As I entered the luminous space of the Saatchi Gallery with a friend, a week ago, I was suddenly rapt into a quiet, ethereal world, where the silence was not even interrupted by the thundering rain outside, and the artworks on display would simply but blodly disclose themselves in all their beauty, almost challenging you to fade away and leave the stage to the unfolding of their meanings.
The artists presented in the exhibition “Pangaea II: New Art from Africa and Latin America” come from these continents, and some of them had already shown their works in a previous collective exhibition, held at the Saatchi Gallery last year, across Spring, Summer and Autumn 2014. The earlier show was named “Pangaea”, so that the second was clearly linked to the first in the extent in which they both displayed contemporary artists coming from economically developing parts of the world that are miles and miles away from each other, but can reunite through art (as the probably geographically were millennia ago).
The show was divided into different rooms, onto two floors of the gallery, with no explanation whatsoever of the works, which most of the time were presented only by a plain collective label at the entrance of every room, stating the basic information (author, title, year, medium, size). This gave a chance for attentive and meditative looking at the pieces, without focusing on written text as we are so much used to. In this case, though, a bit of knowledge of the background of every artist would have been indispensable to get a better understanding of their works. I had done my homework research before reaching the gallery, so I felt enough comfortable in the sole presence of the artworks, but I am not sure the friend who was with me had the same kind of experience. At any rate, the way the objects were presented, the ubiquitous white light cascading from the ceiling and probably the silent gallery environment itself gave space for personal reflection and I soon lost sight of my mate, getting back to him only at the shop entrance. He told me he had really enoyed the show.
Many of the works contained a political or socio-economical reference to the countries the artist belongs to. Some addressed a blue reflection on burocracy and the way human beings are swallowed by technology and urbanization. Others would tackle the power-games in which an individual must mix him or herself up in in order to gain political authority and prestige. Others again would reflect on the situation of the poorest sections of society.
I particularly felt an association with the series of paintings by Dawit Abebe (1978, Ethiopia), giving a portrait of ailing figures always turning their back to the viewer and to the worldly reality, from which nevertheless they are surrounded in the form of official papers, tickets, ties, …The melancholy they aroused was the same one feels when you ask yourself if this is really the only way things could be.
Ephrem Solomon’s (1983, Ethiopia) Political Game 3 reminded me of a fish in a sea full of sharks:
Armand Boua’s (1978) humble carboards well fitted his reflection on the hinumanity he experiences in everyday-life in Abidjan (Ivory Coast):
Other works had a humorous vein than made me openly smile, like Alexandre da Cunha’s (1969, Brazil) nude series, in which the author uses found objects and different media to obtain a painting which is also a sculpture, conveying an ironic message on the way we see and appropriate material objects. I particularly enjoyed this piece:
A couple of artists, namely Alida Cervantes (1972, California, U.S.A.), Virginia Chihota (1983, Zimbabwe), but also Eddy Ilunga Kamuanga (1991, Democratic Republic of the Congo) dealt with feminine figures in different ways. I felt a strong connection with Virginia’s reflection on marriage and the developing of personal relationships that she conveys through her work Raising Your Own (Kurera Wako). Unfortunately I was not able to take a picture of it, but her delicate, almost phantom-like bride, her white skin almost melting away with the unnatural white background, gave me a sense of strength and impotence at the same time. She stands beside her husband-to-be, both wrapped in an unusual black veil, which shadows them from the viewer and make them close and fearfully intimate. Their feet are bare, and the woman covers her womb with her black hands as a blood stain widens on her white wedding dress.
Eddy’s women are the heroines of the new cultural diversity which is emerging in his hometown, Kinshasa. He is strongly influenced both by traditions and pop culture and the resulting works seems to me vibrant and positive. I really appreciated the use he made of written word in his paintings, a device that conveys particular meanings (if you can read the language!) and helps the old mixing with the new.
However, my favourite pieces were the ones welcoming the visitor in the first room of the exhibition. I left them for last because of their power, their marvellous quality as art objects and the activism that they inspire. I am talking about the selection of works by Diego Mendoza Imbachi (1982, Colombia), who links gardening and art-making in a process that juxtaposes the natural elements of the forest with the harmful industrialisation that more and more affects the landscape in South America. Diego truly is a poet, even in the choice of titles. His medium, mainly graphite, reflects his intention of giving space, in some ways, to a reconciliation between human destructivness and natural life. His works, of very large dimensions, make you feel like you really are in some magical forest made up of beautifully crafted, tall, silent trees whose branches resemble in some ways electrical wires. The element of sacred is surely present, it makes you reflect on the beauty and delicacy of nature and on the stubborn dullness of multi-national corporations. After staring at these works, my Greenpeace soul aroused, and even talking about it now, some days after the exhibition has already closed its doors, I still feel a sense of courage, of urgence for doing everything I can to respect the planet. Now I can really start my day in a positive, proactive way.
Pangaea II: New Art form Africa and Latin America, Saatchi Gallery, 11 March – 17 September 2015.
Useful links:
The exhibition’s webpage has links to the bios and abstracts of the partecipant artists, and it’s a mine for more information: http://www.saatchigallery.com/artists/pangaea_II/
Diotima in the Gallery 
2 risposte su “PANGAEA II @ Saatchi Gallery”
Today November 19, 2015 I found this blog, I liked the reflection on the visit to Pangaea II. I appreciate the writing on my artwork and for me is a source of joy that my drawings have inspired you. Greetings from Colombia, Diego Mendoza Imbachi.
"Mi piace""Mi piace"
Thank you for reading this Diego! Keep on with your work, I think it’s really special. Cheers!
"Mi piace""Mi piace"