Tag: lived experience

Arte Povera & South African Art: A Walkabout with Thembinkosi Goniwe

The Wits Art Museum (WAM) recently hosted a walkabout on their latest exhibition Arte Povera and South African Art: In Conversation led by Consul General of Italy in Johannesburg, Dr. Emanuela Curnis, and South African curator, Dr. Thembinkosi Goniwe. The exhibition includes two sections, and while I was excited to see the works of Italian artists like Pino Pascali irl, my curiosity focused on Goniwe’s take on the impact of Arte Povera on South African art. As a long-time Arte Povera Stan, I believed it was this perspective that made this show seminal.

From left to right: Ilaria Bernardi, Dr. Emanuela Curnis, Thembinkosi Goniwe

Coined in 1967 by Germano Celant, Arte Povera, is an Italian avant-garde movement. Directly translated as “Poor Art,” Arte Povera challenged historical art’s exaltation of luxurious materials and pristine gallery spaces. The movement opted for non-traditional materials often found in homes or nature, emphasising a love for ordinary objects, lived experience and the human body. Its unfettered use of accessible materials reflected an interest in physicality and explored environmentalism in art, long before it became popular.

Arte Povera 1967 – 1971, is the first exhibition of its kind in Africa. Curated by Ilaria Bernardi, this segment highlights 13 renowned Arte Povera artists, Giovanni Anselmo, Alighiero Boetti, Pier Paolo Calzolari, Luciano Fabro, Jannis Kounellis, Mario Merz, Marisa Merz, Giulio Paolini, Pino Pascali, Giuseppe Penone, Michelangelo Pistoletto, Emilio Prini, and Gilberto Zorio.

“Orchestra di stracci” (1968) by Pistoletto Michelangelo

“Senza titolo (No title)” (1968) by Jannis Kounellis

On the other hand, Thembinkosi Goniwe curated South African Innovations, 1980s – 2020s is something of a response on behalf of the 13 South African artists Jane Alexander, Willem Boshoff, Bongiwe Dhlomo, Kay Hassan, David Thubu Koloane, Moshekwa Langa, Billy Mandindi, Senzeni Marasela, Kagiso Pat Mautloa, Thokozani Mthiyane, Lucas Seage, Usha Seejarim, and Kemang Wa Lehulere.

Walking around the exhibition, one got a strong sense that the two exhibitions were quite disjointed, which is not necessarily a bad thing. After briefly engaging downstairs with the Italian part, Goniwe guided viewers through the upstairs South African exhibition, drawing attention to the significance of the artworks’ construction and thematic elements. As he walked about, he emphasised the artists’ deliberate choices in materials, exploring how these choices both echo local narratives and resonate with global issues.

For instance, Goniwe explained Usha Seejarim’s The Modest Home Builder (2004), which involves collecting bricks and wrapping them in a fabric known as Shweshwe—a process reminiscent of ancient practices, transformed into contemporary art. According to Goniwe, the use of African fabrics and local patterns, such as those associated with Xhosa women and domestic workers, becomes symbolic and intertwined with the broader narrative.

“The Modest Home Builder” (2004)
by Usha Seejarim

As I listened, I noticed an absence of the work of artists like Bronwyn Katz and Lungiswa Gqunta, which I would more readily associate with Arte Povera. I asked Goniwe: “As we can see in this exhibit, there’s a lot more manipulation of materials, transforming them into new intricate forms. This differs slightly from the traditional Arte Povera approach, which is often more reverent towards the material. Can you explain this curatorial choice?”

He responded, “Mimicry implies a lack of originality as if we have no inventive capacity of our own. Instead, I aim to create a parallel discourse, one that reflects the unique evolution of material manipulation in South African history. … This question of historical materiality is so strong in Black theories. … Downstairs, even if you’re talking about how in the 60s there were protests … there’s a kind of a different conversation and an artwork and a process that happens … you see the politics that’s happening and the way in which they imagined it throughout. So that’s why I find it very hard to grapple with inheriting ways of thinking from white people.”

True as his response may be, in this context, it is still quite thrilling for the viewer to discover unquestionable visual parallels between Arte Povera and South African art. For me, Lucas Seage’s Found Object (1981) seemed to most epitomise Arte Povera.

Goniwe lingered here, saying, “… there’s a profound concept in being born and dying in a bed. … Seage, not bound by formal education, challenges conventional artistic materials. This echoes a broader tradition found in societies where people constantly create and curate, whether through changing living spaces or cultivating gardens. The professionalisation of curating seems to overlook the innate creativity present in everyday practices …”

“Found Object” (1981)
by Lucas Seage

“Saxophone on a Wheel” (1983)
by David Koloane

Touching on his muse, Koloane’s Saxophone on a Wheel (1983), Goniwe continued, “What Thupelo does, it allows artists to emerge in the materiality of things. If anything, we’ll come closer to Arte Povera as a movement … However, defining movements is challenging, as artists are often ahead, and historians, curators, and critics lag behind. …

It seems as if we fear to name ourselves. We fear to title ourselves. … But the beautiful thing now is a new generation of scholars, especially African-Black scholars, who are beginning to name what they do. ‘Innovation’ is an open-ended title intentionally chosen to encompass the various trajectories present in the exhibition.”

When I asked Goniwe to speak on the economic challenges faced by artists in Italy during the post-war period, leading to the emergence of Arte Povera, and how this could highlight more potential connections between this historical context and contemporary South African art, he responded: “Let me clarify: I’m not saying that these artists are working under poor conditions. To start with Italy in (the) 1960s is not a poor country. … What I’m emphasising is the conscious choices made.”

“Fire Games” (1985) by Billy Mandindi

Not entirely satisfied with this response, I rephrased my question, linking it this time to so-called “Township Art”. While it lacks aesthetic similarities, Township Art does illustrate my interest in the connection between socio-economic conditions and the production of art.

Goniwe answered, “When we talk about privilege, it’s about those who can afford to experiment … It’s not a performance; it’s an undeniable reality. We need to be mindful of this … To answer your question about why we didn’t explore Township Art, it’s because our interests were tied to museums.

It wasn’t just about money; it was also about time and value. Fiona can elaborate on the constraints and limitations we faced. We don’t make excuses for what we could or couldn’t have done; we focus on what we did. Any other critiques are welcome, and so are extensions of the project. I want to make it clear; I’m not defending against criticism. We are actively revisiting concepts, including Township Art, as part of our ongoing projects …

The failure lies not so much with the artists but with us—art historians, critics, and theorists. Because we don’t read carefully. As I said, if you ask me, Township Art is a movement … There are also other movements like the Funda movement, which focuses on aesthetics and art foundations. Artists working there share certain characteristics that we haven’t explored due to our tendencies to compartmentalise or depend on existing narratives.

So part of revisionist history, it must be critical, salvage and mine and give it a different meaning. With this exhibition, my intention is to open up a dialogue. It’s an opportunity to reflect on South African art over the past 50 years … in a way that has not happened yet.”

Goniwe is spot on. While artists have always worked with whatever materials were available due to financial constraints, this legacy has not been adequately addressed in the local context. This exhibition, which remains on show until the 9th of December, not only highlights the need for further scrutiny of the socio-economic impacts on materiality in South African art but also underscores the necessity of cultural exchange for rich artistic development. That is why, while it has plenty of room to grow, Arte Povera and South African Art: In Conversation is undeniably paramount.

“Untitled (Skin)” (1995) Artist- Moshekwa Langa

“Shredded Evidence” (1997) by Willem Boshoff

“Teacher Don’t Teach Me Nonsense” (2023) by Kemang Wa Lehuleru

15 November 2023
The Black Lunch Table – engaging communities through candid conversations

The Black Lunch Table (BLT) is an oral-history archiving project staged as an ongoing collaboration between visual artists Heather Hart and Jina Valentine. Since its inception in 2005, BLT has been engaging communities, questioning dominant narratives and histories of acceptance through facilitating candid conversations. Placing itself firmly at the intersection of authorship, reflections and living attitudes in an internet age.

The lunch table is centred around the idea of a literal as well as a metaphorical table —participants are invited to come together and share thoughts, ideas and experiences around critical discourse. This idea of sitting together and engaging in critical discourse goes a long way towards removing the separation between the intellect, the body and the soul. A sense of community is formed and previously disembodied knowledge becomes accessible through an integration with lived experience.

BLT is geared towards cultural producers and local communities of the African Diaspora including academics, emerging artists, curators and researchers —focussing on writing and rewriting contemporary history. This rewriting forms part of an important aspect in questioning who breaks through the art canon; how we measure and value art and which stories we chose to prioritise.

The BLT prides itself as a vector through which interdisciplinary and intergenerational discussions find new life, with these discussions further playing a role in canonising previously erased and forgotten narratives. One could think of this as a recounting of contemporary cultural history, which speaks to the creation of new knowledge. Thereby deconstructing and redefining our relationship with existing knowledge systems and allowing for a multiplicity of narratives as well as the decolonisation of that knowledge.

Archiving is an important part of the project, further recognising that publication and documentation form part of representation where authorship is treasured. “Each roundtable’s dialogue will be documented on our online archive. The archive structure will enable web visitors to search this dynamic database using a variety of metadata tags.” – BLT website. This archiving aspect is further achieved through what is called the Wikipedia edit-a-thon, where participants can contribute robust Wikipedia entries on various artists in the African Diaspora.

Marginalised communities and artists on the fringe continue to be sidelined when it comes to global discourse and critical conversations —our stories often reduced to subjective tales in relation to the more “objective truths of the dominant culture”. BLT assists in bringing forth these ideas and narratives, allowing for divergent interpretations and reinterpretations.

Initiatives such as these play a critical role in normalising the idea of speaking the unspeakable and telling stories that have been muted. With a dedication on bringing forth new agendas, a space is created to push beyond the tired conversations that are often facilitated by the comfortable dominant culture. Through its facilitation, BLT is reminding us that telling our own stories is a form of resistance in a world that continues to be exploitative, exclusionary and elitist.

13 August 2018
Multidisciplinary artist Shikeith presents an arresting vulnerability and honesty

Four years ago Philadelphia-born, multidisciplinary artist Skikeith shared the film #blackmendream, where he presented black men with the question, “when did you discover you were black?”. The directness of this question required the interviewee to give a direct answer. However, it brought to the fore a contemplation on how we perceive ourselves, as well as how and when racial identity and recognition become a bright spotlight in the lives of black men. It also allowed for contemplation around how the people interviewed navigate their blackness and their masculinity, with the people interviewed often expressing that the discovery of their racial identity often came through violence.

The lived and imagined experiences of black men, particularly black queer men, is a common thread in most of Skikeith’s work. Linked to this is the unpacking of violence against, and reclamation of the black body.

“I’m really tapping into the idea of conjuring up images of black men who exist together, whether that be supporting one another, crying, joyful, praying, anything that could disrupt perceptions of self. To open up to a new beginning,” Shikeith states in an interview with Dazed.

His imagery comes across as a snippet of a hazy memory from an early morning dream, bringing out an arresting vulnerability and honesty. His more recent work, such as This was his body / His body finally his also speaks to Skikeith’s desire to present elements of himself and his own journey within his work. “… I have to realise how important it is to showcase my own story in my work, so that it can resonate for other black men – imagining myself in a state of art.”

To view more of Shikeith’s work visit his website.

6 July 2018
Using allegory as a conceptual and visual device with photographer Nydia Blas

Artist Nydia Blas uses photography, collage, books and video in her exploration of lived experience, history and the limits of social constructs – specifically from her point of view as a Black woman and mother. Her work also touches on unpacking sexuality as well as understandings and expressions of intimacy.

Using allegory as a conceptual and visual device in her photography, Blas webs together signifiers and articulations of value, power and circumstance through the Black feminine lens. She presents counter narratives, destabilizing stereotypes, and her work becomes testimonies of alternative spaces and identities created by the people she photographs. In doing so she delicately maps out the relationship between resilience and resistance.

She is a recipient of the 2018 Light Work Grant, a photography program that supports artists working in Central New York. Her work is also featured in the book MFON: A Journal of Women Photographers of the African Diaspora, a commemorative publication that is committed to representing a collective voice of women photographers of African descent with the inaugural issue featuring 100 women photographers across the African diaspora.

Her series The Girls Who Spun Gold was inspired by a number of factors, the most prominent being a group of women she met while working at a community centre before embarking on her MFA degree. Blas feels that their meeting was a serendipitous moment, as at the time she had just become a single mother of two children, and the women she met were at the age when Blas last remembers feeling a child. The decision to photograph these women came from the desire to maintain a connection, but soon into the process she felt the need to include herself in the series. “The result is a series of images that work to complicate the notion of what it means to be a girl, a teenager, and a mother. I want the subjects to reclaim themselves, for themselves. I want the images to speak to this intricate process that is painful, messy, beautiful, joyful, etc,” Blas expressed in an interview with Strange Fire Collective.

Her latest series, Whatever You Like, sees Blas capture the people she photographs with an honesty that makes the viewer feel connected to each person. The work aims to unfold the ways that young women of colour learn to reclaim themselves for their own gratification, attempting to undo seeing themselves through the eyes of others. The simplicity of the images creates the feeling that these are moments of reflective self engagement that Blas was invited to monumentalize.

Through the above mentioned series one can see how Blas takes on moments of transition, learning and reclaiming, allowing the people she photographs to take ownership of the image through their strong presence.

31 May 2018