Meet the Collector: Yasmine Berrada Wants to Change the Way the World Sees Moroccan Art
“When it comes to art, I’ve always followed my intuition,” Yasmine Berrada tells Observer. We are at Loft Gallery in Casablanca, surrounded by the abstract, geometric and seaweed-like works of Malika Agueznay, a pioneer artist of the celebrated Casablanca school. “I feel that the art world is deeply emotional; so you have to put your heart fully into it.” And Berrada certainly does. When we meet her, she cuts an understated and elegant figure, dressed all in white, having just returned from an intense week in Doha for Art Basel Qatar, where she showcased the iridescent work of Mustapha Azeroual in the gallery’s booth.
In Casablanca, it’s like the calm after the storm, and the gallerist feels a bit dizzy as we walk through a room of works by Moroccan artist Malika Agueznay, reminiscent in its immersive quality of a Yayoi Kusama installation. We sit down in the back of the gallery, and Berrada orders some mint tea. She founded Loft Gallery in 2009 with her sister Myriem, basing it on the idea of a New York-style art-filled loft. From day one, the gallery represented something new in Morocco; it has since expanded with a three-story space in Marrakech.
According to Berrada, the market for Moroccan art was much more contained back then. “There were many art dealers, but very few galleries were doing structured, long-term work. It was a very local market. Moroccans bought only Moroccan art and were not interested in international work. And foreigners did not collect much Moroccan art. There was also a lot of mimicry; people always collected the same artists.”
Loft’s primary objective was to recover the history of Moroccan modernism, particularly the Casablanca School and the post-protectorate abstract movement. Working with artists such as Melehi and Belkahia, Berrada supported exhibitions and released publications. Over time, the gallery increasingly focused on contemporary artists and began connecting them with international collectors.
“You have to believe in the artists,” says Berrada. “Often, you start with an emerging artist, and you don’t sell anything for the first two years. People would ask why you persisted, and then, suddenly, after two or three years, the work starts selling really well. You have to have conviction. If we do not put that energy into artists, no one else will.”
Through Loft, Berrada has cultivated a pool of clients who don’t limit themselves to buying the occasional piece of Moroccan art, preferring to think strategically about the legacy of artists and movements. Some are lending them to biennials, supporting museum initiatives or establishing foundations.
The gallery’s participation in international fairs such as Art Basel Paris, Art Basel Doha, Art Dubai and 1-54 Contemporary African Art Fair has helped position Moroccan artists on the global stage. At the same time, Marrakech has grown to become a cultural hub connecting Europe, the Middle East and Africa. “The countries of the Global South are awakening,” Berrada asserts. “There is institutional energy, there is investment. The public I used to meet in London and New York, I now meet in the Gulf.”
While the future of the Gulf art ecosystem is currently uncertain, only a month ago, Berrada bet big on Art Basel Qatar—Loft was the only gallery from Morocco at the fair. The weight of single-handedly representing the Moroccan art scene was real, and didn’t stop at the most anticipated event of early 2026. As one of the most important contemporary art spaces in Morocco, she felt compelled to multiply her presence during the art week of Marrakech, which coincided with 1-54 African Art Fair, organizing a “Loft Art Gallery’s Marrakech city-wide takeover” during the 1-54 Contemporary African Art Fair, presenting an expanded program of exhibitions, site-specific installations and city-wide interventions across Marrakech, from riads to museums, public spaces and the Loft in Marrakech.
Berrada is, like most dealers, also a collector and an intuitive one. Collecting has always been a deeply personal activity for her: a record of interactions, friendships and discoveries. From modernists like Melehi and Belkahia to contemporary artists such as Lamrabat, Choumali and Kilito, the works in her home tell a story not only of her personal preferences but also of the ongoing story of Moroccan and African art.
Yasmine’s collecting journey began in childhood. “All my life, I had watched my father collect art. I couldn’t understand why he was buying so many paintings,” she explains. “I have always felt he kept buying and buying as if to satisfy some sort of unconscious need. I think I’m very similar to him in this way.” Their tastes and areas of interest differ, however. “He collected a lot of Orientalist painters like Hassan El Glaoui, whereas I’m much closer to a contemporary perspective. But we are both guided by passion. We collect what we like, and it’s very difficult for us to sell the work. The prime drive for us has never been the idea of reselling or investing.”
It was that approach that led, as a young asset manager, to acquire her first artwork. She only became a full-time gallerist after the birth of her first son: “I bought a work of art by a local artist,” she says. “And from there I just kept to collect naturally and organically.” Today, Berrada’s home is animated by pieces from her collection, spanning generations and media. Alongside the masters of the Casablanca school, she surrounds herself with contemporary voices such as Joana Choumali, M’hammed Kilito, Nassim Azarzar, Samy Snoussi and Bouchra Boudoua. “For me, these artworks are like the family’s jewels,” she says. “But these works are also part of our everyday life.” They regularly dine, for instance, at a table made by Mohamed Melehi.
The family often exchanges artworks in lieu of more practical gifts. “Recently, I received from my husband a wonderful piece of ceramics by Moroccan modernist Farid Belkahia,” Berrada says. “I have started a tradition with my children, gifting them works by Fares Thabet, Amina Rezki, Melehi and Mous Lamrabat. It’s a way to hone a sensitivity and pass on a set of values and appreciation for beauty and culture.” One work she is particularly fond of is a profile of a “blue man” by Lamrabat, who creates photographs of an imaginary pan-African reality, suspended between Arab and African futurism and the Avatar movie.
From a wavy, colorful abstraction by Melehi to the woody brown primitive shapes of Belkahia, every object in her home is tied to a memory or a story, whether a studio visit, a first encounter or a conversation with an artist or friend. She can often be found visiting artists’ studios and frequently leaves with at least one work—sometimes paying more than she would later charge if she decides to represent the artist professionally. “It doesn’t matter,” she says. “For me, collecting is an integral part of showing trust to the artist and a genuine interest, as well as building relationships.”
Only in recent years has Berrada begun to reflect on her collection as a whole; her intention is to structure, catalog and archive it while retaining the personal resonance that makes it meaningful. “Lately, I’m realizing I can identify certain themes,” she reveals. “And I’m starting to purchase pieces that I feel are lacking—figurative paintings, for example—to balance out the amount of abstract pieces.” The figurative painting she points to depicts a dancing Black woman in a red dress on the city’s corniche, who doesn’t face the viewer directly. The mysterious image is joyful and eerie at once, conveying a sense of nostalgia, like a “saudade” of sorts.
Her dual roles—gallerist and collector—inevitably overlap, but this creates a healthy tension between spontaneity and structure. “For the gallery, I do a very structured job, where there is strategy, research, and long-term vision. For my own collection, it is much more spontaneous; I buy if I fall in love with a piece.” Of course, there are times when her approach to each overlaps. “I trust encounters. When I meet an artist, I take my time to understand them, to listen, and to see what story I can tell with all of this. I love telling stories. And little by little, the stories add up and create a bigger collective one. One that can live well beyond us.”
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