Two weeks after the opening of Process, I sat down with Lebo Kekana – director, curator and artist behind FEDE Arthouse. Process is FEDE’s third curatorial offering, signifying a departure from their previous “less formal” events. We met in the naturally lit exhibition space in the upper level at 3 Roodehek Street in Gardens, formerly an office, now used as an exhibition space.
Although the concept of “process” formed the underlying premise of the show and the brief to participating artists, Kekana’s intention from the outset was for earth to be an aesthetic impetus, or grounding (“excuse the pun”) element for the show. Earth is a common theme that features in his painting practice, so the possibility of working with earth directly in the show was appealing. Throughout the three rooms which formed Process’s structural skeleton, the audience encountered earth in its various forms, from concrete to soil, and the elements in between.
In the first room, spools of sepia wool hung along washing lines pulled across the room; vinyl lettering read Hung to Dry with cowgirlblues beside it. Keith Virgo’s large-knit woolen compositions stood on makeshift concrete plinths, aggregate objects of sand, limestone and cement. Reef Sithole’s Into The Wild depicted a feminine figure grasping for a natural growth, the sun blazing through the image. Talia Ramkilawan featured two complementary works, one complete and the other in its raw hessian form, a glimpse back in time.
The middle space, which was partly obstructed through the rectangular openings in the wall, revealed scatterings of Nkhensani Mkhari’s photographs of cityscapes, personal items and unexpected contradictions: a block of flats, a blood-red flower, vacant interiors, Jozi’s Ponte tower glowing a hazy red. The work’s title, Counterpoint for Apophenia was apt. A series of sensitive sketches of men intertwined between delicate flowers by Shakil Solanki contrasted against Xhanti Zwelendaba’s Orlando Pirates team. Again, Zwelendaba’s rough canvas served as a border for the work. A seemingly otherworldly being bared her teeth in jewels in Frozen by Tony Gum, another contrast from the ornate delicacy found in the room.
In the final room, earth manifested in its rawest form. The entire floor was covered in ochre, rock and sand – earning it the name “The Earth Room.” Consisting of 25 sacks of raw soil, the concept of the “Earth Room” was born through conversations with ceramicists Andile Dyalvane and Kyle Strydom. Both artists use earth and clay as significant elements in their process, moulding structures that signify portals to the ancestral plane. Strydom’s candle holders and Dyalvane’s soil plinths and circular, labyrinth-type formations behaved as a collaborative piece. On the wall, Zwelendaba’s untitled image of dry ground and Katlego Phetlhe’s multiple exposure Reunion in sepia tones echoed the sentiment of earth.
The concept for Process came from a desire for slow creation, an attention to the detail behind finished products, artwork and ideas. In general, Kekana feels the need to counteract a culture of high consumption, taking appreciation for the thought, labour and consideration that goes into art practice that others don’t always see. I saw this appreciation manifest in the painstaking process work evident in the show’s works. In particular, was Luyanda Zindela’s Umgcine nini ubhuti whako, a 145 x 125 cm tender image cross-hatched by hand on pinewood. I learnt about the intensive labour that went into Process’s installation: carrying 25 sacks of raw earth up the stairs, concrete blocks for the plinths, rearranging and repositioning them in a specific configuration.
Kekana said: “Process was the only brief really given to artists, but at the same time it’s not really a theme, as it’s intrinsic in anyone’s practice. There was no particular narrative the artists aligned with, but rather an intangible feeling or essence that ran between all of their work.”
This intangible feeling or essence was indicated by the absence of exhibition labels. Instead, the mind map or “hive mind” at the show’s entrance served as an introduction, forming linkages between artists, their practices and inspirations. Without prior knowledge, the artists and the meaning behind their works was somewhat obscured. While I wondered whether this detracted from a deeper understanding, my own observations led me to believe this omission gave people the freedom to form their own meaning. I asked Kekana about the exclusion of artwork labels and a formal curatorial text, to which he replied, “From the jump, FEDE is meant to do things that feel different from the typical gallery space.” Kekana believes FEDE was able to achieve a sense of comfort despite Process being closer to a formal exhibition than their previous initiatives. Their first gesture was quite literal about creating a sense of comfort and involved Kekana hiring a house in Woodstock. While the domestic setting clearly lent itself to a feeling of ease amongst attendees, Kekana admits that perfect artwork installation was less of a focus. The second iteration took place at Ghost, a former event space within a newly redeveloped building in the city. Here, artwork was “framed and positioned well,” but the space functioned primarily as a party and social space, drawing attention away from the art itself. With Process, the art has been the centerpiece. Kekana is encouraged by the way comfort has continued through FEDE’s practice, observing how people have spent time in the space, just chilling without the rush to be somewhere else.
Officially, FEDE’s Process continues until 14 January, but the idea continues to grow, underpinned by the concept’s ability to lend itself to something organic and generative. FEDE is fueled by the engagement it has received throughout the show, and I look forward to the future initiatives that may be born from it.