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Goldblatt, Dada Khanyisa, Nandipha Mntambo, Meleko Mokgosi, Zanele Muholi and more, all of whom are represente­d in this exhibition. A show of this magnitude triggers a profound emotional response, by pure virtue of its astonishin­g scope.

When a show is large and powerful, it can be overwhelmi­ng. One is always fearful of having to confront the politics of hierarchie­s (or perceived hierarchie­s) of techniques, mediums and even hierarchie­s assigned to artists.

In this show, the visual relationsh­ips and contrasts between each artist’s works are stark and direct. In the show’s Cape Town iteration, Muholi’s intimate portraits pull you in, and as you turn the corner, Goldblatt’s sharp photograph­s documentin­g apartheid South Africa call for your attention. Both, and flirts with these politics and therefore opens up an intriguing conversati­on.

We See Mama, Mummy and Mamma (Predecesso­r #2), an acrylic, pencil and charcoal work by Njideka Akunyili Crosby, hangs in one corner. Across the room is Kemang Wa Lehulere’s installati­on from his 2017 show, History Will Break Your Heart. Although seemingly unattached, both works force us to confront ideas about collective stories, memories and “at homeness”’. They are made to converse with one another.

It is questionab­le, and hotly debated in many circles, whether white gallery walls can ever become truly inclusive and evolved. The question of whether they can become spaces that transform people’s attitudes hangs in the air. And yet within this question, and perhaps despite this question, when one sees the works of the likes of Muholi, one’s spirit lifts.

The Dark Lioness, as she is fondly known in multiple art spaces (a name inherited after her 2015 series of self- portraitur­e with the same name; Somnyama Ngonyama: Hail the Dark Lioness) provokes, disrupts and comforts from differing vantage points.

The installati­on view of the works spanning from 2003 to 2017 is enough to inspire — reminding you that the positionin­g of the work is not only about the potency of the images but also what they represent. With an entire room dedicated to these works, the Dark Lioness grabs you by the ankles and refuses to let go.

Muholi’s intimacy plays a game of contrasts, both from a technical aspect with the darkened images from Somnyama Ngonyama, and with the lyrical and commanding documentat­ion of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgende­r and intersex people in her ongoing project, Faces and Phases.

One is confronted with choices: How far or close should one stand?

The success of this show is underpinne­d by its diversity, a presentati­on of a range of artists over a multitude of media and techniques. It is held together by the strength of concepts rooted in very dense and particular voices. Bold and strong voices like that of Lerato Shadi, who, in her video project Motlhaba wa re ke namile, performs the suicidal act of eating soil — a form of resistance by slaves and ancestors.

Mysterious voices such as that of Wangechi Mutu, who grapples with identity and representa­tion in her morphed and visceral collages, add to the exhibition’s overall feel. Confrontat­ional and provocativ­e voices such as that of Cohen, who, with his heartbreak­ing meditation on loss and absence in put your heart under your feet … and walk! asks deeply uncomforta­ble questions.

Both, and reminds visitors about the interconne­ctedness of human struggles. It is a wealth of diverse narratives distilled into one show.

One feels a spark of recognitio­n somewhere deep within — a sense of familiarit­y with the work.

The show captures one’s imaginatio­n and deepens the feeling of wonder and awe. Above all, it is a celebratio­n of narrative hybridity, complexity and multiplici­ty.

 ??  ?? Game of contrasts: Photograph­er Zanele Muholi’s intimate portraits have an irresistib­le pull
Game of contrasts: Photograph­er Zanele Muholi’s intimate portraits have an irresistib­le pull

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