish wrapped in vibrant fabrics. “When people think of Madagascar, they think of poverty, the wildlife, or the environmental crisis,” says Hakanto executive director Anja Rama, unveiling a plate of unleavened bread encrusted with edible flowers. “Hakanto isn’t about denying these realities, but about adding nuance and shifting the narrative—towards something manmade, and beautiful.”
Lying 250 miles off the southeastern coast of Africa in the Indian Ocean, Madagascar is one of the world’s largest islands. Its sweeping landscapes—from arid deserts to lush rainforests—mirror its extraordinary biodiversity: nearly 90% of its plant and animal species are found nowhere else on Earth, an ecosystem increasingly imperiled by deforestation and climate change. With a population of over 32 million—more than half under the age of 18—Madagascar also faces severe economic hardship. But as Rama points out, the island is far more than its statistics.
Artist Joël Andrianomearisoa, co-founder and artistic director of Hakanto, opened the space in 2020. Last September, it relocated to a sprawling warehouse after outgrowing its original home. Trained in architecture, Andrianomearisoa works across sculpture, textiles, writing, and furniture design. He represented Madagascar at its debut Venice Biennale pavilion in 2019 and, despite a peripatetic lifestyle, remains committed to building creative infrastructure for the next generation of Malagasy artists. “Artists are like gardens—you have to nurture them,” he says. “I’m already seeing society here change. Young people can now show their families that art is a viable career. And they have the right conditions—sponsorship, space, mentorship, and dialogue—to make work.”
Having gained independence from French colonial rule in 1960, Andrianomearisoa believes Madagascar’s artistic uprising—particularly the creative energy of the past five years—reflects how the country is charting its own future, free from Global North frameworks. “As far as I know, building an art school isn’t on the government’s agenda,” he says. “It may sound controversial, but maybe we don’t need one. We have to push harder—to create, to discuss. There’s an appetite for art here. What we’re building is a new kind of education.”
Hakanto isn’t alone in reshaping Madagascar’s cultural landscape. Overlooking Antananarivo’s undulating skyline of red, white, and ochre buildings, the Musée de la Photo—founded in 2018—preserves Malagasy photographic heritage by digitizing images from 1860 to 1960, encouraging local audiences to reclaim their history. In 2023, Fondation H—an institution dedicated to Africa and its diasporas—inaugurated its new space in the city’s former post office with a retrospective of the late artist Madame Zo, known for her experimental textiles crafted from magnetic tape, electronics, medicinal plants, and industrial foam. Meanwhile, the waterfront gallery of photographer Pierrot Men—a chronicler of Malagasy life since the 1970s—remains a cherished mainstay.
Vogue traveled to Antananarivo to meet the artists at the heart of its flourishing art scene. Here, they reflect on their creative journeys, evoke their homeland, and share how their work is forging deeper connections between people and nature.
Jessy Razafimandimby
Antananarivo-born multidisciplinary artist Jessy Razafimandimby, 30, is a graduate of the prestigious HEAD art school in Geneva. In 2024, he reached several milestones, including an immersive transformation of Musée d’Art et d’Histoire’s grand rooms—complete with dance and instruments made from found objects. In September, he opened his solo show “Corps des Volants à Six Étages” at Hakanto. His Paris gallery, Sans Titre, followed with a new installation at Art Basel Paris alongside a solo exhibition at its Marais space. That same season, Razafimandimby welcomed his first child with partner and fellow artist Emma Bruschi, who designs costumes for his performances.
Vogue: You were raised in Antananarivo until the age of 13, when your family relocated to Switzerland. What was that upbringing like, and how did it shape you creatively?
Jessy Razafimandimby: I’ve lived two very different lives. I grew up in the relatively quiet neighborhood of Amparibe, with school and church nearby. We lived in a three-story house with extended family. That closeness shaped my sense of home. Moving to Geneva was a huge shift—we didn’t know anyone—but in a very Malagasy way, the first people we met quickly became an extended family. I’ve always believed home is made up of the people you want to share your life with.
What themes do you seek to communicate through your art?
My work sits at the crossroads of art and design, especially within a post-colonial context. I move between painting—my primary language—sculpture, installation, and performance. I use these media to explore the domestic interior—spaces where intimacy is most vulnerable and most alive. Painting allows me to bring together colors and forms that don’t exist in the real world. I paint human and non-human figures within rectangular frames—windows onto alternate ways of being. They remind me we’re not alone on this planet.
What do you think are the most common misconceptions about Madagascar from overseas?
Even as an immigrant in Europe, I sometimes catch myself holding biased views about Madagascar, shaped by its political, economic, and social instability. These conditions often feed the misconception that the country is in decline. That urgently needs to change. Art can help—it can shift perceptions, elevate the narrative, and offer a more human perspective. Malagasy people have a deep sense of values, and art expresses that powerfully. It’s something we must protect, along with the artists who embody it.
How do you address environmental issues in your work?
I incorporate second-hand and recycled materials, or found objects, which adds meaning and fits naturally into my practice. But one of my biggest dreams is to create a kind of social housing—bringing together people who share a common spirit. For me, giving others the chance to live with dignity is a deeper form of sustainability.
Mialy Razafintsalama
Photographer Mialy Razafintsalama began taking photos at 12, after her mother gave her a camera. While studying tourism at university, she joined a camera club—its youngest member—and began experimenting with different styles. What began as a hobby evolved into a career, supported by commissions and encouragement from fellow Malagasy photographers, including Kevin Ramarohetra. In January 2024, the 29-year-old held her first solo show at Hakanto.
Vogue: Which artists do you look up to or admire?
Mialy Razafintsalama: Pierrot Men is a legend here. His pictures are incredibly captivating and tell so many stories. Rijasolo also has a unique way of capturing a moment.
How would you describe your creative process, and what drives you as an artist?
I use a Fujifilm X-T30 II with 15–45mm and 56mm lenses to photograph landscapes and scenes of daily life. I want to highlight the cultural richness and diversity of Madagascar’s remote regions. I also take simple portraits that reflect the path those around me and I take to rebuild our self-esteem. Many Malagasy people are not fully aware of the beauty and richness of our island. I want to show them that Madagascar is more than just the holiday spots of Mahajanga and Foulpointe beaches.
What are some of Antananarivo’s most exciting creative hangouts?
La Teinturerie in Ampasanimao is the go-to place for artists, and Dune Coffee Shop in Ampandrana is a great place to meet fellow creatives. For nightlife, there’s No Comment Bar in Isoraka and Custom Café in Ampasamadinika. IFM in Analakely and AFT in Andavamamba also host cultural events. When I need inspiration, I visit Ranomafana or Andasibe National Parks.
How did your Hakanto solo show, “Sedran’ny Tany (The Trials of the Earth),” reflect the way you address environmental issues in your work?
“Sedran’ny Tany” is a series of 13 photographs selected from around 500 I took during a nine-day road trip along National Road 7, from Antananarivo to Toliara. The exhibition reflects the land’s long struggle—how humans have contributed to its degradation, and how they’re now seeking ways to live more sustainably. I try to raise awareness about the importance of protecting our land, and the real consequences of everyday actions—things many don’t realize have a broader impact.
Sandra Ramiliarisoa
Textile artist Sandra Ramiliarisoa, 24, creates quietly powerful weavings from polyfloss—a recycled fiber developed by The Polyfloss Factory using a process inspired by cotton candy machines. Transforming plastic waste into wool-like threads, the material serves as both medium and message in Ramiliarisoa’s work. She honed her practice through R’art Plast, a social enterprise founded by six young Malagasy artists from underprivileged neighborhoods in Antananarivo, all alumni of Ndao Hanavao—a training and innovation lab dedicated to social design.
Vogue: Which artists do you most admire?
Sandra Ramiliarisoa: Joël Andrianomearisoa’s fabric works inspire me—he’s a poetic artist, and I love words. French artist Benjamin Loyauté’s work also touches me deeply; he speaks to humanism and the desire to bring help through art.
What do you like about working with polyfloss?
Polyfloss is both ecological and innovative. It’s become my signature, my identity. I manipulate it through spinning, braiding, and weaving. My message is tied to the material: waste can be transformed into something new and beautiful. That possibility inspires me. I’ve always used white—it’s neutral and inspires you to see everything more clearly. I find it fascinating to keep exploring the texture.
How do you want people to feel when they see your work?
I want them to feel that weaving is a signature of a Malagasy artist—that they recognize the value of this ancestral know-how. I also hope they’re curious enough to wonder what material the work is made from.
How has the creative scene in Madagascar evolved since you became part of it?
It’s changed progressively. When I first started out, I didn’t see any spaces or communities that truly valued the work of young people like me. That’s different now.
Kevin Ramarohetra
Photographer Kevin Ramarohetra, 30, initially trained as an architect before turning to photography. After participating in a workshop with Hakanto Contemporary, he was invited to contribute to the gallery’s 2023 exhibition “Lamba Forever Mandrakizay.” He cites Rodney Smith, William Helburn, and Pierrot Men among his influences, and often finds inspiration in visiting Antananarivo’s Queen’s Palace.
Vogue: What led you to pursue a photography career?
Kevin Ramarohetra: It may seem paradoxical, but I love photography so much that I’ve avoided turning it into a job. I fear losing the joy it brings if I have to meet client expectations, deadlines, and productivity demands. As the French poet Théophile Gautier said: ‘When a thing becomes useful, it ceases to be beautiful.’ Like a painter revisiting a canvas, I refine my photos over several days. Freedom of artistic expression is what matters most.
Your photos are renowned for their vibrancy without being overly saturated. How do you achieve this quality?
I shoot with a Sony A7III and a Sigma Art 35mm lens. Composition is key—the relationship between people, objects, light, and environment. Color has its own emotional language. I rely on natural light—95% of the time I don’t use flash—because it brings life to the image. I plan ahead, even checking the weather weeks in advance, and let space and location guide me. Above all, I seek harmony between subject and setting, to reflect an appreciation for the simple things that bring us joy.
How has your creative identity evolved?
Early on, I experimented with many styles, and as my tastes evolved, so did my work. I moved from simply taking pictures to truly feeling them, gaining a deeper understanding of myself and what I wanted to express. The 2019 lockdown was a turning point—it pushed me to draw from my surroundings, explore the work of other photographers, and observe more closely. I believe creativity comes from continually questioning and renewing oneself. I hope my work shows that imagination has no limits, and that the ordinary can become extraordinary with a shift in perspective.
Describe the work you exhibited in “Lamba Forever Mandrakizay.”
I presented a series of 12 photographs printed on lamba soga. Rather than focusing on the lamba’s historical or technical aspects, I wanted to show it as an emotional vector—woven into our culture, present in both joyful and solitary moments, transcending time, death, and even the afterlife. The project broadened my perspective, revealing how a single theme can hold many meanings through different mediums, and helped me reconnect with my culture.
Interviews with the artists have been edited for clarity. Hakanto Contemporary’s new season, “Sentimental”, runs until 21 September 2025, featuring solo exhibitions by musician Mirado Ravohitrarivo and artist Mickaël Andrinirina, alongside a group show and new work by photographer and documentary filmmaker Felana Rajaonarivelo.