Tag: water

  • ‘Close Encounters’ // A group show exploring the multiplicity of intimacy by SMITH Gallery

    ‘Close Encounters’ // A group show exploring the multiplicity of intimacy by SMITH Gallery

    “Intimacy is too often confined with matters of love; yet the word belongs more to trust, to faith. It denotes an act of revelation found in the simple gesture of sharing; bringing that which was previously hidden out from the shadows and into the light. In this exhibition, the artworks chosen explore intimacy in both their content and their form. They touch on universal themes – like birth and love and death – but also on other more singular intimacies; personal histories, dreams and desires. The works reflect on self- intimacy, experienced in solitude, and the intimacy shared between us, be it romantic or platonic, familial or fleeting. There is, too, intimacy of familiar spaces, spaces we inhabit in both the world and in our minds. And then, there is the intimacy of objects, and our relationships to them; a cherished photograph, clothes left lying on the floor, a coffee half drunk, now gone cold, a letter hidden in a bottom drawer. And always an implied subject, who has held and touched these objects, so that each becomes a metonym for something, or someone, else.” – reads the introductory paragraph of the essay on the group show titled The Art of Intimacy by Lucienne Bestall.

    Curated by SMITH’s own Jana Terblanche, Close Encounters, “…encompasses many intimacies. Intimacy between friends, family and even yourself. An ‘encounter’ extends beyond romantic love, and opens the show up to a certain type of multiplicity…” she tells me in response to the exhibition title.

    Terblanche explains further that, “The curatorial strategy seeks to make connections, and guide the audience to experience many versions of intimacy, but not to be too definitive in fixing its meaning.”

    ‘Looking in’ by Banele Khoza

    Interpretation, voyeuristic in its nature, peeks into private scenes in the works of Olivié Keck, Daniel Nel and Banele Khoza. As the viewer uncovers that which is hidden, they are confronted with the image of a sleeping woman with a bloodstain forming between her legs; with figures in a bedroom – dressing or undressing. A nude man cradles his foot in another work. As Bestall points out, the human shapes portrayed on these canvases appear to be unaware of their viewer, unaware of being watched. They are “…absorbed in their own worlds and insensible to ours. From this vantage, we become privileged viewers; seeing yet unseen.”

    Boy in Pool and Creepy Noodle by Strauss Louw presents as photographic montages reflecting on ideas surrounding sensuality and sexuality. The images’ quality can be compared to a fever dream, confused, stripped down. A recurring element in both frames is that of water. Water which is fluid and evokes connotations around spiritual cleanliness, the metaphorical washing away of sin; a baptism that promises new life, a new beginning. The images that reflect one another and in turn speak to one another show an intimacy that extends beyond photographic paper. The signifier, pool noodles and topless male torsos, signify more than the visual cues the artist brings to the fore. Bestall writes, “For him, the gesture of photographing is itself an act of intimacy; the silent communion between the subject and artist shared for only the briefest moment.”

    ‘Creepy Noodle’ by Strauss Louw

    Moments of grave intimacy equally take hold in this group show appearing as recollections of space lost, contemplations on censorship, erasure and that which is muffled. A weapon uncovered from the quite recesses of a grandmother’s bed.

    Returning to the intimacy of childhood, Thandiwe Msebenzi, Sitaara Stodel and Morné Visagie use film, collage and photographs to convey their meaning. Loss, longing and distance oozing from each pigment.

    ‘Unoma xabela ngezembe’ by Thanidwe Msebenzi

    Tapping into the darker avenues of the twisted mind, Michaela Younge and Stephen Allwright craft peculiar scenes of nightmarish fantasy. Younge’s work made from merino wool and felt, bring together eroticism, violence, sensuality and abjection. In this world of felt imagination nude figures, skulls, a doll’s head, the American Gothic and a lawnmower coexist on the same material plane.

    The intimacy of banal objects is considered by artists Gitte Möller and Fanie Buys. Buys’ Unknown Couple at their Wedding (muriel you’re terrible) is a painting of a found image depicting a bride and groom about to cut into their wedding cake. The familiarity of the scene is nostalgic as it is found as such in endless family photo albums.

    ‘Leda and the Handsome Glück’ by Michaela Younge

    Pairing the personal with the universal Amy Lester uses a monotype of a faceless woman that draws parallels with the Venus of Willendorf and other objects and images of fertility. Alongside hangs a photograph of the artist’s birth. This iteration of familial intimacy explores birth and the archetypal Mother figure.

    The viewer is moved from private bedroom scenes to depictions of violence, from a clear subject to an underlying layer of meaning, invited to engage with the scale of works, the theme of intimacy follows distinct threads. “Yet the works exhibited all share the same vulnerability. Something previously hidden is revealed; a secret spoken aloud, a memory described, a dark dream recalled. Such is intimacy, a word bound not to love, nor to the erotic. But rather, a word that denotes a certain knowledge, a privileged insight into the private life of another – another figure, another object, another place. Where some intimacies are lasting, others are only momentary; where some are apparent, others are not.” Bestall ends off.

    ‘Unknown Couple at their Wedding (muriel you’re terrible)’ by Fanie Buys

    The interdisciplinary group show Close Encounters will run from the 4 July – 28 July 2018.

    Join SMITH Gallery on a walkabout of the show on Saturday the 21st July at 11h00.

    Exhibiting artists include: Stephen Allwright, Fanie Buys, Grace Cross, Claire Johnson, Jeanne Gaigher, Jess Holdengarde, Olivié Keck, Banele Khoza, Amy Lester, Strauss Louw, Sepideh Mehraban, Nabeeha Mohamed, Gitte Möller, Thandiwe Msebenzi, Daniel Nel, Gabrielle Raaff, Brett Charles Seiler, Sitaara Stodel, Marsi van de Heuvel, Anna van der Ploeg, Morné Visagie, Michaela Younge

    ‘The Birth’ by Amy Lester
    ‘she looks at you as if looking for herself’ by Jess Holdengarde
    ‘Tonal Tears’ by Jess Holdengarde
    ‘But if it doesn’t have a garden we can’t keep the dog?’ by Sitaara Stodel
  • Artist Modupeola Fadugba on chance, human agency and conquering fears

    Artist Modupeola Fadugba on chance, human agency and conquering fears

    Modupeola Fadugba, born in Togo and now based in Nigeria, is an artist who made a 180 degree turn from her studies in engineering, economics and education. However, these have not left been left behind, with elements of economics and education sprinkled on the conceptual foundations of certain artworks. Fadugba focuses on identity, women’s empowerment and social justice within the sociopolitical milieu of Nigeria. Paint, drawing, burnt paper and installations are the mediums through which she creates her socially engaging work.

    Her 2016-2017 series Synchronized Swimmers takes its point of departure from an intimate and innocent memory she had as a child growing up in Lome. This memory was her fear of the sea, its vastness was too daunting and confusing to comprehend. The pools she was exposed to when she moved to the US for a while were less frightening, but her fear of the water remained until faced with compulsory lap-swimming classes at boarding school in England, aged eleven. Her first long drawn lap left her with a sense of accomplishment, and made her realize the water could be conquered. 20 years later in Nigeria she found herself facing another water-related fear, diving. With encouragement from her brother she leapt into the water from the diving board. While these may seem silly, they acted as forms of encouragement for her art, having decided to delve into the art world full time. Fadugba’s ‘pool’ works fall into two series of painting, Tagged (2015-2016) and Synchronized Swimmers (ongoing). Tagged sees a group of young women moving under and over the water in pursuit of a red ball. Synchronized Swimmers on the other hand sees young women clustering their bodies and hands together to lift one another into the sky. The red ball still makes an appearance, but the figures do not pay attention to it. Fadugba’s combination of acrylic, oil and burnt paper give the paintings a mysterious and confusing atmosphere, and yet the figures make the work visually appealing.

    ‘Synchronized Swimmers’

    A second collection of work titled Heads or Tails (2014-2017) sees Fadugba unpack the Latin motto that appears on the American dollar bill – Annuit cœptis.In her artists statement she explains thatthe US Mint translates Annuit cœptis as ‘He [God] has favoured our undertakings,’ and the United States’ official motto—’In God We Trust’—emblazoned across the centre of the bill leaves no doubt as to God’s supreme presence. Yet the original Latin could be more accurately translated as ‘our undertakings have been favoured’; there is no direct mention of God, no certainty as to who is bestowing the favour.” With this interpretation Fadugba questions the certainty of who does the watching over, and who receives the favour. Heads or Tails looks at the themes of chance and value and how they determine the course of people’s lives. The series consists of paper painted coins of various sizes, with the faces of Black women appearing on them. These paintings appear on burnt paper. The coins and combined with the title point to the idea of the coin toss, a recurring theme in Fadugba’s work, signaling her preoccupation with luck and human agency.

    Her artist statements and explanations of her work channel the creative writing spirits of Chinua Achebe and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie with their poetic and relatable nature.

    To check out more of Fadugba’s work visit her website.

    ‘Heads or Tails’
    ‘Heads or Tails’
    ‘Synchronized Swimmers’
  • Artist and researcher Salome Asega on multivocality, dissensus and a speculative lens

    Artist and researcher Salome Asega on multivocality, dissensus and a speculative lens

    As an artist and a researcher, Salome Asega‘s practice is a celebration of multivocality and dissensus. The relationship between her practice as an artist, and her roles as a researcher and teacher, is an interconnected one. Each of these aspects inform and filter into one another. Asega explains that this connection comes from their collective ability to offer useful methods for igniting questions and picking through ideas. I interviewed Asega to find out more about her work.

    Could you please share more about your creative and academic background?

    I spent a year after finishing my undergrad degree tinkering with hardware and making interactive visuals for my friends in performance and music. This eventually brought me to a community of artists who were also working with technology in exploratory ways. I did an MFA at Parsons at The New School in Design and Technology, where I’m now a faculty member.

    I also come from a family of science and math people. When my family bought our first computer, my uncle, who was studying computer science at the time, used to mail me floppy discs of games he was working on. I don’t think I understood this as a creative technology practice at the time, but I like to thank him now for jump starting my infatuation with all things digital.

    In your bio you describe your practice as one that “celebrates dissensus and multivocality”. Could you please unpack why this is the foundation of your practice, and how you filter this through in your textual and visual projects?

    So many of my projects involve a collaborative or participatory process, which is grounded in conversations where we are making certain conceptual or design decisions. This very messy, messy process is sometimes rendered invisible when what’s in an exhibition is a final art object. When I say I celebrate multivocality or dissensus/consensus, I’m saying I value the process of working in community and I also acknowledge that it’s not easy.

    Having looked through your ongoing project, POSSESSION and your recent participation in the group exhibition To Break The Ocean, it appears that water is of particular interest to you, specifically the historical and cultural significance of water and its connection to Blackness and the African Diaspora. Could you please share more about your interest in this, and how you unpack this in POSSESSION and To Break The Ocean?

    I grew up in the desert, so I think the water is a natural draw for me. Beyond that, I’m curious about the ways the ocean and water show up in visual representations of time like how the ocean can represent the kalunga line in West African cosmologies. The ocean then becomes the split between cycles of past, present, and future, and also different dimensions– real world, spirit world. There is a speculative lens in much of my work and water presents itself as a material to do this thinking.

    Your participation in the group exhibition To Break The Ocean is with Iyapo Repository. Could you please share more about the idea behind this resource library and how it has evolved since its inception?

    Ayodamola Okunseinde and I started Iyapo Repository in 2016 during a residency with Eyebeam, an organization here in New York. The project has so many entry points for us. We were thinking a lot about the rising number of e-waste sites on the continent and the ways we’ve seen folks repurpose those materials to make something new and beautiful. We were also thinking about the places we show up in mainstream science fiction narratives, and black folks are primarily shown as extras if they’re even shown at all. We were also thinking about access and literacy to digital tools, and how we could leverage our access to certain institutional spaces to bring resources out. Somehow we combed all these questions and concerns together and developed a pop-up resource library and workshop series that asks participants to build future artifacts with us using hardware, virtual reality, and some digital fabrication techniques. It’s been extremely energizing to take up space in speculative futures with other black people.

    Iyapo Repository focuses on physical and digital “artifacts”. Why was it important for you to include both kinds of artefacts? And how have you collated these to ensure their value and meaning to not get stripped away when placed in the context of a collection/archive?

    Our inclusion to have both physical and digital artifacts in the repository was to ensure we were designing for multiple methods of engagement. We can dream up and create artifacts with our participants remotely, but also also in real life. The engagements, conversations, and creative exchanges are what ultimately make up this project. I’m interested in getting folks to speculate and design collectively.

    When we show the artifacts in an exhibition, we include the original manuscript drawings and writing done in the workshop to provide contextual evidence for the final object. These documents are signed by our participants to make sure they are given credit as the archivist who “discovered” the artifact.

    Could you please share more about the Iyapo Repository and how participants become archivists influenced by how they imagine the future? Who participates in these workshops?

    We partner with museums, universities, festivals, community organizations, and after school programs to host us. I’m always thinking about how we can make unlikely partnerships to redistribute resources from one place to another. So if we’re working in a larger institution I want to make sure we’re also partnering with a community organization who can bring in their networks to participate in the project with us and take ownership of Iyapo Repository in that iteration.

    The project Level Up: The Real Harlem Shake is also interesting in its use of video game language and interaction. Please share more about the choice to develop this as a video game? Is this a kind of commentary on cultural appropriation, digital cross-dressing or identity tourism?

    In 2012, DJ Baur came out with a song called “Harlem Shake” that prompted people to make viral videos of them and a group of friends shaking wildly. Soon these videos took the top hit position over videos of the original Harlem Shake meaning you’d have to do some deep internet digging to find the original dance. I worked with curator Ali Rosa-Salas and dancer Chrybaby Cozie to develop a project that could counter this cultural erasure and assert the Harlem Shake as a dance form that is studied, learned, and passed off to others.

    You are also the co-host of speculative talk show Hyperopia: 20/30 Vision. Please share more about the show and how it connects to the other work that you do?

    Hyperopia: 20/30 Vision is a radio show Carl Chen (Lasik) and I (ConVex) started in 2015 at bel-air radio. Derek Schultz (DJ D) and Leila Tamari (LENZ) joined shortly after. The show originally was a way for us to ask experts to speculate the near future of their fields. Each episode, we want to imagine some essential element of a future — alternative economies, reproductive health, sustainable architecture, etc — and the ways technology creates opportunities or challenges towards the visioning. The format changed slightly for us to also have conversations as a team about our anxieties and optimisms around technological development presently. This show is another way think through ideas of futurity collectively.

    What are you working on at the moment?

    I’m currently a Technology Fellow at the Ford Foundation evaluating the arts and cultural strategies through technology lens. I’m spending the summer writing and reading in preparation for new projects this fall.

    Is there anything you have lined up for this year that you would like to share with our readers?

    I have a residency with Pioneer Works in Brooklyn  lined up for this fall. I’m also working with Geng (PTP) to produce a performance for Abrons Art Center at St Augustine’s Church in November. We’re pulling a group of artists together to think through the architectural history of this Church that tells an early history of segregation in New York.

    Photography by Naima Green
  • Cities that float

    Kunlé Adeyemi challenges the perception that to modernize is directly translated to the western trajectory of design and development. With the intention of addressing issues related to rapid urbanization and climate change within the African context, Kunlé Adeyemi and his architecture company NLÉ are constantly developing a number of urban, research and architectural projects in Africa. One of Adeyemi’s well-known designs is ‘Makoko Floating School’, an innovative, prototype, floating structure located on the lagoon heart of Lagos. This came from the looking at the impact of climate change – rising sea levels, frequent flooding, etc. – leaving cities located near the sea most at risk. A conclusion was drawn stating that the relationship between water and the city on the African continent has become a “critical intersection for understanding the future of development in Africa” (The Royal Institute of Art 2015).

    ‘INNER FIRE: Bow Down’ by Tabita Rezaire image from The Goodman Gallery

    The 2017 solo exhibition of artist Tabita Rezaire at Goodman Gallery Johannesburg titled Exotic Trade, when discussed in relation to the conversation around water and the city adds an extra layer for consideration. Her work brought water into the realm of technology, by framing it as a database from which information is stored, shared and downloaded. In other works she also refers to water as a source of healing. She also connects water to colonial trade roots, making this a loaded exhibition.

    ‘Makoko Floating School’ falls into a larger project titled the African Water Cities project – an urban, sociocultural, political and economy catalyst for adapting coastal African cities to the impact of climate change within the context of rapid urbanization.

    ‘Dilo’ by Tabita Rezaire image from The Goodman Gallery

    When connecting Rezaire and Adeyemi, there is a historical, (post)colonial thread that is pulled across artistic, architectural and academic viewpoints. An aspect of this becomes about re-establishing a relationship with resources and conceptual frameworks within which these resources are interpreted. Another aspect becomes about the importance of creating architectural and design projects that speak directly to the context within which they will be placed, which involves an understanding of past and present mythologies, traumas and imaginaries that revolve around water. This can be seen through Adeyemi’s attempt to respond to environmental and social crises through design that takes into account how African coastal cities are inhabited. Perhaps the future could be cities that float; float on water and on an understanding of water as a technology, a source of healing and container of history.

  • The unsettling of JHB’s necropolitical reflections in Zandile Tisani’s Highlands

    A police van veers around a corner, a loaf of bread is placed inside a box, leaves crackle and turn in the ambiguity of words; “In my third life, I learnt about mortality”. Zandile Tisani’s Highlands is a kind of forensic infrastructure, unfixing and unhinging the masculinity and certainty of Johannesburg’s necropolitical reflections through the opening and closing of pores, architectures of light that pull in- and out-of-focus, and the slow movements of water carving rock.

    Sun-dizzied camera shots sweep and descend to give Highlands an alien quality of defamiliarisation while the ubiquity of water stands strange and sputnik in its Yeoville towers. Is the ‘clean air’ up there supposed to descend in the same way water does? Are there ways that we can structure our own sermons, self-designate the sacred? And what could that mean in relation to the way a reef is formed, the way boreholes now honeycomb beneath the surface of the city?

    Tisani beautifully unsettles what constitutes ‘the documentary’ in a layered interrogation that blurs just where the edges might be. There’s a kind of quiet delirium in obscured hyperrealism, sedition in the spatial rendering of the mysterious narrator who stands somehow beyond the trinity of spirituality, commerce and survival. Dialogues form between soil and skin as the ground moves to meet those who traverse it, those who would both regard and disregard it in the instant of lifetimes.

    The experimental format that Highlands engages reclaims the physical space in which it is shot from the violent patina of Hollywood glitz, from the blunt force of linear narrative and the designation of ‘history’; opening up breathing-room for questions that speak incredibly intimately to the complexities of existence within, and to the side-of, JHB as a ‘post-colonial, post-apartheid, modern, African, metropolis’.

    Tisani’s Highlands is a co-production between GoodCop Productions and the Encounters Documentary Lab and even if I wasn’t writing about it, I couldn’t only watch it once. Check out the South African kick-back against stasis below. #MbokoLead