A Shared Practice by VANSA

A SHARED PRACTICE

Visual Arts Network of South Africa 6 Verwey Str New Doornfontein Johannesburg South Africa www.vansa.co.za A Shared Practice Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License. Content Development: Mika Conradie Design and layout: Vusimuzi Hlatywayo

Preface.................................................................................. Glossary: Redefinitions....................................................... Report................................................................................... Parenthesis: Reconsiderations.......................................... Responses: four texts on common practice................... dala................................................................................. Kirsty Cockeril............................................................... Rangoato Hlasane........................................................ Zen Marie...................................................................... Further Reading..................................................................

1 3 5 20 24 25 28 33 37 49

PREFACE A Shared Practice has arisen out of a research process conducted by VANSA, as a kind of temperature testing of the current environment and tone of practice happening within contemporary art in South Africa. The research was initially posited as a feasibility study of a Code of Practice for contemporary art practitioners; artists, museums, galleries, technical practitioners and others who make contemporary art possible in South Africa. The Code of Practice concept comes form the professionalisation of industries as a way to guarantee, first and foremost, quality (such as a code of practice within a guild) but also professional and ethical relations. As we began to imagine what a Code of Practice would look like in South Africa, using models from Australia, Canada and the UK for inspiration, we found it more and more difficult to be clear about for who, how, and to what end such a code might function. This was primarily because it is so difficult to be clear about who contemporary art practitioners are, and in what ways the things they do intersect. It became evident, that we needed to begin by trying to loosely define who this ‘group’ of practitioners is and whether the act of ‘grouping’ is pertinent in the first place. What has arisen in this process has primarily been a set of challenges: The first challenge has been finding the language or lexicon with which to discuss this. Primarily because we as different people/practitioners within contemporary art think and speak in very different ways. But also, importantly, because we often don’t think about ourselves collectively, particularly outside of the immediate and often limited other people/practitioners we engage with. To this end, the following pages seek to determine relatively singular understandings of certain words (page 3 and 4), but also to introduce new words and new concepts (page 18-21) for which we might re-imagine parts of our practice and potential collective experience. Also challenging has been trying to imagine a group – language barriers aside – within such a wide ranging practice and where to draw the boundaries. Our selection has been conservative, primarily due to the limitations within the research scope, and as such narrows the potential conversation. We have interviewed and researched primarily within discourses of contemporary art within gallery and consciously nongallery practices, within international frames, in bigger South African cities and with relatively successful, primarily university educated practitioners. A wider scope, and less defined understanding of our practice will certainly have yielded significantly different results. And will likely have emphasised more, a sense of alienation and difficulty among many practitioners. Further, has been the challenge of coming to terms with a commerciality of the sector that is often seen and self-imaged as elite, wealthy and internationally successful, with the broader reality of a significantly small field with relatively precarious and risk-ridden success potential. These polarisations are both very much true, making contemporary art practice and its value chain incredibly complex to modulate in the sense of a principles of practice. But further make a sense of collective recognition very difficult – and make the idea of codes, principles or even mutual beneficiation subject to apprehension and even a perception of threat.

In order to span the range of complexities and multi-dimensional positions, this publication features multiple parts. It includes a glossary of words and ideas, it includes the formal report stemming from interviews and desktop research into the potential of a principles of practice in South Africa, and lastly includes contributions from a range of practitioners â&#x20AC;&#x201C; in gallery practice, independent practice and academia. Collectively the three sections point to three main concerns or loose recommendations. One, that better understanding of the broader (commercial, organisational, worker) nature of contemporary art practice is necessary for all players and a conversation needs to be had more often. Two, that a norms and standards would be valuable to set a base framework that practitioners (in galleries, museums, consultancies, as well as artists etc.) could consult for the work they do and the relationships they develop. And three, that any response, or norms or standards, would need to be dynamic and subject to change rather than static and prescriptive, in order to meet the needs of an incredibly complex and always shifting sector. Finally the words across this publication point to the reality that the field is small and precarious and its practitioners are very vulnerable, but perhaps more importantly, that those who practice in it all want it to survive and grow. But also, many struggle to find place within it, and see it as unwilling to share. There remains, it seems, a need to enable a norms and standards by which practitioners can measure themselves, and choose to what extent they wish to follow them and under what circumstances. But primarily, there remains the need to encourage for all, an understanding of a multifarious and asymmetrical contemporary art field of practice, all parts of which merit sustenance and none in favour of another. If this understanding can be achieved, a shared practice is made evident.

Molemo Moiloa Director of the Visual Arts Network of South Africa

Glossary Practice Activities that are exercised by individuals, organisations and institutions to ensure their growth and sustainability in the industry. In this publication these activities are not necessarily framed as artistic or conceptual praxis, but are instead read as the activities that are engaged in to see an endeavour through, such as particular ways of procuring certain resources, building structures and models (i.e project spaces and galleries) that support the circulation of particular ideas, and shifting between various roles and professions. SEE: COMMON PRACTICE, HUSTLING, INFRASTRUCTURE, NETWORKS

Common Practice A practice that is collectively endorsed and shared by individuals and organisations who affiliate to the visual arts. A common practice is not necessarily an artistic practice but has the ability to sustain the artistic practices of individuals, institutions and organisations, as well as contributing to the survival of the industry as a whole. SEE: GOALS, PRACTICE, SURVIVAL

Precarity Referring to the insecurity of certain resources (infrastructural, institutional, social, monetary) in the visual arts sector, and the condition of uncertainty that individuals and organisations exist under due to the unpredictability of resource dissemination, and consequent levels of access to resources. Precarity is felt at different levels by different individuals and organisations. Precarity can also refer to the insecurity that artists and freelance art practitioners experience in terms of unpredictable wages, contract work, and the ability to secure pensions and medical aid in the long term. SEE: RESOURCES, SURVIVAL

Infrastructure Infrastructure refers to a basic system or organising force, and commonly refers to concrete manifestations like railroads, buildings and State-run systems. In Abdoumalique Simone’s People as Infrastructure, infrastructure is recast through the frame of relational networks established and maintained by people in order to sustain a particular enterprise. This infrastructure arises through a lack in access to some of the legitimate and sanctioned concrete infrastructures mentioned above. Infrastructure also represents the interconnectedness of various elements that make something happen, and the work and systems that go into sustaining something. Irit Rogoff speaks of infrastructure as that thing that is not really a thing, but that is put in place to get something else done. SEE: HUSTLING, COMMON PRACTICE, GOALS, RESOURCE, SURVIVAL

Resources Tangible and intangible assets that can be drawn from to support an activity and the sustainability of a sector. “Resource” should not only be framed in monetary terms, yet various resources such as institutions that push new critical frameworks for the production and reception of art, for instance, and structures that nurture particular professions and roles in the sector, are very much influenced by degrees of funding. Visual arts sectors have traditionally been sustained by resources provided by State patronage (and to a lesser degree private funding), especially in parts of West Europe and

North America (although the role of the State in supporting the arts in these geographies has diminished post-2008). The South African visual arts sector does not experience the same level of State patronage, and private patronage is usually focused on only a very small and particular set of artistic practices. To this end, this publication frames “resource” not only in terms of what can be achieved with specific funding, but what can also be achieved without it. “Resource” then also includes non-tangible assets in the sector like skills and systems that are produced as alternatives to funding; and knowledge and expertise that is circulated and shared by forming networks and connections. Access to these resources, like funding, is not certain and dependent on whether particular networks and groups can be accessed. SEE: INFRASTRUCTURE, NETWORKS, PRECARITY, SURVIVAL, VOLUNTEERISM

Survival The fact or state of continuing to exist despite difficult circumstances – in this case not in the sense of extreme urgency but in the sense of continuation. To survive in the visual arts sector includes finding ways of maintaining an artistic practice, and maintaining a livelihood. In instances when monetary resources are low, alternative survival strategies must be thought up and acted upon. Survival can also be thought away from individual survival in the industry, and towards particular roles and practices that ensure the continuation of the industry as a whole. SEE: COMMON PRACTICE, GOAL, PRACTICE, RESOURCES, VOLUNTEERISM

Goals Aims that are worked towards with common intention by all who affiliate themselves to the visual arts sector. SEE: COMMON PRACTICE

Hustling Common dictionary definitions of “hustle” are negative, and point to crude underhanded activities that result in capital and monetary gain. In the context of this publication “hustling” connotes various activities that get things done in an under-resourced environment, most often with the survival of individual endeavours and the industry as a whole at stake. This more often than not involves establishing relationships and networks with like-minded individuals in the sector. SEE: RESOURCES, COMMON PRACTICE, SURVIVAL, INFRASTRUCTURE

Networks Groups of interconnected individuals. Formed by mutual interests, and to sustain mutual support. SEE: INFRASTRUCTURE, HUSTLING, RESOURCE

Volunteerism A system based on the offer of free labour, and the giving of personal time towards a particular task or for a particular cause. This is practiced in various degrees across the visual arts industry, can be dependent on access to particular networks, and may contribute to maintaining the survival of the sector. This practice is also largely unpredictable and unsustainable for individuals and organisations in the long run. SEE: COMMON PRACTICE, NETWORK, GOAL, PRACTICE, RESOURCES, SURVIVAL

REPORT

Introduction i) Background In 2010 the Human Sciences Research Council (HSRC) in association with the Visual Arts Network of South Africa (VANSA), published a report commissioned by the South African Department of Arts and Culture. Titled, An Assessment of the Visual Arts in South Africa, the report presented research on the status of various structures and stakeholders in the South African visual arts sector, and the conditions under which these structures and individuals operate. The report signified the first and most comprehensive study of the scope of the visual arts sector, and presented recommendations for areas that needed further consideration and action. This study was prompted by recommendations in the above report to invest in professional development and advisory resources for visual arts practitioners1 through the development of a code or guideline of practice for the conduct of commercial relationships between artists and institutional structures in the visual arts. Taking this recommendation into consideration, and building on the research and work that has been consolidated with the Artright website (2010) and VANSAâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Artists Handbook (2009), this study was commissioned as an initial research and report on the feasibility of a code of best practice for the visual arts industry of South Africa.

ii) What is a code of best practice for the visual arts? Codes of best practice put forward standard practices that regulate relationships between different agents in the visual arts. These relationships, more often than not, involve economic exchange, whether at the initial stages of a relationship (contracting, commissioning and representation), or at the later stage of sales. In visual art sectors the world over the most common practices lobbied for regulation are between artist and gallery. However, these codes can be formulated to include other practices within the industry such as competitions, residencies, art writing, and publishing. The core focus of the development of such a code is in sustaining a visual arts industry through ethical practices that are benchmarked, and that all stakeholders and structures can agree to as common practice. Codes of best practice establish the rights and responsibilities of stakeholders, try to indicate standard industry norms to alleviate misunderstandings between parties, and encourage respectful relationships that might have a direct impact on the health of a particular visual arts industry. Most have wider community input and endorsement that extend from artists, to public and private art institutions and government, and take as a point of departure principles that have been collectively gauged and agreed upon. In this way codes provide guidance and show how good practice can be applied, especially where particular regulations fall short or are nonexistent. Best practice codes can therefore also provide the basis for future development of government-backed policy and legislation.

See: Recommendation 14, pp216, in Human Sciences Research Council (HSRC) et al. 2010. Research Report: An Assessment of the Visual Arts in South Africa (Consultation Draft). 1

b) Methodology i) Research Methodology: Problems and Approaches Reports produced by European2 arts organisations and advocacy networks position “value” as a justification for best practice guidelines and codes to be accepted by the industry. Approaches to articulating value vary amongst these codes, from defining the economic value of art on the one hand, to the personal and societal roles the arts play on the other. With “econocentric” approaches comes the problem of measuring “artistic value” as a certain economic target that artists or visual arts organisations must meet. What is at stake in numerical and fiscal approaches is value only being realised within commercial terms, and small, independent producers within the industry evading measures or certain performance indicators3. This is very much the case in South Africa, where small project spaces and artist-run initiatives may experience financial shortfall, yet still produce critical small-scale projects that have long term effects upon the careers of the artists involved. Our research revealed that most codes of best practice were tied to, or emerged from, particular visual arts infrastructures such as state-endorsed and supported bodies that provide the resources and capacity for parties to sign-on, maintain best practices, and administer their responsibilities to the code. This infrastructural situation and relationship to resources is not usual in the context of the South African visual arts sector and creates a unique problem for developing a code of practice which requires a certain degree of buy-in and administration. This problem has informed the research methodology and this study examines the feasibility of devising a principles of common practice before a code of best practice. “Common practice”, in this study, is defined not necessarily as artistic or aesthetic practice (although this kind of practice might influence an individual’s position in relation to other practices), but as the strategic practices employed by individuals, organisations and institutions to ensure their growth, survival and sustainability in the sector. Testing the feasibility of a principle of common practice first assesses the extent to which players in the sector consider themselves to have a common responsibility towards that sector (considering its disparities and minimal infrastructure). It also tests the extent to which players in the sector already have objectives and interests (principles) in common. Only on this basis could a code of best practice be determined. The study has attempted to gauge these practices, interests, and feelings of responsibility through various agents and organisations. The discursive approach of conducting interviews allows for narrative expressions from stakeholders in the industry that could reveal broader social, political and philosophical questions while also interrogating the challenges and negotiations associated with various practices in the industry.

See: a-n The Artists Information Company. The Code of Practice for the Visual Arts and Paying Artists: Valuing Art, Valuing Artists; and Visual Artists Ireland (VAI). The Manual: A Survival Guide for Visual Artists http://visualartists.ie/the-manual-a-survival-guidefor-visual-artists/ 2

See: R. GORDON-NESBITT’S report commissioned by Common Practice Value, Measure, Sustainability: Ideas Towards the Future of the Small-Scale Visual Arts for further critiques on econocentric approaches to establishing value in the arts. 3

Individuals Interviews

Lecturer at a university of technology. DBN

Curator of art museum. CT

Curator of art museum. DBN

Independent Curator, JHB

Commercial gallery owner. CT

Co-founder of inner-city project space. JHB

Lecturer at a university art school. JHB

ii) Objectives This study focused on stakeholders in the three main visual arts economies of South Africa: Durban, Johannesburg, and Cape Town. Historically, peri-urban and rural centres in South Africa were marginalised in terms of state and industry investment in arts infrastructure, art education, and audience development through museums and institutions, and the legacy of inadequate engagement with these areas remains. While this report acknowledges the problematic issue of minimal engagement with art practitioners in peri-urban and rural cities and towns, the geographic scope of the research was determined by the concentration of stakeholders and visual arts organisation in each city, and the critical roles that some of these stakeholders have played in shaping and re-shaping their local visual arts industries. A core objective of this research was to test if a common practice existed or was perceived amongst stakeholders. This involved identifying a wide set of practitioners and organisations that operate across various positions, roles and fields to get a broad understanding of what practices are used to sustain projects and endeavors, and whether these practices were thought of as concomitantly sustaining the industry as a whole. To this end, the research focused on gauging the following in interview sessions: - - - - - -

The conditions in which a participant operates If these conditions are amenable to the regulation of best practice If stakeholders have, and/or can imagine, a practice that is shared with other practitioners in the industry How that practice could/could not already regulate the survival and sustainability of the industry How relationships in the visual arts industry are already regulated by tacit/professional codes How alternative infrastructures have been developed to ensure survival or sustainability

“The South African art world knows that there needs to be a certain amount of generosity for it to sustain itself. There simply isn’t enough money floating around on any level, on the market, on private collectors. We’re aware that we are very lucky to have what we do but it needs a lot of maintaining...”

c) Findings Interviews with participants revealed an overlap of practices that are shared but not necessarily figured as common practice. Stakeholders identified specific practices that they worked to maintain, and the study revealed that some practices were informed by differences in context such as geography and the health and size of a particular art market, and that certain cities had affinities in some practices, and some not. The strongest affinity between all geographies and stakeholders was the relationship to financial precariousness that is felt at different levels between particular professions in the sector, and across different commercial, private and public institutions like galleries, art museums, and artist-run initiatives. Precariousness is felt primarily in relation to a lack of funding or funding opportunities that would ensure that practices are sustained, grow stronger, and have some hand in expanding the remits of the sector.

i) Established and Implied Codes of Practice Participants in the study pointed to codes of practice that are already followed and that regulate the sector in certain ways. The visual arts sector, like most niche sectors, produces its own social mores and particularised practices. For many participants these practices are believed to be learnt and inculcated when: 1. Studying the arts through particular institutions 2. Moving into the job market, and spending time in various positions at visual arts institutions 3. Participating in particular forms of acknowledgment, such as exhibitions or art prizes 4. Establishing networks with other stakeholders while setting up projects, or when producing exhibitions and other creative work. These practices are learnt and understood as part-and-parcel of how the industry operates. For many participants this includes the cultivation of particular “intuitions” such as anticipating how parts of the sector will critically respond to particular initiatives and artistic/conceptual output; a belief that after graduating and obtaining a qualification practitioners need to sustain a certain amount of visibility around their artistic/ creative practice by entering commercial galleries or seeking both local and international opportunities like residencies; or by setting up their own spaces and structures in which to operate. “Commonly” understood values and practices are very much prescribed, informed, and cultivated by operating inside of certain circles in the sector. While acknowledging the reality of the systems described above, some participants also questioned the accessibility of these “entry points” into what is most commonly the contemporary art sector. Some participants pointed to how the emphasis placed on a particular system of moving through academicised art institutions, and into post-graduate job placement in institutions ignores alternative art education and artistic practices that happen outside of these centralised modes, and more often than not outside of geographic centres. The value placed on these “sanctioned” modes effectively exclude and ignore a periphery of artistic practice and mobilisation. Formalised and ratified practices are also adhered to, specifically by larger institutions. Codified practices are adhered to by museum directors and museum professionals who work across the public institutional sphere and private and commercial spheres. These codes are administered by international bodies, such as the International Council of Museum’s (ICOM) ethical and best practice standards, or United Nationsendorsed museological practices that are applied and govern the administration of collections, exhibition

production, educational programmes, and professional practice. Although these are the practices that most feel should be standard for all museums in South Africa, participants felt that some public institutions in the country fell short of this standard, especially in terms of how the above codes guide the management and care of objects. Some participants noted that commercial galleries use these guidelines and practices to better effect than some public institutions, not only because they might be better resourced (these resources are usually self-generated through business operations), but because commercial galleries follow a so-called “natural” code of practice that is dictated by the market. This feeling was shared particularly by participants working in the art economies of Johannesburg and Cape Town. This code of practice is embedded in the practices that commercial galleries use to sustain themselves and produce market value for their artists. Some participants felt that unethical practices between artist and gallery was bad for business, therefore, ethical practices had to become market values and had to be applied. In this sense, standards that have economic manifestation were perceived to be the most likely to be adhered to. Some participants critiqued this equation as risking unethical practice for economic survival, and inculcating the production and circulation of artwork that is dictated by the market’s needs and not by a specific conceptual, critical or ethical framework. Others insisted that due to the smallness of the South African visual arts sector, commercial art galleries were forced to recognise the necessity of ethical practices. Established South African commercial art galleries often exhibit some of their artists at annual international art fairs, ranging from big fairs such as Miami Art Basel, to smaller fairs like the Berlin Art Fair and LISTE. In order to be successful and generate sales at these fairs galleries must inculcate practices of an international standard. Some participants felt that these practices, ranging from how they look after their artworks to maintaining respectful relationships with artists, collectors and institutions, aided the survival of each commercial gallery. For some participants this means that there are already particular structures in place that ensure best practices, even though the effects of these structures have not necessarily been codified or formalised within the framework of a common practice document in South Africa. The necessity of producing a formalised code of practice was most strongly questioned by participants with a background in the commercial sphere. It was noted that these tacit codes of practice, upon which some participants believe survival is dependent, are self-regulating and shift with changing urgencies. Some participants expressed concern that the flexibility that is needed to practice in such conditions would possibly be hampered by a formalised principles of practice. Participating artists and independent/ freelance practitioners also questioned the inflexibility of a set of standards and principles, but conceded that certain standards should be commonly endorsed to allay the vulnerability artists feel around the issues of commissioning, payment, fees, and tax.

ii) Gatekeeping Visual arts industries the world over are organised by the institutional influences of museums, commercial galleries, non-commercial spaces, biennales and art fairs, journals and publications, and academic departments. The majority of the public structures in South Africa were established and resourced during apartheid. In their capacity to inform and circulate tacit codes of practice, it was felt by participants that institutions established both pre- and post-1994 still play the role of gatekeepers in the sector. This gatekeeping is viewed by participants as controlling access to certain resources (funding, space, networks) and in determining value and taste when it comes to the meaning and aesthetic concerns of producing and circulating art. These are not mutually exclusive, as determining artistic, aesthetic and conceptual merit more often than not determines access to funding and resources that ensure a degree of visibility in the commercial sphere, and even in the “independent” and non-commercial sphere.

Large public institutions that were set up in South Africa during apartheid privileged the work and artistic development of white artists. The legacy of the historically uneven support of artists post-1994 was expressed by participants, as well as the fact that institutions have not established practices that sufficiently address and attempt to rectify imbalances. These imbalances extend to degrees of support encountered in urban centers and in what is termed as peri-urban and rural areas. While some participants felt that public funding needed to be concentrated in cities - where the art market is traditionally found and sustained others voiced concern around the inequality of access to resources that such a concentration would sustain in the sector in the long-term. In this sense, participants felt that the growth and development of the sector is not necessarily viewed in terms of the whole industry, but instead only on contemporary production that is concentrated in urban areas where gatekeeper institutions are operating. Some participants felt that resources were not focused where the need is the greatest, and that the industry as a whole needs to collectively re-establish and shift focus to different artistic practices and areas to ensure a balanced sector.

iii) Maintaining Relational Infrastructures Some participants operating in Durban presented concerns about the smallness of their local commercial art market, the drain of artists and art practitioners (curators, educators, art writers) from Durban to the larger markets of Johannesburg and Cape Town, and the effects of this withdrawal on the city’s visual sector in the long-term. Durban experiences a relatively less defined art market, the effects of which can be felt even on independent and non-commercial practices and endeavours. Participants expressed concern that with facing a very small base of art buyers, collectors and critical audiences, Durban-born artists seek out markets in Johannesburg and Cape Town. Participants felt that a small artist base has a knock-on effect on the size of the local art-viewing audience; on the presence of arts writers that could push Durban into contemporary art discourse; and on general critical engagement with the production of art - resulting in narrowing the desirability for arts practitioners to move to and remain in the city. This narrowing down of the sector means, for some participants, greater feelings of precariousness, and consequently feelings of solidarity between entities that in larger visual arts economies might seem disparate (such as between commercial galleries and publically funded institutions or independent spaces). The feeling that individuals need to work together to sustain the sector was more pronounced in interviews undertaken with practitioners in Durban. To this end participants felt that the small scale of the visual arts world in the city made for stronger informal structures produced from relationships, from degrees of resource-sharing, establishing strong networking ties, and a general feeling of being part of an enabling atmosphere. One participant characterised the Durban art establishment with the analogy: “what we say in Durban is that we are all like woodworm holding hands and holding the art scene up. We all have to put into it to get it going”. This is not to say that a particular shared goal of sustaining the local sector presents a scene that is unified, cohesive, and in commons. Many participants in Durban also expressed concern over disparities between practitioners who represent a so-called “old guard” which is better networked and has more access to established infrastructure, and younger practitioners who feel marginalised and alienated from particular art institutions. Younger practitioners in Durban are calling for greater access to resources and greater diversity in institutional roles, artistic and conceptual output, and recognition. By sharing the reality of an under-resourced sector many participants, across the study’s geographic scope, felt the need to invest in and maintain alternative infrastructures based on building relationships and networks. The networks that are maintained are usually specific to particular spheres, namely various circles and networks within the commercial sphere, and groupings within the non-profit and independent sphere. As noted above, in the pool of participants who were interviewed in Durban, these spheres may

“If we decide to carry on without government then we’re not going to get anywhere. I’m saying let’s go knock on their doors, let’s go tell them what we’re doing. Let’s tell them how we can interface with them. If we think about the infrastructure roll-out that government is talking about: R83 billion and now they’re talking about 1% to the arts. That’s a good initiative, go get that 1%! But we’re not going to say “hey, give me that 1%”. No, it takes a lot of work, of banging on the doors of those who are ignorant about art. We artists have to learn creative ways of dealing with power.” “We’re battling to pay our bills every month. But I think that is a crucial place to be in sometimes where you’re actually hustling for resources. The crazy paradox in this resource starvation, if you like, is that we’re doing the most incredible work. So I think we just have to bite bullet, stay there and really just keep chipping away at what we do...so I think there is an argument to be made for that kind of living on the edge, but I don’t want to live on the edge forever. I am hoping that the edge is a phase that we are going through right now, that out of necessity we are establishing alternative norms to deal with lack of resources.”

“Everyone’s hustling and doing their own thing. Some are more able than others, though. What is amazing is that in the hustle there is so much improvisation.”

8 14

overlap in the interest of sustaining a localised industry at large. In the non-commercial sphere in all three cities, these relational infrastructures are practiced by sharing advice, collaborating across institutions, and sharing small-scale resources like equipment (plinths for exhibitions, projectors, and space for projects to manifest) between different entities: artists, tertiary visual arts departments, project spaces, and artist studios. While the benefit of being highly networked was acknowledged, some participants questioned how accessible these networks are in the first place. The commercial sector that deals in contemporary work is regulated by rarefied relationships towards taste and value, which some artists and practitioners might not have the means to enter – in part, as one participant noted, to disciplines and artistic practices that are not sanctioned or circulated within the commercial sphere. Concern was also felt by some participants about the pitfalls of operating inside a system that depends too much on relationships and on building and sustaining strong networks, and whether it is possible to think of practices outside specific relationships. Participants questioned whether the current networked system makes it easier to validate work that is not up to a particular critical standard and quality, and if this results in employing repetitive practices that dilute criticality.

iv) Shifting Roles and Practices Organisations, project spaces, studio spaces, and independent individuals who operate in the visual arts sector take on multiple roles and practices in order to sustain their projects and themselves. In some cases this “shape-shifting” is about ensuring the survival of a particular idea, as in the case of project spaces and studio spaces that sometimes move into commercial practices to carry on working with and supporting young and emerging artists. This is a condition that “independent” project spaces face especially. Participants who manage studio and project spaces grapple with fulfilling their original mandate - to provide support and a platform for young, emerging and experimental artists (who established galleries are often wary of representing) - and finding ways to sustain not only their practice, but themselves financially. In the face of an under-resourced sector, these spaces are forced to bring more commercial strategies into their everyday practices, such as hiring their venues out for non-art related events, or encouraging artist who work with them to put work on sale. Participants expressed concern about how these practices affect the kind of artwork and concepts that are exhibited, supported, and eventually circulated. In other cases, due to a lack of staff capacity, individuals take on multiple roles in their organisations, and have to develop multiple skills to see a project through, for example: artists who curate project spaces or exhibitions, and directors who take on more work to fill staff gaps. The performance of these multiple roles is seen as a reaction to dwindling or complete withdrawal of funding from the sector; as a response to funding that has very specific demands in terms of content and form; and to a scarcity of practitioners that are trained in very specific fields of expertise. Participants expressed various opinions about whether fulfilling multiple roles is good for the sector as a whole or not. While some believe it is positive that practitioners are developing skills beyond their immediate training (for instance, artists working as teachers or as curators) and diversifying their practice, some participants expressed concern about the depth of these skills, and whether practices could become diluted and intentions and ethics blurred when not developed to the point of single profession. Some participants felt that an inability to discern between various practices as distinctive fields, could contribute to the sector not being as healthy as it could be, and was seen as a symptom of it being under-resourced.

v) Making things happen While the South African visual arts sector is relatively better resourced than sectors in the rest of the continent, participants agreed that the industry still depends on artists and other practitioners volunteering their expertise for free. Some participants found the sector and networks in which they operate generous in terms of giving time and sharing intangible resources like knowledge, advice, and expertise. This particular kind of resource-sharing usually happens between individuals who are on the same level professionally and operate within the same network, who, for example, assist each other in setting up exhibitions; as well as between individuals with more experience and skill in the industry assisting those who are trying to access the industry by writing references or giving advice on how to produce a funding proposal. However, this raised the question, again, of how easy is it to access these networks and how much professional support those outside these networks actually have. The entirely unskilled may not have the immediate potential to volunteer, as this requires skills sanctioned by the industry. This research found that volunteering is, in fact, done by the most highly skilled in the sector. Participants acknowledged that the South African art world needs a certain amount of generosity to sustain itself and to maintain the resources and structures that it does have. This requires a certain degree of action and participation on the part of stakeholders, which some felt was lacking. Participants agreed that due to a lack of resources (institutions, funding and employment opportunity) the responsibility falls to individuals to make things happen in the art world. As attested by the above findings on project spaces, those that do take action, encounter particular difficulties in sustaining that action and sustaining the original intentions of their initiatives when they are faced with particular resource deprivation. Expectations of the level and flow of contribution and â&#x20AC;&#x153;making things happenâ&#x20AC;? vary greatly amongst stakeholders in the industry. While some participants lament a perceived lethargy in the industry towards expanding the critical contemporary art field, others in the same local sector are in constant negotiation and lobbying with departments and institutions like the Department of Trade and Industry, Department of Art and Culture, and local tourism authorities to make the industry more visible in the local sphere and to ensure that they can sustain their artists, their projects, and their local industry. The struggles of theses actions are often hidden, due to the internal administrative nature of such negotiations, and are often not widely perceived.

vi) Starting Out Participants between the ages of 22 â&#x20AC;&#x201C; 30 noted that to sustain themselves and their initiatives they had to work with the resources that were immediately available to them, such as skills learnt during respective education and training, the knowledge-base and skills of colleagues that they come into contact with, and the use of spaces that are more accessible (like restaurants and public libraries) rather than established institutional models like commercial galleries. Some of these participants are reluctant to base the sustainability of their projects on traditional funding models and sources such as public and government funding authorities, and in fact have never applied to these agencies for funding. Instead they are using corporate funding models and in-kind sponsorship from businesses unrelated to the art sector. Project and studio spaces have also begun to look at how, by setting up collective commercial endeavours like selling prints or merchandise, the income generated can sustain initiatives. However, these commercial endeavours often take a long time to yield any monetary gain.

Many of the younger participants also identified structures and models that they perceived to be unavailable to them, such as the resources and support necessary in the process of establishing a commercial gallery. One participant spoke about not reproducing standard commercial gallery practices as these institutions already have a pool of resources, networks and infrastructures that are not immediately available to most art practitioners who are starting out in the sector. Other participants agreed that it is important to create models that can be sustained with what is at hand and that can open access to artistic practices and ideologies that are not circulated in the commercial sphere. This sentiment was strongly iterated by participants working to establish new markets and interest in historically ignored visual arts spheres and who are trying to fill platform and resource gaps for artists and practitioners who find themselves isolated from the contemporary sector after graduating, or because they have not undergone formal or â&#x20AC;&#x153;typicalâ&#x20AC;? training in the sector.

“Some artists are engaged in practices that sustain the industry, and some aren’t. I think that’s also okay. Needs are different and people are able to respond to needs in different ways. Most people who are active in the art world are aware that it doesn’t sustain itself without contributing in some way. I think there is a sense of community but not necessarily a common practice.”

d) What next: i) Generate opportunities for collective discourse and feedback This study noted a lack of general opportunities for stakeholders in the visual arts sector to come together and discuss the role of common practices and common goals in the industry. This could be partly remedied by establishing focus groups for stakeholders to connect. This study could also play a part in the potential collective conversation if it is made available to the sector.

ii) Widen the scope of common practice research For logistical and scoping reasons this study focused only on the main visual arts economies of Durban, Johannesburg and Cape Town. It is important to extend this study to traditionally marginalised visual arts sectors of the country and to ensure an encompassed reading of the sector.

iii) Professional practice: develop a set of norms and standards While this study noted a concern for the restrictions that any sector-wide code might place on a divergent field, there was a strong call for a general norms and standards document to be developed as an alternative for artists and other freelance practitioners to consult before accepting work, signing contracts, and when negotiating fees. There is a particular need for research into how fees should be set, and how the benchmarks for the process of public commissions should be administered. It would be difficult to have this document be prescriptive, but it would be of greater relevance if it could shift according to the capacity of various organisations and the impact of wider shifts in the economy or in policy.

iv) Professional practice: widen access to/of alternative spaces for engagement in the sector While participants noted that informal and unwritten codes exist in the sector, and that broader international codes are used and function in various states within the more formalised institutions of the South African arts sector, these codes are determined by those already active in it. This means that they are applied by those accessing and functioning within it. The extent to which this code is entirely ethical or fairly applied is of major significance. There is a need to widen this code, broadening the knowledge of norms and standards, and encourage those who are marginalised to choose to function within it. This is not currently the case.

18 10

Hustling ‘Hustling’ is the project of doing. In its simplest manifestation it is a set of activities directed towards making something happen; and after the success of this, the provocation of further activity to sustain that something. In the visual arts sector that ‘something’ is directed by a wide range of desires, relationships, practices, ideologies, points of access, and values that are projected onto art: what it should be, the conditions of its materiality, and how it should circulate and function in society. Hustling, then, is practiced on different levels and for different outcomes. An artist who wishes to circulate their work through the commercial gallery system must find ways of connecting to gallerists and making their work visible to them; gallerists and art dealers must find ways of connecting to and establishing a collector base. Burgeoning local art fairs and a small but fairly stable local art market present some of the spaces in which commercial art hustling can play out. Art museums that need to sustain endowment funds to continue their practices must similarly find particular forms through which to find patronage. While independent practitioners who do not want to affiliate to a commercial or patronage system must find alternative models with a likeminded audience and collaborators to support their endeavours. While hustling can ensure that practitioners are making a living and able to support themselves financially it is also exercised to access particular networks that would help to create visibility for ideas and practices, with like-minded individuals and institutions. Hustling, then, is also a practice of encounter that needs various agents to come into contact with one another. The work of hustling happens in trying to realise a space for these points of contact (meetings, exhibitions, residencies, etc), and in obtaining the resources to make this happen. However, the work of hustling is not necessarily driven by the same conditions or desires, and the position to access particular infrastructures determines the level of need for an individual or an organisation. Practitioners that have graduated from a particular institution, for instance, and have been inculcated into that institution’s networks and systems might find it easier to obtain a particular resource than someone who is not affiliated to that institution, or institutions like it. They might also go about hustling for the very same resource in a very different way. Despite this, hustling is perhaps the practice that almost all practitioners who affiliate themselves to the sector have to exercise. The question is if the hustling that most are implicated in is acknowledged as a shared practice, and if the recognition thereof could manifest empathic understanding between agents that experience different conditions and operate in different ways.

Common Goal At the centre of the visual arts sector is the art object, but perceptions around the circulation, form, and value of the object segment the sector into different groups with variant ideologies and practices. It might be difficult to imagine what a common goal would be in such a divided sector. If you operate within the art world of a particular locale its borders might seem particularly perceptible, even if those borders are multiple and encircle very specific networks. While your closeness to a localised art world makes it thicken around you, what is far less discernable are practices, communities and relationships to the visual arts in cities and places spread throughout the country. The borders of the visual art sector as a whole are less definite. Part of the work of imagining a common goal in the visual arts would be to imagine collectivity, or attempt to define what the â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;commonsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; is â&#x20AC;&#x201C; difficult and problematic when it is in constant flux as practitioners and organisations try to enter the sector, while others try to escape, or are simply left behind. While individual survival must certainly be something we all aim towards, what is less clear is if the survival of the industry as a whole is considered when particular practices are exercised by individuals. Or perhaps, an acknowledgement that the survival of artists, curators, gallerists, organisations and other practitioners working in the visual arts might depend on attempting to collectively sustain the industry.

Responses: Four texts on common practice dala // Collectivity is Key............................................................... 25 Kirsty Cockerill // A Systematic View: The Role and Ethics of Income in the South African Visual Arts Sector................... 28 Rangoato Hlasane// Instead of galleries, collectors, the academy, journals, conferences and the state................... 33 Zen Marie// Zen and Megan go to the Beauty Salon............... 37

Collectivity is Key dala Twenty years after 1994, the political system is constantly failing to address social issues in South Africa. We believe that the main reason for this, understandably, is that the focus has been development on a quantitative domain. However, based on the experience of dala’s practice over the last fourteen years, the arts have a unique ability to complement this quantitative approach with a parallel qualitative aspect to development in general. A greater awareness is needed in the government sector, and other organisations in positions of power, to change this perception to a more holistic approach towards development. The onus is on us as creative organisations, to initiate this dialogue. This begins by building and sharing networks, creating an understanding of common practices for a specific collective purpose. However, to consider a common practice within the visual arts sector as a whole is problematic. We risk the danger of homogenizing a field that is very diverse, thereby narrowing its possibilities. We should rather speak of a common practice in relation to the roles of creative organisations with similar, specific interests. For us at dala, for example, this would be pertinent to art that is within the realm of social change. To our knowledge, the notion of a set of common practices within the visual arts does not exist. But before we rush to establish these formally in point form, there should most importantly be a well thought out vision in place. That vision could be a point of departure set in place by VANSA, the National Arts Council, or the Department of Arts and Culture. This could also be an incentive, to research and identify other organisations that are working within different sectors of the visual arts - i.e. fine art, performance, activism, and social change. This vision should not be fixed, but should rather allow room for the various trajectories of identified organisations, to accommodate any existing methods and strategies already in use in their practices. It is only once a vision is defined and in place that we can start to identify a common goal. This could be the beginning of a structure that provides a platform for organisations to share knowledg. From that we can begin to identify what methodologies different organisations use and in turn digest these procedures as potential common practices. To begin with, an initial identification process of a first ‘draft’ of common practice should take place. This could be in the form of a reunion of the relevant organisations to engage with each other and reflect upon and share what each group does, and what methodologies they use. From this discussion a set of points on what potential common practices there are could be drawn up. Thereafter, each organisation should have a period of time to test and reflect on the initial points drawn up allowing time to consolidate and consider the veracity and accuracy of this new theory of the collective, relative to the actual practice of the individual. This is of the utmost importance; check-backs within our work relating to this ‘draft’ of common practice need to be done before these points become a tangible set of practices that are exposed to a wider public.

This period of reflection allows us to examine our work, exposing any flaws or inaccuracies. We believe that only then can a set of points be formally recognised as common practices. Once this idea of a common practice has been situated within the purpose of fulfilling a collective vision â&#x20AC;&#x201C; in dalaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s case art for social change â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the first role of these practices would be to enable a process of conceptualisation, implementation, and finally reflection. For example, within the realm of art for social change, we need to understand that art acts as a thinking process, as knowledge production, more so than art as object. In order to facilitate this knowledge production, both funding and willing partnerships are required and necessary. Establishing common practices could facilitate both these elements. They could provide a platform where accessibility to funding is facilitated as well as assist in meaningful engagement with governmental and municipal processes and departments. As things stand, there is a dislocation between organisations working in the visual arts sector. Many of us may engage in subjects that compliment each other, but although our work is similar we act in isolation. There is a substantial body of work, but the absence of a common goal and vision means that opportunities to fulfill a bigger purpose are missed. Working in a project by project manner, rather than working collectively, means that our sector remains unfocused and disabled when it comes to making its impact felt. This set of common practices should provide the means for greater collective networks and engagement to take place. These common practices can and should be imagined. They would be the foundation of a structure that could position organisations and their initiatives in an organised process, within an intelligence and a knowledge production that has a greater purpose towards, for example, contributions to societal change or to human and urban development. Common practices could provide direction, a series of guidelines, from which emerging organisations could learn, and in which they could position themselves philosophically. New initiatives could adopt processes from precedent ones, methodologies could be exchanged, learning and sharing could take place. If solid principles could be built upon, while allowing flexibility in renegotiation and exchange, the massive effort involved in laying new groundwork in a young organisation, would not have to be constantly reimagined. A practical output of this could be intern or mentorship programmes which focus on selecting and giving an opportunity to someone who is considering opening an organisation; affording them the chance to tap into the running and conceptualising of projects to gain exposure to all practical and philosophical aspects. The development of common practices could provide an overview of information of different entry points into the specific sector. Using art in the realm of social change as an example, be it from the perspective of urban issues, health, or art and education, a set of common practices would provide a portfolio of avenues and possibilities that could point one in the right direction when opening an organisation. These common practices, if incorporated into a manual of guidelines, could be used by all organisations in numerous settings. In annual meetings to develop and synergize visions; during projects initiated by leading organisations - such as VANSA - to include and link other organisations during the production of these projects; or in the form of an online platform to showcase the collective vision and strategies of these organisations.

The backing of a shared, collective vision would have the ability to propel people forward within the shared knowledge of the collective, as opposed to the difficulties of learning and acting independently, making the development of a set of common practices, a powerful resource. dala verb to make / create (isiZulu) dala is an interdisciplinary creative collective that believes in the transformative role of creativity in building safer and more liveable cities. dala emerged as a response to the growing need for a sustainable space for creative practitioners actively engaging in the production of art / architecture for social change in eThekwini. dala believes that sustainable bring to the organisation: Doung (architect), Rike (social scientist), Nonto (curator). All three are practicing artists and educators who have been involved in a number of local change can only happen through democratic participation and collaboration. dala therefore facilitates creative initiatives between creative practitioners from a variety of backgrounds (artists, architects, researchers, performers, urban planners, designers), the municipality and most importantly the people and organisations that live and work within and around the city. dalaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s initiatives all revolve around re-imagining the use and expression in and of public space. Founders, Doung Jahangeer, Rike Sitas and Nontobeko Ntombela have been working on similar initiatives individually and collectively for close to ten years. The strength of dala lies in the interdisciplinary skills the founders and international projects and exhibitions

A Systematic View: The Role and Ethics of Income in the South African Visual Arts Sector Kirsty Cockerill Regulation of any sector and its common practices requires in-depth knowledge of how the individual puzzle pieces make up the whole. It also requires a sophisticated understanding of how each domino falls to effect the next. The professional art sector in South Africa has evolved and continues to change organically. Like many sectors it is not static, hence the rhythms of one domino’s movement - the picture illustrated by the individual puzzle pieces - is in continual flux. This is healthy and shows an awareness of what is relevant and necessary to achieve agency for individuals at any given time and context. It also suggests, at the very least, that there is the perception that something is to be gained by those invested and investing in the sector at all levels. This perception continues to see new commercial galleries opening up on every street corner. It sees parents paying for young adults to study art at tertiary institutions – and new courses for curating and arts administration being taught at these institutions. It also makes it difficult to formalise ‘regulated codes’ for best practice , in so much as by the time they have been formalised by oversight commitees and governing bodies, their relevance may , at best,have become useless to the industry. At worst, the regulating codes may curtail sustainability and hamper development and growth. If the context - socially, politically and financially is stable or static, then introducing a regulating code of common practice is not only useful, it is more importantly, possible. Currently, the South African art sector is neither stable nor static - it is growing and it is shrinking. Relatively speaking, the ‘professional’ arts sector in South Africa is new because the market is new. When sanctions were withdrawn and the cultural boycott lifted, there was access to international buying markets, and to knowledge and cultural influence which had previously been closed to South African arts practitioners. The commercial gallery side of the industry had to develop structures and platforms fast in order to fill the void and utilise the new potentials for sharing and making fiscal and cultural capital. ‘Fast’ often leads to mistakes, which in turn leads to the opportunity for self-criticality, self-regulation, growth and success. South Africa has undoubtedly succeeded in achieving a very active and engaged professional commercial sector in a very short time. However, it will continue to grow and shrink until a balance is found. The publically and governmentally funded museum sector in South Africa, grossly compromised by the Nationalist government - most notably when it came to what was not acquired for the permanent collections, and who could not see the works - were in other ways very successful in maintaining best practice standards for museums. The ethical care, handling, and conserving of artworks; the understanding of the role, power and responsibilities commanded by museums as institutions; their ability, through exhibitions and education systems, to create provenance for artworks and artists in their collections, were of a high standard. Best practice systems suggested by the International Council of Museums (ICOM) were acknowledged and maintained by professionals in museums, even while not being permitted, because of the cultural boycott, to become members of ICOM. Institutions like Johannesburg Art Gallery, South African National Galleries, and Durban Art Gallery were influential because they applied the standard best museum practice international codes. The publically funded museums, though compromised socially and politically,

worked to best practice principles logistically, because they had the government funded resources to do so. The primary commercial market was relatively small - agents, dealers, and arts associations with galleries attached to them. Today we have thousands of artists and numerous commercial galleries and auction house enterprises .Then, there was less of everything, most importantly democracy and an international market. Less ‘professional’ artists, less ‘professional’ galleries, less ‘market’ potential, less ‘uncensored’ content. Regulating common practice then, logistically, was much easier to suggest and apply, because without democracy and a free market practice, it was regulated by South African politics. A small demand and supply, a small pond where the ‘powerful’ were ‘powerful’ and remained ‘powerful’ for a very long time. It was stable and static, a “white” for “white” market. Practically, conceptually and fiscally, it was hegemonic. Then the South African political context changed. Two decades later, the publically and governmentally funded museum sector has lost relevance along with its acquisition budget. Museums that are unable to financially support artists and commercial galleries through purchasing works or exhibiting their collections, do not have the ability to build provenance for artists or their work. It is no longer important for an artist’s work to be in the South African National Gallery collection. All that this signifies is that the National Gallery cannot afford to acquire it. Hence, the governmentally funded museum’s inability to play a role in market related “quality” control is gone. Without the resources to review works in their collections, research and curate exhibitions, write and catalogue or travel exhibitions, they are no longer able to introduce new or old audiences to new and older artworks and artists. They have lost the power to be useful to the arts sector, at least in the way they were. Even with the apartheid government looking over the art museum’s shoulder, some curators were able to acquire works critical of the regime by subverting the “censoring gaze”. The first thing to understand is that economic censorship is more powerful than political censorship. Now with dwindling resources these museums are powerless to be active dominos in the sector. They lie horizontal, fallen. In order to remain active, they open themselves up to the abuse of corporate or private interests who may offer to sponsor certain exhibitions, exhibitions of poor quality that should not command the dignity of museum walls. Their ability to build provenance is worse than stifled, it is compromised. It’s a rock or a hard place for these museums. Desperation and precariousness in any sector leads to pushing money into publicity and advertising: “if people know we are here they will support us”. Hence publically funded museums tend to have more money for marketing than intelligent content-development. No funds for exhibitions, acquisitions or salaries to retain skilled professionals, equates more often than not, to money to market and publicise dumbed-down content. Money for marketing, but no money for research and education. The public funded museum falls, struggling to maintain best practice systems and therefore relevance. The commercial gallery and the auction house embrace the new markets, funnelling the interest in democratic South Africa into financial capital, as they rise in relevance and power. If you want to see the strongest contemporary art, you go to the commercial galleries. That is where you will see the current cultural capital. If you want to see which artworks still resonate fifty years on, which artist’s work still commands respect, you will follow the auction house results. Then the question gets asked how, can, or should we regulate free market cultural systems with projected rules on best ethical practice? My question is: who would benefit if we did, even if it was possible? Ethical practice in the arts sector is the same as good business. The fear is that we might move from a racial hegemony to a commercial hegemony. Coming in from the outside, no matter how well intentioned, with a

set of regulated ‘common practices’ is not going to stop that, it will just hamper the free market which, with self-regulation, is currently keeping more artists and arts professionals in financial/conceptual agency than ever before. In November 2012 The New Church Museum, South Africa’s first contemporary art museum, opened to the public, and with the Zeitz MOCAA opening in 2017 a new potential balancing force enters the sector. These institutions are supported by private individuals, motivated by philanthropy. They do not require financial support from government institutions, and they have begun to take up the slack created by the failing publically-funded art museums. Far from being competition, they offer these museums the chance to re-imagine their roles and their collecting philosophy. They now have the opportunity to add to, and focus on, the strengths of their current collections. The precariousness of the sector is felt most strongly by the artists. The struggle to produce and exhibit work, and make a living doing so, sees many spending more time on their ‘day jobs’ than on developing their professional capacity as artists. A commercial gallery has a relationship with an artist selected to be in their stable. This partnership is like a marriage; in so much as together they build the artist’s provenance, market value, and career over many years. The commercial gallery and the artist invest in the artworks annually, knowing that the financial gain for both could take decades. By association, a strong stable of artists builds provenance for younger artists much quicker. They are able to enter the international cultural and financial market place faster because the road has already been paved by the established artists in the stable. It is a very effective system, but the big commercial galleries are generally saturated, many unable to take on and invest in new artists. This leaves many young and older artists treading water. Where will they show? Who will purchase their work in a sustainable manner? The local buying market for the most part is conservative, not just in scale but also in vision. The dire lack of visual arts education at school level combined with a developing consumer culture - more interested in international brands, available locally since sanctions were lifted - than culture, means that the local market is going to take decades to build the vision to purchase art. Hence, smaller commercial galleries, project spaces and the arts association galleries, without access to international markets, remain precarious in their sustainability. This affects their ability to maintain best professional systems and even a self-regulated ‘common code’ of practice. In the mid 1990’s, Arts associations restructured and registered themselves as NPO’s, thus enabling them to apply and receive funding from the likes of the National Arts Council (NAC) and newly established National Lotteries Board (NLB). This offered them a degree of security to maintain best professional practice systems and exhibit artists’ works, knowing that even though the work might not sell, cultural capital and professional standards were assured. Emerging and established artists had the opportunity to hone their skills and explore practices that might not have instant commercial appeal to the market, in professional spaces, without the risk of debt and huge overheads. Access to audiences, even without commercial gain, was assured for artists and through exposure they had the potential to attract the established commercial galleries. It was a successful system for a decade, which grew the sector as a whole. - More great professional artists, more ‘stock,’ hence ample potential for the birth of new commercial galleries that could sustain their artists and the gallery itself. With the failing of funding organisations such as the NLB, NAC and the like, the arts associations and independent project spaces – feeder and funnelling galleries if you will - are struggling with no relief in sight.

The first things to suffer under the financial strain are the salaries, and the professional staff along with them. Often run by volunteer oversight boards or community members, without experience or understanding of the NPO or commercial gallery sector, they often employ experienced people and have poor codes of ethical practice. This results in artists being taken advantage of, either by the institutions themselves, or by corporates who intermittently support these NPO’s as corporate social investment projects, in exchange for branding rights and ‘safe’ artworks. This comes at a debilitating cost to the artists and the galleries’ reputations and therefore sustainability. Ethical and sustainable smaller commercial galleries, independent project spaces, studio residencies and arts association galleries, are paramount to the health of the arts sector. They are the ones that are currently in the most precarious positions, therefore so are the majority of artists who require these spaces. Regulating these spaces with a code of common practice will mean that an individual artist may be protected and may benefit in the short-term, but in the medium-term, these spaces will go under anyway, and artists will be left with no access to professional development and audiences. In the long-term, the bigger commercial galleries will not have access to professionally ‘developed stock’ and they too, will start to flounder. How is regulation in this manner helpful? It isn’t. Focus needs to be applied to sustain these spaces. If there is money for running costs and salaries then professionals will run them. If these spaces are run by experienced professionals, then ethical practices will be applied and maintained and ethical selfregulation will be assured. Current funding models support project expenses and not running costs and salaries. If the person running the project is not a professional they will not apply ethical systems and the project and artist will be compromised anyway. Funding models need to be designed and regulated to cover running costs, before a regulated code of ethical or ‘common practice’ can be implemented in the system itself. When paid professionals are running these spaces it will not be necessary to have an outside enforced regulation, because the systems will be ethically self-regulated. As a sector we are currently in a precarious bubble. The big commercial galleries are still benefitting from the international market interest, and the good work the above mentioned spaces have done in the past two decades. So are many recently established smaller commercial galleries. Soon, the effects of the floundering feeder/funnelling gallery will affect the growth of everyone in the sector. The new privately funded art museums will stabilise the role that art museums play in a healthy visual arts sector, but who or what is going to financially support and secure the feeder platforms? My recommendation is that funding be focused on the running costs of these institutions. The professional systems will then be maintained and the precarious place artists find themselves in will be stabilised. If we are working towards ethical common practice to stabilise and to support growth in the sector, then that should be the focus area for at least the next ten years. Likewise, long-term sustainability requires a local, cultural investing market. Arts and visual literacy needs to be reinstated in the school curriculum. A healthy arts sector means that culture is constantly being reviewed and developed. Healthy cultural practices make for a healthy society. Regulation needs to be focused on funding the feeder and independent platforms, not on small aspects of the already self-regulating commercial enterprises. That is the only way to protect and sustain artists and the sector in both the long and short term. Kirsty Cockerill is the director of The New Church Museum, the first contemporary art museum in South Africa, and was previously the director of the AVA gallery, the oldest not for profit gallery in Cape Town. Prior to that Cockerill held the post of collections manager at the Iziko South African National gallery. Curator of Beguiling: the Self and the Subject, Pop Goes the Revolution,

10 32

Resolution: the Power of Innuendo, Social Pattern and At Night We Dream during the Day We See, to name a few. Cockerillâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s passion for the development of cultural capital in South Africa motivates her involvement with projects that engage with public space, the development of curators, and professional practise in the visual arts arena.

Instead of galleries, collectors, the academy, journals, conferences and the state Rangoato Hlasane On 2 December 2014, Johannesburg-based photographer Buyaphi Mdledle wrote this statement on his Facebook profile:

I live in South Africa, i photograph in a relatively small part of Soweto, Pimville. Where i live. My innermost Desire is we all converse with our place of stay, whenever we can. At thes end when we gather the works or the works gather itself, there manifests holistic visual-story. That is representative of the country and its people and variety. Intensity! We would of cause fill in the gaps in rural spaces , where photography is likely less inclined. By way of making photographs or even better, engaging in ‘training’ of the local people. Just an Expression of a possibility, a thought.

Buyaphi is touching on a crucial point with regard to accessing art, its relevance and its purchase in a country marred by marginalisation from the artworld. Although he is speaking about the medium of his choice and skill, it applies to any creative practice that is alive in the country today. Given that these days objects (artworks) can be found in key museums for purposes of preservation and education, yet they are attributed to several ‘unknown’ artists, I cannot in the future bemoan the distortion of my history, or claim that others have appropriated my people’s art. 1. Near the conclusion of the text ‘Making Space: Meditations on Encounters with Art’ contributed to the COMPENDIUM catalogue in the exhibition of the same name earlier in 2014, I made reference to the oppressive standards of the art industry in this country.

One way to shift these boundaries may start with drawing a distinction between space and existence. What is the place for a physical infrastructure for art in 21st century in Africa? Inevitably, the answer to this question is bigger than the art world; it is about capital, the colonial legacy and access to land.

I would like to elaborate on some of my unfinished thoughts mentioned in the text earlier

Capital Given that the sustainable model is that of gallery representation and state, municipal and corporate commissioning, the issue of marketability is crucial. What kind of art is marketable and what is not? Who defines marketability? And what games define marketability? The commissioning of permanent ‘public art,’ in the form of sculptures and statues, rarely ever goes to black, township, rural, self-taught artists. A scan of the artist roster is on leading South African galleries reveals very little representation of self-taught artists. Yet the number of galleries in the land cannot absorb the number of art graduates. If this situation is not sustainable, what are the alternatives? Artist, ‘practioner’ and director of VANSA Molemo Moiloa, offers a sobering reading of the contemporary moment of ‘practioning’; that is to master the mastering of “practice of trades” in the arts sector, as an antidote to the marginalization and vulnerability of being an ‘artist’.

Yet, a taxi fare to and from the townships around Johannesburg is taxing for an art/art and culture management student starting out as an art practitioner. It is not possible. A friend, Bafana Zembe, describes to me how difficult and taxing it is to explain to family, neighbours and friends why a transport loan (a parcel) is worth it. We were discussing the logic of being an artist and living in the city versus living on the periphery. Living in town means extra commuting to the gentrified spots as well as Jan Smuts avenue ‘art strip’ to show the proverbial face and be in touch with artistic developments . Bafana and I expanded on the absurdity of our practices; how oblivious it is to our daily lives; how insular it is to ‘ordinary’ life; how little our communities know of our significance until we die. We have not even got to the plight of the rural/ continental aspiring artist whom Mdledle alludes to in his Facebook rant. Lack of capital is the single most marginalising factor that maintains the status quo. In the end, we have to address the question of art collecting. With a deep emphasis on race, we have to ask where are the black art collectors? Considering the rising capital of black middle class, the answer lies in the new generation of art collectors. When will black people start collecting? Big question, and when we start collecting, what are our value systems regarding art?

The colonial legacy Tseliso Monaheng tackles the racial marginalisation regarding the commissioning of public art in South Africa: Race representation in art, despite being discussed on innumerable public platforms, remains a deep-seated problem in the city. It owes to South Africa’s apartheid past, but perhaps it’s time the legacy is addressed with words that don’t aim to only silence dissenting voices in order to maintain the status quo. With the exception of the Johannesburg Art Gallery, mainstream galleries in the ‘city’ are located in the eastern City & Suburban

now called Maboneng Precinct, Braamfontein and the ‘art strip’ of Jan Smuts avenue.

The control of art is in the hands of galleries, collectors, journals, conferences, academies and the state. These institutions maintain a legacy rooted in colonialism and apartheid. There is not a single black (-owned, initiated or orientated) art journal of the peer-reviewed sense in South Africa. Only a few art schools have moved towards a racial transformation in their Fine Art departmental staffing. There is only one mainstream art gallery founded by a black person. Thus, the framework for the valuation of art is far from transformed. Do we need galleries? ‘Are museums the only place we can meet? – bullshit!’ offers Mexican-based collective, Crater Invertido, in a skype exchange with 3rd year students of Fine Art at Wits School of Arts. Collective encounters offer fresh frameworks for meaning making. Institutions on the other hand are sustained by star-power, and therefore are not so ready to market collectively; too messy. What is to be done? How can the collective find ways to create a financially sustainable model for meaning making?

Access to land The metropolitan centres of commerce are the centres of art, with Johannesburg as the epicentre of it all. I know of so many black graduate artists who want to ‘give back’; often they do to ‘their’ communities on the peripheral, rural and township (so-called peri-urban) settlements. This impulse to give back may be perceived objectively as the role of the state. Yet, as expressed earlier, even state funded public commissions go to white artists. There is a problem in the land.

The mainstream art galleries mentioned are in the urban metros, and only a few are emerging in the townships, most immediately in Soweto, therefore, mainly in Johannesburg. They do not really exist as marketable establishments, but fall somewhere between ‘giving back’, and ‘providing access to’. The geographical distance between Soweto and Rosebank limits any proximity to capital. This means that galleries in Soweto will, for some time, struggle to attract the best that the country has to offer in terms of artistic talent. Given that this ‘artistic talent’ is also influenced by global trends that determine the framework for success, many artists are prone to depression and slow death; moving further and further away from any romantic ideas of what their art is really about. 2. Okay, so I have sketched a quick pessimistic picture of the scene as it is: sustainable in its unsustainability. Of course, the situation is no different from other fields of study and practice. The tone of this text acknowledges this. There are other fields of study and practice that make little sense in our daily lives. The difference is the value system in which current South African society appreciates individual and collective artistic investment. Fine Art ranks low in its quest for relevance. ‘Who collects collectives?’ asks Halfa Pictcha, a duo consisting of two art students at Wits School of Arts. 3. At this moment in history, Fine Art has deconstructed into anything artists declare it to be. The relationship between audience and artist is key. The real work to be done is to consider the very idea of an audience and what value system it functions within. In a country where high art gives away free tickets to the theatre and displays huge MAHALA banners on the museum facades, the situation of audience is in crisis. The question is not ‘what is the alternative?’ but ‘when will change come?’. Community art projects, primary and high school education, interdisciplinary, social practices and activism complicate the value of art. These are the spaces where collectivity enables the creation and consumption of art. Spaces of encounters. Entertainment separates art from its spiritual service in many grassroots art practices. In the case of the Northern Sotho (Sepedi) cultural practices, Dinaka/Kiba is the public entertainment aspect of the spiritual Malopo. Dinaka/Kiba is dependant on Malopo and in each case the mainstream market does not enter into the very dense interdisciplinary creative practice. Therefore in most cases, the audience and the artists are a community of practice. This way of working – a contemporary integrated artist/audience creative environment – is prevalent in the country across many fields of artistic activity, from Pantsula to Pop-Up shops. There are many collectives and individuals whose practices prove to be too interdisciplinary and collective for the mainstream art market. I have provided a roll-call in ‘Making Space’. My feeling right now is that the issue of black artists being marginalised is exhausted. It is quite clear from the extensive research that has been produced over the last decade that both the state and the European cultural funding institutions – the conduits for access to art – know very well what the industry needs: transformation on the basis of race. The fact that in black schools access to art education has moved so little since 1994, means that this situation is purely a lack of political will – a dream deferred. Or simply that something is wrong with (Fine) Art. Refs: Hlasane, R. 2014. Making Space: Meditations on Encounters with Art. In COMPENDIUM. Johannesburg

2014, Nkosi & Sunstrum Mdledle, B. 2014. Facebook status https://www.facebook.com/buyaphi.mdledle/posts/991536820872949?pnref=story Accessed 2 December 2014 Monaheng, T. 2014. Public Art & Privilege. The Con, Johannesburg. http://www.theconmag.co.za/2014/11/27/public-art-and-privilege/ Accessed 27 November 2014

Rangoato Hlasane is a cultural worker, writer, illustrator, DJ and educator working in Johannesburg and Polokwane, South Africa

Zen and Megan go to the beauty Salon1

Zen Marie: (To voice recorder) I am here with Megan Mace at the Huan Juan beauty spa and hotel. I’m getting a pedicure and Megan Mace is getting a foot massage. (to Megan) Have you ever had a foot massage before? Megan Mace: No. ZM: Have you ever had a pedicure before? MM: Yes, for my Matric Dance, and it was really bad. ZM: Why was it bad? MM: I ended up with some gel stuff on my toenails and it became really weird. It was a mission to get it off. So I just gave up with those kinds of things … and I don’t wear sandals. ZM: Ok, so, Mika Conradie asked me to write an article about the form of the exhibition opening, relational aesthetics or something like that. I thought about it and instead I’m proposing an interview with you, as your work looks at these things in very interesting ways. Is that ok? MM: Ya, I consent. ZM: So, VANSA is paying me R3000 for this, I’m just going to pay for your foot massage, does that seem fair to you? MM: Ya, it seems like a transaction. ZM: Is it a transaction that you agree with?

MM: Ja, it’s better than just sitting and talking. At least I get something out of it. ZM: I was a bit worried that it was a bit disproportionate, I get R3000 and you only get a foot massage. MM: No, not really Zen, I think its ok. ZM: You think its ok? If I was you, I would negotiate for lunch as well. MM: Are you hungry Zen? ZM: (Laughing) Ya, most of the time! MM: I don’t know, I suppose I’ll see afterwards, maybe my mind will change.

ZM: So, how do you feel about this situation here? MM: Well, I mean when you proposed having a pedicure, I though about it, um, because I have like a foot phobia. I just think that feet are like cats tails, they have a weird kind of like … thing to them. But I suppose it’s just like one of those things Zen. I suppose it’s strange to have an interview in any case. And like I said I don’t go for pedicures, so .... I don’t know what I am going to get out of it anyway… ZM: (to voice recorder) So at the moment Megan is getting her back rubbed, she has her feet in a bucket of water, and I’ve got my feet up on a stool, and they are getting scraped. So … (to Megan)

Give me a bit of background to the work that you, Gabi and Dawood did at the art fair. MM: It began with Gabi proposing to me and Dawood Petersen that we do something for the art fair. Gabi as a curator, Dawood as a collector, and myself as an artist. Initially we didn’t know what the outcome would be. We developed a methodology in the beginning that involved sending tasks to each other that had to have specific outcomes and be completed by specific dates. So for instance I asked Dawood to buy three things from Herbert Evans, because I thought it would be interesting to see what a collector would buy from an art supply shop. I asked Gabi to get her academic transcripts from all the educational institutions that she attended. Another task was when Gabi asked Dawood to make a selection of images. It was interesting in the relation between the curator, the collector and the artist. The remnants of these exchanges was in some way present in the booth at the art fair. Oh, and there was also the work where I spelt Gabi’s name wrong.

The other part of the work was where we had wine from a range of galleries, with information on the cost and the brand attached. Each person who visited the booth was offered a glass of wine in exchange for a donation, they also had to fill out a form that consisted of questions like, what was your favorite booth? Do you know any of the artists showing at the art fair? Have you signed up for any memberships? So it was kind of this exchange that took place. What was interesting was that people were not only selecting a wine, but a gallery at the same time. Some people would ask for the most expensive wine, regardless of the gallery that it came from. ZM: Where was the most expensive wine from? MM: It was Graham Beck from art on paper. No, no… art on paper was Arrabella. Graham Beck was from… I can’t remember now.

ZM: So where do you think the ‘work’ exists in this piece? Could you put your finger on a precise point, saying ‘this is the work’. MM: I think it was when people came into the booth and interacted. And were asked to make the decision of which wine to choose and to fill out the form. People were asked to participate in that way, to interact with us [Gabi, Dawood, and myself]. That became the outcome of the project in itself, this participatory moment. You could also say that the work exists in the stack of surveys that we have and maybe the catalogue, but I think that the work was most successful at that point [the art fair] when people interacted with the booth. People walked around, and kept on coming back to the booth, so we had a kind of community that came together. ZM: Can you tell me more about this community? What kind of people kept on coming back? MM: For instance, the collector’s and curator’s (Dawood’s and Gabi’s) friends and colleagues would fill out the form but then also took on our role in explaining the project to others who then come back to the booth (maybe to speak to Dawood and Gabi but also because our wine was going for a cheaper price). I think people also found “safety” in the booth, where this community maybe came back because of being able to find that common face amongst all the random unknown ones. This community and also developed further maybe by word of mouth. But I also feel that people even the ‘random’ visitor came back because there was this weird sense of community in our booth versus just ‘ art’, white walls and a desk and person (gallerist) who maybe wanted to answer their questions.

Image courtesy of Rumanzi Canon: Gabi Ngcobo ,Dawood Petersen & Megan Mace Working Title: Curate, Create, Collect Intervention/Installation/Performance Duration: 4 Day Art Fair 2014 FNB Joburg Art Fair Booth 2014

ZM: The acquisition of wine from galleries, speaks to … well I call it ritual, you called it a situation, of the practice of galleries providing free drinks to visitors at openings. What do you think about this practice? MM: Well some are free, some ask for a donation. ZM: What is the difference between a gallery that gives drinks for free and a gallery that asks for donations? MM: I think it says something about the standing of the gallery, umm… once you have been asked for money for wine, it changes how you view the space, they are asking … ZM: But it’s common practice, it’s an established tradition, and people have come to expect free drinks at openings. Right? So why do you think this practice exists? MM: Well it’s part of the invitation to come and celebrate the opening, I would say. And in a way maybe it’s a way to make you stay longer. And then, of course, the alcohol component which opens people up conversation, conversation that you would not normally have if you were walking down the street with someone else. Umm … and also to loosen tongues and wallets. Johannesburg Art Map 2013 PDF 297 x 210mm 2013

ZM: How is your response to free drinks? Has it changed from when you first started art school to now? MM: Obviously as a student, I think … well it’s a stereotype then, that you go to openings for the free drinks. I used to… well I actually still do it… and the work becomes secondary to some extent. Its like you wait for Thursday to come to have free drinks. (sound of hands clapping vigorously on skin) ZM: Is there an acceptable amount to drink at an opening? MM: Well, I usually drink until the beer is done. ZM: So you drink beer, not wine? MM: yes, well if there is good wine… but I don’t know what good wine is. But generally I have a beer. ZM: Is it because you are skeptical about the quality of the wine? MM: No, not at all, like I said, I don’t know about the quality of wine, Zen. ZM: Do you think that there is judgment placed on how people drink at openings? Or the approach to drinking? Do you think there is an unspoken etiquette? MM: Well it’s interesting, from my experience of bar tending, you see people either coming back again and again or others being a little more afraid of refilling… And there is also the thing of when the bar closes. Some galleries have a specific time whilst some of the bars close once the alcohol is finished. ZM: What do you think that fear is based on? MM: I think it’s about yourself … what’s that word … where you are ... when you become self-conscious. You are afraid of being judged by other people. Some people just go for the drinks but others are more interested in the work, the work is more interesting and they just have one glass of wine, or they don’t even finish a glass of wine. In this sense the alcohol is not relevant. ZM: Do you think that it is acceptable to get drunk at an opening? MM: I think if you were drunk you would probably have a better time. ZM: What about in terms of how people perceive you? MM: I think the opening is a moment when you become a different person, Zen. Like you aren’t the same person as you are on a regular day. I think it is more acceptable to get drunk at an opening. But I suppose it depends on which gallery you at, some galleries don’t mind if you get drunk.

ZM: One thing I’ve never understood about an opening is how much to talk to people at openings. It seems like you never want to talk to one person for too long, you kind of want to maximize your visibility to talk to many people. Is there an ideal time limit or ideal way to approach people and have a conversation, and should you talk about the work on show? MM: Maybe it’s just me, but I tend to have a set conversation for a particular opening that you have again and again. But I suppose it’s about how much you know the person. People usually talk about their own practice rather than the art work most of the time. Maybe that’s just my own experience… ZM: So you use the work as a kind of alibi or excuse to talk about yourself? MM: Ya, because someone will ask ‘what are you up to?’ and they don’t mean ‘what did you eat this morning?’, its like, ‘what are you up to in your studio or what are you working on?’ and becomes a more general art conversation. ZM: So is that a way that as an artist you use the opening as a networking moment, you can inform other people, artists, curators or gallerists about what you are doing? MM: Ya, you are kind of advertising yourself at these events. And that’s also the point. So your question before, if you get drunk at an opening all the time then you are assuming the position of the drunken artist, and then you maybe need to be the drunken artist all the time, rather than being the drunken artist just at the opening. ZM: So then you have to be drunk all the time? MM: uh huh. ZM: But that might become quite difficult or tiring. MM: On your liver? ZM: Ya, and on your mind. MM: Ya … but its strange … its like when you go to church and then meet people afterwards. Outside the gallery is different than inside. Outside when you are having a smoke and a drink. That’s when you have ‘these’ conversations. When you are inside you feel a kind of pressure to talk about the work. It could be seen as disrespectful if you don’t acknowledge that someone’s work is in front of you. ZM: Should you complement the work or not? MM: It’s always better to be critical. I think that it shows you have an opinion. ZM: Should you dress up or dress down to an opening? MM: It’s cooler to dress down now days. People actually put more time into looking like they didn’t dress

up. As though you don’t care. Because you look at people at the opening and its like ‘ah she really got dressed up and tried very hard for this opening – she’s got her ‘opening outfit’ on’. I think that clothing is always selected.

Poster from beauty salon ZM: Do you think everyone understands the politics of the opening? Who does the opening privilege? MM: It privileges the artist and their entourage, the gallerist and the collectors. It’s a night for those people, everyone else is like the extras in this whole play. ZM: Why does a gallery need these extras? MM: The institution needs wider recognition, it’s a point for them to get attention and sort of show off or boast about what they have done. It would be interesting if a show didn’t have an opening. But it’s important for advertising and ultimately to make sales. We just come there to kind of like watch TV to the institutions performance. ZM: Who is ‘we’? MM: The audience. The public who is invited to see the work. ZM: Is it really a general public? ZM: No it’s not, Zen. It’s a closed public, its not like the invitation to the opening was broadcast on SABC. Some people don’t feel privileged, welcomed and equipped to come to these spaces. Galleries do have this weird elitist thing that goes on. They are not the most inviting spaces to go to. ZM: Going back to your work, what is the fascination with the form of the opening? MM: It’s become like such a ritual. It’s like going to church and never really questioning the bible. So why do we perform in this way and what does it mean?

It’s like… this weird performative moment that every person feels like they need to become something at the opening or take on a certain identity. It’s interesting why we go along with this spectacle. Just for the night. Because if you go to the gallery on a different day, you interact with the space differently. You are not on show and don’t have to perform. I think its also interesting that many people are not aware of how staged it is. And its just becomes this thing is kind of normalized and we do it all the time. ZM: So if people are performing themselves at an opening, who are they performing for? And what why? MM: Well it goes back to the question of advertising. You take on a role, be it student or artist, collector or curator. I think people always play to a certain kind of identity, I’m not sure how conscious it is for everyone, but it happens. Irit Rogoff talks about this in her lecture ‘How to Dress for an Exhibition’ she speaks about the constant range of performances that people stage that are appropriate to the kind of event that you go to. ZM: It seems that you are quite cynical about the exhibition opening? Or is that a misreading? MM: No, I just think that it is really pretentious, but I like watching it so ’’ll carry on going to it. It’s like a special performance that takes place for one night only. And it also has a function as a networking moment. ZM: If we say that the opening is not for the general public but for people involved in art specifically, it can be seen as one of the very few moments where an art community gets together and meet. Don’t you think that there is something positive in that? MM: Ya, but you’re like showing the rainbow… (sound of clipping) ZM: What do you mean showing the rainbow? MM: You are trying to focus on the positive points… its like a funeral, Zen. I mean does someone have to produce work in order for us all to meet? Like I said earlier maybe the artwork becomes secondary to these ‘meetings’. Do you really want to see certain people at the opening? It does have this aspect Zen, that kind of thing, but there is something that is really not real about these points of engagement at the opening, I don’t think I’ve pin-pointed it yet but its… ZM: By saying it’s not real, do you mean that it is contrived as a point of meeting, so by extension do you mean that it is an artificial form of community? MM: Uh huh, because you would interact with someone very differently at Kitchener’s than you would at Stevenson. I think these spaces make this sense of community so like … pretentious. ZM: What about the after-party? Where only the specific special few get invited. What do you think about this ritual or situation?

MM: There is always this networking thing, that people seem to be constantly doing… its like a really tiring thing, Zen. The after-party is just a rehashing of that but with a closer circuit of people. But… it kind of does the same thing but without the general public. ZM: So what does your focus on the opening and its forms do in terms of your work? What is the comment or position? MM: Its kind of stupid because I’m still preaching to the masses. ZM: You mean preaching to the choir? (sound of scraping) MM: Ya, choir. … but I’m not trying to create some kind of revolution or whatever where the opening is radically changed or destroyed. I’m asking people to rethink or perhaps think for the first time, what the conventions the opening are. ZM: Well for me its like, not so much about the opening, but that the opening is focused on to make a comment on the work in fact and in a sense you do this by turning the opening into the work. So then the commentary becomes more about the way art presents itself or develops as a series of rituals or situations. MM: Ya, and then to some extent I’m posing a question of like is the art then secondary? Couldn’t we all just be in a space and then… network together? Why does it take someone … ZM: But isn’t that what you did with Gabi and Dawood? MM: Ja to some extent, because there wasn’t a lot of what people would conventionally call ‘art’…. I guess what I’m also asking is why produce ‘traditional’ work with all that this brings along, when it is important to question the institutions that uphold and protect what work is in the first place. ZM: Why is it important for you to carry out this institutional critique? (masseuse: I’m finished) ZM: Thank you. MM: Because its something I think we are always going to be like invested in, regardless if you go into education or if I’m still going to be a practicing artist, or, there is always the institution that governs what we do, like how we make money, or produce art and its something that I think needs to be questioned, I mean I might one day maybe start making paintings, but now I need to understand what this ‘thing’ is … ZM: The art world can be seen as a series of inclusive or exclusive gestures, gestures that either include or exclude people. Does your focus on the opening speak to these kind of questions? (sound of camera)

MM: You know, Zen, sometimes half the people don’t even understand what they were participating in. Even if you think about closing the bar at an opening, if there is a collector inside, there would be another glass of wine for sure. So the question is, who is relevant at the opening? Is the ‘general public’ relevant? Do the necessarily need to be there? ZM: So if they don’t need to be there, why are they there? Why does the gallery need this public? Is it about relevance? About making the work more desirable? MM: Like I say, Zen, maybe it’s a point at which the institution shows itself off. Like, ‘look we have this artist in our space’ vs. like if you go down street (Maboneng or Braamfontien) then you will get another artist. ZM: Isn’t it a strange paradoxical thing? Because the whole idea of the gallery is to sell work, so it is an exchange of private property – it is a sale. So why add a public event, in which a whole lot of people are invited whom the vast majority of will never be able to afford to participate in this commodity exchange? MM: Because like, there is always this idea that ‘art is for everyone’ its aspiration of inclusion and it gives up this ‘free’ thing that we all get to see. But … what is your question again? My brain is blocking up… ZM: No… it wasn’t a very good question… ummm (voice getting tired) The idea of showing these peripheral situations and gestures that comes with the art world, ummmm … there is obviously a tradition around this. Ummm What do you think about this tradition of institutional critique or relational aesthetics… or whatever you want to call it… what do you think these critical ideas do to the functioning of the art world? Do you think that it is a critique that is important? Or do you think that it, itself becomes a form that gets included within the art world? MM: I mean obviously its contradictory, because you create work that critiques the institution and then put it back into the institution, so that’s one of the issues. Unless you like, producing it in pick and pay, umm but then you not speaking towards the institution directly. That’s why I set up situations that are not like… I think its important that when I set up a situation its not like didactic or obvious, its not like here is a ‘fuck you’ sign or something … I try to make it so that you have to participate in the situation being critiqued, I make the audience kind of complicit with the situation so maybe you are not too aware that you’re participating. ZM: You have obviously thought quite a lot about the opening and its forms, do you think other people understand the implications of the set of rituals in the opening? Do you think people care? MM: No, I don’t think people care. Ummm … I was with a certain artist the other day, and she is like the most awkwardest person at an opening (and I thought that I was awkward) and she doesn’t know what to do with herself, after a glass of wine, or two and she kind of understands, I think and maybe gets the point or not. Maybe she is only there because her work is there. Its just a cool event, I mean if you look at Braamfontein, gallery hopping is a cool thing, I mean this is not new but… I don’t think people understand

and I don’t think that they care, Zen. I think in art we take things too seriously anyway. (Sound of skin being rubbed) ZM: I think there is enough here for 2000 words… how was your foot massage? MM: It was ok, Zen. I think the back massage was better. ZM: Really? MM: ya … ZM: How did you get a back massage thrown in at the same time? … After the interview, Megan Mace declined the offer of lunch, but got Zen Marie to buy her a Tsingtao Instead.

This interview was prompted by a question after a ‘code of practice’ for artists. Artistic production is a diverse and unequal playing field including a range of institutions, platforms and stakeholders. Bearing this mind, my approach was to focus on the seemingly taken for granted form of the exhibition opening. The question of how this form acts as a moment of bringing together of people includes a questioning of how it regulates what kind of community is privileged through the repetition of specific conventions. It is proposed, that by understanding these moments of inclusion (and exclusion) that one can better think through the idea of community, interest and implication as it relates to the formation of a code for common practice. 1

Zen Marie Photographer/Artist/Writer/Lecturer/Durban/JHB/Boston/JHB/Amsterdam/JHB/SydenhamPrimary/Fordsburg Primary/Martin Luther King Junior School/Johannesburg Secondary school/ National School of the Arts/Michaelis School of Art/Stichting 63: de ateliers /University of Amsterdam/Vega school of Brand communications/WITS School of Arts. Megan Mace Megan Mace has an identity like most humans. She fortunately / unfortunately went to art school and other places. She now spends most of her days thinking, breathing, sleeping, eating, occasionally checking her emails and looking for ‘funding opportunities’. Mace’s work has featured in places such as the family dinner table, the bar at a usual Thursday evening exhibition opening reception, those repetitive ‘artful’ conversations and in everyday situations of her life and others.

Publications and Articles a-n The Artists Information Company. 2012. The Code of Practice for the Visual Arts. London: Susan Jones Publishing. a-n The Artists Information Company. 2014. Paying Artists: Valuing Art, Valuing Artists. London: a-n Canadian Artists Representation. 2010. Best Practice Standards. Saskatchewan: CARFAC GORDON-NESBITT, R. 2012. Value, Measure, Sustainability: Ideas Towards the Future of the Small-Scale Visual Arts Sector. London: Common Practice. Human Sciences Research Council (HSRC) et al. 2010. Research Report: An Assessment of the Visual Arts in South Africa (Consultation Draft). Johannesburg: Department of Arts and Culture. International Council of Museums. 2013. Code of Ethics for Museums. ICOM LIND, M. & MINICHBAUER, R. (eds.) 2005. European Cultural Policies 2015: A Report with Scenarios on the Future of Public Funding for Contemporary Art in Europe. Stockholm: Iaspis. National Association for the Visual Arts. 2004. The Code of Practice for the Australian Visual Arts and Craft Sector. Sydney: NAVA ruangrupa. 2011. siasat: a tactical guide for artist run inititiave. SIMONE, A. People as Infrastructure: Intersecting Fragments in Johannesburg Public Culture Fall 2004 16(3): 407-429 South African Museums Association. 2006. Professional Standards and Transformation Indicators. Port Alfred: SAMA

Context Specific Policy and Position Papers INTERNATIONAL: International Federation of Arts Councils and Cultural Agencies (IFACCA) http://www.ifacca.org/ UNESCO: Recommendation Concerning the Status of the Artist. http://portal.unesco.org/en/ev.php-URL_ ID=13138&URL_DO=DO_TOPIC&URL_SECTION=201.html UNESCO: World Observatory on the Status of the Artist. http://portal.unesco.org/culture/en/ev.php-URL_ ID=36942&URL_DO=DO_TOPIC&URL_SECTION=201.html WorldCP: The International Database of Cultural Policies. http://www.worldcp.org/ AFRICA: OCPA: Observatory of Cultural Policies in Africa. Resources. http://ocpa.irmo.hr/resources/docs/index-en. html Siemon Allen, The Flat Gallery. http://www.siemonallen.org/flat_pages/flatbook.html ASIA: Asia Art Archive. “Parallel, Alternative, or Historically Particular?” http://www.aaa.org.hk/Collection/ CollectionOnline/SpecialCollectionItem/6369 NAFAS Art Magazine. “Art Spaces in Malaysia”. http://universes-in-universe.org/eng/nafas/articles/2010/ art_spaces_in_malaysia Pananaw 7: Philippine Journal of Visual Arts.http://issuu.com/datu/docs/pananaw7 WESTERN EUROPE: European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies (eipcp). Transversal Journal. http://eipcp.net/transversal

Mute Magazine. Vol 2, No. 0: Precarious Reader. http://www.metamute.org/editorial/magazine/mute-vol2-no.-0-−-precarious-reader Republic Art Journal http://www.republicart.net/ Seth Siegelaub and Bob Projansky’s “The Artist’s Reserved Rights Transfer and Sale Agreement” http:// geheimrat.com/thecontract.html Traces of the Real blog. “After Former West”. http://tracesofthereal.com/2014/04/17/after-former-west/ Variant Journal. Art+Labour Issue. http://www.variant.org.uk/events/art+labour/Art+Labour.html Visual Artists Ireland (VAI). The Manual: A Survival Guide for Visual Artists http://visualartists.ie/themanual-a-survival-guide-for-visual-artists/ Visual Artists Northern Ireland. Video Guides. http://visualartists.org.uk/category/articles/video-guides/ NORTH AMERICA: Art Work: A National Conversation About Art, Labor, and Economics. http://www.artandwork.us/ W.A.G.E – Working Artists and the Greater Economy. http://www.wageforwork.com/