STEVENSON
27.01 - 09.03.2024

Suppose art can disseminate knowledge in the pursuit of dismantling colonial institutions. What instruments lie in the ‘school’ box that can be used to stay true to our intentions and purpose?

In a conversation with the late Eusebius Mckaiser on Radio 702, cofounder of Futurelect Lindiwe Mazibuko proposed a distinction in learning methods based on intentions. She suggested that unlike the open space we experience in ‘traditional’ learning institutions where the vetting and strengthening of one’s arguments or distinctive worldviews are paramount,  a ‘safe learning space for dissemination’ is necessary to affirm historically marginalised individuals, strengthening personhood against the oppressive belief of others. 

Class is indeed in session at the solo exhibition, ‘uZenzile akakhalelwa, kukhalelwa uzumekile’, by Mawande Ka Zenzile presented at Stevenson. Through the title, Ka Zenzile suggests that “those who intentionally put themselves in harm’s way cannot expect any sympathy or pity from others. Only those who are unaware or ignorant deserve compassion and empathy.” As I took in this title, lyricist and singer Solange’s words came to mind as her interlude reminds us, “intention, do nothing without intention”. The notion of focused intention becomes the running theme not only in this exhibition but throughout Ka Zenzile’s extensive career. With no break in consistency engaging materiality by using cow dung, for which he has a strong connection,  Ka Zenzile remains steadfast in his messaging around decoloniality and the very active process of mediating his indigenous amaXhosa culture. With this exhibition, in particular, Ka Zenzile shares his amassed knowledge of indigeneity through his art, disseminating this knowledge, over time, to fulfil his ultimate purpose – his devotion to his gift and his ancestors. 

Even as I write about Ka Zenzile’s work in light of the project of decoloniality, I do so with the knowledge that my entire life leading up to this moment, my tongue and hand have moulded themselves to master the English language to relay my way of living in a manner that is audible and readable to white colonial institutions. There is nothing new here. Fanon theorised this in his seminal text Black Skin, White Masks (1952). It may be exhausting but it is imperative to continue the work of dismantling the violence exacted on us, including on how we produce and disseminate knowledge.

As I reflect on Ka Zenzile’s extensive body of work, it feels as though in earlier years his messaging was directed outward, and slowly as the years have passed I see that he begins to look more inward, concerning how to translate his world against the angst he has felt in the stifling colonial structures he was educated in and would go on to produce for. This exhibition is the moment in Ka Zenzile’s career where we can examine the different elements of de-linking and re-existing, all driven by the underpinning purpose of healing and affirmation, and not necessarily intending to facilitate a 101 crash course on indigenous practices which at times can become the case within the context of galleries and museums. In the monograph Uhambo luyazilawula reflecting on Ka Zenzile’s career, Art Historian Nomusa Makhubu begins her text on  Ka Zenzile’s 2018 artwork  ‘Leave your mind outside’ with the idea that one must abandon all the ways they think they come to know what they know when they engage with the work of decolonial disobedience such as in the art of Ka Zenzile. In that work, Ka Zenzile instructs us to  “come inside and remember to leave your shoes and your mind outside”. 

In ‘uZenzile akakhalelwa’ Ka Zenzile captures our senses and immaculately muddies our orientation with the pungent smell of hay permeating the space — heaps sit where the wall meets the floor. With no words nor symbols but rather through the intangible smell he cautions us that this is no typical white cube, devoid of distractions in pursuit of sterilisation. Instead, he shifts our senses in a manner that will affect how we receive the work. For some, the smell might take them straight to their grandmother’s home in Dudumashe in the Eastern Cape or Malealea in Lesotho where her home and warmth have now been transported into this moment on the Stevenson gallery floor. Again, activating a healing effect has the intention of affirming a particular experience and resisting the urge to uphold clarity or standardisation to be universally legible. 

What I found particularly interesting was the low lighting in the exhibition, which created a particular mood. I only noticed the soft lighting when I entered the viewing room at the back of the gallery where that iridescent cold light flooded every corner and crevice. Nothing could escape that light. In Ka Zenzile’s exhibition, the low light signalled mystique to the practice of knowledge production and dissemination as when itola (traditional healer) deal with the messages of ancestors — most of these messages do not come explicitly. They must search to find meaning in the grey — the dreams, the water, the darkness, the shrouded. This provocation of continuous errantry is brought home in the text ‘Muthala: Through Johnny Mbizo Dyani and Mawande Ka Zenzile’ by Kabelo Malatsie in which she explains that Ka Zenzile’s body of work does not necessarily seek to convince us of his arguments or particular worldview, however, we are observing perpetual exploration of what she describes in the Khelovedu language as ‘go latela muthala’,  which is the inherent instinct to seek knowledge without a destination. Here is the formation of a safe space. It does not concern itself with the accuracy, validity, or clarity of what it purports to be disseminating but rather focuses on the pure affirmation of the experience itself. 

My favourite piece in this exhibition is not mighty in size nor packed with visual content, yet it feels expansive in ways in which you can arrive at different meanings. At first view, The Hero’s Journey holds all the markers of Ka Zenzile’s oeuvre – a deep purple is quietly disrupted with a faint line that divides the canvas into equal parts, forcing the eye to split this united purple in a divided state. But when you look closer you see the faintest brushstroke; a darker indigo beneath the brighter purple emerges. It feels like it captures human error against the perfection of solid colours and straight lines. This act of letting things beneath find the surface feels like a directed intention to highlight his continued process of bringing his way of life to the surface of the untainted, hierarchical and authoritative modes of knowledge production and dissemination. But here the action required no effort, just a sweep on the canvas on his part, the rest of the work he leaves to us. Poetics of opacity are always at play with this consistent layering of texture in the cow dung, the use of colours that blend and mesh, and the repetitions of lines. In Don’t Let the Cat out The Bag which reminded me of of Inga Somdyala’s exploration of statehood and national flags in the show ‘Adamah’, Ka Zenzile has vertical lines perpendicular to horizontal lines – occupying their distinctive shades of blue. The layering is extensive, to the point where one cannot tell which layer presupposes which, leaving your eye to rely on the unifying trait of the cow dung texture. Opacity and the obfuscation of matter through layers remind us that often it is impossible to know where one thing starts and another ends. 

The practice of decoloniality can at times feel like a mammoth task. Makhubu brings this to light, asking “How does one fight an institution that one is already subsumed by?”. Perhaps the answer lies somewhere in that pursuit of a decolonial safe space where the intention of affirming and healing supersedes any intention of clarity, validity, or authority.  The thoughtful and intimate body of Ka Zenzile’s work keeps an inquiry against the conventional assumptions of how history, stories, and cultures ought to be retained and disseminated.

 

‘uZenzile akakhalelwa, kukhalelwa uzumekile’ is on view at Stevenson until 9 March 2024.

 

Notes 

1. Glissant, E. (1990) ‘Poetics of Opacity ’, in Poetics of Relation. Michigan: University of Michigan Press. 
2. Mignolo, W.D. (2017) ‘Coloniality is far from over, and so must be decoloniality’, Afterall: A Journal of Art, Context and Enquiry, 43, pp. 38–45. doi:10.1086/692552. 
3. Zenzile, K.M. et al. (2020) in Uhambo Luyazilawula. Cape Town: Stevenson.