Death in Venice
by Marilyn Martin
Near the main entrance to the Giardini di Castello, the famous space in Venice where 29 countries erected their art pavilions during the 20th century, visitors to the 50th biennial will find a circle of small gravestones with bronze plaques indicating the names of countries that are not represented at the oldest and still the most important art biennial. Here lies South Africa - between Liechtenstein and Tajikistan.
I came upon this installation unexpectedly and I have no words with which to express the pain, anger, embarrassment and frustration that I experienced; only tears, as befits any funeral. I was aware of our absence, but to be confronted with the reality of the situation in this manner was shocking, although I found solace in the confirmation of my belief that a work of art can speak volumes.
The title of the work is The Presence of your Absence and it forms part of 'Recycling the Future VV', a series of installations between the Giardini and the Arsenale by students of international art schools; in this case Ingrid Persaud of the Central Saint Martins College of Art and Design in London.
How is it possible that South Africa's visual arts can die and be buried in Venice? Since 1990 our artists have caught and sustained the imagination of the world and a number count among the greats of their time. Reasons must be found, but first of all I want to outline the modus operandi of the Venice Biennale and the history as far as South Africa is concerned.
The Venice Biennale operates at an official level. The participating countries, be they those with national pavilions in the Giardini or others who find venues elsewhere in the city, work directly with the biennial. One or two artists that are regarded as extraordinary and important are selected to represent their country. The director, who is appointed every two years, is responsible for the overall concept and the curatorial process.
This biennial, directed by Francesco Bonami under the title 'Dreams and Conflicts: the Dictatorship of the Viewer', ends on November 2 and comprises six parts: the Giardini (a number of developing countries have pavilions, for example Brazil, Egypt, Uruguay, Venezuela); the Arsenale (historically the showcase for new work and new directions); 'Interludes' (works that punctuate a route through the city); 'Links' (of which 'Recycling the Future VV' forms part); 'Painting from Rauschenberg to Murakami, 1964-2003' in the Museo Correr; the 22 countries that occupy every available church or palazzo with their art (among them Bosnia-Herzegovina, Cyprus, Estonia, Fyrom, Iran, Latvia and the Ukraine).
Owing to the cultural boycott, doors in Venice were closed to South African artists for 25 years. This changed in 1993 with an invitation from the director, Achilo Bonito Oliva, to the department of foreign affairs. His theme was 'The Cardinal Points of Art' and his aim was to make the biennial more representative of world art. The South African Association of Arts (SAAA) was given the task of organising the participation. There was little time and the arts were caught in the difficult transitional period that characterised the advent of the new political dispensation. Louis Jansen van Vuuren, national president of the SAAA, put together a selection panel and regions of the SAAA were asked to consult with other organisations and to recommend artists.
There were three parts: two main artists, Jackson Hlungwani and Sandra Kriel, whose work was shown in Oliva's exhibition in the Italian pavilion; an exhibition of work by 24 artists in the Fondazione Levi; and two ceramic sculptures by Bonnie Ntshalintshali that were on view in the Aperto. The theme 'Affinities' was chosen to reveal the confluences rather than the differences in South African art, as well as the cross-pollination between past and present, Western and African sources. It was a great success and was also exhibited at the Stedelijke Museum in Amsterdam, on request of the director.
In 1995 an invitation was again extended and Roger Jardine, then director-general of the new department of arts, culture, science and technology, took the initiative. He formed a committee to ensure a South African presence, and Malcolm Payne's proposal to build a wall just outside the entrance to the Giardini was selected. It pointed to presence and absence (in the spirit of the gravestones), the wall also containing objects by other artists that depicted South African methods of documenting identity.
Since then nothing has happened. The director or other curators invite individual artists, but this does not have the prestige of national participation. What is the problem? It requires political will and action to participate in the Venice Biennale and this is lacking in South Africa. Those in officialdom who are meant to take responsibility travel throughout the world signing cultural agreements and attending festivals. Music, dance and craft are promoted but visual artists seldom reap the benefits. Requests to address the situation fall on deaf ears.
From 1950, when South Africa was invited to Venice for the first time, until 1995 our status has changed from temporary occupant to exile to bywoner (squatter). The opportunity afforded by the first democratic elections (who would have been able to say "no" to former president Nelson Mandela?) was squandered and now all that remains is a little gravestone. South Africans alone are guilty for this shameful marginalisation of our visual arts. It is up to artists and as arts organisations to exert pressure on government to change this state of affairs.
Marilyn Martin is director of Art Collections, Iziko museums of Cape Town and a columnist for Rapport. She writes in her personal capacity. This article was first published in Rapport and translated by the author for republishing on ArtThrob.
