History of the Main Complaint
by Sean O'Toole
"Black art exists almost exclusively by virtue of the white liberals' benign interest," wrote Hans Fransen in his book Three Centuries of South African Art. "Teachers are white, art administrators are white, gallery directors are white, and so are the critics and buyers." The year: 1982.
But this is 2003. I asked David Koloane what he thought the state of black contemporary art was in South Africa, particularly in light of Fransen's quote (a statement Koloane himself quoted in his 1995 essay 'Moments in Art') and the ecstasy augured on April 28, 1994. "Black artists are still walking a tightrope," he responded, "having to go to white galleries, all those problems mentioned by Fransen."
Koloane does however happily concede that things are changing. For one thing there is a national arts council, of which he is an executive member. Also, a younger generation of gallerists are showing themselves to be less didactic in expressing their expectations of what black art ought to be, a fact that is allowing black artists generally greater latitude to explore their own styles. "But that's just in Jo'burg," Koloane sighs.
Contrast the difficulties faced by many black artists in South Africa with the position of William Kentridge. For many William Kentridge's dominant position as South Africa's foremost artist is incontrovertible, criticism of the artist tantamount to heresy. Yet consider this lone voice, published in the June 1999 issue of Art Monthly.
"Make no mistake, in international curatorial circles, Kentridge has come to represent, officially or otherwise, South Africa. Now, with apartheid, formally and officially at least, a thing of the past, Kentridge's projected self-image has shifted slightly, but significantly. He is now taken to represent the new supposedly non-racial, liberal, non-hierarchical South Africa." This assertion is borne out by the artist's impressive list of international engagements, Kentridge currently exhibiting in Luxembourg, Belgium and the UAE.
"His [Kentridge's] work is taken to represent not only the cathartic process of post-apartheid healing, but also the image of South Africa as a forward-looking country, wholly in step with Western liberal values and aesthetics."
There is no doubting William Kentridge's consummate skill as an artist, Wozyek still resonates in my mind long after my seeing it at the Market Theatre. Rather what is at stake here is a patronising international art system that seeks comfort in brand names, which the name Kentridge has undeniably become. As Art Monthly points, what is significant about the evolution of Kentridge's profile as an artist, particularly after Documenta X, is that "it is he, as a white male (artist) who has been selected by an international coterie of curators to represent firstly, intelligent, considered and acceptably dispassionate resistance to apartheid."
"This self-image has evolved into one in which Kentridge, again as a white male (artist) is embraced and curatorially celebrated as representing the new South Africa." I mentioned this observation to Koloane. His polite chuckle signalled the end to my inquiry. This is a sensitive topic.
Less concerned with decorum, and the circles of influence which mar South African art, the Art Monthly attack continued: "The evolution of Kentridge's profile points to not much other than racial business as usual." (Clearly the question here is where: Racism here, or there, or over here and there?) At this point Art Monthly cite some basic facts: South Africa's overwhelmingly black population. "Yet no black South African artist has any sort of profile that comes even close to that of Kentridge." Not even Zwelethu Mthethwa, widely regarded as an art superstar by his black contemporaries locally. Or Moshekwa Langa, the self-imposed exile currently appearing on this year's Venice Biennale.
"Such is the emphatic eclipsing by white South African artists of all other ethnic groupings, that, as well informed as we might consider ourselves to be, most of us would be hard pushed to name even one South African artist of Indian origin who has made it successfully into the international exhibiting arena." As a statement overtly pitched at an international readership, the words have a striking currency locally. White still shines bright and I myself still struggle to pronounce the name Sam Nhlengethwa, partly because I hardly ever hear his name bandied about (which would help facilitate fluency). And to think that Linda Givon told me: "Buy Sam Nhlengethwa, I am launching him in New York in 2003."
Obviously there is more than a bit of that specious brand of liberal self-loathing evident in this critique of Kentridge, liberal self-loathing that effete, polite and ultimately ineffective. But it is necessary to voice this criticism, even if only to highlight the basic fact that the majority of South Africa's population, as well as the nation's 'coloured' and Indian populations "are being represented, in the art galleries of the world, by a small impregnable clique of white, primarily male South African artists, of which William Kentridge is the prime example." (And Kendell Geers.)
