INTERVIEW WITH ALESSIA D’INTRONO

What inspired the creation of Equator Echoes Magazine?

The art magazine Equator Echoes was born during my university studies and developed over five years of continuous independent research. Its creation was gradual: there wasn’t a single source of inspiration, but if I had to think of one particular event, I would mention a philosophy symposium I attended while studying visual arts. During the symposium, I discovered that the current world map we all know is the result of an ethnocentric vision of the globe, which still influences politics, economics, and cultures today. The way we see and relate to the world also starts here: with a map that distorts the size of certain continents and places the West at the centre of our gaze. This was the driving force behind what is now the magazine.

This reflection also gave rise to a question that has become fundamental to me: who tells the story, and who has the power to define the world, and from what position do they do so? From there came the need to question who produces knowledge and representations, and from what position different contexts are narrated. This also applies to the way we approach publishing: we want to create a space for dialogue, research, and exchange.

What does it mean to you to tell stories about Africa today?

Africa is a vast continent. Talking about it always means leaving something out, but as the editor-in-chief of a magazine, I do not aspire to tell its story from a single point of view. One thing that has been fundamental to my journey is listening.

The magazine already has its first writers, who are also artists or curators, from Africa and other continents. This is particularly meaningful to me because the goal is not to replace one centre with my own, given that I am Italian. It is about looking, listening, putting myself into perspective, and learning.

Looking at African arts also means going beyond the stereotypical idea of African art as something connected solely to craftsmanship or tradition. It means recognising the plurality of practices, languages, and ways of creating art and culture that exist across the continent. One thing I have learned throughout this journey is that art and culture are deeply interconnected and complement one another.

How do you choose the stories that deserve to be told?

There are no stories that deserve to be told more than others. Curiosity is what drives the magazine. Sometimes it is precisely during an interview or a conversation with an artist that stories or aspects of their life and journey emerge that I was previously unaware of and that continue to surprise me. The choice therefore often comes from encounters and research rather than from a predetermined idea of what should be told.

The choice we make concerns above all the way we write, avoiding celebratory or promotional texts and prioritising contributions, insights, and perspectives that can open up reflection and dialogue.

Who has the right to define what an “African story” is?

No one has that right. I believe that the attempt to construct “an African history,” “African art,” or “African authenticity” is what, more than anything, reduces Africa to a series of stereotypes. This attempt has been, and continues to be, predominantly Western.

Categorisation and classification, through pseudoscientific disciplines that developed between the eighteenth and the mid-twentieth centuries, contributed to defining Africa to diminish it and fit it into constructs created by Europe for Europe. These disciplines served to ideologically reinforce colonialism and a sense of superiority that went unquestioned for a very long time and still persists today. Until our own time, “African history” did not even matter in the West. What was primarily sought was a “European history” within Africa, to justify precolonial and colonial atrocities.

Now, however, it has acquired a certain appeal as an object of interest. Fashion and art, above all, are turning it into a trend. We can see this, for example, in recent biennials and art fairs. Undoubtedly, recognising the value of African and diasporic people is a necessary step, but that does not mean they need to be defined by us to have value.

The magazine, too, was not created to give importance to anyone, but to discover and make known realities that already exist, that have already developed their own paths, and that are often bringing themselves into the spotlight.

Do you think Africa is still too often represented through narratives constructed outside the continent?

Absolutely. Advertising campaigns and media representations of humanitarian and health emergencies, for example, still too often portray the image of a continent in decline, lacking autonomy and stable economies. The recurring stereotype is that of an Africa portrayed as a collection of problems to which the West must rush to offer assistance. This narrative erases a fundamental part of history: many of the situations that still require intervention are also connected to the consequences of the colonial past and to the ongoing extraction and appropriation of resources that, for centuries, have contributed to the wealth of the West. The work of many African artists is powerful precisely because it challenges this stereotypical narrative and creates the possibility of telling Africa from other points of view, starting from their own experiences and voices.

On the other hand, national media, for example in Italy, also play a central role in constructing the “foreigner” as an enemy, particularly in the way immigration is reported, contributing to portraying people through images of emergency and criminality. The way events are reported in the news, for instance, profoundly shapes how the population consuming those stories perceives others. Generalisations and the terms that are chosen can reinforce stereotypes and generate conflict in everyday life. It is important to realise that words, actions, and even silences have an irreplaceable impact on people’s lives. Changing them costs us very little; for those who experience their consequences, however, the cost can be enormous. Moreover, what we choose not to question reveals our position in the world.

How can Africa be represented without reducing it to a single identity, aesthetic, or experience?

By doing the work of acceptance. I believe the first step is to recognise the privileges we have as white and Western citizens, as well as those related to gender, sexual orientation, social class, and the economic and political context in which we live. Continuing not to acknowledge these privileges, or using them without questioning them, contributes to perpetuating discrimination and inequality.

Once we recognise these privileges, we can take a step back and understand that we cannot tell stories without bringing our own personal experience into them. Everything we say and do is shaped by our identity, who we are, and the experiences we have lived through. Making this clear, especially in writing, is fundamental, because there is no such thing as truly impersonal writing.

And then there is the willingness to put oneself on the line, not to take everything for granted, and to learn to question one’s own point of view.

How important is it, in your opinion, for Africans to be able to tell their own stories through their own perspectives, languages, and sensibilities?

It is extremely important. First of all, as we have already said, people should not have to wait for our approval in order to tell their stories and to exist. This is something that should happen naturally.

Art is, among the various ways of telling one’s story, the medium I personally prefer when it comes to connecting with people. It carries with it personal history, the history of the past, and all forms of cultural diversity. Many people tell their stories through their hair and hairstyles, which in Africa can express ways of identifying culturally and, in other countries, can carry histories of oppression. Others tell their stories through writing: some writers have fought to bring original languages back into texts and institutions across Africa, and much more.

All of this emerges through art, which is multifaceted, inclusive, and experimental. Having a space of one’s own also means being able to produce knowledge and representations for future generations. As Fanon reminds us, having our own points of reference in the world is essential.