Iziko South African National Gallery
18.02 - 11.08.2024
I arrive at the stairs of the Iziko South African National Gallery consumed with a certain pride. The acknowledgement that this retrospective exercise sparks is an ode to one spectacular woman and a cultural preservation of one of our many cultural affiliations in South Africa. As I look up to this colonial Cape-Dutch facade that has come in contact with Dr Esther Mahlangu’s iconic abstraction, it takes me back to my first encounter with her work and Ndebele cultural outputs. As a young girl when bussed off to school camp at Botshabelo there, we did not just encounter Mme Esther Mahlangu’s distinctive practice, but also the many Ndebele women who work to preserve the historicisation of their cultural expression. But now I wonder, how does the format of the retrospective assist or distort Mme Mahlangu’s extensive oeuvre and simultaneously give proper visibility to the community that nurtured her practice?
The colonial facade of Iziko juxtaposed with Ndebele geometric abstraction comes back to me when I view the replica of her home in Botshabelo installed in one of the gallery spaces. It holds significance in cementing her practice through expressing her talent on the face of her home. Only this time, she has expressed it through the facade of the National Museum, aptly named Iziko, known as lekgotla, or a hearth where the community gathers as a collective. My own time as a child at Botshabelo and being exposed to the living open-air museum nurtured by mothers and conservators of Ndebele culture only becomes significant to me today as a cultural worker as I reflect on the mechanisms placed to preserve culture — that can only bear the mark of sustainability when the community is positioned at the centre of how they believe the preservation should be undertaken.
Here we witness a living and breathing process of preservation that is fuelled by learning and oral teachings that are passed down to the next generation. The title of the exhibition is where we begin, as Nontobeko Ntombela, the curator, reminds us that Mme Mahlangu did not find validation in her work from the public or art historical acknowledgement, but rather through her mother, and grandmother who issued their approval after she painted on the walls of her familial home – only then did she know she was good at painting. Even Mme Mahalngu acknowledges how she practises preservation as one of the wall texts reads, “Through my art I have seen the world. In turn, the world learnt about my Ndebele heritage. I speak isiNdebele, I walk isiNdebele, and I wear isiNdebele – it is my culture.” Indeed, these sentiments are reflected in the extensive nature of the exhibition – 100 works to be exact, only about 10% of Mme Mahlangu’s collection.
In the interest of offering a standard visual analysis, I will point out pieces that I read with a particular significance not only to Mme Mahlangu’s work but also to the curatorial style that lends itself to the retrospective format. Ntombela begins by disrupting the chronological expectations of a retrospective by placing the curatorial statement on either end of the exhibition. This creates a circularity that is not embedded in the art historical urge to map out a sequential viewing of Mme Mahlangu’s body of work. Although Ntombela takes a more thematic approach, her trademarked historical timeline finds its place here too, reminiscent of her and Dr. Portia Malatjie’s roll calling through the seminal exhibition ‘When Rain Clouds Gather: Black South African Women Artists 1940 – 2000’. There too lies a significant connection as the iconic heels which signified Mahlangu’s work, which sat alongside an extensive list of Black South African women artists, start off the retrospective. The heels, entitled Suid Afrika Vorentoe (2003), translating to ‘South Africa Ahead’ sit on the plinth with a backdrop of a series of small paintings. At times it seems as though Mahlangu’s work is read in isolation from other Black women artists, or even apart from the history of abstraction in South Africa. However, the heels reminded me that the work of reading her alongside her contemporary peers has already begun, spearheaded by formidable Black women art historians.
Another exercise undertaken by Ntombela to highlight Mme Esther’s significance within the canon of modern art was a literature hub positioned in the centre of the room where the walls are adorned with Mahalangu’s CV. With a literature hub, I was able to read content that has historicised Mahlangu over the years, with one small book catching my eye in this respect. This small book, ‘Passport to South Africa’ showcased an ID card-like format of prominent artists active in the late 1990’s and early 2000’s. There I found copies by artists Willie Bester, Tommy Motswai, Sam Nhlengethwa, and many more formidable names shared alongside Mme Mahlangu. A framing such as this, helps the audience understand her significance in the larger history of South African modernists and contemporary artists.
The retrospective, particularly in the context of a national museum, must offer the public a unique insight into an artist’s practice (which we may not be fully aware of as exhibitions, commissions, and private collections are scattered all over the world). For example, the monumental opportunity of bringing the iconic BMW 525i Art Car back home since its making is a heritage viewing that every South African deserves to experience. The work reminds us of how Mme Mahlangu was at the forefront of dissolving the boundaries between functional objects and fine art. The BMW is also read along other objects like traditional bowels, domestic pieces and beaded sets of machine guns that send shivers down your spine yet capture your eyes as you admire their beauty. Another thematic aspect I appreciated from the retrospective was the wide range of figurative works showcased. This is another reminder of the versatility of Mme Esther Mahlangu’s practice. Works like Ndebele Dwellings with Figures (2017) showcase her talent in merging abstraction with the figurative, whilst works like Ndebele Mother and Child (2007), as well as a presidential commission from Tata Nelson Mandela entitled Nelson Mandela Unity Series (2004) are an example of her confidence in moving away from her well-known abstractive and geometric style.
The practice of creating pigments through dung that we are seeing a resurgence of (in the works of artists such as Mawande Ka Zenzile and Inga Somdyala) was prominent in the foundational years of Mme Mahlangu’s practice. Within the exhibition, I would have loved to see more of these very early works, before she left for Paris in 1989 for the exhibition ‘Magiciens de la Terre’. Mme Mahlangu shares that cow dung was integral to her community’s work which only shifted once she came across the bright acrylic paints of the Western world. This shift brought on by the global direction her work would take, also shows her ingenuity in adapting subtly to capture the attention of a wider audience. We need to encounter works such as Ndebele Design II (2007) that display her use of natural pigments and dung as these works historicise Mahlangu’s practice in light of localised artistic formats and practices.
I end the exhibition standing in the sunlight of Iziko’s courtyard and quietly observing signage of Ndebele community work and heritage preservation undertaken by Mme Mahlangu’s contemporaries who are custodians of museums and learning centres of Ndebele culture. Ntombela reminds us that communal cultural work stretches far beyond the mystique of just one artist. As retrospectives become the order of the day, from recent showings of artists like Tracey Rose and Johannes Phokela, we must consider what communities, or artistic canons these monolithic figures should be read alongside.