Magali, A Cult

Sculpting Salt and Sound

Salt is both a force of preservation and decay. It can burn a wound and heal it at the same time. For Magali, A Cult, it became an obsession—the material that finally made sense. "Salt doesn’t really allow for a lot of life to happen, but at the same time, it’s necessary for life. That juxtaposition—how something can be both protective and destructive—is what really drew me in."

Her relationship with salt goes beyond the physical. It’s historical, spiritual, deeply personal. “I grew up without my mom, and I wanted that to be in the story of what I was doing now.” Salt, in its ability to preserve, erode, and crystallize, became the perfect metaphor for complicated relationships, particularly maternal ones. “Interpersonal relationships—especially the difficult ones—are a lot like salt. They can be abrasive, but also healing.”

For Magali, working with salt is less about control and more about surrender. The material dictates its own form, shifting between solid and liquid, structure and collapse. “I realized I had to let the salt do what it wanted. If I tried to force it, it would break apart. It made me think about how relationships work too—you can’t mold people into what you need them to be.” This realization turned her artistic process into something meditative, a way of acceptance. 

Before working with salt, Magali was immersed in digital art and music production, creating layered, surreal worlds through 3D modeling and electronic pop. But there was a moment when she needed to step away from the screen, to work with something tangible. That led to a summer of radical material experimentation—until salt, of all things, stuck. “I took everything out of my studio and started bringing in one idea at a time. The salt stayed.”

Her process is slow, intentional, and at times, unpredictable. Some pieces involve soaking objects in saltwater tanks for months, letting nature take its course. Others involve hand-forming salt structures, watching as the material dictates its own evolution. “I’m always experimenting—boiling salt water, submerging threads, trying to rust metal that’s supposedly unrustable. It’s this ongoing conversation with the material.”

And reverence is exactly what she hopes her installations evoke. For her upcoming thesis show, she envisions a dimly lit, immersive space—black vinyl floors, a single spotlight on a suspended salt sculpture, glowing salt-crusted paintings, 3D video works. “I want it to feel like a cave. A space for reflection, for something sacred.”

Despite the heavy themes, there’s an unmistakable joy in how she speaks about her work. “I love my salt,” she says, smiling. “Every day I learn something new about it—like how pregnant bats go to salt licks, not because they need the sodium, but because it protects them from toxins. It’s like a mother shielding her child, providing protection they don’t even realize they need until later. The metaphors just keep revealing themselves.”

Magali remains multidisciplinary at heart. Music still plays a major role in her artistic language. “My last project had an album, digital work, and fabric installations—all orbiting around the same story. Right now, my focus is salt, but I’m also working on a dance album that’s just meant to be fun. No deep narrative, no pressure. Just something to play in a club.”

Asked how she defines herself as an artist, she hesitates. “It depends on who I’m talking to,” she admits. “Sometimes I say visual artist and musician. Sometimes just ‘salt artist.’” And what does she hope people feel when they step into her world? “Reverence. Reflection. And maybe an answer to a question they didn’t even know they were asking.”