What is a root? This ancient word, derived from the Latin “radix”, first refers to what connects a living being to the earth. Invisible yet vital, it is through the root that the plant draws its sap, its grounding, its memory. But beyond the plant world, the root is also a universal metaphor: it speaks to our origins, our sense of belonging, and the silent transmissions we carry.

In this new series of paintings, Souleimane Barry explores roots in all their polysemic richness. He questions the interdependence of living things, the strength of natural cycles, but also the fragility of our fundamental bonds — to nature, to the earth, to our histories. His figures, hovering between appearance and disappearance, seem to emerge from a shared humus.

Racines is not a return to origins, but a search for living anchorage. The painter dives into the depths, not to retreat, but to bring forth a burning present — one marked by uprooting as much as by the desire to reconnect in a shared world.

In nature, nothing grows without a subterranean system. A root is not merely the past: it is an active structure, a condition for growth. It connects the being to the soil as much as to a dynamic.

Simone Weil described rootedness as a vital human need. Édouard Glissant evoked rhizome-roots — multiple, shifting, open to the Other. Hannah Arendt asserted that humans carry their roots within them, transforming them throughout their journeys.

In Barry’s work, this thinking takes shape in matter. He blends oil and water, allows incompatible elements to coexist, creating organic and unstable textures. Each canvas becomes living ground, nourished by tension and silent metamorphoses. The root becomes a method: it connects, irrigates, reveals what would otherwise remain underground.

Born in Burkina Faso and based in France, Barry inhabits a fertile in-between. His roots — cultural, spiritual, or imaginary — never point to a fixed origin. They are mobile, fragmented, like Glissant’s rhizome.

In a world that is coming undone, Racines invites us to slow down, to notice what still connects us. And perhaps, to relearn how to grow together.