With Scent, Architecture, and Memory, Dozie Kanu Expands His Universe

In 2006, Ben Gorham founded Byredo on the premise of translating memories into smells. One of his initial scents was a mélange of sage, orange, and musk that recalled the distinct scent of his father; another fusion of temple incense, lemon, and ginger recalls the place in India where his mother was born. Since then, the Stockholm native former basketball player has been bullish on pushing the cult fragrance brand out of its comfort zone with whimsical collaborations that transcend its sleek aesthetic and coveted lineup of singular, unfussy scents. 

Lately, Gorham has been reflecting on one of Byredo’s most well-known fragrances: Bal D’Afrique, a love letter to the continent inspired by his late father’s travel diaries. “This was the fantasy of arriving in Africa through somebody else’s words,” he says. “Bal D’Afrique reflects that; it’s an imaginary journey as well as a complete celebration of how I see African culture and its influence.” He recently enlisted photographer Gabriel Moses to capture this nostalgia through his distinct lens. And at this year’s Milan Design Week, he unveiled perhaps one of Byredo’s most ambitious projects yet: a room-size architectural intervention in Spazio Maiocchi envisioned by rising star Dozie Kanu.

In many ways, Kanu was an ideal collaborator. Born in Houston to a family of Nigerian immigrants but now based in rural Portugal, the 30-year-old artist has emerged as one of the design world’s more enigmatic figures thanks to his unpredictable objects that don’t conform to the confines of art and design. This year, he vowed to experiment with architecture and better understand the concept of home, prompting his first trip to Africa in five years. “To do the project Ben asked me, I had to reconnect with the continent,” Kanu tells Surface. “I went to Dakar and visited a lot of places—nightclubs, houses, restaurants—where people do live, where people do go. It was key for me to get a sense and a vibe of what was going on there now.” 

What resulted is a cross-shaped structure evocative of Senegalese architecture and building techniques. A steel skeleton bears signs of wear, a staple in Kanu’s work; it’s topped by the same type of glass blocks used by European colonizers across Sub-Saharan Africa. Kanu’s own sculptures, many made using found objects, are sprinkled throughout. Scrapped laundry machine parts, for example, assemble into hued lamps emanating the sounds of African drums, perhaps serving as a sensorial portal to home.

But before visitors enter, they’re greeted with a vitrine of photographs from Adjoa Armah’s saman archive, a depository of negatives she collected across Ghana during a 2015 road trip. The idea, Armah tells Surface, is “to give the possibility to visitors to relate to all these images because they show true moments of life.” The photographs depict everyday Africans in celebratory settings from nightclubs to traditional festivals, which foster a mood of togetherness permeating Kanu’s pavilion. They also serve as a tribute to the quotidian moments we choose to remember.

“It feels more authentic for me to try and see the continent through the eyes of others, acknowledging and empowering the lives of people who were and are there,” Kanu says. “When I’m making a show, I vanish in a sense. I often say that it’s my ancestors or people that came before me that are working through me. In a way, I’m not actually conscious anymore.” The experience of entering Kanu’s pavilion gives pause—it’s both a wonderful respite during the chaos of Milan Design Week and proof that the universe of Bal D’Afrique continues to grow in compelling new ways.