This is not an easy topic and I know in advance that I won't get to the point. But I'm starting to look into it. When we were in Basel in September one of my friends replied to my question why she didn't come to visit me that she didn't want to be white in Africa. I was so taken aback by her response that I couldn't respond. Her answer was essentially a political statement, but somehow also personally. I felt like something had been thrown at me, pulling the rug out from under me. She probably wanted to challenge me and I should have asked her why she thought that way, what the problem was. But in this informal context I had absolutely no desire to have a fundamental discussion about what it was like to live as a white person in Africa. I have no other existence and, as it was an invitation to dinner and not to a panel, I was not prepared to question my current situation.
Some days later in Berlin. I had planned to see Candice Breitz's work White Face at Fotografiska as part of Berlin Art Week. Shortly before, I communicated with her briefly and she said it would be great if we came to the opening. I never expected that there would be an endless queue and so I didn't think about being put on the guest list. Disappointed and unwilling to wait, we went home to go again the following day as the staff recommended. Our route back had been smooth and I thought we would find our way around easily, but I got completely lost and we ended up almost at the other end of town. We arrived at the museum completely annoyed and additionally had problems paying because cash was not accepted. When we finally reached the third floor to see the exhibition, I wasn't open to the work. Since I was with my Gambian partner, to whom I wanted to introduce the work, my claim was there, but it went completely wrong. The demo effect. He was actually bored by the work, seeing photos of a white woman, and everything on the video white too. I already knew the work a little and knew what it was about. I explained a bit, but he couldn't comprehend. I'm a fan of Candice. But in this nervous situation, I felt dizzy my mind somehow blurry. I didn't take photos, which I deeply regret. Then again I think it was probably meant to be that way and there will be a reason for it.
I didn't find the actual work, the video. But this conversation gives an impression, at least.
In Conversation: Candice Breitz and Kanya Mashabela
Monday, 27
We should open the door to cheerfulness whenever it comes,
because it never comes at the wrong time.
Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860) - translated by Maren Sanneh
Last Saturday I cleaned the studio and tidied up a bit. Under a stack of administrative papers I found a document from the tour with our music group Die Sekte in what was then the GDR. To enter the country we needed a visum and invitation. It was as if I had never seen this document before.
I also found my old Poesiealbum where family and friends wrote mostly sayings or quotes. There isn't a single poem among them. My mother wrote a quote from Schopenhauer about cheerfulness in her very neat handwriting. I find it surprising that she addressed me kinda seriously, like an adult. The way she mentioned the family circle makes it sound to me as if she wanted to keep me in the family. However, at that age (9), I was far from going my own way. But who knows, maybe I already had a tendency to wander around mingling.
Malola
Name Dropping Tree
print on film, 1996
Tuesday already. The time is running. It's probably because the year is coming to an end.
What I wanted to write about already some days ago is related to the last entries, which are about my network that isn't one, and my joy at the surprise visit from an art worker.
During our stay in Australia we (malola) developed a project that served to record the progress of making acquaintances. We arrived in Australia having virtually no acquaintances there. Just one artist, who we had met in Basel and who was in the residency program as well (Rodney). At the airport we were picked up by a woman from the office of the institution AFWA (Artists Foundation West Australia), who led the artist exchange with the institution Iaab, now called Atelier Mondial, in Basel (B. Schneider), and introduced to the other employees of the institution's office.
The lines around MALOLA lead to those we met ourselves and not through other people of Australia. All further contacts came through these, who we met and them they either invited us to events or introduced us. The legends in italics indicate where the encounter took place. In fact, only the people we knew by name are mentioned on the tree.
Wednesday, 15
Now I had the opportunity to research who I was dealing with... double degree in literature and Masters in International Relations between Latin America and Europe. Wow. Sustainable projects. Like this one in Sanyang will be. In sha Allah.
itinerant Works
Tuesday, 14
We wanted to go downtown today to pay for the monthly internet and do the necessary shopping. That's how it is with planning, not always what it should be. Last night after training, the car didn't make a sound. It wasn't the battery, we found out. Since we couldn't do anything, we left the car at the gym. Ergo, no internet today. Not bad. Somehow relaxed. Usually when something comes to mind, I immediately look it up. Now I can just leave the matter as it is. I could write everything down, but I expect the important thoughts to come back to me. I recently read from Naom Chomsky that the human brain is far ahead of artificial intelligence.
As luck would have it we received a surprise visit yesterday afternoon. There was a loud knocking at the gate and it turned out to be someone interested in the Art Space. So I opened the gate. Two young people were standing in front of me. They found us on Google Maps. Unfortunately, the wrong route was given and so the two had to leave their vehicle in the bush because they couldn't get any further. I was busy watering plants and then wanted to prepare for training. I felt disrupted and asked them why they didn't call before. Then I would have described the route to them properly. No telephone number was given, she replied what I didn't know. Perhaps I removed it because my fb account was recently hacked. I couldn't remember exactly though, but later found out there was a phone number listed indeed. Of course I let them in hence they had come all the way to visit us.
I said a few words about our being and becoming, and about the origins of the House of Culture Tintinto. When it was her turn to introduce herself, she said that she was looking for cultural workers. It was about a project in Sanyang regarding overfishing and the fishmeal factory. She plans to work with local artists in March 2024. I stated I was very interested in collaborating. She had already been to Mama Africa and saw the place, but Isha Fofana had not been there. She would try to reach her by phone, she said. As a matter of fact I'm very excited to see what develops from this. However, I am pleasantly surprised that I had a meeting so soon after my last blog, even if it is just a coincidence.
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Our car was repaired in a timely manner by an electrician. So we were able to implement our plan of today.
20231018, photograpy, 1487 x 2791 px
A conversation with myself
This morning I woke up thinking that I haven't really worked on artwork in years. (Of course I do here and there, but I can't say that I am active on art always. With my mind yes, but not in what I implement.) It was a very disturbing thought that ended with the question: Can I ever catch up? No, time has passed. It is not possible. I have to accept it as it is.
A few days ago we had a visit by a very friendly woman from Switzerland. We grilled and ate together on the roof terrace. Afterwards we took a walk towards the sea to see the results of the sand mining. Bundles of reeds have now grown and the landscape looks kinda bizarre. But the fact that access to the sea is denied remains a disappointment. Then a quick tour in the studio. As always with my visitors, I let them choose a part of the Avendre series. She chose part 133, where her husband's sister is pictured. I get close to my work again through others. She also praised me for what I have built. Of course it feels good to hear that you have done well. But yeah, my dissatisfaction is still growing. Most of my friends in Europe are younger than me and are now the age that I was when I started here. In a few years they will be retired and are now looking forward to it and prepare. That step has already been taken for me. Should I just wait until they're ready?
But why are my thoughts on the people in Europe while I live here in Africa? Why are they so important to me? A crucial question indeed. My contact here is limited. Something that I have to change if I want to continue at the House of Culture Tintinto and in Gambia in general. But how? While spending a few days in Kerr Serign a week ago, I had a brief flash of inspiration - I'm going to contact Isha Fofana of Mama Africa and talk to her about the situation. Now the question is, when is the right moment for this?
Then, occasionally, I think about selling the house and living somewhere else, either in the city or maybe even in another country. In this case there would be something to do (finding place, moving, getting used to the actual environment), something would be in motion - that's what I am dreaming about. But I'm not sure at the moment whether it's the right decision to start now and contact the broker. No, I'm not ready for that yet. I still believe that somehow things will improve. No, not true, I don't believe it really. Let's put it this way, I still think it's ok here. I'm happy about my life, but the fact that others don't interact with me frustrates me. A visit here and there isn't everything. In addition, I have to ask people to come, almost bribe them. It's not a creative collaboration like I imagine.
It is as it is. Sure, this is the approach to start when it comes to changing. Starting with the wrong assumptions leads to wrong conclusions. Or maybe not. Why not change my so realistic perspective and embellish everything a bit, instead of already seeing the dust that is settling everywhere during the time of Harmattan?
My explanation when I'm asked about my art and I answer that I don't produce much is that just producing for the sake of producing doesn't make sense to me. But I'm unhappy with it and it would actually make sense for my own good. So it's an excuse because I am not inspired and without inspiration I am not able to work. Or I'm depressed, as has already been diagnosed several times. Am I depressed? Not really, but discouraged. Something is missing.
20191112, photography, 3024 x 4032 px
Thursday, 26
And it's not just the unbearable heat - in fact, I'm wet all day. How I miss the air conditioning in our beautiful hotel in Dakar. Hotel Saint Louis Sun. I'm actually an opponent of air conditioning, for ecological reasons. But since this year, I see the benefits of it. You feel normal, you can think clearly and do things that are simply no longer possible at 40°C.
No, the stink bugs are flooding us again, which is probably related to the weather. In recent years we have been spared. They sit in corners and fall down in masses when a window or door is opened. They fly at you and sit on your body until you take them away. Even at night while sleeping. Unbearable. Demoralising. The smellies, as my friend Maria calls them (much too affectionately), also leave ugly stains on the walls and of course on works of art and books. But actually, we can't do anything about it. Spraying or other poisons are of no use. One of our employees said dryly: You live in the country, that's just how it is.
These conditions affect the vibes and I have to be careful that they don't put me in a bad and desperate mood.
Wednesday, 25
Since we got back from Europe it's constantly around felt 40°C, the thermometer in the studio shows 31°C. I can't work in this heat. My head feels like a sponge, my body like clay. I'll spend the weekend in the city and hope to get some moves.
Tuesday, 24
a friend means no competition, but peace in mind.
Friday, 13
Speaking of Basel. Yesterday there was an exciting performance by Va-Bene Elikem Fiatsi [crazinisT artisT] in der TANK at the FHNW/HGK. I saw videos of it on Facebook and Instagram, but unfortunately I don't find a link outside the social media that I could indicate here.
for facebook members: The Dust In my Bed
Thursday, 12
I don't want to think now. This happens to me again, and again. My head feels fuzzy and I can't concentrate. Most of the time I then do something physical, whatever needs to be done at the time or something else. But today I wanted to really think about what kind of work I'm starting. I mean art work. But after just a few minutes the "I don't want to think now" reappeared. OK, then write it down, I thought to myself. Maybe this will lead somewhere. Well, I try to stick to the original keynote of developing an idea of an art work that convinces me to be realised. But, writing a diary entry at the same time doesn't really work either. So I will sit down again and try to think without to escape thinking.
->->->->
No, I haven't come to any ideas. To still get moving, I booted up the computer and looked at the open tabs on the browser. A stop at the Revue Noire, where I looked at the work I have forgotten the night by Joël Andrianomearisoa that was shown on the 58th Venice Biennale 2019, which I didn't visit. My first trip after emigrating to Gambia in 2016 that wasn't to visit my parents in Hamburg, was to Basel and Venice last year. (to Dak'Art 13 in 2018 was by car) Back to myself I looked at my own work, a draft for a slideshow. Somehow I thought about printing the photos. I found a whole stack of 4x6 inch photo paper that I had received years ago as a free gift with printer cartridges. So nothing new.
Here is the link to the draft slideshow, the photos of which are arranged on the topics of boundaries, transgression and transformation. Please click on the photos to enlarge.
boundaries, transgression, transformation, draft for slideshow, 72 photos, 2023
Wednesday, 04
Art Space Work of the Month
Almir da Silva Mavignier (1925-2018)
Evening, of "Four Times of Day", offset print, 1977, 84 x 60 cm