Steve Kwena Mokwena remains
an enigma in South African cultural scene, an artist held in high regard by his
peers and admirers alike.
A filmmaker,
intellectual and activist – Steve, father of three, was born in Soweto on the
16th of December 1967.
He is 3rd of six
children and he grew up during those turbulent ‘Dying Days of White Rule’, so
he carries the terrorised memory and trauma of being adolescent in 1980’s South
Africa.
He admits: “I was a
child when 1976 happened and I was in my youth when the townships went aflame
in the 1980’s. I came of age when the country was changing. Like most people my
age, I have a childhood that belongs under Apartheid, and now I am raising my
children in a so-called new country. I think this gives me a unique vantage
point. I know the world can and should be changed and my art communicates that.”
The exhibition,
currently hosted at The Afrikan Freedom Station, a jazz club he created
together with his wife and partner Nirvana Singh, is a personal search for the
artist himself.
The Afrikan Freedom
Station however, has become the epicentre of alternative art appreciation in
Johannesburg, and the exhibition here is something more than an object of
decorum, it is in itself ‘a peek inside Kwena’.
It is an extension of
the artistic and cultural revolution I believe ‘The Station’ is conducting for
and among many progressive thinkers of the city, and I bet Jack Kerouac would
write a damn good poem about the vibe at the place.
There are those common
pubs and eateries in gentrified zones of Johannesburg which obviously are vying
for the market The Station caters for, but as I have witnessed, the patrons of
this place are more than a market, they are cultured observers of an ever
evolving artistic landscape.
And they are loyal
patrons of the arts in general.
They are connoisseurs
of literature, fine art, music, dance and I cannot even delve into the
spirituality of some mystics I have encountered there.
Maybe they are the
appropriate audience for this self-exorcism Steve has undergone through this
series.
It seems that most
people are familiar with only a narrow range of Steve’s works, mainly oil on
canvas and predominantly film, but this recently exhibition of drawings: a
series titled ‘A peek Inside The Heart’, is marked by a more than usual
indifference to the theme of drawing itself, more because these entries of
erratic quality and less than desirable levels of self-analysis, become mirrors
of a being or beings in their own confined spaces.
Would this be Steve’s
rendition of Martin’s sense of isolation?
Or is Steve
discovering his own isolation within the narrative provided by Martin’s
experiences?
But as Steve puts it,
“I was taken by his delicate and lyrical treatment of the subject of love,
longing, and sexual desire. Instead of the usual heavy political imagery that
we have become accustomed too, he caressed the page with the simple truth of a
young man locked up when he could have loved, laughing and fornicating. I just
loved the peek inside the softer side of a freedom fighter.’
Incidentally, these
images lay bare another man’s tattered soul or are a resolute introspective and
self-reflective interpretation of a poetry anthology of the same title by Martin
Sehlapelo, a former MK guerrilla who was once an inmate at the infamous Robben
Island, who I knew little to nothing about prior to the exhibition.
The exhibition feels
like a voyeuristic snoop at a nude, a sudden and uncomfortable invasion of
privacy.
Saddening is the
observation that the object that seems most confined in these sketches of
bodies is the heart, and this symbol makes for turbulent imagery to digest.
The caging of what
should be at best our symbolic faculty of love seems to be complicit in yet a
furthering of psychic boundaries which even our bodies cannot withstand.
The works articulate a
sense of disparate alone-ness, which borders on traditions of frugal
portraiture sketches, the lean nurture of detail which can at a glance be
misconstrued for a print while still emitting the slight of the craftsman’s
touch.
Yet the artist seems
never preoccupied with other than the figures and their representation within
the blankness of a sterile page.
These forlornly
solitary subjects, even in their togetherness, embody that eternal curse of
solitude that persists within any societal relations.
In this body of work,
a unique form of expressionism that draws upon some ground-breaking works of
Dumile Feni, Matsemela Manaka and a number of Steve’s contemporaries, seems to
be crystallizing.
Through this work, I
believe Steve has probably become a catalyst of an emergent artistic idiom that
puts the spotlight of the reclusive nature of the modern South African’s memory,
and this venture is proving influential among contemporary South African
artists.
Although some of the
recurrent themes in Kwena’s work, such as dance and music, genre scenes and
portraits, have been explored and presented in the past; the body, which
nonetheless holds an equally important place, has elicited a great deal of
interest for the artist with this series.
The characterized
figurative elements that derive from a long tradition of exploring the human
form, never seems to have softened
his approach in order to pander to the sentimentalist demands of the
white-dominated art market in South Africa.
He denudes his figures
as a respite for his eventual lament at the cells we have constructed for our
inner selves.
In fact, Steve is
quite an affable cosmopolitan man, so the morbidity of the exhibitions speaks
not of the man himself but his observations of a social conditioning that is
resultant from prolonged incarceration within and without the social constructs
of identity.
The series exudes a
sort of despondency about the present human condition in general, but further
replicates those noble collective ideals within entities, bodies, ‘people’,
their being as self-aware to themselves and through others and through love.
Or perhaps the
contrary is true, that the pieces are an exuberant exhalation of the spirit
told through yet the constant of solitude, as often alone we find others and
ourselves.
Heart-warming and
sobering, the artworks signal a creation of a formal artistic language that will
present a social narrative for seclusion, depravity and despondency that
plagues many people living under the present global democratic dispensations.
The Station, also
providing studio space for artists, to exorcise and expose their inner most
emotions, is becoming that alternative gallery most black artists have been
seeking. So, do pay it a visit once in a while and celebrate the legacy and
immense contribution this exceptionally talented artist, and other artists,
musicians, writers and lovers of art are making towards Afrikan culture as a
whole.
And I hope for those
who can afford to see these pieces grace their homes will shelter these
reclusive stories stencilled by a hand of an artist worthy of his craft.
I had the pleasure of
corresponding and posing some questions to the artists after visiting the
exhibition and the outcome was as inspiring as the man’s work itself.
A PEEK INSIDE (WHY
HAVE WE NOT BEEN SHOWN THINGS LIKE THIS?)
An interview
• Tell me how others describe your
work versus how you see it? Do people understand it or do you constantly have
to explain it?
I learned early on my
path as an artist that art, especially visual art, does not need too much
explaining. I started painting realistically, doing portraits, which I enjoy
and still do when a compelling spirit takes me there. But recently I have been
enjoying doing more abstract work. This is work that seeks to express a feeling
or a set of feelings that I have. This work, which I do mainly on paper using
inks, has taken me on a different trajectory. The conversations that I have had
have been about our bodies, what they remember, what they have suffered and how
they have been shaped by what they have gone through. We live through our
bodies. We love though our bodies and our bodies have relationship with the
city. I found a young man sitting quietly looking at the series of pictures – A
peek inside the heart – and he asked me; “Bra Kwena, why have we not been shown
things like this?” I knew then that something delightful unspeakable has been
disrobed, laid bare and it is moving someone to ask a deep question. I think
people understand and relate to my images. Many times people say things to me
about my paintings and I am totally surprised. They point to something I have
not consciously thought about and I enjoy that. I enjoy surprising myself, and
I enjoy being surprised by a work of art that I have created.
• Tell me about your artistic
aesthetic. What inspires you, what formed your outlook?
I am inspired by life
and everything around me. I am always rummaging in my world for things that
have an unusual clarity about something obvious, yet not fully processed. I
paint, I draw, I write and I make films. Most of the time I am grappling with
something that is not clear, not fully explained or easily explainable. The
process of making art gives me clues and insights and I follow my instincts. If
there is a theme that cuts across all my work, it the question of memory. How
we remember? What we remember? How we are remembered and how our bodies
remember? Drawing and painting, allows
me to suspend my intellectual side and follow what feels right and what reveals
itself through the process of making marks. It is an immersion into the murky
waters of ones sub conscious mind – in the pit of one’s spirit, so to say. That
is my playground. It is not always pretty and not everything it yields can be
hung in someone’s living room. But what it yields is a detailed internal dairy
of my search.
I am not the first to
paint and draw. My spirituality is the foundation of all my art. My aesthetic
sensibilities are influenced by jazz and historical images of black life in
this civilization. Black culture is you like. I used to be drawn to pictures of
anguish and oppression, and as I grow older, I am trying to find power in the
soft side of being a person in this world. Yes we suffer still, but we also
play, sing, dance and make love. I look there for traces of what our ancestors
were about and how they saw themselves. I try and take the feelings of what I
see and give them some form of representations. Thankfully, there are many
great South African painters and artists who have come before and those alive
today. There is no shortage of influences. My struggle is to find that way of
saying something that is uniquely me. Over and above the challenge of mastering
ones craft, lies the bigger challenge of making work that matters – images that
speak that don’t have to be spoken for.
• Give me an example of obstacles you
have overcome or are currently struggling with when it comes to creating the
work and exhibiting it.
The country is racist
and unequal and the black artists don’t get as much play and recognition as
they should. The few that get attention are almost always pulled to make work
that is pleasing for people in the ‘art world.’ Their work will never be seen
or enjoyed by people who come from where they come from. I don’t come from the
art world. I came to art to heal myself and to grow myself. No one or nothing
really stops me from doing what I want to do. Sure there are financial
constraints and getting the attention of the collectors, and the respect from
high street galleries and museums would be great. But I will not wait for that
to create. I create what I can with what I have. I rarely work with
conventional materials and I pick up my stuff to make art with everywhere I go.
I have transformed enough disused doors, cabinets and all sorts broken pieces
of wood into artworks that I have sold, to affirm that my task is to create.
Thankfully, I don’t have to be discovered by someone to be exhibited. When I
had enough work to show the world, I created my own gallery. The Afrikan
Freedom Station is now a home for a lot of great artists. We have the pleasure
of creating in a community of people and more and more the work finds itself in
the homes and offices of people we know and like.
• Which artists, both locally and
internationally, inspire you work?
I am influenced by the
work of a jazz painter, Bruni Sablan. I have always loved Sekoto and I am
always moved by Dumile Feni, Ezrom Legae and I have now discovered Cecil Skotnes.
I really do like how William Kentridge works with drawings, creating stories
and internal worlds that make you think. These are just few. I am influenced a
lot by the younger artists around me. I particularly like the work of Mzwandile
Buthelezi who has opened my eyes to the power of ink.
• Why does your work utilize a variety
of media at any given point of your creative process?
I use what I have to
make my art. I use everything. I love painting with oils and acrylics and
mostly on boards and used wooded surfaces. I started doing this because I could
not afford proper canvasses. I soon found out that these old surfaces with
memory suited me more. Now I love the simplicity and austerity of paper and
ink. I am also exploring print-making. I don’t have hard and fast rule. I spend
a lot of time reading and looking at images. I look at videos of what I like
from the Internet and I learn what I can. I always do what feels right, what is
not forced. I need that. I don’t have a formal art training, I learn as I go. I
do believe in learning things properly. It makes expression so much more
meaningful. I need to express and release so I prepare my spaces (my home and
the gallery) to make it easy for me to execute. I can move from a giant
portrait of Fela Kuti on an old black board to an intimate print of lovers
holding each other. I allow myself a lot of freedom and room to play. Some
things are strong and they move people. And some things don’t. But that’s okay,
I make the art for me first, and when it connects, I feel very blessed. Like
all artists, I wish for nothing more than to create good work, to connect with
people and hopefully make a living doing what gives me most meaning.
Also check out
The Afrikan Freedom
Station
A Peek Inside A Political
Prisoner’s Heart
Steve Kwena Mokwena
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