Vishal Kumar Dar and Raki Nikahetiya on Why the World's Highest Art Biennale Was Never About the View

The word ‘sā’ means soil in Ladakhi. It also describes, with uncomfortable precision, what is disappearing. Ladakh's glaciers are retreating visibly. Its water systems are shifting. Its high-altitude ecology is under a level of pressure that most of the world will not understand until it faces the same. The decision to plant a biennale here is, by that logic, either an act of extraordinary sensitivity or extraordinary naivety. The people behind sā have spent the better part of three years trying to make sure it is the former.

The sā Ladakh Biennale is rooted in a single organising idea: That art has a responsibility to the place it occupies. Works are not installed in white cube galleries. They are placed in the lived landscape, in response to specific land, memory, trade routes, and community histories. Three categories frame the programme: Site-Specific Land-Based, Collateral, and Special Projects. 

Robb Report India spoke to its curator, Vishal Kumar Dar, and director, Raki Nikahetiya, about what it means to build something here, and why slowly is the only way to do it. 

Robb Report India: Ladakh's soil and glaciers are visibly disappearing. What does it mean to plant a biennale in a landscape under that kind of pressure?

Raki Nikahetiya: Ladakh is one of the places where climate change is most visible — in shifting water systems, pressured livelihoods, and fragile high-altitude ecologies. It is a place of immense heritage, but also a lens into questions many regions will increasingly face. In the previous two editions, nearly 90 per cent of visitors were from Ladakh. For us, the biennale is not about inserting culture into untouched landscapes, but working responsibly within existing community contexts — asking whether cultural interventions can give back through circular thinking, school engagement, and long-term collaboration. Community voice, local buy-in, and dialogue around what is appropriate within their landscape are central to how we approach it.

RR: The biennale moves away from white cube venues into Ladakh's lived landscapes. What does art lose inside a gallery that it finds in Ladakh?

Vishal Kumar Dar: The biennale chooses to investigate the impact and outreach of art on a different scale of expression and engagement. There is a well-documented history of art in wider expanded landscapes that is not always dependent on institutional or gallery-like spaces. 

RR: Your curatorial theme is ‘Signals from Another Star.’ What signal is Ladakh sending, and who is it for?

VKD: With Signals from Another Star, we kickstart the first edition of the sā Biennale. Each artist was asked to imagine their work in the form of a signal, beamed from a specific location on the 200-plus kilometre route. Each signal is composed of material or ephemeral transmissions that expand from that specific site across a larger expanded landscape. Bringing together Ladakhi and international artists from diverse geographies and practices, it takes the form of a field of signals, foregrounding attentive, site-responsive practices that engage with the land, its memory, weather, trade routes, communities, and histories. Every signal is a call, a beacon, a transmission to the beyond.

RR: How do you centre regeneration in this biennale and its exhibitions?

RN: Regeneration for us goes beyond environmental language. It is also about methodology. We are asking how cultural work can be slower, more responsible, and more conscious of what it leaves behind socially, ecologically, and culturally. At India Art Fair 2024, we worked with Skarma Sonam Tashi to create a large-scale installation using waste cardboard boxes, made in collaboration with German artist Philipp Frank, which, after the fair, was turned into roof insulation for a school serving students of migratory farmers. This edition is also helping shape a regenerative standard operating procedure that we are testing on the ground alongside our regenerative partner GLX in Sri Lanka. 

RR: What is central to the vision of the biennale?

RN: A central aim is to platform Ladakhi artists, voices, and organisations historically underrepresented in wider cultural conversations — creating space for young practitioners driving positive change, while bringing generations together through art and shared knowledge.

Supporting Ladakhi artists on broader platforms is integral to this vision. We first met Skarma Sonam Tashi through his work with the Ladakh Arts and Media Organisation; he participated in the first edition of sā, after which we presented his work at India Art Fair — and this year he is representing India at the Venice Biennale. These long-term relationships and pathways are central to what a local biennale can nurture.

RR: Is the biennale also an attempt to trigger conversation around climate change?

RN: Climate change is certainly part of the wider conversation, particularly in a region where environmental shifts are deeply felt. But rather than positioning the biennale as a single-issue response, we see it as creating space for broader dialogue around ecology, coexistence, heritage, and how we engage more responsibly with fragile landscapes and communities. 

RR: What does success look like for sā Ladakh ten years from now?

RN: Success would mean creating impact beyond a single edition. We hope it can become an exemplar for community engagement, regeneration, and slower, more mindful cultural practices that other biennales may adopt. A central aspiration is to see more Ladakhi artists represented on national and international stages. Equally important is the impact from within, where children and young people feel inspired by what they encounter, and communities, including the elderly and differently abled, are active participants and beneficiaries.

RR: What can art lovers expect, and what would you say to those making the journey?

RN: Come slowly. sā is not designed as a rushed checklist of events or photo opportunities, but as an invitation to experience work through reflection, movement, dialogue, and landscape. Visitors can expect site-specific projects and conversations across art, ecology, heritage, and research that ask for attention rather than speed. Be respectful as you visit communities. Travel mindfully. Allow space for reflection, and remain open to quieter experiences.