It is not often that a curator implores you to listen to visual artworks. Yet strangely this is what Gcotyelwa Mashiqa asks of viewers at the Black Luminosity exhibition currently showing at Smac Gallery in Stellenbosch. This unconventional appeal, which fortunately doesn’t manifest in visitors having to wear an eye mask as well as a face mask, speaks to two concepts that interest this independent South African curator. First; the visibility and invisibility of blackness and how the one might feed the other, and second, the idea that artworks speak to us in ways that transcend vision. By the latter Mashiqa wishes to draw attention to the way that we view images with a set of expectations and a language that could be a barrier to what the artist might be communicating. Put more simply, in overthinking the visual appearance of an artwork and deducing what it might mean, we often overlook how they make us feel and the ephemeral states they evoke. 

For this reason Mashiqa selected artworks for the exhibition that didn’t directly appear to engage with being black or blackness  – terms that manifest in this show in multiple ways that stretch beyond racial identity. In the context of Mashiqa’s drive to ‘listen’ to art – the title, Black Luminosity, refers to an absence of seeing – but also the potential in not being able to ‘see’. This makes for an interesting exhibition, particularly given the mix of artists – who are at different stages in their careers from Luyanda Zindela, a Durban-based artists who is garnering attention, to well-known international art stars such as Mary Sibande and Alexandra Karakashian and celebrated mid-career artists such as Usha Seejarim and Wallen Mapondera, who delivers a wonderfully cheeky work fashioned from toilet paper. 

A trio of works dominated by black grab your attention as you step into the gallery.  An almost life-size installation/sculpture, boleta le bofefo (2019 – 2020) by Cow Mash is characteristically fashioned from a mix of different black materials. The Bloom (2021) series of abstract paintings by Karakashian are all rendered in black oil – also a signature of this artist’s work. There are no aural works on the show – Gcotyelwa Mashiqa isn’t directing viewers to literally listen to art but to perceive it via other senses and modes.  

“There are other ways can we engage with artworks. We shouldn’t just look at them. As Mieka Bal (the Dutch artist and academic) says ‘sight is impure’. We have these biases and we are conditioned to see in a certain way. I wanted people to see differently to relearn how they look at artworks. Listening is about refusing to use the terms that were given to us and told to use while looking at images,” says Mashiqa. 

Of course, this approach isn’t only designed to upturn how we might look at art, or at least become more conscious of how our looking is socially conditioned but also pertains to racism, which is grounded in an inherent bias based on appearances. 

It is not surprising therefore to learn that the concepts for Black Luminosity were brewing during the first round of lockdown when the death of George Floyd gave rise not only to protests around the world but as a result heightened an awareness racism and prompted efforts to combat it. Black people were gracing covers of magazines and a form of visibility of black identities appeared pronounced. This response naturally coincided with renewed interest in portraits of black people produced by black artists. 

Indeed one of the artists with a work on Black Luminosity, Zandile Tshabalala, has noticeably been riding this renewed black portraiture wave with her slick paintings depicting a bald black woman who resembles the artist. Tshabalala reconfigures notions of feminine beauty through these glossy self-portraits often picturing the subject in idyllic tropical settings. Self Check: Lady in pink scarf (2021) celebrates blackness – the subject’s skin is pitch-black and her red lips and painted nails pop against this dark shade. This form of celebratory portraiture has being finding traction not only on Instagram but auctions, yet it is the only artwork in this vein on Black Luminosity. 

Gcotyelwa Mashiqa is interested not only in a spectrum of expression and how this may reflect different readings of blackness –  as not only about race, but sight and seeing, feeling – but also in encouraging viewers to look (and listen) beyond appearances she needed to present artworks that weren’t simply about physical presentations of the self. Not that this curator strategically planned each piece with a specific intention in mind.   

“It is only now in retrospect that I am reading the works on the show.  That is what I always enjoy about making exhibitions, I am not engaging with the work visually, I work more intuitively. I wanted to expose myself and discover my own biases as a curator. As a black woman, during Black Lives Matter, I wanted to ask myself: ‘what forms of anti-blackness have I internalised?’” observes Mashiqa.

This young curator first found her feet in this precarious profession at the Zeitz Museum of Contemporary African Art in Cape Town, where she was appointed as one of the first curating interns. She became a curatorial assistant and gained attention, but found her time there (as many did), under the directorship of Mark Coetzee, not to be very nurturing for a young curator, so she left prior to Koyo Kouoh’s tenure. 

“It didn’t fit into who I wanted to become.”

Curator Gcotyelwa Mashiqa

Though there are now a number of new private art foundations in South Africa – the Javett Art Centre, Norval Foundation and the Joburg Contemporary art Foundation – this hasn’t necessarily translated into more opportunities for independent curators, says Mashiqa. 

It was the inaugural Stellenbosch Triennale that provided her with a platform after she left Zeitz Mocaa in 2019 – she co-curated From the Vault exhibition, which is still showing a the university gallery in that town. She has also worked with the renowned Nigerian curator Azu Nwagbogu and has a project coming up with him in Nigeria later this year. However, it is a struggle finding opportunities in South Africa as an independent curator. Black Luminosity, came about when Smac gallery asked her to compile a proposal for a high-profile art fair. It isn’t easy curating shows in commercial spaces for the simple fact that commercial ends are not her goal, says Mashiqa. 

“The work I do is so museum like. The pieces I chose for this exhibition by Usha Seejarim and Cow Mash might not be able to sell. I have no other motive other than to explore my academic work. More galleries should explore inviting curators, people would probably not miss those exhibitions.”

Her interest in looking, visibility and perceiving conditions and expression beyond the naked eye can be attributed to Mashiqa’s early training as a photographer – but also an interest that underpins a master’s thesis which is focussed on analysing a photographic archive of ethnographic imagery. This led her to the writings of Georges Didi-Huberman, a French philosopher who presents some controversial perspectives on the way we read images. Black Luminosity was inspired by his essays. 

“Huberman writes that people are exhibited to disappear. I found that a provocative statement – particularly reading this in the lockdown when we are all online and we see everything. The article was written five years ago and addresses how hypervisibility produces invisibility. So what we see every day we stop seeing,” observes Mashiqa.  

Can we look at Mary Sibande’s work in a fresh manner – given this South African artist’s oeuvre is so familiar to us? Mashiqa was willing to take up this challenge including two works by this famous artist. A photographic work by Sibande titled Turn, turn, turn, turn (2019) juxtaposes two female figures, which  seem to represent a deity and a follower. The artwork brings into focus spiritualism and religious worship, an aspect that perhaps has been present but overlooked in Sibande’s art since her well-known Sophie series – depicting a subject in a Victorian-ised domestic worker’s outfit. 

Mashiqa wanted to not only draw attention to the relationship between spiritualism and blackness but also a metaphysical condition – that escapes logic, visualisation. In other words she is drawn to artworks that evoke states beyond the visual – that compel what she terms listening. 

Works by Usha Seejarim were intended to provide an unexpected turn in this exhibition, says Mashiqa.

“Usha’s works appear so masculine yet they refer to domestic objects.”

Curator Gcotyelwa Mashiqa

Slanted Representation and Art History at Home, are sculptures made from reclaimed frames. In the latter work Seejarim uses the frames to create a giant peg. In using the frame for images rather than presenting an image Seejarim sidesteps visual representation itself and digs into the collective history of imagery, transposing it into the domestic realm where women have and continue to toil in – and are forced to create their own visual history, expression – using what is at hand. In this way she evokes the difficulty in articulating and accessing a history of marginalised people that have had no suitable or recognised ‘frame’ for their labour and expression. In this context ‘listening’ to art might entail, sensing an absence – imagining the stories that haven’t been told, have had no place to be seen. – African Art Features Agency funded by the National Arts Council of South Africa. 

Black Luminosity is showing at Smac Gallery in Stellenbosch until May 20. 

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Alex Ayivi was born in 1993 in France from Togolese parents and grew up near Paris. He is a French contemporary visual artist. He graduated from the Beaux-Arts de Bourges and later from ENSAV La Cambre in Brussels, in 2018 in printmaking. In 2019, Ayivi benefited from the first residency of the Culture & Diversity Foundation in collaboration with the Cité Internationale des Arts in Paris, where he exhibited his famous project La MUA for a month.

He also exhibited at the Centre de la Gravure de la Louvière in Belgium. As a second-generation Togolese immigrant, his work explores Afrotopia, Pan-Africanism and family; subjects that are intertwined in an uninterrupted technical wandering. His work is multidisciplinary and borrows from drawing, silk-screening and painting. I met Alex Ayivi in his studio. This is the content of our discussion.

Louise Thurin (L.T): Thank you for accepting this interview in your workspace, Alex. You graduated from the Beaux-arts de Bourges and ENSAV La Cambre in engraving and printmaking. At the end of your studies, you produced a particularly promising and acclaimed first project, “60 years is too much”.

Alex Ayivi (A.A): Thank you. “60 Years is Too Much” was an anticipatory project based on the political crisis in Togo in 2017-1018. Following the dictatorial declarations of Faure Gnassingbé – in presidency since 2005 and “worthy” successor of his father Gnassingbé Eyadéma who ruled the country for 38 years – large-scale protests took place in Lomé with the slogan “50 years is too much”. The aim was to constitutionally prevent Faure from standing for a fourth consecutive presidential run in 2020. It was a familiar, daily, omnipresent subject. At home, we talked about politics all the time. I wanted to deal with the situation and contribute in my own way to this popular resistance movement.

The idea was to create the fictional character of a Togolese journalist and press illustrator called Kossi Sossou, who was killed in 2027 by the forces of law and order during yet another demonstration against the president – who would still be Faure Gnassingbé. I created his identity card, protest tools and a fictitious opposition party to which he was attached, the Ligue for Freedom. The party even had its own t-shirts.

The heart of the project are these silkscreens on cardboard. I attribute these works in this fiction to Kossi Sossou, who has them published in the major Togolese and French-speaking newspapers.

L.T: Why did you choose to create with cardboard?

A.A: It is a simple and beautiful medium. It reminds me of the roots, the resourcefulness, even the urgency – “Quick, I’ll take what I have!”of the signs of the demonstrations I saw organised in front of the Togo embassy in Paris. In Dialogue interrompu, we recognise Nana Akufo-Addo, the president of Ghana, Togo’s neighbour, by his small round glasses. On the left, of course, is Faure Gnassingbé with his youthful features. Back in 2017-2018 when Gnassingbé was scheming, Nana publicly and frontally opposed him. It is the image of a man I hope has integrity that I represented.

A.A: It’s a project that was made at a distance from its subject. I was inspired by the images broadcast in a loop on continuous news channels – hence these effects of superposition, of fragmentation. I was very inspired by the format of the plasma TV screen and if you look closely at this series, you see the scrolling banner motif appearing repeatedly.

L.T: Now that it’s said, some of the motifs remind me of the front pages of Jeune Afrique and the photomontages of election results…. Who are the people in the crowd behind the two men? Supporters plebisciting Gnassingbé? Or Togolese opponents who want to overthrow him?

A.A: It is not clear, but one can make out signs superimposed on them – which also act as a mise en abime of the medium.

L.T: Your characters are represented with closed eyes, blind – and mute: no words, no chanted signs. Only a kind of bubble, in which you do not write.

A.A: Yes, they are empty bubbles. As a nod to the comic strip, which I like very much, but I consider that a text would focus attention too easily. That’s all you might see.

The work Crise – Crisis – depicts a street in Lomé on a day of protest. There is an armed soldier and a military van. Superimposed on the picture is a profile of President Faure, and at the bottom, a scrolling strip of news channels. On the right, there is a sort of bubble and a pie chart, which obviously evokes polling figures and election results. I like all these forms of visual dynamics which TV news are full of these days. There’s beauty, I think, in PowerPoint, screen splits, little logos in the top right-hand corner…

I am pessimistic about Togolese political developments. Elections are always held, well or not. The opposition never manages to stop this charade operated by the military to ensure the illegitimate president in place. Sadly, I feel that I have done this work of foresight: we are approaching “60 years is too long”. In the same way, the utopia of the Monnaie Unique Africaine (MUA) – African Single Currency – is likely to remain a utopia. There is a project for a common West African currency, but it is not happening.

L.T: Tell us about this second project. In 2019, you were the laureate of the first residency of the Fondation Culture et Diversité in collaboration with the Cité internationale des Arts for which you propose the MUA.

A.A: The idea was to create a common pan-African currency that would replace the colonial currency of the CFA Franc. It is a project with a Francophone prism and it is not meant to be perfect. I have put together a non-exhaustive list of African political figures from the 20th century – some classics and some more atypical figures like Ellen Johnson Sirleaf of Liberia or Julius Nyerere of Tanzania. All are worth 99 MUA. In this monetary fiction, I did not want to rank the personalities on the currencies.

“Here, give me a cash ticket! – What do you want, 100, 200, 300? Some florins? What do you want?”

L.T: For the opening of the exhibition at the Cité internationale, you did a performance: a distribution of paper money that was quite successful, apparently. The scene reminds me both of mafiosi films and dystopian photographs of German hyperinflation.

I signed the money with a stamp. To dry the ink, we had to fan them. It was a banana republic atmosphere. They were so popular that I even had bundles of them stolen during the exhibition! [laughs] Thomas Sankara greenbacks are now collectors’ items.

L.T: After the success of the MUA in 2019, you took a break from creating. Now you are back and there is a clear technical break in your work.

A.A: Yes, I went back to painting after years of silk-screening. I now concentrate on portraits in dark tones. I never spoke directly about my intimate self in my previous works. This is my cousin. Here, my little brother. Here is my sister – and behind her my little brother again. I often draw him, he’s a good model.

L.T: All your characters have closed eyes. In these paintings, they emanate a certain serenity, relaxation, breathing… They are young contemporary Afros who are resting from their daily life, giving themselves a moment of peace.

A.A: I’ve been using the closed-eye pattern for quite a long time. It just came about. For me, it’s an almost deathlike iconography. The porous ones of eternal sleep and daily rest. The figures I drew for the MUA already had closed eyes – and in fact, are dead.

A.A: I see these family portraits as an album – an album of images that would allow the faces of the first family generation on French ground to be passed on to the next… These representations of people from the African diaspora resonate more generally with current societal issues, at a time of debates concerning “separatism”. What place do the children of the African diaspora have in French society today? What does it mean to be French in 2020 ?

From 2022 to 2023, you were an artist-in-residence at Le Consulat, a period marked by your participation in 100% L’Expo 2022, which revealed a new evolution in your style. Now based at Atelier Œ in Montreuil, how would you describe this transition and the impact this period had on your artistic practice?

That stage was crucial: following an artist residency at Place de Clichy, I joined Le Consulat Voltaire in 2022 after taking part in 100% L’Expo. Le Consulat was my first “open” shared studio — a space where I worked alongside other artists. It felt like a return to art school, and the experience proved to be particularly enriching.

During that time, I drew inspiration from reading, especially The Grammar of Fantasy (1973) by Gianni Rodari, a book that deeply influenced my work. It led me to explore a metaphysical approach to painting on wooden panels, questioning the essence of comics and the narrative codes they rely on.

As we speak, you were recently announced as the winner of the Traversées Africaines Prize, granting you the opportunity to present a solo exhibition at Galerie Mariton in Saint-Ouen-sur-Seine. Congratulations! Could you tell us about what went on behind the scenes in preparing for this exhibition?

This solo show is a chance to bring together my painting practice and my wooden sculptures. I developed these sculptural pieces to go beyond the traditional format of the canvas, creating a dialogue between interior and exterior elements.

The first steps of this approach emerged at the end of 2023 in Lille, in collaboration with the Centre Wallonie-Bruxelles, where I presented Superbanc (2023) — my first sculpture directly inspired by my painting practice.

Discover Alex Ayivi’s work in the exhibition Hi-Dee-Hi at Galerie Mariton in Saint-Ouen-sur-Seine, from May 13 to June 1, 2025, as part of the Traversées Africaines program.

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This interview is between Cindy Sissokho (CS) and the artists Sonia Merabet (SM) and Abdo Shanan (AS) about their exhibition Untold at the Rhizome Gallery in Alger that is currently opened until the 8^th March 2021.

The exhibition was curated by Myriam Amroun and Walid Aidoud and was developed as part of Remchet 3in, a project in partnership with Dima Cinema. The show opens space for a discussion on the violence towards women in the context of Algeria and about the consequences that they generate directly on the subjects: between crossed illustrations, processes of psychic de-configuration, or terrors brought from seeing a shadow, the shadow of the self.¹

In this interview, the two exhibited photographic series are analysed: Séquelles Bleues (The Blue Wounds) par Sonia Merabet et Mémoire (Memories) par Abdo Shanan.

CS: What were your initial thoughts and approaches about the exhibition’s theme in relation to the discourses that are related to your artistic practice? and how is this subject complementary to your photography work and mission as archive and memory?

SM: I had a lot of apprehension about meeting the expectations when working on this subject as it sits very close to me. I had two distinct approaches and, as a result, two photographic series. The first one was published as part of the digital campaign by Dima Cinema, in which I wanted to stay closer to reality and stay loyal to the perception of violence that we all have, without needing to capture it in an obvious way. I tried to work with the environment and the exhausting psychological state of the victim in a similar way than film editing. On the contrary, with the second series Séquelles Bleues (The Blue Wounds, that is exhibited to the rhizome Gallery), I wanted to take the viewers by surprise and have an opposite approach to what we expect for this theme. Unfortunately, this violence is normalised in Algeria. The victims are accused of talking about this taboo either too much or badly.

My approach for the exhibited series was as a result of a reflection about how to raise awareness differently without using usual procedures of shocking with violent and direct representations. I chose to explore this with more subtlety. Black isn’t just an aesthetic choice. I wanted to highlight the blue in the shadows. The shadows being the main visual metaphor for the wounds. Red was a more obvious choice in regard to the contradictory feelings that it relates to.

AS: As an artist and photographer I always need to find a personal point of connection with the issues that I work with, or something that triggers me. In this case, reading the stories² narrated by women who endured violence in their life was fundamental. I was struck by the level of details within their stories, all told from memory. They just didn’t forget violent moments, and they are still present in their minds and affecting their lives.

Furthermore, I was diving into their stories trying to imagine how it would feel to remember these traumatic events. What does a memory feel like? Specifically, when the memory becomes violent itself. Their memories are triggered by anything, anywhere and at any time. How could anyone go through this? Is it something that they would share openly with other people or is it something that is intimate and difficult to speak about because it is also exhausting to talk about it?

CS: Violence is a visible and invisible act. According to my observations, you both worked with a distinctive visual poetry – the shadows in Sonia’s portraits in contrary to the light and blinding flashes in Abdo’s polaroid, as a metaphor to recollections. You are both doing so through capturing the intimacy and living spaces of the victims, the unsaid things in relation to the seriousness of the narratives that are represented in a more or less direct way. Could you tell us more about your choice and techniques used in order to represent the violence, as well as the message that you wished to bring to light or shift?

SM: I worked with a model, the actress Meriem Medjkane as she brings out strength and delicacy. The red light emphasises these personality traits, as well as expressing more aggressiveness and sensuality. The most important element in the series are the shadows because I think that violence, no matter what they are, are dealt with in a specific time, and if it is physical violence, the body can recover from it differently.

However, psychological wounds remain like a shadow that follows us everywhere: the light of the shadow is blue, which explains the title of the series. The second idea comes from the fight that we have against the wound, that we carry within ourselves to move on. The poses are fluid, in constant movement in order to express the desire to reconnect with one’s body, as well as to be liberated from what holds us back because of the trauma.

AS: It is the first time that I worked with the installation format. For this exhibition I thought that it was the most suitable way to convey the ideas I wanted the public to grasp. How can we show something that we cannot see – only the person remembering the violent events can see? The person who endured violence only knows how a memory could be violent. I needed to immerse the viewers within the women’s experience, even though I know that I cannot fully do so. I could only build a bridge between the viewer and the women. With this series, I hope that the viewer will start to understand, debate, or see things from a different perspective. I think this is my role as an artist.

My aim with this installation was to create a condition in which the viewer is uncomfortable and disorientated. We decided to build a black box in which the photographs are projected with a flow of images that would make it hard to understand and follow. It includes a sound that permanently makes the viewer on the edge trying to find a connection between what they hear and what they see. With these circumstances I wanted the viewer to feel as if trapped in the head of the victim who is forced to remember.

Untold

Sonia Merabet / Abdo Shanan

On view through 8 March

Gallery rhizome

82, rue Didouche Mourad, Alger

contact@rhizome.agency

www.rhizome.gallery

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28 HATS FOR LAMU is a Photographic series whose sales go to New Leaf Rehabilitation Center in Kenya. The series celebrates the transformative power of creativity – how the ordinary becomes extraordinary as the imagination works its magic.

The photographs in this exhibition were made on the sub-equatorial island of Lamu in Kenya, in February 2020, by South-African photographer Kristin-Lee Moolman and French-British stylist Louise Ford, who spent much of her childhood between Zimbabwe and Kenya. The portraits document the competitors in this year’s Shela Hat Contest, a biannual event in which Lamunians foster environmental empathy.

Entrants create hats from material that would otherwise be thrown away, in a celebration of recycling and repurposing. The results are playful, joyous and often reflect the Lamunian experience. The photographs are currently exhibited in partnership with Artskop3437 (artskop.com) until 31 January 2021. 95% of the sales will be donated to the New Leaf association which is a rehabilitation centre in Lamu, Kenya.

Louise Ford And Kristin-Lee Moolman what does this project mean to you?

Louise Ford: 28 Hats for Lamu is a project that means a great deal to me personally. I spent 10 years of my life between Zimbabwe and Kenya, so being presented with the opportunity to create a body of work that not only celebrates the places and people I love, but also supports them, was one I had to act on. The project is an emotional investment that tells an important story. The creativity of the Lamunians and their environmental activism sets a rare example I hope inspires others to follow. 28 Hats For Lamu also demonstrates a light-hearted, festive and collaborative way to make political statements and talk about protecting our planet through community initiatives.

Kristin-Lee Moolman: 28 Hats for Lamu is significant to me because as a south african, one is constantly presented with negative images and news portraying african as a place of poverty and violence. The wealth of culture, the beauty of the landscapes, and the creative vision of many who live here is overshadowed by these stereotypes. The goal is always to contradict these negative assumptions by capturing the positives that are often ignored.  This project is a celebration of creativity. It is about optimism, empowerment and paying homage to the artists of Lamu.

What was equally important to me in this instance was to be able to use images to give back and not just take from a community. This is a purely personal thought process, but I feel that creative’s have power through imagery to facilitate change. Now more than ever we have a responsibility to use the power we have to do good where we can.

Where and how did you find inspiration?

Louise Ford: About two years ago I came across a leaflet in Lamu town on a notice board for the Shela Hat Contest. I had never seen anything like it, the creativity was unprecedented especially since the participants are not necessarily artists. I then embarked on a year long search for the founder of the contest to see if shooting a series of portraits would be possible. He explained the contest’s guiding principles which were, of course, hat making but also conveying a message about conservation within their designs. I had been inspired by the hats and the contest for a while, so I immediately began work on the project to see how we could use the art as a resource to raise awareness as well as funds for a charity that would benefit the community directly. The New Leaf Rehabilitation Clinic was recommended by many locals as an organization with very high success rates but lacking funding to realize its full potential.

Kristin-Lee Moolman: My inspiration generally comes from the people I encounter, what inspires is personal empowerment, optimism, and creativity – so  when I received the email from Louise detailing the project and past creations I was immediately moved and motivated to make the project happen no matter what.

How you felt working with the Lamu community in relation to its culture and heritage? Would love to know how you intertwined references from the community and its multiculturalism to the final output.

Louise Ford: Lamu is a multi-cultural community and its history blends Bantu, Arabic, Indian and South-east Asian cultures with Kenyan cultures. I was so inspired by this multifaceted society and humbled by the warmth and openness the contestants afforded us.

Kristin-Lee Moolman: The community of Lamu is a multicultural society just like any other first world city, just on a much smaller scale. Culture and its effects is something universal. The intertwined references and the diversity of the island’s community affected the output of the work in much the same way as those same things affect work created in cities like London. The difference for me here was that the work felt less about the artist as a singular creator, and focussed more on the impact we humans have on the environment as a global community.

There is a sense of compassion for the natural world and its inhabitants, as well as an understanding of the consequences of not conserving as we should.

Major difficulties/challenges?

K: There were no difficulties or challenges on the island at any point, the landscape was beautiful and it was a pleasure to work with everyone.

Generally one of the challenges when shooting a portrait is to stop yourself from imposing your idea of what somebody else is onto them, in essence capturing a ‘false portrait’.  It may seem irrelevant but taking the time to develop a sort of ‘dialogue’ between yourself and your model is important, it allows that person to become comfortable enough to be captured as themselves.

The difficulties came after COVID-19 hit and we had no way to exhibit the images to raise funds. It took months of correspondence and research to reach a point where we could actually show the work, but in a virtual reality as opposed to a physical one. It was a decision which ended up benefiting the project as we are able to raise more funds for the foundation as well as reach more people globally, and enable the contestants themselves to view.

L: There weren’t many. Everyone without exception was a delight to work with; eager to get involved, help whenever they could and collaborate right up until the exhibition itself. Most contestants knew about and fully supported our goal to raise funds for the New Leaf Clinic, it was important that we shared a common drive and desired outcome.

What are the practicalities you had to follow? And of course, feel free to add as much as you wish about it (from a personal and cultural viewpoint).

K&L : In terms of practicalities and different cultures Lamu is no different from anywhere else you would visit as a foreign photographer. Shooting subjects who are not professional models in a country that is not yours means you have to adopt a heightened sense of self awareness, and take care to be respectful of people and of their customs. It’s always good to keep in mind that people being photographed are doing you a service, not the other way around. Being foreigners and not speaking the local languages poses small challenges but is ultimately something that’s easily overcome. We made sure we had someone who could translate correctly. What is important is making who you shoot feel comfortable enough to be themselves regardless of your cultural differences or what languages either of you speak.

We mostly just felt honored to have been welcomed so warmly, and with such a collaborative spirit.

The works in this photographic series are available for purchase here. 95% of the sales will be donated to the New Leaf association in Kenya. The online exhibition lasts until January 31, 2021. Artskop3437 delivers worldwide and shipping is free for any purchase of a photo from the series.

This interview was previously published on Vogue Italia.

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Evans Mbugua is a Kenyan visual artist based in Paris. His artistic vocabulary is richly colourful and aims to foreground differences and similarities through the use of repeated pictograms. Recently Mbugua created a body of works at Atelier Le Grand Village – a studio that focuses on stone lithography. Guided by the Atelier’s director Francis van der Riet and printmaker/artist Niall Bingham,  Mbugua explored lithography for the first time. Nadège Besnard Roussel met him and spoke about his creative process and experience at Atelier le Grand Village

Nadège: Evans, could you introduce yourself and tell us more about your work?

Evans: I was born in Kenya and grew up in Nairobi. When I was 19 years old, I arrived in France, where my sister lives, to study at the Beaux-Arts in Pau. My hometown Nairobi is a very cosmopolitan city. My childhood and adolescence was punctuated by encounters with people of different origins. Coming to France was like an adventure for me. In order to learn French, I met people from different backgrounds. Once again I found myself in the same pattern of experiencing differences and similarities. As for my work, it resembles a quest for things that link us across borders.

N: Your work is visually rich and consists of an accumulation of pictograms in the background with a central character. What does this mean to you?

E: There are always these very important elements in my work: the pictogram and the dot. Indeed, at the beginning there is an element that I will multiply until I find the form I like. The background of my works is based on a pictogram that repeats so that it becomes a motif. These ideas I collect during my various trips or travels and is what I started to do at the Beaux-Arts. The idea was to find a visual language inspired by textiles and traditional motifs, such as tattoos or scarifications, from around the world. Pictograms are the link between all the characters in my works.  

N: And how do you choose the subject?

E: The portraits I paint represent people who are close to me in one way or another. They can be long term relationships or individuals I’ve just met in different places and with whom I spent some pleasant moments. I simply want to keep a memory of these encounters which then constitutes an archive of the best moments of my life. For the portrait, I always start with a dot and it is an accumulation of dots that will vibrate together so that the portrait can be seen on the plexiglass. The starting dot represents an individual and it is the accumulation of these dots that will create the portrait. 

N: How did you meet Francis van der Riet, the director of Atelier le Grand Village – And  how did the idea of working there come about?

E: I met Francis at the 1-54 Art Fair in London where I discovered Atelier le Grand Village. Some time later Francis contacted me to exchange ideas and we met at my studio in Paris. Francis invited me to come during the summer of 2020 to practise and discover lithography at his studio.

N: How was this first experience? Was it the first time you encountered lithography and the printmaking techniques used at Atelier le Grand Village?

E: I went to the studio without any knowledge of these techniques. The stay allowed me to learn lithography for the first time and to encounter new materials, textures, and scents in an environment completely different from the one I work in. I committed myself all the way for this new adventure, thanks to the expertise of Francis and Niall . Both of them patiently taught me the techniques involved in working with lithography and monotypes. This allowed me to discover new things, and new processes. I loved this opportunity at Atelier le Grand Village, and I remember my father’s words: “life is a school”.

N: What was the influence of Atelier le Grand Village in your artistic approach and the direction of the works created at the studio?

E: There are always recurring elements in my work. What interests me is to see how these will interact and vibrate together side by side, as a conjugation of the full and the empty.

There is a history of transparency, superimposition and colour in my work. At Atelier le Grand Village I played with these elements which are fundamental and transposed them into a new technique. For my portraits, the point has been transformed into a line. In my other works, the background is created with the help of a computer and it remains constant.  It is the portrait which varies for each different work.

At the studio, I opted for a constant character, the lithograph component, and I chose to diversify the backgrounds, using monotype hence rendering each work unique. During my stay, I found new angles for my work.

My backgrounds are inspired by the elements that surrounded me. In particular, I used threads that came from the weaving workshop of the textile artist and designer Côme Touvay, whose studio is next to the lithography studio. I borrowed threads, textures and fibers that I integrated into my works. I have also integrated the motifs of the carpets and tapestries around the house. All these inspirations come from the environment and even more from my discussions with Côme, Francis or Niall.

N: What is this series of works about? What was your creative approach this time and how did it come about? Can you tell us more about it?

E: It’s a series that comes after a very particular period, the lockdown. We were suspended in time for several months, and that’s when I decided to reevaluate the importance of colour in my work. Colour is emotion. There is a search for emotions that I wanted to interpret.

The choice of bright colours for this series represents an explosion, a desire to live, to go beyond. The gesture of tearing the paper to create the motifs can be seen as a rupture and a desire for a new start. These portraits all have big smiles on their faces. It is always a message of hope that I try to convey.

The characters represent not only a person but a family, a community and a society. I hope for a society that lives in harmony and seeks to share things together; emotions, joys and even fears. This ability to live together requires work but it always starts with a point or a line. This is where my interest lies.

Nadège (to Niall Bingham, visiting printmaker at Atelier le Grand Village): Niall, you came to Atelier le Grand Village as a printmaker, how did you meet Francis van der Riet, the director, for the first time ? 

Niall: I met Francis through Diane Victor, who I have worked with on etching projects in the past in South Africa. She connected us because she felt that we could possibly work together.

Nadège: Tell me about your collaboration with Evans Mbugua at the studio?

Niall: Evans is an artist who I feel inherently understands the medium of printmaking, even though this is his first time in a studio. I was very surprised that he had never made prints before, especially given how quickly he picked up the skills. Our biggest challenge was to find a way to successfully reinterpret the repeated patterns that he uses in his paintings.  I was reluctant to allow him to fall back on commercial printing, I wanted him to find a way to activate the areas around his figures using the resources available to us in the print studio. The first day was quite a challenge, but I do feel that once he found ways of stencilling, he was able to develop his practice in an interesting way.

He found a rhythm very quickly, and I could tell that he was really enjoying himself.  Print studios are supposed to challenge artists through sometimes slightly uncomfortable limitations. 

Nadège: You have stayed a few weeks in the Charente-Limousine to print lithographs, how did you work together with Francis and also with Evans. What do you think about this studio situated in this beautiful area and particularly what the director Francis brings to the artists ?

Niall: Yes, I stayed for just over 7 weeks, but it felt much shorter. To tell you the honest truth, it’s the best thing that has happened to me in a while. I was able to completely disconnect from the apocalyptic ‘virus world’ and focus solely on my work. Francis and I have a very good understanding because we come from a similar part of the world, and I believe we had a similar kind of upbringing. I think my experience there is perhaps a great example of what Le Grand Village offers: a refuge from everything else. A space to focus entirely on what it is you chose to focus on. It is a quiet meditative space which, if respected, can provide the artist and the printmaker with the perfect space to create. 

I am very grateful for the time I have spent at the Atelier, and I hope to be returning in September.

Francis van der Riet is a lithographer and director of Atelier le Grand Village. Niall Bingham is a printmaker/artist and was head of the printmaking department at the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg.  He came to work in the studio with Francis after the lockdown. He currently lives in Spain.

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Behind Cuperior Collection you will find Oliver Elst, a young German car designer. With a clearly identified ambition to establish a collection of contemporary art from Africa and its diasporas in order to have a real impact in promoting this market segment. He selects his future acquisitions of works by considering their place in the collection in dialogue with the other works. In this way, his approach is similar to the one of a curator of a private museum collection. In this interview, Oliver Elst shares with us his personal experiences of art, his ambitions and advice for collecting.

Oliver, what is your first memory of art? 

Coming from an art and design background and working as a car designer, I started sketching and making art myself at a very early age, at the age of 13, mainly cars, graffiti, comics and, later in university, painting and nude drawings. This is the reason why I can say that I know first hand how difficult it is to achieve a quality painting and create an exceptional work of art. After university I focused more on my day to day profession in design but never forgot arts.

What was the first work of art you bought ?

At the beginning of my first job I bought two lithographs from the famous german artist “Gerhard Richter” which somehow moved me to buy art and become an art collector. Later, I sold the lithographs and acquired my first original work: a painting of Aboudia.

Lithographs were a good point of entry into the market, but at a certain point I wanted to buy an original and unique piece of art, so I started thinking about the type of art I liked, the segments of the art market where good investment opportunities existed and what should be the focus of my collection. Eventually I came up with the concept of my “Cuperior Collection – Oliver Elst”, focusing on contemporary African art and its diaspora.

How would you describe yourself as an art collector in one sentence? 

Passionated and driven to have an impact.

Can you tell us more about some of the reason(s) why you collect art and why particularly Contemporary African art? 

My main motivation is to support young and talented artists to make themselves known and my personal goal is to have an impact as a collector. Finding an artist’s work in a strong collection with a real focus helps these artists to emerge and establish themselves on the market.

In the beginning, I started with editions but I didn’t have the feeling, the magic of an original work. So I did some research. Deep down, I wanted to be part of an emerging market to make my contribution as a collector and I discovered contemporary African art. I saw enormous potential and opportunity. For a long time, Africa was not really considered in the art world, wrongly so, which started to change a few years ago. The continent is beginning to receive the attention it deserves in contemporary art. Many works are still very accessible, and there is a huge potential for growth.

Can you describe your art collection in two words 

The word “Cuperior” consists of two words and best describes my aim and philosophy. It is a combination of the Latin words “cupere”/desire and “prior”/precursor. I intended to give the collection a specific name that best describes its purpose and is easy to recognize. I have combined these two words to give the collection a name. The theme “desire” is related to the selection of the best works by talented artists, as these works always have the greatest potential to retain and/or increase in value over time. And the market is always looking for the best. In general, not all expensive art is good, but the best is always expensive.

The Prior/Precursor is linked to the purchase of artists with potential early in their career, some artists have just had their first solo exhibition or are just coming out of art schools.

With this concept and ideation, I think it is always easier to guide interested people towards your vision and philosophy. Your own name can mean a lot but says nothing about your aim and focus.

Would you tell us more about the criteria involved in the selection of works for your collection? 

For me, quality is the key, rather than quantity. To identify quality, it is important to see as much art as possible to create a certain eye and sharpen one’s vision.

It seems like you have a strong interest for figurative paintings. Aren’t you interested in other forms of mediums or creative works, are you ?

It’s true that at the beginning of the collection, I acquired a lot of abstract and mural installations, but in 2018 I decided to add more figurative art, which gave a completely different twist to the collection.

You use the golden ratio to justify the quality or to predict a future success of an artwork. For those who are not familiar with the term, how would you define “Golden ratio”? Can you tell us more about it?

Our brain is too sensitive to see correlations and tries to recognize patterns, which are useful as a guideline in nature and society. Proportion and ratio are such guidelines. We can see them unconsciously in everything, whether it is architecture, design, nature or art.

To describe them in a more visual way, we can use this great tool, the golden ratio. The golden ratio describes the ratio between two lines, i.e. when the ratio between a longer line and a smaller line is equal to the total length in relation to the longer line.

What about other form of non-figurative work, does the golden ratio work also? Can you tell us more? 

It is a ratio that is very often found in works of art, whether figurative or abstract, if you look closely. Proportion and arrangement are the key and the basis of every work of art.

What is the most recent piece of art you added to your collection and why? 

Earlier this year, I was fortunate enough to acquire a work by one of my favorite artists, Jonathan Lyndon Chase. Currently, there are two works by him in the collection.

What topics are you interested in, while collecting art?

I would say for me the topic or context of the work is secondary. I am primarily looking for quality in a work of art. Quality, Character and innovation.

The quality I explained earlier. The other two important criteria are character and innovation. Basically this describes whether the artist’s body of work, whether his style is something new. In the art world, there are many artists who do similar things, so you have to identify the techniques and see if the artist brings an added value that brings something new and different or not.

Has digitalization changed the way you collect art? 

Not so much because I have always bought works of art through email exchanges, pdfs catalogs or through third party platforms specialized in art selling. In fact, almost all the works in my collection have been acquired through the internet and through digital means. From memory the only work I have not acquired online is a work by Moffat Takadiwa. It was on an art fair in the early days when he was not yet very well known.

You seem very much involved on instagram lately…

Recently, because of the pandemic we have just gone through, and with the desire to support the sector, I launched a new channel to give collectors, artists, galleries, curators and auction houses a new platform to present themselves. I conduct weekly interviews and discussions on my Instagram live account, to give them the opportunity to present themselves to a wider audience and give us a glimpse of their work and ideas.

Will COVID-19 influenced your future acquisitions of works or your 
acquisition habits? Please tell us more. 

Of course, everyone was impacted by the pandemic scene and I will collect even more carefully and think about my future acquisitions.

The coronavirus has impacted the entire art world. How do you see the future of the African art market following Covid-19? 

For once the entire world art market has been impacted in the same way as the African art market. Fairs and auction houses cannot function as they normally do and galleries have to adapt their exhibitions and sales channels. But I think this is a great opportunity and good things will come out of it. Digital strategies are becoming more than ever a reality and crucial.

Do you have a favourite artwork in you collection ? If yes which one? 

I love all my works, but of course, some of them move me a little more than others. For instance Cinga Samson, Kudzanai Violet Hwami or Jonathan Lyndon chase.

Name three artists that are on your radar.

Moffat Takadiwa, Devan Shimoyama and Firelei Baez. I also dream of acquiring works by Kerry James Marshall or Njideka Akunyili Crosby.

Give three advices for new collectors that read you

There are only two pieces of advice I’d like to give. First, train your eyes and second, listen to your gut feelings.

Cuperior Collection

https://www.cuperior.com

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Artskop3437 talked with the artistic director of the MACAAL: Meriem Berrada. It was an opportunity to discuss the challenges of the profession and her vision of the museum. In her opinion, “Each museum should have the role offered by its territory, which its audiences need and respond to the realities of its ecosystem”.

Meriem Berrada, for those who don’t know you yet, what is your mission as Artistic Director of the Museum of African Contemporary Art Al-Maaden (MACAAL)?

As Managing Director of the cultural projects of the Alliances Foundation, I was first of all in charge of the development of the MACAAL through the elaboration of its scientific and cultural project. Since its opening in 2016, I have been in charge of the programming of exhibitions – sometimes their curating -, the content creation and the design of the mediation programme. I am also in charge of all the museum’s editions and publications since we do everything in-house. I also oversee the implementation of all these actions by managing the teams.

Also, my mission involves strategy and development in terms of communication but also the setting up of structuring programmes for MACAAL.

Can you tell us more about some of the projects you have put in place since the creation of MACAAL?

In 2017, I conceived the MACAAL Lab as a space for experimentation aimed at enhancing and raising awareness of contemporary practices: one room of the museum is specifically dedicated to the work of an artist whose practice includes the use of new media (sound, video, installation). This is accompanied by a programme of free workshops, in the presence of the artist, on the process of creation of the work, its realization and the use of new technologies in art.

More recently, we were able to implement a transmission project that I had at heart, the MACAAL Bootcamp. It is designed to strengthen the skills of cultural agents working specifically in the contemporary art sector on the continent. This intensive training programme was held for the first time last January. Combining workshops and masterclasses on the sector’s fundamental knowledge, led by mentors with inspiring backgrounds, this groundbreaking training in cultural management applied to the reality of our ecosystems will hopefully contribute to equipping our institutions with leaders and not mere operators.

How do you curate an exhibition? How do you decide what will or can be presented in the museum (themes, artistic practices, artists, geographies)?

With a biannual exhibition rhythm, our programming is inseparable from the age of the museum. While the first exhibitions aimed to anchor the MACAAL in its pan-African dimension, by showing the works in the patrons’ collection, the selection has gradually been narrowed down to “projects” in their own right, giving a special place to the commissioning of works. The opening of the MACAAL Residence has also made it possible to produce more works because, in addition to the four annual winners of the residency programme, we welcome the artists presented in the museum’s exhibitions.

“I am convinced that a project, equipment or any action must be relevant to the context in which it takes place. (…) The environment can offer unique opportunities for dialogue and knowledge, of which artistic creation is in my opinion one of the most relevant vehicles.

Meriem Berrada, Artistic Director of the MACAAL

We never self-impose a specific theme but remain in connection with our environment and current news, without distancing ourselves from the museum’s DNA. It is above all the project of a collector, of a family who wanted to make their collection available to the general public and it has always seemed important to me to keep this spirit in the accomplishment of my mission. For many audiences, the reality of contemporary African art was a discovery. Often reduced to a primitive and colourful figuration, it was necessary to show the diversity and quality of artistic expression and its various mediums, coming from the four corners of the continent (Essentiel Paysage, E-mois autobiography of a collection, Second Life), but also to make connections, particularly through the exhibition Esoteric Writings where the alphabet of Frédéric Bruly Bouabré (Ivory Coast) was able to dialogue with that of Houssein Miloudi (Morocco).

As well, generally the reopening exhibitions are more focused on the collection and our most recent acquisitions. For the February exhibitions, which we inaugurate at the 1:54 fair, we invite an independent curator who does not systematically rely on the existing collection.

Our exhibitions are multi-media, except for Africa is no island which was dedicated to photography and which was in itself a manifest exhibition because it invited to see Africa in its complexity and diversity and not as a homogeneous block.

Even before your position at the museum, you were in charge of various artistic projects within the Alliances Foundation, the foundation that initiated the creation of MACAAL. Among your many projects, we can mention the chambre claire, a programme to support emerging photographers from Africa, or the passerelle programme, which is a sort of cross-grant programme combining a cultural approach and a social centre through workshops to raise awareness of contemporary creation in peripheral urban areas. It seems that you have brought with you a certain vision of what a cultural engagement in a territory can be. What is your vision for MACAAL? How do you see the role of a Museum in the 21st century?

Indeed, I am convinced that a project, equipment or any action must be relevant to the context in which it takes place. As hostile as it may be, the environment can offer unique opportunities for dialogue and knowledge, of which artistic creation is in my opinion one of the most relevant vehicles.

Personally, I believe that our professions only make sense if we can show, appropriate and share this common heritage with the greatest number of people. Obviously the question of a contemporary art reserved for an elite is not the only issue of the continent but the cleavages are unfortunately more marked there than elsewhere, the conditions of accessibility largely improvable and go beyond the question of the cost or the geography of the cultural equipment. That is why it is essential, here more than elsewhere, to seek out the public and not simply wait for them to come to us.

The demand is there and I can tell you that in six years I have never faced the slightest refusal from the public to participate in a mediation program, a visit or a workshop, either at the museum or in the peri-urban areas where we have activated the Gateways program. In my opinion, the museum must be as inclusive as possible, obviously connected (especially for young people) and offer a diversified programme in order to optimise its attractiveness. But once again, each museum should have the role that its territory offers it, which its audiences need and respond to the realities of its ecosystem.

With numerous programs such as the bootcamp, the MACAAL Lab, workshops, artist residencies, film club, tea party, yoga festival, we witness that the Museum seems to position itself as a real place to live, more inclusive than other museums. It invites appropriation by all. Do you think this is the key to the future for museums?

I think that, despite everything, contemporary art continues to impress and that the main barrier to access to the Museum remains psychological. I would say that we have been working on the habit of consuming museum equipment in the lives of our visitors, inviting them to join us for any kind of occasion. For example, Couscous Friday’s is a monthly action that invites different communities-which we identify or who ask us for free visits-to share a dish synonymous with conviviality in the museum gardens. By bringing couscous into the museum, one desacralizes a place by living a weekly ritual while at the same time discovering the artistic creation of its time.

The importance that I give to territorial, local, national or continental anchoring, the specificities of the audiences are all parameters that do not allow us to apply existing models because they are simply not adapted to our realities (…).

Merriem Berrada, Artistic Director of the MACAAL

We remain primarily dedicated to the promotion of the continent’s contemporary art, but it seemed more relevant to us to make it a real living space, with the possibility of finding other centres of interest, perhaps more popular and therefore more accessible. We have taken the gamble that the so-called remote public or even those with little interest in contemporary art, by discovering the MACAAL through a free and festive occasion (concert, open-air cinema), a tea break, a yoga session, can integrate the museum into their consumption habits, firstly event-driven and finally cultural. This approach may not be applicable to all museum facilities but it seems certain to me that inclusion is an essential key.

Do you think that museums on the African continent should build their own models according to local realities and not on Western models? In other words, is a museum in Africa different from one elsewhere in the world?

I am convinced that here, more than elsewhere, we must create our own approaches, and I deliberately do not use the word “model”. This is what we have been doing from the outset at the Foundation and at MACAAL, whether through our programmes or our exhibitions. The importance that I give to territorial, local, national or continental anchoring, the specificities of the audiences are all parameters that do not allow us to apply existing models because they are simply not adapted to our realities and would only be counter-productive in the work of demystifying contemporary art, appropriation by the audiences, enhancement of the artistic scene etc.

For example, we have recently reviewed the LCC program offerings due to the paradigm shift in emerging photography in Africa. Indeed, when we created the program in 2013 there was no such approach and offering the production of a solo exhibition made sense. Today, applicants to the programme have often already exhibited, but they have more needs for strengthening, for feedback on their work, for networking and the solo show is no longer an end in itself. This is why we have chosen to support structuring initiatives.

I think it’s a real strength to be able to question models, to question everything, and thinking out of the box is part of the way we work. Today I realise that this room for manoeuvre is a luxury, because when I work with Western structures, I feel frustrated by the lack of flexibility of spirit that some professionals allow themselves. Sometimes it even seems counterproductive in our profession, as it can neutralise creativity.

This is no longer a scoop, since the arrival of Covid-19, the artistic sector has been strongly impacted. Also forcing cultural institutions to imagine new ways of staying in touch with their audiences. How is MACAAL dealing with this situation? What lessons could be learned from this experience?

For the moment, we are experiencing it a little like everyone else: virtually above all. So we are maximizing content development, accessibility and trying to understand its impact through digital.

There are big questions today, but I am afraid that we cannot draw any conclusions at the moment because we do not know when we will be able to reopen our doors or under what conditions. The digital alternative makes it possible to continue to exist but it does not feed into the value chain in a sustainable way. It is certain that the fact that we have reduced our horizons to the walls of our homes can only make us question the relevance of what we thought was essential. Today, deprived of these possibilities, we need to rethink our way of doing things. To sum up, I would go towards a less frenetic pace and more reinforcement.

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For Nahusenay, the creation of a work of art comes from the mind and the heart. His works are born from pious meditations and are meditatives. In 2018, the artist has been selected for the first edition of Versant Sud artistic residency program in Marseille, France. During his artistic residency, Leikun Nahusenay has created a series of works composed of pastel drawings on cardboard. He also made a large tapestry inspired by his drawings in Aubusson, the best reference of tapestry know-how in France and in the world – is listed as an intangible heritage of humanity by UNESCO since 2009. Artskop3437 spoke with him about the narratives of his works and how he experiences the current situation of Covid-19 as an artist.

How do you define yourself as an artist ?

I am first and foremost a multidisciplinary artist. I work with collages, photos, painting, woodcutting and graphic design. Despite my degree in woodcutting, my main interest remains drawing. I draw lines in images. I like to experiment. Recently I’ve been working with the peeling of the photo.

Tell us more about the process of creating your drawings.

I enjoy drawing lines in pictures. I make a black and white close-up composition, like a chessboard where I draw the drapery of the garment and then come to the subject of body and soul, which could be a faceless person.

You seem to particularly like the pastel drawing technique as many of your drawings are created using this technique. Can you tell us more about it?

L.N: First of all, pastel is a technique that I feel comfortable in, that I am good at. In addition, pastels allow me to give me more freedom in the expression of my art. When using pastels I feel the work comes to me smoothly, I am able to express my work in the exact forms, colours and shapes that I want.

Tell us more about the series “Body vs Soul”? When we look at some of your works of that series, we notice ghostly, faceless silhouettes that recur repeatedly, especially in the works “Enate” or “lips lover VI”?

L.N: “Body vs soul” is the series I worked on during my residency in France. In this body of work, I try to represent how our body and souls are sometimes separated. In certain situations, our body can be present, but our soul / our mind is wandering, is elsewhere. One day, I was sitting in a café in Addis Ababa, and there was a woman sitting at a table further away who seemed to be waiting for her boyfriend. He never showed up. The young woman was physically in the café but she was not present.

In the “Lips lovers” series, organic floral forms are combined with more geometric shapes. What is this series about?

L.N: This series also represents the connection (and disconnection) of our ‘body and soul’. The organic floral forms here represent the love stories that cause this (dis)connection. In the ‘lips lovers’ series I represent the traditional way wherein those fresh love kisser try to cover themselves for a kiss, trying to hide from others.

In the work “Enate”, a set of symbols is present. Can you tell us more about it?

L.N: Most of these symbols are representations of the Amharic alphabet. I use Amharic alphabet in my art to give them sound / a voice. Also, I really feel they add to the beauty of it, adding fine art elements: texture, design, symbols. In those words, I express the many things that come to my mind, things for which I wonder whether they are right or wrong, which I question (eg. things that I heard on the radio).

Many of these texts are, for example, Amharic proverbs or expressions of the Ethiopian way of saying things in “Wax & Gold” (wherein “wax” is the obvious meaning, the “gold” is the hidden meaning). With them, I give expression to the contradictions of our existence, as black and white, light and shadow, day and night, absence and presence souls, being here and there, today and tomorrow, etc.; which tells story on ‘shadows’ like… (don’t leave your shadow), (Sharpen shadow) which is related the woman in  ‘chess’ is in thought of black & white, day & night, absent & present mood.

I think Shadow has life in me, it can do what we do and also shadow mean time today tomorrow. The woman in chess also in a shadow of here and there.

The works seem to be imbued with spirituality. Can you tell us more?

L.N: I feel that our spiritual experiences mix with the more physical / earthy ones. Like the ‘body Vs soul’ series: our bodies experience one reality, and our soul experience another reality. For example, in the ‘lip lovers’ I wanted to express their strong spiritual connection in the physical act of the kiss.

What did your recent artistic residency with Versant Sud in Marseille teach you?

During my residency with Versant Sud, I mixed my Ethiopian experiences with those lived in Marseille. It was the first time that I made a large tapestry of 100 x 140 cm from one of my drawings. I learned to work with digital tools, whereas in my culture it is common to work with hand weaving. Working on tapestry in Aubusson – which has a long history of weaving in France and in the world -, allowed me to think more about the fabric, the traditions between these two regions Marseille and Addis Ababa. In the future I would like to continue working with fabric more often.

How do you experience the current confinement of the at COVID-19?

L.N: I am actually enjoying to stay at my studio and produce more art. Off course, I miss going out and spending time with friends, however, at the same time, I am using this opportunity to pray, meditate and create art that can cure all human being from the virus.

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“History and the past are not one and the same.” it is this very simple yet resonant line that makes me pay attention to Sepideh Mehraban’s latest show; Until The Lions Have Their Own Historians, The History Of The Hunt Will Always Glorify The Hunter. The setting off point for this exhibition (which includes eight works of mixed media on found carpets) is, of course, a quote from Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart.
The exhibition proposes to us that history, as a study or retelling of past events, is in fact not neutral—it is shaped, crafted and moulded by those with power, where forces of censorship and propaganda are constantly in operation to undermine and silence.

Mehraban investigates, examines and cross-examines recent Iranian histories using “formal” and “informal” accounts and records (memories, stories, oral history, newspapers, archives, carpets, family photographs); both public and private, real and metaphorical records function as repositories that can be (re)negotiated and (re)interpreted. This amalgamation of personal and public accounts deviates from unchallenged methods that present history as final. Furthermore, the use of abstraction as a mode of creation (with the grid format of the newspaper as a source of inspiration) recontextualises how we think through history, lending the works as prompts into further inquiries as opposed to retellings of ‘facts’.

I interviewed Mehraban to find out more about the exhibition, her research and her practice.

NM: I was intrigued by the notion (in the exhibition text) that history and the past are not the same. Can you speak more about this?

SM: History is only one angle of the past, history is a story we are told, usually by those who manage to speak the loudest. The title of this body of work draws from a famous line in Chinua Achebe’s seminal work Things Fall Apart; Until The Lions Have Their Own Historians, The History Of The Hunt Will Always Glorify The Hunter.
My goal is to challenge the idea that someone or some entity can tell you what happened to you. It’s really critical to have these conversations, especially in places where the conversation is so highly politicised.

NM: Can you speak to us about the format of the newspaper as a source of inspiration? What do you feel this format allows you to do (or not do)?

SM: Newspapers are physical artefacts of the past. They belong to the time when cellphones, the internet and twitter didn’t exist. Their materiality, like books, is nostalgic and also in a way traumatic. They are traumatic because the news is tampered with over the course of history. In the case of the 1979 Iranian Revolution, the news do not follow the narrations and stories that many Iranian families have experienced. The grid of the newspaper is a signifier of the structure of spreading information and at the same time control of information where we see the elements of propaganda and censorship play out. Censorship and propaganda are just as traumatic as the actual violence of revolution.

NM: I’m thinking of the newspaper from the lens of censorship and propaganda (as you’ve mentioned above). Through your explorations of history, what can you tell us about the relationship between these different parts of how history is told and experienced?

SM: My childhood experiences and family’s stories were at odds with the official state history, the controlled and censored domestic news channels, and also with the increasingly reductive international media and its lifeless headlines and statistics.
It is this discord between the grand narrative and the chronicles of everyday people that I explore in my work, the multitude of personal histories behind (and absent from) the headlines and politics. Stories of individual lives, of hopes for change, of disappointment and ultimately of the humanity behind the abstracted media coverage. It’s a subject with universal relevance, as I discovered on relocating to South Africa in 2012. I found parallels between the two countries: the complex histories marked by trauma and political turmoil, empty promises and disillusionment, and the abundant memories and lived histories of ordinary people.

NM: When I think about the carpet and paint over the carpet I have an image of covering and uncovering and I think we can say this with history as well, where we have an understanding of the accounts that make up history until we uncover more and more. With your research into the 1979 revolution, can you speak to us about things that you are uncovering?

SM: The 1979 revolution was a populist and nationalist movement consisting of Marxists, Islamic socialists, secularists and Shi’a Islamists. These diverse groups united to overthrow the monarchy but instead of a democracy, they ushered in an Islamic fundamentalist-led theocracy under Ruhollah Khomeini. There is propaganda by the current government to frame the movement as a religious uprising, which is not the case. The 1979 revolution was an uprising against a dictatorship with a hope for a better future.

NM: Can you talk to us about how you are thinking through post-apartheid South Africa and post-revolutionary Iran, together, if at all?

SM: Both of these countries have complex histories marked by trauma. The recent student movements such as Rhodes Must Fall, Fees Must Fall and Open Stellenbosch of 2015 are indicators of social and political changes. These protests influenced governmental action (e.g. university fees were frozen after the Fees Must Fall campaign in 2015). There were also student uprisings on the other side of the hemisphere in Iran; after the 2009 controlled presidential election, which saw Mahmoud Ahmadinejad come into power. At the present moment, there are still protests occurring in Iran after the increased price of petroleum where people are demanding a long-term resolution from the government. Over the course of a week, the government shut down the internet and at least 106 people were killed during demonstrations. There is no international coverage of this in western media nor in the Iranian national media. People are cut off from the world which is nerve-racking to witness in 2019.
In Iran and South Africa, the student uprisings and protests are characterised by the traumatisation and upheaval of ordinary lives. In both countries, protests are indicative of a need for political change and transformation.

NM: I’m interested in this idea of intergenerational trauma; how do you see this manifesting today and how do we begin to think of ways of fracturing that trauma and moving towards healing?

SM: We need more empathy toward each other and our world. We need more care. We need leaders who promote humanity and equality for everyone. We could make small changes by starting with our families and our communities. We need to listen. There are many voices that need to be heard and it takes years to heal completely but it’s not impossible. The future is bright with our younger generation—with their awareness and knowledge of their world and themselves.

Until The Lions Have Their Own Historians, The History Of The Hunt Will Always Glorify The Hunter is on view at SMITH in Cape Town until 30th November. For more information about the exhibition or the artist, you can contact Jana Terblanche at jana@smithstudio.co.za.

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Katharien de Villiers’ Bananas and Saints Alike is a seedbed for humour, exploration, fantasy and joyful emergence. In this exhibition, showing at SMITH in Cape Town (till 30th Nov), de Villiers presents a collection of paintings in mixed media—fabric, wood, oil pastels, acrylic, car paint and found objects—these components that do not always exist together in a gallery setting create a complicated and irregular network of paths, inviting the viewer to join in on the journey of meaning-making through spontaneous and undirected playfulness. The starting point is a question (or perhaps questions), followed by states of confusion. However, de Villiers doesn’t run away from this confusion, she welcomes these tattered shards of incertitude and embraces them as potentially generative.

From the title, all the way to the imagery, Bananas and Saints Alike accepts the fundamental notion that life is often incongruous, illogical, perplexing and un-encompassable. There is no illusion of order, no imposition of narrative, no metaphors, no ideology, no historical analysis or even politics. Meaning is created through engagement, but it also reconstructs and mutates through multiple re-engagements.

Below is a short but very insightful conversation I had with the artist about the exhibition.

NM: For this exhibition, the question of “what is the show about?” remains unresolved. Given this state, what would you say the exhibition is pointing us to or asking us?

KdV: The question “what is the show about” remains unresolved simply because the show is many things. The show is one founded on questions and potential relations instead of answers and clear understanding. In its confoundedly unresolved nature, Bananas and Saints Alike is waiting in anticipation for the viewer to respond.
I am drawn to scenarios that don’t feign truth, but rather acknowledge the prevalent confusion of real life. This confusion is fueled by multitudes of meta-narratives driven by vastly different bodies and minds. Bananas and Saints Alike is a world open to the grey of the daily, the hybridity of understanding and the overwhelming nature of even the simplest moments when one wishes to understand.

NM: If a show defies political commentary, historical analysis, or self-examination then it seems the idea of storytelling becomes one of the ways in which the work can be interacted with. What stories are you personally interested in right now?

KdV: A year ago I read a book by Nigerian author, Teju Cole, called Known and Strange Things. It is a collection of essays which takes the reader into the non-linear, relational mind of this incredible author. Similar to Proust’s In Search of Lost Time, Cole peels back the readers’ eyelids, forcing one to acknowledge and experience the complexities of contemporary “truths”/ moments. These stories have had a massive impact on my work— not because of the subject matter, but rather because of the exploratory nature of the author’s voice. With this body of work, I was driven toward exposing mundane narratives (a washing line, a fruit basket, a low-budget shrine) as the complex things they have become over time and in the mouths of many.

NM: As an artist, what is your relationship with play?

KdV: In my practice playing can be immediately related to making. Making is simply thought made visible, and has proven itself to be my most successful means of finding out whether something would work. The possibilities that thrive in play cannot always reach their potential if the outcome has been programmed, but when thought is translated as rhizomatic progress through making, play reigns supreme.

NM: One could argue that there is a “withholding” in this exhibition. “The act or art of withholding” conjures up ideas of mystery for me, do you feel that there is still enough mystery in the (art)world? Maybe the starting point should be why mystery?

KdV: Why not mystery? Mystery exists in all the most beautiful facets of our lives—love, spirituality, forgiveness, and ultimately, it is the core of this thing called life. For thousands of years individuals have been caught up in “the truth of life”—personally, I prefer the mysteries. Mystery exists sometimes despite the hard truths we find in our daily lives. It is the feeling before you fall asleep and the moment the sun sets behind the horizon. It is what you take home after watching an inspiring film or eating a mouthful of delicious food. There can never be a shortage of mystique; only our inability to acknowledge it. Reality often tries to replace mystery with understanding, but why open yourself up to such disappointment?

NM: I’m interested in the idea of mutation as method, why is this notion of mutation worthwhile? What does it do?

KdV: Mutation allows change. It is free-flowing energy designed to allow external forces to influence and alternate the path a piece was originally set on. Besides the physical presence of mutation (interaction between 2D and 3D, the morphing of the boundaries of canvas or super-imposed imagery contorting a clear understanding of the work) the most powerful changes take place once the works have left my studio and enter the public realm. There they are exposed to all kinds of projections from every engaging viewer. The ultimate mutation is the works bending and folding to fit versatile narratives. Being made as subjects in flux, it is only natural for the works to be opened up for further transformation.

NM: Can you tell us about specific works in the show, that have completely mutated or transformed from what they were when you began making them (either in terms of the idea, the materials or the entire form)?

KdV: By far my greatest challenge was Bananas and Saints Alike. The title piece of the show started as a relatively small collage of snake-skin material, Mary with Baby-J and about four bananas. What started out as a manageable piece became the heavy-weight championship of my young career. It was also the first piece that broke the boundaries of the canvas (and my first real engagement with yellow- in no uncertain terms). The piece’s mutation set the tone for further works, forcing me to push each piece beyond the point of breaking into a realm where it can exist beyond its original context.

Katharien de Villiers was born in 1991 in Cape Town. She currently lives and works in Cape Town.
For more information about the exhibition or the artist, you can contact Jana Terblanche from SMITH Gallery Cape Town at jana@smithstudio.co.za.

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