The pace of time, the pace of creation. The law of the desert, the law of the sand, the law of heat. Time flows and passes, forms appear. Creation happens with the African pace, here, in its own time. 

Forget about 9 o’clock sharp, about 8 working hours, about productivity. Imagine the desert, the straw-clay houses, a couple of Tuareg tents, and on the side, an atelier.

Straw-clay walls, sand floor, a work plan on a truck piston. Fire blazes and silver disappears amidst the coal. The blacksmith uses his bellows, the embers are red, the blacksmith talks with others in the space, and finally, the silver has melted. With one precise gesture, the blacksmith places the mould, puffs once more his bellows, lifts the coal, uses his tongs to pick the pot of white-hot silver, and verses the silver into the clay mould.

     
A knife is formed in the mould, a teapot is posed on the embers, men pass, women talk, tea is served; the knife is being polished. A child cries. The polishing stops and the blacksmith comforts the child. The polishing starts again… a form appears, slowly.

    
A man needs time to create. Creation by hand, aided by a few simple tools and a thousand year old know-how, can reach perfect precision and originality. This originality is the soul of these objects and never could it have been produced by a machine.