Why the Sā Ladakh Biennale 2026 is not only about art but an experience of vulnerability

An hour from Leh, in the hamlet of Likir, a family has spent generations keeping alive traditional Ladakhi pottery techniques. They use a hand-spun wheel called Skor to sun-dry their pots and bake them in cow-dung kilns.

Lamchung Tsepel and his family have been using local clay like Rzda sa (clay used in rituals, which is high in iron), Likir red clay and Thab sa (greyish black clay) for generations. As one of the only traditional Ladakhi pottery family still practising the craft, they have opened their doors to artisans across the world to learn their techniques. Their white-walled two-storey house was built with adobe bricks and stones and their cloth-covered studio is surrounded by their farm and a glacial stream.

Australian based ceramic artist Shupiwe’s work in Likir 2025 (Credit- Shupiwe)

In 2025, in an exchange programme between sā Ladakh Biennale and Australia-based Fremantle Biennale, Shupiwe an Australian ceramic artist was selected for a residency in this Ladakhi studio. This year, Shupiwe is working alongside Rigzen, a Likir potter, and they have created an installation for the sā Ladakh Biennale 2026, which began on August 1 and continues till August 10.

In comparison to common ceramic and pottery techniques, which take an average of a week to dry, Ladakhi pottery can take about four weeks which gave Shupiwe the chance to create pots designed to transform over the festival’s 10 days.

“I’m working with clay and mixing in mushroom substrate — waste from a farm down the road,” says Shupiwe, “I’m also adding seeds. The vessels will evolve. There will be sprouts, maybe mushrooms coming through. Some pieces may crumble, some may bloom, some may stay pristine. It’s looking at how the natural environment affects clay — the vessel not as a container but as something held by the environment. A living vessel.”

The pots are made in traditional Ladakhi style (Credit- Shupiwe)

Across the farm, white walled house and the rocky paths of Likir, Shupiwe has displayed several reddish-orange hand-spun pots. Some were bisque fired in the kiln and some are being baked out in the open while weathering the winds, rain and bright sunlight.

Shupiwe’s incorporation of traditional Ladakhi practices to her craft is one of the many artistic inventions that can be seen in the biennale being held across the 230 km Leh-Kargil route. The eight locations of the biennale feature 12 Ladakhi artists and eight international artists.

The biennale’s theme, ‘Signals from Another Star’, showcases the uniqueness and versatility of Ladakh’s soil and environment to the world. Curators Vishal K Dar and Tsering Motup came up with the theme for this biennale, based on Hermann Hesse’s 1918 book, Strange News from Another Star, as they showcase the different practices of individual villages and artists to the world.

“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 and we happen to be there, given the choice of being a witness, a bystander, an actor,” says Dhar.

India-born artist Himali Singh Soin and Germany-born artist David Soin’s installation, partially funded by the German Embassy, is being designed to bring a new sound to the Nurla Valley which is a two-hour drive from Leh.

Their piece, 3000 Realms, transforms a narrow steel pedestrian bridge that spans the river cutting through Nurla Valley. Suspended above fast-moving water and framed by steep mountains, the bridge connects settlements on either side of the valley. “We choose to highlight a fragile landscape and a conflicted territory by creating an experience for both- the visitors and Ladakhi community members that does not remind them of the grief, but connects us back to that miraculous feeling that music can sometimes evoke, of total interconnectedness and unity,” says Himali. The Ladakhi community have faced socio-political hardships like border disputes and the 2025 agitation after protests were staged demanding inclusion of the territory in the Sixth Schedule of the Indian Constitution.

“The bridge will move with you and each step will create music because the bells will move with you.” says David. The wooden bridge has bells strung throughout its length. Made by Ladakhi and Kutchi fabricators, these bells are light enough for the bridge to carry the load. “The listening experience of the bells is contingent on so many things. Maybe there will be birds on one of the days, adding to the experience of walking on the bridge. One of the days visitors might not be able to hear the bells because the river will be so strong. Nothing is set in stone except for the entire experience of being surrounded by mountains and walking on a bridge that chimes with you,” says Himali.

For multimedia artist Zahara Batool, the biennale is about centring her hometown’s craft. Her initial installations with woven copper wire were displayed in The Ladakh Arts and Media Organisation. Zahara is from Pashkum village in Kargil and along with 20 local women, she brings back life to an abandoned village in Kargil.

Hunderman village (Credit- Zahara)

Hunderman village, near the Line of Control, was a prominent locale in the Silk Route but over the years and due to the partition conflicts it was abandoned after the 1972 war and now the houses there are crumbling and the land has become barren. Zahara, with local artisans, has made an installation of various thread crafts like knitting and crochet. “We are using local sheep wool for the installation and covering the broken roofs with it.” she says, “Mostly the local wool is black or white but I am mixing in some red too. The village will have a splash of colour as we bring back life.” she says.

A key feature common across all installations is the use of material that is either locally sourced or does not take away from the environment. Raki, the co-founder of sā Ladakh, says, “It’s not about continuous consumption but about the experience and being vulnerable in front of the work because you feel so insignificant against the backdrop of this landscape.”