In the making: materials and process
michael stevenson Hill House De Smidt Street Green Point 8005 PO Box 616 Green Point 8051 Cape Town tel +27 (0)21 4212575 fax +27 (0)21 4212578 info@michaelstevenson.com www.michaelstevenson.com
In the making: materials and process
El Anatsui Alan Albor ough Dineo Bopa pe Paul Edmunds Retha Er asmus Nic holas Hlobo N andipha M ntambo Walter O ltmann Stef anus R ademeyer Dor een Southwood Jer emy Waf er Sandile Zulu
M ic hael Ste venson 18 A ug ust – 1 7 Se ptember 2 0 0 5
Introduction
In the making: materials and process presents works by a range of artists who share a deep concern with materials and materiality, as well as a tendency towards obsessive working processes in which these materials are put to use in previously unimagined ways. Most of the works have been produced expressly for this exhibition. The artists have strongly individualistic practices and their choices of materials are diverse, ranging from wire, Perspex and mirror to cowhide, inner tubes and old clothing. Their processes are correspondingly varied, among them collecting, weaving, cutting, curing, stitching, burning and corroding. The objects or installations that are the products of these explorations are testament to intellectual curiosity, perseverance, vision, aesthetic appreciation and transformative potential. El Anatsui is the guest artist for this exhibition, courtesy of the October Gallery, London. He is a Ghanaian artist of immense stature whose works are in the collections of the British Museum and the Pompidou Centre but who is little known in South Africa. His dramatically beautiful Fading cloth transforms the discarded caps of liquor bottles into a contemporary evocation of both the rich tradition of the West African kente cloth and the history and impact of colonisation. Among the 11 South African artists, three make strong references to textiles in their work. Walter Oltmann’s Wire tapestry refers to African cloth and wire weaving traditions, this time through the use of soft aluminium wire manufactured as power cabling. Doreen Southwood uses fabric as the basis for a design recreated in nuts, bolts and washers, held precariously in place on a metal sheet using hundreds of high-strength magnets. Nicholas Hlobo stitches together the rubber inner-tubes of tyres to form an unwearable dress that reaches its apex in a leather whip, with connotations ranging from gay sexuality to industrialisation. Organic substances come to the fore in the work of Nandipha Mntambo, who casts moulds of the female body in tanned cowhide, and Jeremy Wafer, who uses the earthy substances of red and black oxide, clay and ash to invoke rituals of transformation in a series of serene disks. Natural processes are harnessed by Sandile Zulu in his playful wet string and fire drawings, and in the corrosion set off by Alan Alborough’s bottled devices of batteries and syringes. Obsessive traits manifest themselves in many of the works. What appears as a chaotic jumble of objects in Dineo Bopape’s wall installation is the result of a process of collecting and ordering according to an idiosyncratic yet particular vision. Retha Erasmus’ suspended sculpture is made up of myriad parts so precisely assembled that the resulting form appears to have evolved organically. Paul Edmunds has spent months hand-cutting hexagons from paper in order to translate the colour values in a photograph of the dawn sky – a concern with optics that is shared by Stefanus Rademeyer, who uses light and mirrors to dissolve the surface of the sculpture and evoke virtual space. From the scientific to the poetic, the works on this exhibition are the result of sustained, varied and imaginative engagements with materials and an extraordinary commitment to process.
El Anatsui
Fading cloth 2005 aluminium liquor bottle caps brands include 007, Castello, Niccolo Ponche, Ecomog, Ebeano, Squadron, Old Mac, Ultimate, 301, Dark Sailor, Makossa, Chelsea, Jonathan, Napoleon, Mac Lord, Empresa Joemeg, Regal, Squad 5 copper wire approx 320 x 650cm
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About six years ago I found a big bag of liquor bottle tops apparently thrown away in the bush. At the time I was searching for a pot monument (pillars of stacked pots, each of which represents a bereavement in the village) that I had seen decades before in that locality. I kept the bottle caps in the studio for several months until the idea eventually came to me that by stitching them together I could get them to articulate some statement. When the process of stitching got underway, I discovered that the result resembled a real fabric cloth. Incidentally too, the colours of the caps seemed to replicate those of traditional kente cloths. In effect the process was subverting the stereotype of metal as a stiff, rigid medium and rather showing it as a soft, pliable, almost sensuous material capable of attaining immense dimensions and being adapted to specific spaces. To me, the bottle tops encapsulate the essence of the alcoholic drinks which were brought to Africa by Europeans as trade items at the time of the earliest contact between the two peoples. Almost all the brands I use are locally distilled. I now source the caps from distillers around Nsukka, where I live and work. I don’t see what I do as recycling; I transform the caps into something else. If there is a direct link between the bottle tops and the fabric cloths, it is probably the fact that they all have names linked to events, people, historical or current issues. Take Ecomog gin: this refers to the regional military intervention force which brought the wars in Sierra Leone and Liberia to an end. The brandy called Ebeano (meaning ‘where we are now’) references a popular electioneering slogan from the last political polls in the state in which I live. Similarly kente cloths are given names like takpekpe le Anloga (conference at Anloga) or can be named after a personality.
Fading cloth is more of a formalistic name, with the full blooded reds at the top and bottom of the cloth yielding to creams and other pale colours in the centre. Flattening and stitching the caps is laborious and repetitive – a very different process to my earlier work using power tools on wood. I have several assistants working with me, and we start with strips and eventually assemble them into the final composite results. The process of stitching, especially the repetitive aspect, slows down action and I believe makes thinking deeper. It’s like the effect of a good mantra on the mind.
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Alan Alborough
WYSIWYG 2005 AAA batteries button magnets catheter tip syringes copper foil electric cable elastic bands fluorescent lights galvanised steel washers galvanised lock nuts galvanised sheeting magnetic sheeting non-woven fabric plastic juice bottles salt self-adhesive aluminium tape tap water installation dimensions variable; hanging units 115 x 63cm each
corrode verb 1. iron objects corrode rapidly in damp conditions RUST, become rusty, tarnish, deteriorate, waste away, disintegrate, crumble, fragment, be destroyed, perish, spoil 2. bleach at this strength may corrode the container WEAR AWAY, wear down, eat away (at), gnaw away (at), bite into, burn into, burn through, erode, abrade, consume, dissolve, oxidise, oxidate; rust, tarnish, destroy, spoil. stain verb 1. her clothing was stained with blood DISCOLOUR, blemish, soil, mark, muddy, spot, spatter, splatter, smear, splash, smudge, blotch, blacken; dirty, get/make filthy, sully, spoil, defile, pollute, contaminate, foul, befoul, grime, begrime; poetic/literary besmirch. 2. the awful events would unfairly stain the city’s reputation DAMAGE, injure, harm, sully, soil, blacken, tarnish, taint, besmirch, blemish, defile, blot, smear, bring discredit to, dishonour, drag through the mud. 3. wood can always be stained to a darker shade COLOUR, tint, dye, tinge, shade, pigment, varnish, paint, colour-wash. noun 1. there were mud stains on my shoes MARK, spot, spatter, splatter, blotch, blemish, smudge, smear; dirt, foxing. 2. he has been discharged without a stain on his character BLEMISH, injury, taint, blot, blot on one’s escutcheon, slur, smear, discredit, dishonour, stigma; damage. 3. an exterior type of wood stain, TINT, colour, dye, tinge, shade, pigment, colourant; varnish, paint, colour wash. observe verb 1. she observed that almost all the chairs were occupied NOTICE, see, note, perceive, discern, remark, spot, detect, discover, distinguish, make out; poetic/literary espy, descry, behold. - OPPOSITES: overlook, fail to see. 2. Rob stood in the hall, from where he could observe the happenings on the street WATCH, see, look at, eye, contemplate, view, survey, regard, witness, keep an eye on, scrutinize, keep under observation, keep a watch on, keep under surveillance, monitor, keep under scrutiny, watch like a hawk, keep a weather eye on, spy on, check out, reconnoitre; informal get a load of, keep tabs on, keep a beady eye on; Brit. informal clock, take a dekko/butcher’s/gander/shufti at, recce; N. Amer. Informal eyeball; archaic twig; rare surveil. 3. ‘You look tired,’ she observed COMMENT, remark, say, mention, note, declare, announce, state, utter, pronounce, interpose, interject; formal opine. 4. the European Council called on the parties involved to observe the ceasefire COMPLY WITH, abide by, keep, obey, adhere to, conform to, heed, honour, respect, be heedful of, pay attention to, follow, acquiesce in, consent to, accept, defer to, fulfil, standby. - OPPOSITES: disregard, ignore, break. 5. relations gathered to observe the funeral rites PARTICIPATE IN, partake in, be present at, celebrate, keep; commemorate, solemnize, mark, memorialize, remember, recognize.
The New Oxford Thesaurus of English (Oxford University Press, 2000)
Dineo Bopape
Growing everyday 2005 plastic bags, canvas, white PVA, oil paint, spoons that have never been used in anyone’s home, found jerseys, wool, bandages, metal rings from scrapyard, soft toys, plastic rose, secrets collected in the year 2004, safety pins, pot and pan, serving spoons (presumably used in an unknown person’s house), old clothes of mine, old clothes of other people’s, found photographs of a white family, zips that are attached to rings, shoes of mine, shoes bought at a secondhand shop, receipts found at a recycling dump, buckles, shoe bag smeared with latex and acrylic paint, pockets torn from a previous work, newspapers, spray paint, ribbons, my sweat, dirt swept and gathered in 2004 from my old apartment on Currie Road, unknown objects, tissues containing bodily secretions, tampon wrappers, ‘regular’ tampons, liquid latex, staples, photographs taken by me, chicken wire, a blanket bought from a secondhand store, buttons, cotton, knitted hats, knitted mittens, plastic basket, bag found on West Street, a poster/board with a loving message, a small plastic sack usually used for packaging oranges or onions, hospital shoes stuffed with cotton wool, hospital mask, black rubber, stockings, unknown person’s ID photograph negative, somebody’s underwear, a pillow installation dimensions 270 x 605 x 124cm
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I collect stories, events, moments, feelings, by themselves or in interaction with both animate and inanimate objects. I become obsessed with trying to comprehend these things, to justify and forget and remember. Many of the objects in this work have the ability to be stuffed and fattened. They are saturated with stories and speak of more than their use value: tampons and plastics, wool and shoe bags. They have an ability to suffocate, mute, soothe, suppress and tame. The objects themselves seem empty and prosaic, with nothing very special or attractive about them. If anything, most are quite abject – old shoes stained by their previous owner’s sweat, tissues with bodily stuff within the fibres, and people’s hair interwoven in pieces of fabric that were once part of somebody’s garment. Used objects whose history precedes my interaction with them are intriguing because they hold other people’s personal stories which are unknown to me. These dead objects have seemingly lost their value, they have been rejected and discarded but are still saturated with memories of previous places where they may have been used. Looking at them in a secondhand shop they appear like ghosts in transit, between where they have been and where they may go … They are placed next to other objects with similar fates, like corpses waiting to be claimed from a mortuary. Other objects are previously unused readymades with new fates and possibilities awaiting them. I am usually attracted to these because of their use value and (like the used objects) because of the place they occupy within our material/object culture: they carry, hold, attach, keep things together as well as burden us, metaphorically and physically. This is also the case with the secrets that I asked people to write down on pieces of paper for me. Some were excited at the thought of spilling their guts … but most people I asked, especially strangers, refused because they found what I was doing too strange and couldn’t understand how this could be art. Assembling all these objects and stories becomes an attempt to impose order on chaotic or nonsensical objects/stories. I exploit the physicality and plasticity of the new/old, used/unused materials and fabrics and recontextualise them. The reordering becomes an obsessive process – the more I try to impose order on the objects, the more unruly and defaced they become. I usually work quite intuitively. After collecting I sit with the objects and think about their qualities. I have an idea of how I would like the piece to feel, and try to push and shove the objects to get to that feeling or idea.
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Paul Edmunds
Sieve 2005 A4 sheets of 200gsm acid-free paper silkscreen process colours cold glue 188 x 105cm
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I find it hard to separate my materials and processes. I don’t think of a certain process I would like to explore and then think about a material in which this can be realised – process and material arise simultaneously. Along with its obvious physical properties, paper is almost an honorary two-dimensional material. A way of exploring this lack of depth is by piercing it, creating a window. I have done this in three layers, each allowing only certain parts of the piece below to show through. I liken this to a filtering process, or perhaps the way in which certain phenomena, the sky for example, bend light in a certain way, causing them to appear a particular colour. I have long wanted to create a work which explores light by screening or filtering it. The work began with a digital photograph of a dawn sky. In Photoshop I did a CMYK analysis of a section of the sky, noting how the composition of the pixels changed as the colour of the sky altered. From this I created a table which tracked these changes. My problem was then to find a way of illustrating this without creating a pixellated rendering of a sunrise. In a 3D drawing package I constructed a three-dimensional grid where each face of a repeated shape represented one of the process colours (actually only cyan, magenta and yellow in this case as there was no black present in the piece of sky I chose). I devised a system whereby a hexagon on each facet of the aforementioned shapes represented the percentage of the respective colour in a particular part of the sky. As this value changed so did the area of the hexagon (the changes were minute and I would never have been able to draft them by hand). This pattern was then printed out onto a series of A4 sheets, they were silkscreened with process colour and then I cut out the hexagons by hand (the hexagons are actually distorted because they were not drawn on the picture plane, but in three-dimensional space). The A4 sheets were then assembled into the final format and these large sheets were then hung one in front of the other. The final work is not a depiction of a dawn sky as such. It is more an illustration of colour information gleaned from there which remains faithful to the rich sensual nature of that source. My approach is quite odd I think. To me the prospect of cutting hexagons in paper for two or three months is not that daunting. Sometimes I think it’s quite safe territory and I should really try something else, but it always seems to come out this way. When it’s going well, the work gains its own kind of momentum and my concentration is not focused in a hard way. Occasionally it is boring, but not as often as you’d think. My working methods are probably ‘introspective’ or lend themselves to introspection, but that’s really more of a problem than a prerequisite. In fact, I’ve often ‘introspected’ about boredom and it tends to collapse in on itself. A lot of the time we wish we were doing something other than what we are doing, and maybe that’s just what boredom is. The rest of the time we wish that what we were doing wouldn’t end! When I finish something major there’s always a feeling of relief as well as a little sadness at not having the task to perform anymore. People have described my working methods as obsessive but I don’t think that’s true. My work is usually done in quite a measured balanced way and it seldom throws the rest of my life out of balance.
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Retha Erasmus
The sum of us 2005 pine plywood white oak aluminium Perspex fluorescent tubes nuts and bolts wood stain 145 x 455 x 160cm
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I have wanted to make this piece for a while now but couldn’t decide what materials to use. The choice of wood was based first and foremost on practical concerns. Wood was perfect since it is easy to use. It is cut into strips of varying lengths (I have this done for me since I am terrified of the radial arm saw). Putting everything together is done by hand, screwed and bolted. Pine is a soft wood and very easy to manipulate – it’s like cutting cheese. Plywood is many thin layers of pine pasted together. It’s stronger than normal pine planks, and beautiful as it has grain on the outer surface that can enhance the character of each individual piece. Oak is a much harder wood and slightly more difficult to drill and cut. Oak is used in this work where strength is needed, in the supports and so on. Pine wouldn’t have done the job. In the past I’ve avoided working with wood because of its association with carving. Carving just doesn’t suit my frame of mind, my way of thinking in terms of straight lines. When I studied there was a trend for carving among the students – everyone was carving and gluing which put me off carving for life! Plywood provided me with the opportunity to use wood in a clean and clinical manner. It’s also important that plywood is lightweight, since the various elements are combined together into a large object that must float in space. The sculpture consists of four segments, each requiring a different character and features. This is simplified by using wood stain as a differentiator. I’m using it very subtly to give some of the segments a character of their own – something that adds to their separate natures. One of these segments is in a different medium altogether: Perspex. I’ve worked with Perspex for years and love the material: it is clear, concise, clinical, versatile. I chose it specifically because it contrasts so sharply with the organic qualities of the wood. Perspex is only easy to work with if you know what not to do. It is very brittle and can crack easily when drilling or cutting. The surface needs to be protected since it scrapes easily. Wood is tougher in terms of what it allows before becoming damaged. The overall effect is a work in unity made up of four very separate and unique parts, and that’s what it is all about. To me the work is a way of making sense of family life. I use the materials, the means of construction, the overall look, every nuance contained in the complexity of making this structure to that effect. Very, very directly it is about separate lives being led, never really touching each other but always connected and unified through each other’s experiences. I like the clinical look – it doesn’t allow you to fudge. The way I work and think is very planned and designed. I like clean, neat lines and finishes. I constantly need to concentrate on what I am doing and can never drift off or focus on ‘nothing’. I use various tools: a hand drill, a stand drill, many wonderful measuring tools, clamps, my lucky pusher pencil, eraser ... actually I have compartmentalised plastic containers with all my stuff in, like my stationery, my bolts and nuts, drill bits and other tools. It’s wonderful. I look at it from time to time and get a warm fuzzy feeling all over.
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Nicholas Hlobo
Umtya nethunga 2005 rubber inner tubes pink ribbon chain plastic pipe to give circumference a wooden stick for the whip handle steel rope 175 x 270 x 220cm
Vanity 2005 vanity case bought from a pawn shop rubber inner tube strips eyelets red ribbon green Sunlight soap 29 x 31 x 170cm
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The materials in these works have a strong relationship to the conversation in which I attempt to engage the viewer. The rubber, for example, relates to the masculine status symbol because it comes from cars; it also relates to industrialisation which is largely male dominated. The rubber has sexual connotations to it as well. By this I mean its association with condoms, which are made from a similar material. The kind of rubber I’ve used is mainly black and that relates to bondage. You get sex toys made out of the same material – black inner tube. It symbolises protection and yet is very sensitive. It can be very durable but is vulnerable to being pricked. Imagine: when driving a car you are safe as long as your tyres do not get punctured. The same applies to sex with a condom.
The inner tubes are old and punctured, gathered from tyre fitting shops dotted about the inner city of Johannesburg. They are then cut into pieces and joined together to create the object. What is interesting is how rubber tends to take on a shape of its own, despite being cut into a particular shape. It almost resembles flesh in its tone, finish, elasticity, and even fragility for that matter. One thing I found fascinating while working with the rubber is how it perfectly links to queerness. The smooth organic folds it creates almost resemble an intestine. That is very humorous, but could be heavy. Have you ever thought of the inner tube as an intestine? Interestingly, as I also explore the Xhosa language in my works, I remembered that the tube is sometimes referred to as ithumbu in Xhosa. Ithumbu literally translates as intestine in English. The link to man-to-man sex is very strong here. The pink ribbon is there to suggest homosexuality. Then we come to the green Sunlight soap: this made its way into Vanity because of its association with washing. This kind of soap is commonly used in many African households for washing dishes, clothes and bodies. It is the same soap most Xhosa initiates use to wash on the morning of their graduation ceremony. Like rubber, it has a strong link to industrialisation. In relation to colonisation, interestingly, it is one of those early products that were brought to Africa by Europeans. It is no longer used in Europe but is still popular in Africa. It reminds me of my experience when I asked for camphor cream in a pharmacy in England: the woman at the counter said, ‘I don’t think they make that any more.’ The soap has a smell that is distinctly Sunlight, cheap and very close to Africa. It is there to suggest the idea of cleansing. The red ribbon in this work relates to disease, romance and beauty. The case has a mirror and that gives the work another dimension. The thought of creating these works, especially Umtya nethunga, made me feel like my head was going to explode. I felt regret and determination at the same time. When I produce something on a large scale like this, and work on it for a long time, it does something to my psyche. The process allows me time to be alone and sink deep into my thoughts. I always find that the material tends to dominate the entire process. My ideas evolve in unexpected ways as the material helps me discover new things. The start usually seems like trying to roll a rock as large as a double-decker bus, and by the completion of the work I go, ‘Wow, I can’t believe I went through that and came back sane’.
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Nandipha Mntambo
Purge 2005 cow hide resin polyester mesh bones (snake, wild dog, sheep, chicken and cow) glass beads waxed cord 154 x 116 x 94cm
Stepping into self 2005 cow hide resin polyester mesh waxed cord 74 x 115 x 92cm
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Through my art I investigate and interrogate stereotypical ideals of the female form, as well as notions of femininity. The pains that many women, including myself, have subjected themselves to in order to conform to society-dictated norms have greatly informed my work to date. My decision to make work using the medium of cowhide additionally allows for the questioning of conventional art materials and products. My work explores aspects of control through the manipulation and shaping of cowhide into the desired form. Elements of this organic material, such as the hair, fat and smell, allow for engagement with ideas of attraction and repulsion. I believe that practical experience and a ‘hands on’ approach are the best ways to learn. My work is always greatly informed and influenced by the process of its making. My journey begins with the process of sorting through piles of salted cowhide for the perfect one. In the past I’ve had the hides tanned for me, but this time I purchased a home tanning kit comprising various different chemicals. Unfortunately the instructions in the kit didn’t adequately prepare me for the next step: power tooling my way through thick layers of fat which need to be removed – a thoroughly nauseating process! After this the hide has to soak in a chemical bath for a week. I then stretch it over my mould – a combination of casts taken from my own body and the limbs of store mannequins, joined together using cretestone and resin. I have to really pull, stretch and nail down the hide so that it takes on the desired shape, but natural forces also play a part in the final result. Finally once it’s dry I use a polyester mesh and resin to secure the shape. The textures and smells I experienced during this process affirmed over and over again my choice of being a vegetarian. Then I decided to incorporate bones into the work, and my mind recoiled at the thought of the ‘hands on’ experience of eating piles of meat. I decided to send out a call for bones to all who cared and was pleasantly surprised by offerings of a dead snake and bones from wild dogs, lambs, cows and chicken. Some of these had to be boiled to get rid of the meat, or dissected in the case of the snake, which has the most beautiful, delicate spine and ribs. The bones are aesthetically complemented by the inclusion of strings of white glass beads. White beads are worn by Masai women who make their own necklaces as a reflection of beauty and skill. Throughout this process I’ve concentrated on ideas of beauty. People often comment on the fact that I have very little hair on my body and this is seen to be appealing or desirable; people also like the softness of women’s skin. I was trying to challenge this by creating feminine forms that are both beautiful and hairy.
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Walter Oltmann
Wire tapestry 2005 aluminium wire 180 x 243cm
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A tapestry is about an act of labour. In this case I have woven a somewhat unconventional tapestry from approximately 4km of aluminium wire of various gauges. The metallic cloth was fabricated by weaving square patches that were then sewn together to form a faceted grid not unlike a patchwork quilt or a kente cloth. The idea of a metallic quilt or tapestry sounds a bit contradictory. I like this uneasy meeting of material and process and use it here to arrive at a tactile panel that concentrates perception on time and blends the abstract and decorative. The stitched wire patches make the tapestry become a rather rigid mesh or screen, the tensile nature of the wire ‘solidifying’ and rendering more sculptural or object-like what one usually expects to be a labile form. Further layering of smaller square units articulates the grid pattern even more and adds to the reflective shimmer of the overall surface. Small knot-like wire doodles stitched to some of the squares break the flatness of the surface and may allude to other activities of labour and ritual such as tying of knots or fly-tying. I was initially drawn to using wire as a sculptural medium when I moved from Pietermaritzburg to Johannesburg to complete my postgraduate studies in fine arts. Gabion structures (wire cages filled with rocks as a preventative measure against soil erosion) along mine dumps and roadside embankments caught my eye as possible sculptural forms to explore. The limitations of the weight of these forms soon directed me to using wire in itself as a medium. I also became aware of African wire weaving traditions. Although very little information is available on the early manufacture of wire in southern Africa, it is likely that it was made indigenously as early as the first millennium AD. Wire ‘drawing’ is a quintessentially central and southern African craft, having been practised widely for hundreds of years. It involves very labour-intensive processes of heating and drawing metal rods through successively smaller holes in metal drawplates until the required thickness of wire has been achieved. For this reason wire was considered a very valuable commodity, even being used as a form of currency. Nowadays, industrial and technological developments have made wire a relatively cheap and easily obtainable material. Aluminium, being a lightweight metal, allows me to work on a larger scale than I might with other metals (eg copper or brass). I order the wire to my own specifications from a factory in Vereeniging, where power cables are made by mechanically twisting together several strands. The wire I use is of the softest grade and therefore lends itself ideally to hand-coiling and stitching. I am also drawn to its strong silver lustre which adds visual impact to the patterns and forms I employ. The hand-weaving of the wire involves a process of coiling and stitching. I use a thicker gauge wire around which thinner sections of wire are coiled, not unlike processes of basket weaving. I use pliers and wire cutters to work with the wire but do most of the coiling and weaving by hand (without gloves, as they tend to get in the way). While my wirework is labour-intensive and time-consuming it is also meditative and therapeutic.
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Stefanus Rademeyer
Gestalt 2004 wood mirrors fluorescent lights 100 x 200 x 24.5cm
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My initial motivation for making this work was to find a way to dissolve the surface of a tactile sculpture. This interest arose from experimentation in previous works, where my focus had shifted from heavy, solid materials to virtual animations. At the time I started thinking that this process might be reversed, that I could build physical sculptural pieces that had the ephemeral and immaterial qualities of virtual space. Using specialised computer software that allowed me to create three-dimensional vector structures, I was able to mimic the behaviour of light on reflective surfaces and experiment with the potential symmetries within various geometrical structures. After selecting the most succesful design, the next step was to create the physical work using modified mirrors and fluorescent lights within a lightbox structure. Traditionally, the material qualities of a sculpture are defined through positive and negative form. In this work, however, the external form is dematerialized, as it were, and the sculpture is defined through an optical illusion. By using the reflective qualities of the mirrors, a three-dimensional grid of light is created, which shifts in relation to the viewer’s position. As the various layers of the grid shift, the individual components of the design form larger clusters which create the geometric patterns.
Gestalt is part of a progressive series in which the complexity of the design increases with each successive work. In this particular work the design consists of thousands of short vertical lines, staggered to form a brick-like formation. The illusionistic perspective created by the mirrored lightbox transforms these lines into an entirely different structure, a grid of diamond-shaped diagonals. Conceptually, this series of works can be described as a contemporary exploration of the representational possibilities within abstraction. Formalist abstraction within modernism was viewed as a distillation to the essence of form, or a reduction to formlessness. Here, instead of reducing a form to an essence, I started with an idealised abstraction that was then systematically deconstructed and complicated. The progression within the sculptures reverses the modernistic process of distillation, and opens up the form to an endless series of mutations. Furthermore, the modernist paragon of abstraction is shown to be a constituent element within a process of random differentiation. In this way the hierarchy of representation is undermined and the apex or transcendental signified is shown to be one of many variable representations caught in the network of simulacra.
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Doreen Southwood
Curtain 2005 stainless steel magnets nuts, bolts and washers 230 x 60cm
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The first step in making this work was to print an image onto the surface of a sheet of low-grade stainless steel. I wanted to add colour to the work but also a subtle sense of texture or variation, so I played around by taking photographs of a mirror steamed up with heat and reflecting a piece of blue fabric. The image derived from this process was printed onto the metal as a backdrop for a floral-type pattern. The pattern was constructed using nuts and bolts – not bolted and screwed together but held onto the surface by the force of magnetic disks positioned behind the stainless steel sheet. The pattern is reminiscent of the time and place of my childhood. It is taken from a piece of curtain fabric that is reflective of the ‘good taste’ of my grandmother. It is a feature of a type of interior decorating that seeks to transform the given context (in this case a farm in the Free State) into a space that is expensive and foreign. There’s a certain style that dictates the mood. The curtain is important here: it’s a divider, letting in light or keeping it out, creating a barrier between public and private worlds. In this work it has gone even further to become something of an iron curtain. I have a lot of personal experience working with needle and thread, and with this work I found myself engaging with a similarly repetitive process, linked to fabric but in a very different way. Needlework is severely time consuming, but here the unseen magnetic fields holding the nuts and bolts in place made life even more difficult. Replicating the pattern of the fabric in a series of round and square objects was a gruelling task in that every nut and bolt took on a direction of its own. Somehow with great patience one could eventually guide each one into its place.
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The tapestry is finally held together by a powerful field generated by the magnets. This field signifies the unseen world and the fragility of substance. What we cannot see or touch nonetheless has a huge effect on us.
Jeremy Wafer
Black disk Red disk Grey disk White disk 2005 resin white clay grey wood ash black oxide red iron oxide acrylic binder 100cm diameter x 5cm each
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These disks have been cast in resin and covered with white clay (the clay used in Zulu and Xhosa ritual practices), grey wood ash, black oxide and red iron oxide respectively. My use of these materials comes out of an interest in indigenous healing, transformation rituals and rites of passage. In these the triad of red, black and white is commonly used for different types of ‘medicinal material’. I don’t have a specialist understanding but black is associated with strong purgative materials, red with strengthening materials and white with restorative and/or liminal states, such as in the whited bodies of initiates.
I have used the grey ash in a similar way to the other materials to refer to or embody transformative states – as in the Catholic Ash Wednesday memento mori ritual of marking with ash – ‘remember that you are dust and unto dust you shall return’. The red and black oxides are not the materials actually used in traditional practice, but are a standard industrial material used to protect metal, bought at the local builders’ supply. This substitution of the original material is partly practical, but also reveals the influence of the urban industrial environment. I seem to shift between the rural and urban in all of my work. The clay is sourced from traditional healers who sell it in pieces the size and shape of cricket balls. I also go around digging up bits of earth, generally from road cuttings. So, while my use of these materials started off from this interest in transformation rituals, I have at the same time a strong interest in land(scape), particularly in South Africa, that is the material of the surface of the earth: bleached dryness, burnt veld, rocks and stones … all the time seeing these as equivalents of, or resonating with, more internal states of being or feeling. The patterning on the sculptures, repetitive grids of small or larger bumps, comes I think from a need to measure, mark out, stabilise, the more illusive/allusive feelings associated with the material. Connected to this is my interest in mapping, and human intervention in the landscape. The repetition also comes out of the casting process in which an originating mould is used to produce series of similar or dissimilar casts … a kind of theme and variation process of working. The process starts with making decisions about size and proportion, measuring and calculating curves, marking these out on templates, shaping the original form which will generate the series, making a mould, casting … rubbing down and then applying surfaces. The surfaces are themselves a bit of a process, mixing different pigments and binders, testing them out and settling for those that have the right resonance and relation to one another. Ideally one has some peace and quiet to work in, but otherwise it just has to be done in the normal rush. I spend quite a lot of time just mulling over the half-made things in the workshop.
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Sandile Zulu
Lines of origin 2004 fire water earth air vinyl and fibreglass wallpaper string four panels, 241 x 243cm each
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Lines of origin concerns the psychogenesis of an impulse and a sensation. The work is a playful autonomous/automatic wet string and fire line drawing, tracing and investigating the co-ordination of sensation, intellectual and nervous activity. It was conceived as an exercise in the integration and interaction of the conscious and unconscious elements of the brain. The double-sided line is created by laying down wet string onto wallpaper and then using a blowtorch to burn around it. The two sides of the line concern the relation between inner and outer worlds … dialectics of subjectivity and objectivity. The line is thus historicised and reflects our desire to reconnect with the ancient energy that we carry within ourselves – to reconnect with natural energy by way of elementary and elemental forms and processes. I use the elements – fire, water, air and earth – in almost all of my work; they are both material and immaterial. Fire and air come together in the process of blowtorching, which involves controlled degrees of heat and flame applied to the surface over a period of time. In this work I used strips of vinyl and fibreglass wallpapers. These are fragile substances with pure beauty qualities, which parallel the fragility of natural and human existence. I sourced the paper from a company specialising in papers of different strengths and qualities; the ones I chose were very delicate and as a result burnt very quickly. This meant that, unlike with canvas where I need to use a big, powerful flame, I was able to work in my studio rather than in an outside environment.
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The process of drawing is playful yet deeply engaging. It is meditative, contemplative, pleasurable, relaxing, therapeutic and cathartic.
Artists’ biographies
Alan Alborough Born in 1964 in Durban, Alborough has an MA Fine Art from Goldsmiths College,
University of London (1997). He was until recently an Associate Professor in the Department of Fine Art at the University of Stellenbosch, leaving in July 2005 to work full-time as an artist. He won the Standard Bank Young Artist award in 2000, and the FNB Vita Art Prize in 2002. His most recent solo exhibition was as invited artist at the Sasol Art Museum in Stellenbosch in 2003/4; group exhibitions include A Decade of Democracy at the South African National Gallery (2004) and Lexicons and Labyrinths: Iconography of the genome at the South African Museum (2003). El Anatsui Born in 1944 in Ghana, Anatsui has a Postgraduate Diploma in Art Education from the
University of Science and Technology, Kumasi. He is Professor of Sculpture at the University of Nigeria at Nsukka, where he has lectured since 1975. He exhibited at the 1990 Venice Biennale, where he received an honourable mention, and was included on the first Johannesburg Biennale in 1995. His most recent solo exhibition Gawu has toured England, Wales and Ireland and in August 2005 opened at the Samuel P Harn Museum of Art at the University of Florida in the United States. He is included on the anthology exhibition Africa Remix, which has toured Düsseldorf, London and Paris and travels to Tokyo and other cities in 2006/7. Dineo Bopape was born in 1981 in Polokwane, and graduated with a B Tech from the Durban
Institute of Technology in 2004. She exhibited an installation in the experimental Multimedia Room at the KZNSA Gallery in June 2005. Group exhibitions include urban women two zero zero five at the African Art Centre (2005); Tangencya, a site-specific exhibition in Durban (2004); and Women’s Day – Imvubelo at the Durban Art Gallery (2004). She will attend De Ateliers postgraduate art institute in Amsterdam from September 2005. Paul Edmunds Born in 1970 in Johannesburg, Edmunds has an MA Fine Art from the University of Natal, Pietermaritzburg (1995) and lives in Cape Town. Solo exhibitions include Cloud (2003) and Houding (2001), both at João Ferreira Fine Art in Cape Town. Group exhibitions include HIV(E), a site-specific project in Durban and at the Franchise gallery in Johannesburg (2004); Silence/Violence in Durban and Nieu-Bethesda (2002); and Bodies II: Sublimation at the Klein Karoo Festival (2002). Edmunds is also an art critic and contributing editor to Artthrob.co.za. Retha Erasmus Born in Pretoria in 1977, Erasmus graduated with a BA Fine Art from the Univer-
sity of Pretoria in 2000. She curated and exhibited on the group shows Clean and Grime, at the Millennium Gallery in Johannesburg in 2001 and the Bell-Roberts Gallery in Cape Town in 2002 respectively. She has also shown on Reverb at the Gordart Gallery in Johannesburg (2004) and Frame at the Open Window in Pretoria (2001). Nicholas Hlobo was born in Cape Town in 1975, and has a B Tech degree from the Wits Technikon
(2002). Recent exhibitions include Take me to the river at Pretoria Art Museum (2005); A Decade of Democracy: Witnessing South Africa at the Museum of the National Center for Afro-American Artists, Boston (2004-5) and Show us what you’re made of II at The Premises, Johannesburg. He is in residence at the Thami Mnyele Foundation studios in Amsterdam for three months during 2005.
Nandipha Mntambo Born in Pretoria in 1982, Mntambo has a BA Fine Art from the University of Cape Town (2004) and is currently an MA candidate at the same institution. She is the recipient of the 2005 Brett Kebble Art Awards Curatorial Fellowship. She has exhibited at the Michaelis School of Fine Art and the Centre for African Studies at UCT. Walter Oltmann Born in Rustenburg in 1960, Oltmann has a BA Fine Arts from the University of
Natal, Pietermaritzburg (1981) and an MA Fine Art from the University of the Witwatersrand (1985), where he has lectured since 1989. He won the Standard Bank Young Artist award in 2001. His most recent solo exhibition was at Michael Stevenson in 2004. Group exhibitions include Coexistence: Contemporary cultural production in South Africa at the Rose Art Museum, Brandeis University, Boston (2003). He has produced numerous commissions, most recently for the new Origins Centre at Wits. Stefanus Rademeyer Born in 1976 in Johannesburg, Rademeyer has an MA Fine Art from the University of the Witwatersrand (2005). He was the winner of the Absa L’Atelier art competition in 2001, taking up a six-month residency at the Cité International des Arts in Paris in 2002. He was awarded an Ampersand Foundation residency in New York in 2003. His most recent solo exhibition was Surface Depth at Warren Siebrits Modern and Contemporary Art in Johannesburg (2004). Group exhibitions include The Ampersand Foundation 1997-2003 at Warren Siebrits (2003) and 20:20 Mapping Trajectories at the Wits Art Gallery in Johannesburg (2003). Doreen Southwood was born in Cape Town in 1974 and has a BA Fine Art from the University of Stellenbosch. She was the overall winner of the first Brett Kebble Art Awards in 2003. She has held solo shows at the Klein Karoo Festival (2003) and Bell-Roberts Gallery, Cape Town (2002 and 2001). Group exhibitions include Personal Affects: Power and poetics in contemporary South African art at the Museum for African Art in New York (2004) and the Dak’Art Biennial in Senegal (2004). She won the commission for a public sculpture in Tilburg, the Netherlands, in 2005 and will exhibit new paintings at Michael Stevenson in September 2005. Jeremy Wafer Born in Durban in 1953, Wafer has an MA Fine Art from the University of the Witwatersrand (1987) where he is an Associate Professor. He was a merit award winner at the Brett Kebble Art Awards in 2004. He was awarded a fellowship at the Civitella Ranieri Centre in Italy in 2001, and in July/August 2005 is artist-in-residence at RMIT University, Melbourne. Solo shows include Measure at the Goodman Gallery, Johannesburg (2004) and Survey, a retrospective at the Sasol Museum in Stellenbosch and the Durban Art Gallery. Recent group exhibitions include Tangencya in Durban (2004). Sandile Zulu was born in Ixopo in 1960 and lives in Johannesburg. He has a BA Fine Art from the
University of the Witwatersrand (1993) and a Diploma in Fine Art from Rorke’s Drift Art School in KwaZulu-Natal (1982). He received a Civitella Ranieri Fellowship award in 2000. He held a solo exhibition at the October Gallery in London in June 2005. Recent group exhibitions include Mixed belongings: Eight contemporary African makers at the Crafts Council Galleries, London (2005); Personal Affects: Power and poetics in contemporary South African art at the Museum for African Art, New York (2004); and Tremor at the Palais des Beaux Arts, Charleroi, Belgium.
Thanks to the October Gallery in London for facilitating the participation of El Anatsui; Warren Siebrits Modern and Contemporary Art for the participation of Stefanus Rademeyer; JoĂŁo Ferreira Fine Art for the participation of Paul Edmunds; Storm Janse van Rensburg of the KZNSA Gallery for assistance with regard to Dineo Bopape. Also to the installation team of Denzil Deacon, to Wim Botha for help with the catalogue design, and to all at Michael Stevenson.
Catalogue no 16 August 2005 Curator and editor Sophie Perryer Photography Kathy Grundlingh Scanning Tony Meintjes Printing Hansa Reproprint