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​​Alison Saar’s sculptures don’t just sit quietly in space. Working with materials like salvaged wood, ceiling tin, and shards of glass, the Los Angeles native tells stories rooted in the African diaspora and spirituality, using the figure as a vessel. The daughter of artists Betye and Richard Saar, she blends her mother’s innovative use of found objects with her father’s classical training to create pieces that feel both grounded and sacred.

Last year, the International Olympic Committee commissioned Saar to create a monumental sculpture, Salon, on the Champs-Élysées to mark the 2024 Paris Olympics. The Black female figure, holding a flame in one hand and an olive branch in the other, surrounded by six empty chairs, was both a tribute to peaceful communion and a literal invitation to gather.

This spring, Saar added another laurel to her wreath with the 2025 David C. Driskell Prize, presented by the High Museum of Art in Atlanta to an artist or scholar who has made a significant contribution to the field of African American art. Named after the artist and scholar David C. Driskell and inaugurated two decades ago, it is the first national award of its kind. Before she officially receives the award in September at the Driskell Prize Gala, Saar offers us a more intimate glimpse into her creative world.

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What’s the first thing you do when you enter your studio?

 I open up the roll-up door and turn on some music. My playlist varies according to the nature of the work to be done. If using the chainsaw, I tend to put on loud and lively music such as a ’70s Afrobeat mix or maybe [Antônio Carlos] Jobim to get things grooving. Sometimes a podcast or, if I am alone, I will listen to audiobooks.

When do you do your best work?

I am only in the studio during the day. Working with power tools requires a certain amount of focus, but most of my ideas and creative conjuring happen between 3 a.m.and 5 a.m.

There are a lot of costs that come with being an artist. Where do you splurge and where do you save?

I splurge on tools, which in turn saves me time and money but also makes me happy. I love my tools. My favorite are a set of vintage chisels my father gave me for my birthday.

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Have you ever destroyed a work to make something new?

Perhaps due to the limited size of my studio, if a work loiters too long, it’s susceptible to being cannibalized into something new.

When was the last time you felt jealous of another artist?

I have never envied another artist’s success but always envied and respected David Hammons’s ability to consistently conjure something totally unique and meaningful and to not give a damn about what the art world thinks. I wish the spirits sitting on his shoulders would come and visit me.

If you could change one thing about the art world, what would it be?

That museums and art schools would be free.

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If your studio were an animal, what would it be?

A beaver, maybe?

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done in your studio?

Spinning human hair into a yarn and crocheting it into a baby’s gown. I actually finished the piece while in a hotel and realized the housekeeper would think I was molting. After cleaning up as best I could, I left a very large tip.

Tell us about the best studio visit you’ve ever had.

I see my studio as a fairly private space and don’t have many studio visits, but I recall my mother [Betye Saar] visiting the studio once and her simply saying I was a good artist. This meant the world to me not because she is a famous and accomplished artist, or because she is also very discerning about the art she likes and doesn’t like and all too eager to be truthful, even to her own children, but because I made her proud.