One of the more surprising exhibitions of last year was Come Together in the Mitra building, Paramaribo. Six young(ish) people, emerging artists, most of them specialized in photography, but also some painters, exhibited from November 27 until December 3, 2012 in a location previously not known as an art location. Some of the elements that triggered positive reactions were the peaceful atmosphere and the spaciousness of the venue. One could just wander through the rooms, looking, pondering, enjoying the almost one hundred works of art, without being distracted by loud music or noisy fellow visitors. Approximately two hundred visitors saw Come Together and I am sure that the majority looks forward to the next exhibition by this group.

Invite

Se-Sergio Baldew

Se-Sergio Baldew (31) is specialized in photography. Different kinds of photography but especially: macro photography. He loves to make images which show details of the human body. But … a good sunset or a beautiful building is something Se-Sergio will use his camera for too. In Leuven Se-Sergio finished his Master of Science in Physiotherapy. His daily work is at the Anton de Kom University at the Faculty of Medical Science.

Enver Lieuw

Enver Lieuw is a software engineer in his daily life. But when he has a moment to spare he loves to take pictures, especially nature photography. He has been photographing for five years now. The Come Together exhibition was his first exhibition. “For me it was foremost a way to show my work to the audience.” He hasn’t participated in workshops or trainings but looks very closely what his colleagues do and their work inspires him.

Ginoh Soerodimedjo

Ginoh Soerodimedjo’s passion for drawing started from the moment he could hold a pencil. In 2003 he graduated from the Academie voor Hoger Kunst- en Cultuuronderwijs (AHKCO). Since fifteen years he has been working as a professional illustrator and graphic designer. Art, according to Ginoh, is part of life: a creative way to express thoughts and feelings and an opportunity to communicate a message to the audience. About the work he showed at Come Together he says: “The works are not necessarily realistic, but most of the times a message can be discovered.”

Ginoh Soerodimedjo’s digital signature

Lucius Wouden

Lucius Wouden works as a supervisor but has been busy in his spare time with digital photography for more than four years now. He likes to make nature shots, especially sunrise and sunset. But just as easily he will do glamorous photo shoots with models. Specialties: action photography, perfect timing, and to work without the use of photo correction (e.g. Photoshop). He is a member of the SUFOV foundation, for photographers. In June 2012 he participated in the photo exhibition Keep the moment.

Agnes Yang / Senga

Agnes Yang (SENGA) paints at the Nola Hatterman Art Academy (NHAA) under supervision by Wilgo Vijfhoven. She started in 2009 at the Soeki Irodikromo Volksacademie, Sana Budaya, where Humphrey Tawjoeram was her teacher. Her style is semi abstract and she mostly uses acrylic paint on canvas. Her first exhibition was in 2011 when she participated in Nature & Emotions in the Instituto Venezolano para la Cultura y la Cooperacion (IVCC) in Paramaribo, Suriname.

Kimberly Yang

Kimberly Yang paints, just like her mother Agnes, at the Nola Hatterman Art Academy (NHAA) under supervision of Wilgo Vijfhoven. She started with Vijfhoven in March 2011 and also participated in the Nature & Emotions exhibition in June 2011. Her style tends more to (photo) realism, but in the near future she wants to explore other styles. Yin and yang are her inspiration, which one can detect in her paintings.

The Visitors

A very fun idea was a room where visitors could make their own art work or just sit down and find their way through a maze …

Ginoh Soerodimedjo, ‘Maze’, 2012 | IMAGE Courtesy Ginoh Soerodimedjo, 2012

In 2012 KIT Publishers published two books in collaboration with Felix de Rooy. The first was Curaçao Classics, a catalog for the exhibition Antepasado di Futuro in 2011. The second is a book about De Rooy’s own oeuvre. It is a comprehensive publication about the nationally and internationally acclaimed artist. Various aspects of his artistic existence are highlighted. The book is chronologically structured and divided in chapters about visual art, theatre, film and curator-ship. Aside from his own texts there are contributions from among others Charl Landvreugd. Texts are written in English, Dutch and Papiamento. Although it is a very extensive publication, it is a pity that it does not include a DVD with short fragments of his film- and theatre work. A great loss to this beautiful tribute in the form of a book, but more important than a tribute, is the documentary value of it all. It is not easy for the general public to come into contact with the work of  De Rooy, especially since it is so widespread and diverse. The lack of such audio visual material is perhaps due to budgetary constraints. It would increase the costs and the financing of this project was already quite challenging. The book was in fact funded in part by crowd funding, a public collection project through www.voordekunst.nl. Sranan Art Xposed wrote about this crowd funding project in a previous post.

In Suriname the book was presented in restaurant Garden of Eden. Some impressions below.

‘Garden Spirits’ by Felix de Rooy & Kirk Claes in Garden of Eden, Paramaribo, Suriname | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

‘Garden Spirits’ by Felix de Rooy & Kirk Claes in Garden of Eden, Paramaribo, Suriname | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

‘Garden Spirits’ by Felix de Rooy and Kirk Claes in Garden of Eden, Paramaribo, Suriname | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

Kirk Claes made a beautiful video in which Felix de Rooy’s Garden Spirits were captured.

In the preface of his monograph De Rooy writes in poetic, sometimes lighthearted and then again in pretentious language, about his mixed background which makes him into an example of the  “multi-moksi-meti’s, engelen van gemengd vlees” [multi-mixed-meat, angels of mixed flesh]. Flowery language is typical of De Rooy and it sometimes looks like the equivalent of the rich, lush and occasionally intense imagery of the artist. The quality of his work lies perhaps in the fact that it has a uniquely individual signature and is not to everyone’s taste. De Rooy follows his own artistic vision, whether it is accessible or not.

What is particularly remarkable is that the book gives a complete idea of how the work of De Rooy has been received. It does not include only laudatory pieces, but there is also room for criticisms, sometimes even fierce reviews. Compatriot and writer/presenter, the late Anil Ramdas for example,  gives undisguised criticism of De Rooy’s vision and action surrounding the role of Zwarte Piet [Black Piet] in the debate regarding the Dutch Saint Nicholas celebrations. In addition there are critical reviews on several plays from his hand. In short, a well-balanced book, where there is room for praise as well as criticism.

From the images it becomes clear  that there is a fairly consistent line in the work of the artist. His figurative style occasionally shows surrealistic and psychedelic elements, at other times it is mostly pure figurative.  The influences of the sixties seep through, the typical rich background style is especially recognizable in his drawings.

The book shows a beautiful selection of what might well be his most engaged work, the sculptures built of (sometimes historical) objects, such as from the series Cry Surinam. It is in these works especially that his Antillean-Dutch-Surinamese background comes to the surface, through for example the use of folk art.

Throughout the work of De Rooy beauty plays a certain role, aesthetic beauty, but especially the beauty and  wealth of the (spiritual) life. Throughout the entire oeuvre of De Rooy vulnerability and morality also play a significant role. Perhaps it is this contrast between beauty and ephemerality, a classic theme in the arts, from which De Rooy’s work lends it character.

The book clarifies one thing, that the work of De Rooy cannot be restricted to one specific area. For Felix de Rooy a better label than the annoying one of ‘artist of life’ is in fact not possible, but then with all of its clichés stripped away, because he far transcends those. An artist of life and a 21^st century variation on the renaissance man; diverse, intelligent and almost untouchable in his artistic work.

Cover

ego documenta; The testament of my ego in the museum of my mind, Barbara Martijn & Felix de Rooy (red.), Amsterdam, KIT Publishers, 2012. ISBN 9789460222092

Felix and his brother André de Rooy | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

Helen Kamperveen hugs her friend Felix | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

Felix and his friend Alan Hazel, the owner of Garden of Eden where the book was presented | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

Cliff San A Jong receives his copy of ‘ego documenta’ | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

TEXT Dan Dickhof, 2012

Dan Dickhof writes about old, modern and contemporary art for various media –such as 8WEEKLY, worked in the area of auctions and helps with creating exhibitions. He studied at the art academy in The Hague and also works as an artist.

Piet van Leeuwaarde was an artist, a mystic, a lover, a father, a friend. Although his art work was highly appreciated by people all over the world, he was not really as well known in Suriname as he should have been. He was born January 28, 1925, in Paramaribo. He died just a few weeks ago, on January 3, 2013, also in Paramaribo.

I met him once, when I wrote the book Talent; Uit de kunstcollectie van de Centrale Bank van Suriname (Paramaribo, 2007), about the art collection from the Centrale Bank van Suriname. I was impressed by the huge sculpture in the CBvS-collection, and intrigued, and a little bit intimidated, by its creator. The encounter made a deep and lasting impression on me. Speaking like an oracle, fierce eyes, telling stories which were fascinating yet fleeting, like a river stream. And yes, it was like being in the presence of a wizard, one of a kind.

‘Nyan prey’ [Eat play], wooden sculpture, mahogany wood, on concrete disc, placed on socle, 1987, 214x116x80cm, Collection Centrale Bank van Suriname | PHOTO Roy Tjin | GRAPHIC DESIGN Henna Brunings

From Talent; Uit de kunstcollectie van de Centrale Bank van Suriname, by Marieke Visser, translated by Anne-Marie Reeder:

‘There is so much to tell, and at the same time I have nothing to tell.’ Piet van Leeuwaarde’s stories revive memories of days gone by. You can almost see them playing  and chasing each other in the sandy streets: the boys who used to live around Grote Dwarsstraat, boys such as Aloysius Zichem, Erwin de Vries and Piet van Leeuwaarde. Sometimes they take a break and rest a while in the shade of the big Sea Grape tree. ‘When the authorities decided to cut down that tree I took it home with me and now I am using the last bits of wood of that tree. I have often used Sea Grape wood to make my sculptures. Mahogany, which many people use, is much harder to work.’

Piet van Leeuwaarde was raised by women: his grandmother, his ‘mummy’ and his aunt. He has traveled a lot, and he has been through a lot. ‘But it’s all in the past. That is why I concentrate now on Inventive Mystical Art, IMA. I grew up with mysticism. I ate, drank and slept with people from many different cultures, I have tried all religions, I have sailed all rivers and seas. People are talking about “becoming a unity”, well, I don’t feel that way. I personify unity. I am a wizard. I embody what they want to create. Real coexistence, existing together, it’s the most beautiful experience.’

‘Fully automatic, without a thought’, is Piet van Leeuwaarde’s explanation for the miraculous whims of fate, coincidences in people’s lives, shared momentum, unexpected connections. ‘We are living in an age when human consciousness is becoming more sensitive.

Piet van Leeuwaarde’s work is also in the Collection of De Surinaamsche Bank N.V. Two works have been selected for the book Zichtbaar; Uit de kunstcollectie van De Surinaamsche Bank N.V. (Paramaribo, 2005) by Chandra van Binnendijk.

‘Paringsspel’ [Mating game], wooden sculpture, 98cm high, Collection De Surinaamsche Bank N.V. | PHOTO Roy Tjin | GRAPHIC DESIGN Henna Brunings

‘Lachende’ [Laughing], wooden sculpture, lompoe wood 61cm high, Collection De Surinaamsche Bank N.V. | PHOTO Roy Tjin | GRAPHIC DESIGN Henna Brunings

In the meantime, the monthly magazine Parbode has also written about Piet van Leeuwaarde in the March 2013 edition.

TEXT Marieke Visser

Ruben Karsters, renowned Surinamese artist who was especially admired for his beautiful portraits, passed away on March 5, 2013. He was 71 years old. He was also known as an art teacher who has taught many generations of students about art. Karsters was born in Paramaribo on May 22, 1941.

‘Naakte vrouw op bed’ [Nude Woman on a Bed], conté and pastel on triplex, 121x166cm, Nelson Collection, 1986

For the book Talent; Uit de kunstcollectie van de Centrale Bank van Suriname (Paramaribo, 2007), I did an interview with Ruben Karsters. I had never met him before, but of course I knew his work from Chandra van Binnendijk’s and Paul Faber’s book Beeldende kunst in Suriname; De twintigste eeuw [Visual Art in Suriname; The Twentieth Century] (Amsterdam, Koninklijk Instituut voor de Tropen, 2000). I had heard that Karsters was quite a hermit, a bit moody and not always very talkative. We arranged to meet at his home, where his atelier was located too. In a letter to a friend I wrote down how I had experienced this first encounter.

“You step into a yard, with wood and dogs and plants everywhere, everything is so packed together… Then you enter this house, hold together with ropes and planks, and you climb these strange kind of stairs, overgrown with weeds and creepers, very unsteady, not really safe. It seems as if you’re entering a neglected hermit house, a bit spooky but also as if you’re stepping into a fairy-tale world. And then you turn a corner, on a narrow rickety balcony, mind your step, and yet another sharp turn – you have to duck for the underwear which hangs to dry on a line – and you’re inside. Suddenly I stand there in that totally packed cave-like space, with very little light, between all these well-known works. Every inch of wall and floor (covered with an old carpet of more than 50 years) is overflowing with these awesome paintings, old acquaintances from the books and showpieces in the making.

Almost immediately, without leaving me any time to adjust to these surroundings, Karsters starts talking, showing me scrapbooks. Very old albums with photos and other memorabilia and almost illegible handwritten notations scribbled on the pages. And he talks and talks about Nola Hatterman, and how disappointed he was in her.

And he talks on and on about the elementary school, and how he started drawing because an uncle had sent young Ruben a book about Rembrandt. In those days there was this boy at school who teased Ruben about his shyness and his continuous sketching, and taunted him relentlessly. Neither teacher nor school principal found it necessary to intervene, leaving Ruben to fend for himself. One day he took his fountain pen and tried to puncture the bully’s carotid artery. He missed and pierced the tyrant’s cheek instead. The dismay over the fact that he then was kicked out of school, and not the bully, is still visible on his face. No school wanted him, and he took to taking long walks, this ten year old misunderstood little boy. For some time he found himself a job: he became a scarecrow in the Culture Garden. That etched such a sad portrait in my mind.

Eventually headmaster Willem Campagne has mercy on him, and he gets a second chance for a formal education. When he is 12, Nic. Loning sees his work and says: ‘Don’t ever give up! We can learn a lot from each other’. Loning encourages Ruben to go to Nola Hatterman, to take art lessons. According to Karsters he almost immediately was put to work and had to teach classes while Nola was taking all the credits for the good work of her ‘apprentice’.  It still angers Karsters, and it makes me wonder why. His works prove to me that he is a highly skilled artist in his own right, with definitely his own signature.

‘De pil’ [The pill], oil on canvas, 88x69cm, State Collection

‘I was born with a preference for subtlety. I appreciate everything that breathes subtlety. I want to express in my work the things that have an “impact” on me. But if you want to be successful you must have a thorough command of your profession.’ Ruben Karsters has been inseparably connected with his drawing materials ever since he was a toddler. A great-uncle used to send books about art to his nephew and young Ruben would sit and study the works of old masters such as Rembrandt and Rubens meticulously. When he is about 12 or 13 years old he takes his work to show it to Nic. Loning, a talented drawing teacher and artist. ‘Young man, we are going to learn from each other’, Loning comments after studying Karsters’ work. One thing leads to another and so Karsters ends up at the Cultureel Centrum Suriname (CCS) where Nola Hatterman is teaching. “It didn’t take her long to appreciate what I could do. And so I became a student in Nola Hatterman’s class at the age of thirteen.’

In 1968 Ruben Karsters graduates from the Rijksacademie voor Beeldende Kunst in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. As time goes by his appreciation for technical skills gets stronger and stronger. ‘People seek refuge in abstractionism because they want to avoid the difficult aspects of art. However, there are also many special skills one should know in order to make a good abstract work of art.’ His personal style of painting is realistic, but he emphasizes that every painting is a personal interpretation of reality. ‘If you paint from nature, you’ll always leave something out; it is always a translation. You paint the image as you see it, or feel it, or experience it.’

‘Irina is ready for school’, conté and pastel and latex paint on panel, 100x65cm, artist’s private collection, 1990

‘Olijven’ [Olives], paper on wood print, 73.5x60cm, 1984, De Surinaamsche Bank N.V. Collection

‘Jong meisje’ [Young girl], oil on panel, 64x44cm, 1992, Centrale Bank van Suriname Collection | PHOTO Roy Tjin, 2007

‘Portrait Rudolf W. Groeneman, LL. M.’ pastel on paper, 61x48cm, 1982, Centrale Bank van Suriname Collection | PHOTO Roy Tjin, 2007

‘Zelportret’ [Self portrait] at the National Art Fair 2012 | PHOTO Marieke Visser, 2012

‘Moeder’ [Mother] at the National Art Fair 2012 | PHOTO Marieke Visser, 2012

‘Naakt’ [Nude] at the National Art Fair 2012 | PHOTO Marieke Visser, 2012

Those who base the quality of art on aesthetic , formal and other traditional criteria are better off not going to SNAKE, the overview of ten years Michael Tedja (1971) in the COBRA Museum in Amstelveen, the Netherlands. What is not done, is done by him. “Go fuck yourself.” He doesn’t allow himself to be framed; “he eats the frame”. “I am a Fremdkörper, an intruder, someone doesn’t fit in anywhere”, he says in his book of prose and poems  De Aquaholist.

Several assemblages as presented in ‘SNAKE’ | PHOTO Courtesy Michael Tedja

Several of the few hundreds of works on paper in ‘SNAKE’ | PHOTO Courtesy Michael Tedja

The exhibition consists of hundreds of works. Works on paper in which the drawing, the painting and the photograph enter into a monster alliance with each other. Sometimes they merge, sometimes they are consciously in each other’s way, sometimes they defeat each other, most of the time there are texts that compel them into coherence.  The works hang close against each other, fill up a wall or a space from floor to ceiling. At an exhibition in the USA eight years ago they even covered the floor. It is practically impossible to look at them as individual pieces. They form an energizing story that is devoid of chronology or logic. They intrigue, overwhelm, bombard.

Enormous assemblages are strung together in another part of the exhibition space. They are constructed from all sorts of objects. African artifacts, bicycles, bike wheels , tires, children’s shoes, tools, slats in different sizes, photos, pritt sticks, correction fluid, wildly painted texts, base paintings, graffiti, plastic objects, pieces of transparent plastic etc. In a number of cases all the parts are painted over  in one dominant color – for example black – , other works combine more colors or keep to the original colors of the parts that form the whole. Those parts seem like just as much references. They refer to the art history (e.g. Piet Mondriaan, Jean-Michel Basquiat), to current events, to literature, to heroes, to the (black) history or to the biography of the artist.  Because they are strung together, they function as a wainscoting of a rich, intense, angry and tormented artist’s existence. Just like the works on paper, the way in which they have been installed, make it difficult to consider them individually. Due to their sculptural character they are impossible to ignore and reduce the viewing space of the visitor.

The artist installing his work | PHOTO Courtesy Michael Tedja

‘De Groene Slang’ [The green snake], 2012 | PHOTO Courtesy Michael Tedja

Tedja allows nothing and nobody to hinder him in the manner in which he reacts.  He breaks through barriers, cares nothing for disciplines and couldn’t care less about angry reactions.  A snake that spits poison and strikes.  A snake also because his work is a series of associations, a meandering stream which cannot be interrupted or stopped.

Nobody leaves the COBRA Museum with the judgment “it was nice”. There will be people who are shocked, who find his work ugly, coarse, who think his work is too much, others are impressed, overwhelmed, knocked over.  An artist who can invoke such extreme reactions is a true artist, an artist who confuses the public, who moves beacons and forces one to think.

Michael Tedja | PHOTO Courtesy Michael Tedja

‘Mental Fight. An Anti-Spell for the 21st Century’, Locust Projects, Miami, 2005 | PHOTO Courtesy Michael Tedja

Afterwards I had but one fundamental objection. Why is a an exhibition such as this one not presented in the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam? Why does this museum still fall short when it comes to this type of art? It is touching that in the (free) catalogue, the director of the COBRA goes through the trouble to indicate the work of Tedja as a being a logical continuation of the COBRA-movement, but this is of course nonsense. The work is in its theme convincingly of this time and the form in which it presents itself relates to that of COBRA-painters, like a wild sea to a rippling lake.  That is why it belongs in a museum that  pretends to be contemporary with an interest in the current discourse.

The exhibition SNAKE is open at the  Cobra Museum in Amstelveen, the Netherlands, until May 26th.

TEXT Rob Perrée, Amsterdam, February 2013

PHOTOS Courtesy Michael Tedja

A video of the opening of SNAKE:

https://vimeo.com/59333346

Other reviews about SNAKE:

- Caraïbische Letteren blogspot by Michiel van Kempen [DUTCH]

- Metropolis M by Domeniek Ruyters [DUTCH]

- Amsterdam Lifestyles blog by Stefano Loiacono [ENGLISH]

Some books by Michael Tedja, some of these also for sale at Faranaz Bookstore and VACO in Paramaribo, Suriname:

Rob Perrée works as freelance writer, art critic and curator, specialized in contemporary (Afro-) American art, African art and art using new media. His work has appeared in countless catalogues, books, magazines and newspapers. He is editor of the Dutch art magazine Kunstbeeld.

In a series of three blog posts Sranan Art Xposed will put a special focus on Ken Doorson. In November 2012 Ken Doorson had an exhibition in Fort Zeelandia, Paramaribo, Suriname, from the 21^st until the 24^th of November 2012: The Mothership. To acquaint the audience with his work, he also organized a Prologue, a few months before The Mothership opened. During that Prologue, the artist and two writers, talked about how Ken sees his work, and what inspires and drives him.  On September 15^th, in Sukru Oso he introduced the public to his work and his theme: Diaspora. Subsequently Marieke Visser, Tessa Leuwsha and Ken Doorson spoke about this. Below their contributions, starting with Marieke Visser.

Invitation

Some works were selected for the ‘Prologue’ in Sukru Oso | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

In Sukru Oso | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

Marieke Visser, Tessa Leuwsha and Ken Doorson | PHOTO de Ware Tijd/Stafono Tull, 2012

Marieke Visser | PHOTO Sukru Oso, 2012

Welcome tonight! Today we are going on a journey with Ken Doorson, to the mothership: The Mothership. I am very pleased that, before captain Ken takes us along, I am allowed to share a few words with you. Had we been in an airplane, then I would be your flight attendant and I would show you the emergency exits, the life vests and the oxygen masks. And tell you about all the things you are NOT allowed to do on board. But this is different. This is more like a chat about things that you CAN do. You can go ahead and push outdated ideas off to the side and replace them with brand-new ones. You can allow your thoughts to wander away with you, and perhaps discover a new, unfamiliar path inside your head, or better yet: outside your head. Are you comfortable?

Join us on our journey with an open mind, let the winds of scattered thoughts blow away the dust … Sometimes you have to take a trip in order to come home.

Ken’s theme is Diaspora, and in his work he shares the quest for his, our, history, which tells a story to which Diaspora is inextricably linked. That search helps him find his identity.

Diaspora. The word means: scattering or dispersing of a group of people over different parts of the world. In recent years it has almost become a fashionable word.  Although it is not always intended to, it often leaves a bitter aftertaste. Scattering soon becomes fragmentation. The word is also regularly used in a somewhat problematic context. Artists in Diaspora, ahh…, how far removed is it from thinking of them as artists in exile? It seems a bit sad. People who are scattered across the world, like ashes, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. All we are is dust in the wind.

The theme itself speaks to me quite a bit. So often I too have felt scattered, fragmented; throughout my entire life. The search for your own identity then becomes quite difficult. Where do you begin? It is easy to see it as burden which we, children of the Diaspora, carry with us. But in these times of traveling and moving, of continually meeting people that have different stories to tell, a different religion, a different culture … In these times in which cultures merge, and new generations develop new traditions, it is no longer so exceptional to be in Diaspora. On the contrary! We are all in the same boat, … Rock that boat! We’re in this Mothership together!

Several years ago, when I was still feeling very fragmented in a troublesome way, even torn sometimes, I was at Jodensavanne. Another one of those places in our country where so many stories come together. For a moment I strayed from the group, and found myself in silence, without words, with the rustling forest and living nature all around me, and the tangible presence of all that human life that has gone before us. And it started to rain softly.  And I could feel how, had I been a transparent glass sculpture, each drop would seem to leave something, like a little snippet on my glass skin. An experience, a memory, a feeling, a laugh, a scar, a birthmark, a chuckle, a contemplation. But also: the look of somebody else, the interpretation of my words, little pieces of myself that I myself know nothing of, but that the world around me does see.

Fragmented existence                                                                                                          

A soft breeze is blowing in my head

Tiny leaves

Flutter through the space around me

Snippets, peaces, bits

Fragments

That I want to grab

That I’m reaching for

That change my world

Determine what I look at

What I can see

And then again cannot see

In which I exist, am more alive

Of which I dream, quiet

I cannot conceive

Why I once wanted that

I have forgotten

Jodensavanne, June 2008

In that moment, there at Jodensavanne, I understood that dispersion and fragmentation also work the other way around: like a process of defragmentation you could say. We are an ever-changing collage, a constantly developing quilt: it is a dynamic state of transformation in which we find ourselves, to which new elements are constantly added, and precisely because of that dispersion of all of us throughout the world, becoming more diverse, more colorful. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, dust to us.

As I see it, with his work, Ken hands to us those fragments; he gives empty spaces color without closing them off. To me, by doing so, he gives a much more positive connotation to the word Diaspora. Art critic Rob Perrée about Ken’s work: “He inspires the viewer to bring his own story or his own history to it.” I want to add that he does this in a way that creates air and space, which removes the heavy ballast that ties us to the earth, and he thus he enables us to take off, up into space, to the mothership!

Enjoy the journey!

Tessa Leuwsha | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

Tessa Leuwsha | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

Then followed author Tessa Leuwsha. She spoke to the audience from her heart. The text below was written by her as a means of preparing herself for the Prologue.

Artist Ken Doorson: Who am I? And who are the others?

The theme that artist Ken Doorson connects to his exhibition Mothership later in 2012 and before that at his preview in gallery Sukru Oso, is Diaspora. The Van Dale dictionary explains the much-used term as follows:  ”when members of a religious community live scattered about in different places amongst those who think differently.“  I’ll just stick to the general understanding of living among others. The following questions immediately arise: Who am I? And who are the others? Or rather: Where are you at home? With colorful images Ken Doorson tries to find answers to those questions.

I got to know Ken during a trip we both went on to Moengo, for a visit to the Moengo-art project, created by Marcel Pinas, with Ken Doorson as participating artist. During the almost three hour drive, Ken proved to be an excellent host and story teller, who shared his thoughts with me like a true guide.

He understood perfectly that as a writer I am always in search of stories and could point out exactly to those matters in which, according to him, drama lurked. A deserted grave alongside the Oost-Westverbinding, the tragedy of the war in the interior. Ken, born in Moengo, showed me the places where the war had raged and described the atmosphere of those days.  It became clear to me that Ken can actually paint with words, but he prefers to use images to give expression to his rich emotional world.

In his portraits Ken attempts to penetrate deep into the psyche of man.  He depicts his personages on the fractured surface of their emotions. Twisted, confused. Almost never can the artist be accused of painting a picture to a story – of pushing his work into a popular theme. Yes, in his parental home which serves as a studio, there is an old painting from when he was 17 and living in Curacao. Impressed by the strong polarization on Curacao between black and white he drew black shackled people, slaves, with in the background the sea over which they had been brought to the islands. The viewer gets little room for interpretation, for the creation of a self-constructed image from that which Ken offers.  What you see is what you get.

More mature are the recent works that refer to Redi Musu, slaves deployed by the colonizer to track down escaped slaves. In a large portrait, Ken has colored the entire head of a man red, instead of just the distinctive red slave collectors’ hat. Why? I did not ask Ken, just because I would rather indulge in my own daydreams at the suggestions which Ken puts forward. A red head is an expression of shame, but could also indicate anger. Or a combination of the two. But to Ken it could possibly be about an entirely different aspect. All those mysterious layers give depth to his work.

The theme that Ken has chosen for his exhibition, Diaspora, in search of the history of his homeland Suriname and with that also of himself, does not seem to apply to all of his work.  In the intensely emotional facial expressions of his portraits, that choice of subject has a limiting effect. The faces express universally recognizable states of being, after all.  Not just that of people who find themselves adrift from their origins, but also of people who for whatever reason, find themselves in a difficult place. Ken Doorson more likely seems to be searching along the rich inner emotional life of (black) mankind, rather than that which could be considered part thereof: the question of where that black man comes from.

Modesty is inherent to the person Ken Doorson. Friendly, never pushing himself to the foreground. The perfect, honorable host whom, while traveling with me to a well known fellow artist, never once tried to draw my attention to his own art. Luckily, within a few months, there was to be a major solo exhibition of Ken Doorson. His work is definitely worth seeing.

Ken Doorson | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

Ken Doorson with the slide about Codjo, Mentor and Present | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

And after Tessa’s chat with the audience Ken Doorson shared his thoughts about the theme with the audience.

With The Mothership I mean: the source of inspiration that takes me to a deeper state in order to research the subject of Diaspora. To me The Mothership is comparable to a ship that takes us to a new destination to find the identity in the Diaspora.

It’s about rediscovering, about becoming aware of where you are from.  About delving into the important and eventful history of your country. A history that many don’t or no longer know much about; a history that is forgotten; that has been pushed into the background.

As the world gradually becomes ‘smaller’, the social contacts between countries and cultures become stronger, or become strongly opposed to each other, I have noticed that the subject of Diaspora comes up more often. Governments even develop a Diaspora policy. Certain scientists argue for history to be re-written. A history from a Surinamese point of view. Will that contribute to the shaping of an identity and/or to nation building?

My recent works are portraits. The portraits are of figures in an emotional state of mind.  The moment in which something is, or will be happening to them. That is often what it is about; that moment.

For example the moment of the beheading of Boni, of the conviction of Kodjo, Mentor, Present. I visualize these figures because they are figures we all know from our colonial period. There are many other figures, which also have their particular moment, all with their own stories.

Those that are in Diaspora search for that moment in which they can identify with themselves and with that which they long for. Occasionally I delve into archives. I read how people have described slaves and translate that into a way of painting.

Some of the portraits show slightly different, deformed, proportions, you see bright colors and there is always the search for drama. You have to feel the work. It has to have a soul.  I have the inspiration to add an extra dimension to my work.

By setting my paintings up together with three-dimensional objects, it sometimes looks theatrical.  The ceramic heads are in development.  I also want to further develop and implement sculpture in my work.

Pictures from our history and oral tales are an inexhaustible source of inspiration for me. It also inspires me to write poems.

The question that I ask the public is whether the history described from the Surinamese point of view could contribute to the forming of an identity or to nation building.

I quote a passage from the bundle Wie is Surinamer? [Who is Surinamese] from Drs. Hein Eersel:

“He who takes the burden of the whole Surinamese on his shoulders. After he has thus identified himself, he can, with the word of Paus Leo XIII ‘Vetera novis augere er perficere’; ‘multiply and perfect the old with the new’ begin his task of building up, because history cannot be undone, it can only be continued.”

The Last Song (Song of the Loweman)

We will sing a last song

leaving a story behind to unravel

Because tonight we will find our way

into the dark where our soul will taste the light

where we are not afraid of the dark, because we are already

in dark when we were forced to an uncertain destination

On the rhythm of the apinti we shall sing in kromanti

which has been our guide to the new land

where our sweat,  blood has flown on this new soil

Come let us sing for those who are already free,

free down at the bottom  of the open sea

But tonight we shall run,

run run like runaway cattle

Because we’re already infected by the chorus of this song

which shall be sung for many generations to come

They will inherit a song

the last song before the night of freedom

What followed was remarkable. A young Amerindian man stood up, really moved by Ken’s words and spoke of what he had recognized as his own thoughts and feelings. And a Surinamese artist, since long in Diaspora, but full of emotions about Ken who did return to his home country.

The public reacts to Ken’s presentation | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

The start of a dialogue | PHOTO Sukru Oso, 2012

+++

TEXT Marieke Visser, Tessa Leuwsha, Ken Doorson

TRANSLATION Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld

Marieke Visser (Bennekom, the Netherlands, 1962) studied journalism and language and literature in the Netherlands. As publicist she writes a lot about art, culture, history and tourism from her own news agency Swamp Fish Press. Three large art projects to which she has recently contributed are: Wakaman Drawing lines, connecting dots http://www.wakamanproject.com/ , Paramaribo SPAN http://paramaribospan.blogspot.com/ and  Kibii Wi Koni Marcel Pinas The Event. She is currently editor in chief of Sranan Art Xposed.

Tessa Leuwsha http://tessaleuwsha.com/ (Amsterdam, 1967) has been living in Suriname since 1996. After the gymnasium she took a course in tourist management and studied English in Amsterdam.  She wrote the travel guide Wereldwijzer Suriname (publisher Elmar), which has appeared in several revised publications. In 2002 her story Voor William was awarded with the encouragement prize of the Kwakoe Literature award. Other stories appeared in the bundles Waarover we niet moeten praten (2007) and Voor mij ben jij hier (2010). Her debut novel, de Parbo-blues (publishers Augustus, Amsterdam-Antwerpen), received much praise. De Parbo-blues was nominated for the Vrouw&Kultuur [woman and culture] Debut award 2006 and the Debutanten Prijs [newcomer award] 2006.

In April 2009 her second novel Solo, een liefde, about ambition and longing in the colonial Suriname appeared from Publisher Augustus. Solo, een liefde got good reviews in amongst others, NRC Handelsblad, the VPRO guide and HP/de Tijd and was nominated for the Black Magic Woman Literature award 2009.

At the beginning of the cultural season, during the Open Atelier Route Zuidoost, I visited the studio of Wilgo Elshot. There was no abstract or conceptual work on the walls, but largely executed landscapes and frame filling portraits.

WIlgo Elshot in his studio | PHOTO Priscilla Tosari, 2012

Elshot, just like visual artists Jules Brand-Flu and Rudi Chang, belonged to the first Group of artists who did not complete their art studies in the Netherlands, but  in Suriname at Nola Hatterman (1899-1984). After the First World War, Hatterman got lessons from painter Charles Haak in perspective, anatomy and art history. It was at this time that she mastered the originally German art movement ‘The New Objectivity’. The classical branch of this art movement especially, played an important role in her typical method of art education which started to take shape in Suriname around 1954.

Wilgo Elshot, title unknown, year unknown | PHOTO Priscilla Tosari, 2012

The classical way of working, which focused primarily on the classical practices of the art of painting and sound academically schooled techniques, are characteristic for the art of Wilgo Elshot. The importance of practicing the classical art of painting which is the origin of visual art as a craft, comes close to Nola Hatterman’s motto “Geen kunst zonder kunnen” [no art without skill]. Just like Hatterman Elshot is not much taken with abstract art, which he refers to as an easy way of creating visual work. For Elshot each work of art originates in a meditative phase of continuously creating a design. Initially he records his ideas in a small sketch book that is filled with concepts that need to be further worked out. The second step is to transfer an actual size outline of the sketch onto the chosen surface such as paper or canvas, with oils. Subsequently the image is filled with color and provided with an appropriate background.

Wilgo Elshot, title unknown, year unknown | PHOTO Priscilla Tosari, 2012

Wilgo Elshot, title unknown, year unknown | PHOTO Priscilla Tosari, 2012

Interesting in the paintings of Elshot are the darker hued figures that fill the frame or the landscapes, which are reminiscent of Suriname. A fact that also stems from his education at Nola Hatterman.

“The appreciation for the arts begins with the recognition. Of finding the self in it – recognizing –the first introduction of a person – a people – with art, and in particular with the visual art.” *NOTE 1

The fact that Elshot’s figures are portrayed with a dark skin color, seems to have its origins more in the art education he received – ‘finding the self in it’ – than in Hatterman’s own preference for painting people of the ‘black race’.*NOTE 2

Just like many of his colleagues Elshot went to Amsterdam where for one year, he received a visual art education at the Rijksacademie van beeldende kunsten. While fellow students from his Hatterman-period developed another style from the one they had been taught, Elshot could not reconcile himself with that which was being taught at the Rijksacademie and stayed true to the classical style of his teacher.  This is not only visible in the design choices of Elshot, but it is also clearly noticeable when comparing his compositions to the works of Hatterman. The postures of the subjects, the fine features of their faces, gestures the figures make with their arms and the density of the landscapes. All of this exposes the ever-present style of Nola Hatterman.

Elshot’s inspiration is man and nature. His message is therefore simple. He wants to bring the beauty of man and nature closer to society. He has chosen this style of painting in which he can lay his own feelings. Despite the fact that for a long time already Suriname is no longer his home base, he says: “This is me. I paint Suriname.”

The artist’s website: www.art-w-elshot.nl

*NOTE 1 Quote from E. de Vries, NOLA. Portret van een eigenzinnig kunstenares, Amersfoort, 2008, p. 145

*NOTE 2 “Bij voorkeur schilder ik mensen ‘t liefst van het zwarte ras, daar die zich voor de stijl waarin ik tracht te werken zich het meest eigenen [I prefer to paint people of the black race, since they best appropriate themselves to the style that I try to work in].” Citaat uit E. de Vries, NOLA. Portret van een eigenzinnig kunstenares, Amersfoort, 2008, p. 49

TEXT & PHOTOS Priscilla Tosari, 2012 (TEXt and some of the PHOTOS previously published in digital magazine Sranan Art Xposed, nr. 7, February 2013).

Priscilla Tosari (Paramaribo, 1978) is art historian and she runs Galerie 23. She is also freelance writer of art related articles and has her own blog. She lives and works in Almere in Amsterdam.

TRANSLATION Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld

In a series of three blog posts Sranan Art Xposed will put a special focus on Ken Doorson. In November 2012 Ken Doorson had an exhibition in Fort Zeelandia, Paramaribo, Suriname, from the 21^st until the 24^th of November 2012: The Mothership. This last post in the series is an interview Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld did with Ken Doorson after the exhibition: ‘The Mothership of Ken Doorson has landed’. 

Invitation Front

Invitation Back

The Mothership of Ken Doorson has landed

Visual artist Ken Doorson (Moengo, 1978) spends a significant part of his life in Diaspora. First on Curacao and then in the Netherlands. Although he is not consciously preoccupied with this theme during those years, Ken consistently becomes more curious of his home country. “I was in a critical stage of my life in the Netherlands. I was in search of my own identity and in my work I was searching for a form.” The turning point arrives when while living in Holland, he paints a typical Dutch scene featuring a windmill, shows this to a friend who then replies thus: “If you are going to start painting Dutch windmills, then things are not looking good for you…” This puts Ken to thinking. Indeed, he is doing something that has nothing to do with his own identity, nothing with his own history or heritage. From that moment on the artist delves deeper into the history of his own country and in 2005 he returns to Suriname for good.

Ken Doorson, himself a descendant of the maroons, becomes fascinated with the Surinamese slavery past. His interest in the Surinamese slavery history receives another impulse when in 2009, the return of the head of the Ghanaian former King Badu Bonsu (executed by the Dutch in 1838) takes place in an official ceremony in the Netherlands, receiving  great public attention. Ken starts reading up on his country’s history and talks with many people.  He finds inspiration in the stories of the slave and freedom fighter Boni, in that of Kodjo, Mentor and Present, of Alida and many others.

‘Kodjo, Mentor & Present’, 2012 | PHOTO Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld, 2012

Familiar stories from the 18^th and 19^th century history of our country, but in his art Ken Doorson tells them in his own way, a way that brings them back into the present; In a way that belongs to this day and age. The work has a modern, contemporary look. The theme is not literally depicted in the work, but the emotions are. And with them, also the heaviness that is inherent to the theme. Ken Doorson searches for the right relationship between color and emotion and succeeds rather well in finding it.  The work that he exhibits in his first solo exhibition Mothership is large and imposing. On canvas he paints larger than life heads, inspired by figures from Surinamese maroon history, with intense expressions and in sharply contrasting colors. It may sound contradictory, but they emanate strength and vulnerability at the same time. Because although the work has a strong physical presence, there is something quite fragile and intensely personal about it as well.

‘Mea Culpa’, 2012 | PHOTO Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld, 2012

Especially striking is the installation the artist has named Mea Culpa. On a table covered by a black cloth lie approximately twenty whole or fragmented, ceramic heads. They look into the space with dead, empty stares. Behind the heads, directly above the table, hangs a large painting of a church leader, a priest, with eyes closed and face raised up towards the heavens. Could it be that he is asking his Lord for forgiveness for his deeds?  With this work Doorson raises questions about the role of the church during slavery and if and how this still effects the subject of Diaspora. It is not the artist’s purpose to present viewers with a clear-cut answer to any of those questions, but to inspire the public to give the subject more thought. And just as with the other paintings he presents, Ken Doorson succeeds in doing just that.

Ken Doorson is curious. The history of his country fascinates him and it is this which he tries to convey to his audience. And when you talk with him, it is quite obvious: he feels good about what he is doing. Seven years ago he returned to his home country without any specific plan, and today he can already look back on his first solo exhibition, he runs fascinating tours to Moengo and the Cottica area in cooperation with Waterproof Tours Suriname , works together with artist Marcel Pinas on the latter’s Moengo project, is a teacher at the Nola Hatterman Art Academy, and ‘last but not least’  he is enjoying fatherhood and his “brand-new” son Liam. After a short journey his ‘mothership’ has landed. Ken Doorson is home.

Opening night ‘Mothership’ | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

Opening night ‘Mothership’ | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

Opening night ‘Mothership’ | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

Opening night ‘Mothership’ | PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2012

TEXT Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld

From March 20th thru 24th, Razia Barsatie presents her first solo-exhibition Anxious in three separate spaces at the Nola Hatterman Art Academy. Her invitation announces it as an exhibition of Video Art and Installation and as I am not yet very familiar with her work I am curious about that which she is about to present.

As I walk up to the exhibition space on the last Sunday of its opening, I am initially surprised by the closed off, dark and deserted look I am confronted with as I approach the front of the Nola Hatterman Art Academy. Am I too late? Is there anybody here? Should I start getting …uhm…anxious?? But the exhibition flyer stuck to the front door confirms that it is still a few hours until the exhibition is about to close. And then I also remember that Razia who often works with video is doing so again for this exhibition, and would most likely have to keep doors and windows closed to get the desired effect.  Walking around the porch towards the back of the building, I see the first signs of life.  Razia Barsatie and fellow artist Ravi Radjcoomar are talking near the place where guests enter and come upon the first part of Razia’s exhibition. The young artist welcomes me to her show and since I am at that time the only guest, I get treated to a personal tour. She shows her work in three different spaces  of the academy and I marvel at how she has managed create an entirely different look and feel to this space that I am otherwise so familiar with. The title of her exhibition becomes doubly significant to me…’Anxious’…. I can easily imagine myself, or other visitors, getting slightly anxious indeed, had I or they, been walking through the presentation all alone.

And that’s basically what Anxious is all about. All those little or large anxieties, whether self-imposed or not, that we as human beings deal with on a day to day basis. First Razia takes me to the old (though recently renovated) ‘kookhuis’ [cooking house] adjacent to the art academy. In it I am surprised to find an installation that takes up the entire space.  Called Trapped, it consists of a series of wrought iron doors set in iron frames, each incorporating another decorative design inspired by familiar things around the house.

Razia Barsatie, Trapped, 2013/ PHOTO Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld 2013

Razia Barsatie, detail of Trapped, 2013/ PHOTO Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld 2013

The sparse, yet deliberate lighting in the space is directed towards the work in such a way that the installation is continued in the interesting shadows that are cast upon the walls. It is not difficult, especially considering the title of her exhibition, what Razia is getting at with this installation. Although most of us in Suriname have become desensitized to the ever-present iron bars on the windows, doors and balconies of homes throughout our country, many an outsider finds this a disturbing, if not downright ugly sight. “After having lived in Holland for a few years (Razia has just returned to Suriname this past November after studying at the Gerrit Rietveld Academie in the Netherlands for four years) I was once again struck by all the ironwork on the windows and doors in Suriname. People feel threatened by the high rate of burglaries and add the ironwork in the hope that it will make them feel more safe in their own home. But the sad thing is, that despite it all, many people still live in a state of constant fear, or anxiety.” She leaves the doors of the pieces in her installation open to symbolize that we should not shut ourselves off completely. We should not allow our anxieties to go too far. We should remain open to some extent, feeling free at least in our minds.

Next the artist takes me to the darkened main hall of the Nola Hatterman Art Academy, in which a fascinating video installation of neon lights and shadows is projected on one of the walls. The center stage is a simple white chair placed in the middle of the room, on which a projector is beaming a moving and constantly changing play of neon lights and illustrations on and around the contours of the chair, which becomes an elaborate lighted animation on the wall behind it. For example, what looks like rope of bright white light slowly coils itself around the legs of the chair and off again, an animated figure walks towards and climbs upon it, butterflies flutter all around, while all the time bright colors light up the contours. The illustrations develop in tune with the rhythmic music that fills the space and the whole is to me almost like a hip psychedelic choreography of light, sound and constant motion. It is without a doubt captivating. Again, Razia uses simple everyday objects  -in this case the plastic chair- to play on the subject of anxiety, this time reflecting how she -or anybody else for that matter- uses her imagination to free herself from her own anxieties. Watch a video recording of the installation here

Razia Barsatie, Video Installation of chair (snapshot) 2013/ PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2013

Last but not least, we head back outside, where she has erected a large projection screen in the garden on which yet another animation plays. It is already nighttime, so the big white screen lights up the dark garden and I am glad I choose this time to visit the exhibition, as I am sure the effect is not quite as good in daylight. Images in this animation jump from one subject to the next, varying from a little kid’s anxieties regarding potty training, a mother comforting a child, people whispering in each other’s ear and not being sure whether they can trust what the other is saying, to an animation about mehendi patterns (traditional henna tattoo like art applied mostly to hands and feet of women from certain cultures in the Middle East, India and Africa), symbolizing the cultural significance and rules related to this tradition. Some animations take shape gradually, as though they are drawn directly onto the screen, and just as in the previous installation with the chair, there is also sound and music to accompany the images that keep changing continuously.

Razia Barsatie, Outdoor Installation at exhibition Anxious 2013 (snapshot)/ PHOTO Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld, 2013

The work that Razia makes is highly conceptual and obviously for the most part not sellable art, but this is not an issue the artist is concerned with at this time. “I have my job as a teacher here at the academy and with my art I just do what I enjoy doing. I want to show people, especially young artists that there are other things that you can do as an artist, aside from painting or sculpting.” Since her return from the Rietveld Academie and starting her work at the Nola Hatterman Art Academy, Razia has also started another initiative called Nola reunion. The reunions are open to all students, current and previous, from the academy and are meant start discussions about specific works of art. With this initiative she hopes to inspire open, critical dialogues and conversations amongst artists about their work. Artists are encouraged to explain their work and motivate their choices, and to challenge those of others in a healthy, productive style and setting. She does the same with her students at the academy where she teaches art communication, a subject that I believe is of significant importance in this global community we are a part of today. Artists need to be able to present themselves and their work in a professional and confident manner if they want their careers to progress on an international level, and this is something Razia emphasizes in her classes.

Razia Barsatie at her exhibition Anxious, 2013/ PHOTO Ada Korbee, 2013

Although video art is not new in Suriname -several artists, such as Kit-Ling Tjon Pian Gi, Marcel Pinas and others also incorporate film and video in their work-, the animated productions in Anxious, present a different take on the art of video projection and on the endless possibilities that this medium offers to the artist who is willing to explore it further.

Below a translation of the text that Razia included on her invitation, which basically sums up the essence of the work she presents in Anxious:

”We are all bound by something that restricts or blocks us.
The cause of these restrictions or blockages is fear.
Fear to live. Fear to love.
Fear to come up for yourself. Fear to be yourself.
Who or what is it that makes us afraid?
And why do we hold ourselves captivated by our own fear?”

TEXT Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld

Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld is a freelance writer.  Aside from her work for Sranan Art Xposed, she writes primarily for the Readytex Art Gallery http://www.readytexartgallery.com in Paramaribo, Suriname. She writes press releases, website texts and takes care of the publicity materials surrounding the exhibitions and other activities of the gallery.

The first time I saw work of Neil Fortune (1983, Georgetown, Guyana) was at the exchange exhibition Paramaribo Perspectives (2010) in TENT in Rotterdam, the Netherlands. A group exhibition as a result of an exchange between artists from Rotterdam and Suriname. Fortune was then still studying at the Rietveld Academie and in fact did not belong in that exhibition at all. He was, for reasons unclear to me, added later on. However, his installation which was without title, turned out to be an added value. He had painted the names of artists he admires on canvases of varying sizes. In a variety of colors and fonts. Some of these artists were Surinamese and were included in the exhibition (Remy Jungerman, Kurt Nahar, Iris Kensmil), and others were international (Lawrence Weiner, Richard Prince, Tracey Emin). The work functioned simultaneously as part of and as commentary on the exhibition. The exhibition drew boundaries, while the work of Fortune especially underlined the borderless nature of the art.

Neil Fortune, untitled, installation, ‘Paramaribo Perspectives’, TENT, Rotterdam, 2010 | PHOTO Courtesy TENT/Job Janssen Jan Adriaans-

That the work could be interpreted in many ways – it could for example also be read as the ‘selling’ of other artists  – , proved to be no coincidence. That aspect would become the point of departure of the works that were to follow.

Neil Fortune | PHOTO Courtesy Galerie 23

Fortune makes installations which you could qualify as rough decors to which the viewer has to give his or her own interpretation. They are a kind of set pieces which are being brought to life by the presence and the activities of the ‘actor’. The invitation to the viewer can be hidden in a provocative banner, a text board or a light box (‘What is on the other side of the moon?’ and ‘I don’t understand much about you, just enough to know we don’t see the universe the same way.’), a title of an installation, the way in which the work is lit, the soft sitting mats which have been laid on the floor, or the pronounced incomplete finish.  He himself describes those works as models, as phases of a study which is awaiting interpretation or completion. Most of his drawings can, as a result thereof, hardly be seen as anything but sketches.

Neil Fortune, ‘What’s on the Other Side of the Moon’, installation view, 2012 | PHOTO Courtesy Galerie 23

Neil Fortune, ‘Don’t understand much about you, just enough to know we don’t see the universe the same way’, installation, 2012 | PHOTO Courtesy Galerie 23

Lately Neil Fortune paints. Paintings which can be characterized as architectural imaginations. Bare inner- and outer walls, openings in walls, corners, connecting beams etc. He paints them dry, as though it should not cost too much in paint. The linen shows through. His color range is very limited. He makes no effort to bring drops to a halt. They are in fact, two-dimensional variants of his installations. They have no content, they are open to content. They have no fixed meaning; Fortune provokes to give meaning to it. Texts can at times give the incentive thereto, but not necessarily. On one canvas he has even invited visitors at his studio to apply short texts or a catchy word.

The work of Fortune is a variation of the conceptual art of the sixties and seventies of the past century. For the conceptualists it was not about the outward appearance of a work, but about the underlying concept. That is why John Baldessari wrote provocative texts on a piece of wood, why Bruce Nauman recorded his movements in his studio on video and why Stanley Brouwn documented the distances he traveled in Amsterdam. They especially chose for this formless form, because they wanted to make their work ‘unattractive’ for the mighty museum world and for the, in their eyes, too commercial art market.

Neil Fortune, untitled, 2012 | PHOTO Courtesy Galerie 23

Neil Fortune, untitled, 2012 | PHOTO Courtesy Galerie 23

Neil Fortune also presents a concept. To him it does not matter whether his work has an aesthetic or attractive look to it.  Contrary to his predecessors he turns to his viewers to give, and determine how to give, content and meaning to his concept. He puts his own authorship up for discussion.

Neil Fortune, 2012 | PHOTO Courtesy Galerie 23

Many viewers will feel rather uncomfortable about that. They are used to looking at finished works which often give clear guidelines on how to interpret them. With Fortune they are activated to do something. To use their creativity and fantasy (‘What is there on the other side of the moon?’) or occasionally even to literally deliver their own personal input to the work. If they don’t, if in thinking and doing they continue keep their distance, then they will have to make do with the framework of an artwork.

‘What is on the other side of the moon?’, solo exhibition Neil Fortune, Galerie 23 (zit ook op Facebook), SBK KNSM-laan 307-309, Amsterdam, the Netherlands, is open from March 24th until April 25th 2013.

TEXT Rob Perrée, Amsterdam, March 2013

While creating the exhibition | PHOTO Courtesy Stuart Rahan

While creating the exhibition | PHOTO Courtesy Stuart Rahan

Stuart Rahan listens to Neil Fortune | PHOTO Courtesy Stuart Rahan

Digital art magazine Sranan Art Xposed appears three to four times a year.  SAX attempts to raise international awareness for Surinamese visual art, but also tries to keep a finger on the pulse of our dynamic art world and to add some more depth to it. Because our blog is in English, from time to time we also share good articles with the readers of the daily newspaper de Ware Tijd. This article will also appear in Dutch, in de Ware Tijd. For your free subscription to the e-magazine send your request to srananart@gmail.com.

Rob Perrée works as freelance writer, art critic and curator, specialized in contemporary (Afro-) American art, African art and art using new media. His work has appeared in countless catalogs, books, magazines and newspapers. He is editor of the Dutch art magazine Kunstbeeld.

TRANSLATION Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld

In 2010 a debate was held in Rotterdam, the Netherlands, called ‘Am I Black Enough for You?’.

Dutch black artists discussed the perspective of being a black artist in a European country. Part of the problem that artists confronted during the debate was the hegemony of American and British ideas of blackness and the need of the Dutch artists to establish their own black identity. “In order to avoid misinterpretation, I choose the word Black here to denote people of color,” said Dutch artist Charl Landvreugd in remarks he delivered to introduce the discussion. But he said, “A word such as Black does not have the same connotations in our environment as it does in the Anglo-American context.”

[From: Dominion of New York, 'Am I Black Enough for You? Dutch Artists Debate Their Identity', by Erik Kambel ]

On January 24th, 2013, another debate was organized to discuss this subject. ‘Am I Black’ was held in the in Stedelijk Museum Bureau Amsterdam. The central question was whether it is useful to think along racial and ethnic lines about contemporary art in the Netherlands, and if it could be useful to develop an Afro-Dutch and Afro-European art discourse? One of the lecturers was art critic Rob Perrée, who is also known for his insightful contributions to Sranan Art Xposed. His lecture is entitled ‘The Other Black. Am I Too White?’ and can be read below.

The host of the evening, Aspha Bijnaar | PHOTO Courtesy Anne Ruygt, 2013

Lecturer Rob Perrée | PHOTO Courtesy Anne Ruygt, 2013

In the beginning of the 90′s I started getting involved with the subject of art made by black Americans.

Despite its high quality, there was at that time very little attention for it.

Only Adrian Piper and David Hammons enjoyed some level of fame. Connoisseurs knew who Martin Puryear, Robert Colescott and Carrie Mae Weems were. But that was pretty much it.

The galleries were not hosting black artists. Museums rarely showed the work and did not at all collect it (Romare Bearden, a now widely recognized artist from the fifties and sixties, did not get an exhibition at the Whitney until after 2000…….). If there were any private collectors at all, they usually went for the cute, endearing and accessible Folk Art.

In the Netherlands, hardly anybody knew who I was talking about.

This especially motivated me to seek extra attention for it. That type of motivation gets a hold of me quite often during my life.

When in the course of the nineties I wrote a book about it (Postcards from Black America) and curated a traveling exhibition for the De Beyerd in Breda and the Frans Hals Museum in Haarlem (both in the Netherlands), there was already some change in the air. A clear indicator was when at the last moment, four artists withdrew from the exhibition. They did not want to be labeled as black. They did not want to be part of an exhibition with work from only black artists. That a number of the participants were not at all engaged in black issues, was not capable of changing their minds.

Back then, this quite annoyed me. Now, more than 15 years later, I would no longer make that exhibition.

One of the deserters, Glenn Ligon, together with Thelma Golden, director of the StudioMuseum in Harlem, would coin the term ‘Post-Black’ in 2001. They came up with it in the exhibition Freestyle. Although there were many misconceptions related to the term, the intention was clear. The participating artists had in common that they no longer wanted to be seen only as black. It was in fact a “redefining of blackness”. Mark Bradford – one of the participants and currently one of the great black artists, with his ripped billboards – formulated it as follows: “We are all making work that doesn’t hit people over the head with the race conversation anymore.”

It was clear: many black artists no longer wanted to be talked about because of being black,  they no longer wanted to express themselves according to the expectations many whites but also many blacks had of blacks, nor did they want to benefit from (or be patronized because of) being black. The ‘affirmative action’, the preferential treatment of blacks, set up by the government, was even considered outdated by many blacks.

A translation of that other mentality is also the work of Kara Walker. Pretty much every art lover sees her as a black artist who deals with the history of blacks, the history of slavery. She fits into the ‘black’ box. This is not exactly the case. She is occupied with the phenomenon that history is always taken out of proportion by minorities who stand to benefit from it. She relays the true history of slavery. Many blacks have always denied that. She is therefore less popular among blacks than she is among whites. Just like how black culture critics have for years kept silent about the real ‘Harlem Renaissance’, the heyday of black culture in the beginning of the 20th century. That success is after all to the credit of a rather large group of homosexual writers, musicians, and artists. Revealing that fact would take some of the shine off the success and it is because of that, that it wasn’t until twenty years ago that it was first mentioned.

Because ‘Freestyle’ symbolizes a turn-around, Okwui Enwezor called it one of the most important exhibitions ever made. He linked it to the election of Obama as president of the USA. Although the latter might not deliver on everything, his election was a breakthrough, an illustration of the fact that the discourse on racism and black has changed.

I am not at all saying though, that the discussion has been totally silenced.

Last weekend I was in Paris for the conference ‘Black Portraiture’. (Interesting report about ‘Black Portraiture’ on the ARC Magazine website.) In it lectures were given by black academics, curators and artists from all over the world. They brought forward issues that are important to them.  Black issues, but also various other issues. Heated discussions, but also discussions during which for many the word ‘nigger’ almost automatically slipped out of their mouths. Unthinkable 10 years ago. Most of the discussions were not intended to emphasize blackness or to distinguish themselves as black, but to give, from another, fresh or personal perspective, a new impulse to the discourse in the visual arts.

I give you another example of which is still heavily discussed. On social media you can read the reactions on Django, the new movie from Tarentino. It is about a slave who, as a black cowboy, takes revenge on his masters and black defectors. The nature of that discussion is also different compared to 15 years ago. On blogs Spike Lee, the black movie maker, forbids blacks to go to the movie. In his opinion a white person should not be allowed to make such a movie.  He got scorned for that position by many black intellectuals, also in Paris. Samuel Jackson, one of the main characters, was interviewed on television and was questioned about the frequent use of the N-word in the film. He ridiculed the interviewer by forcing him to say the word ‘nigger’. The latter refused for fear of being branded. Jackson’s reaction:  that is nonsense and shitty.

England has been through a somewhat similar development. The big difference is, that black there usually refers to Africans who have been in England since the sixties, to blacks living in Diaspora. But most black artists over there don’t want to be branded as black or African anymore either. They are British and they want to be judged on the quality of their work. Elvira Dyangani Ose, who has recently been appointed as curator by the Tate, formulates it as follows: “geographical provenance should not be considered an aesthetic category”. Her appointment by itself in fact already proves that there is some development going on in the UK. She has, as she stated in a recent interview, been appointed because of her knowledge of African art. It is explicitly not her intention to make African exhibitions, but to supplement the collection of the museum with contemporary African works of art. I admit, this is quite late, but the approach is similar to the way in which the USA at this time, appreciates and treats art from blacks.

In this context it is perhaps useful to quote the African curator who recently made an exhibition in this space (Stedelijk Museum Bureau Amsterdam). Koyo Kouoh says in De Volkskrant: “The left behind African artist is an idea-fix of the European world. My generation has long since freed itself from that colonial framework of discrimination. I consider myself completely equal to any other curator in the world and the same is true for the artists whom I work with.”

Provocatively perhaps, but I am inclined to replace the word ‘African’ in this quote with ‘Surinamese’ and then direct myself towards Charl Landvreugd. How outdated is your struggle when it concerns the Netherlands? Is there still reason for a struggle? Why don’t you trust more in the quality of the artist and in his work itself? The artists who are about to sit at the table here shortly – Remy Jungerman and Sara Blokland – in no way deny their Surinamese roots, but they do not want to be labeled as black artists who occupy themselves with black issues.

Lecturer Charl Landvreugd | PHOTO Courtesy Anne Ruygt, 2013

Charl Landvreugd always defends himself by referring the alleged existence of a “black aesthetic”. By that he means in fact, that many white viewers would not be able to understand, to interpret, work from black artists because they are not familiar with the culture of the maker or because they are not interested in that culture.

I never quite know what to think of those type of terms. I genuinely don’t know what it means, ‘black aesthetic’. In my view artists make work about issues that concern them.  For a black artist this can be the culture he originates from, it can be about identity or about the way in which people are represented, to name just a few examples, but those are in fact themes which are universal, which can also apply to white artists.  With many white artists it also takes quite some effort from the viewer to understand what the work is about. Upon seeing my first Mondriaan I had no idea of what was hidden underneath those colorful lines. When I saw my first performance I also thought that I had ended up in the wrong show. Is there then a ‘white aesthetic’ as well, or a ‘Dutch aesthetic’? Why does Landvreugd want to emphasize the differences? You can also look at the similarities. You can also let yourself be inspired by the other.

I generally find it objectionable when someone rejects a work of art because he/she does not understand it or because it is seems strange to him/her. I have nothing against making some effort to try to understand what you see. Art must disrupt, not entertain or decorate. But then it doesn’t matter to me whether the artist comes from Purmerend, Paris or Paramaribo. Certainly as a professional you have to open yourself up to all artworks and judge them based on their quality, not on their geographical or racial origin.

There is nothing wrong with putting unfamiliar art, and that is often art from other cultures, consciously in the limelight and talking about it, but isolating art from other cultures as though it is from a different order altogether, as though the quality is not the first consideration, and as though it cannot stand on its own, that to me, does not seem desirable.

Remy Jungerman, Sara Blokland, Macha Roesink & Annet Zondervan | PHOTO Courtesy Anne Ruygt, 2013

TEXT Rob Perrée, lecture presented on January 24, 2013

Rob Perrée works as freelance writer, art critic and curator, specialized in contemporary (Afro-) American art, African art and art using new media. His work has appeared in countless catalogs, books, magazines and newspapers. He is editor of the Dutch art magazine Kunstbeeld.

TRANSLATION Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld

A review (in Dutch) of the evening ‘Am I Black’ was written by Anne Ruygt for Metropolis M.

An interesting article about ‘Am I Black Enough for You?’ was written by Erik Kambel on his blog Afro-Europe International Blog.

In 2010 a debate was held in Rotterdam, the Netherlands, called ‘Am I Black Enough for You?’.

Dutch black artists discussed the perspective of being a black artist in a European country. Part of the problem that artists confronted during the debate was the hegemony of American and British ideas of blackness and the need of the Dutch artists to establish their own black identity. “In order to avoid misinterpretation, I choose the word Black here to denote people of color,” said Dutch artist Charl Landvreugd in remarks he delivered to introduce the discussion. But he said, “A word such as Black does not have the same connotations in our environment as it does in the Anglo-American context.”

[From: Dominion of New York, 'Am I Black Enough for You? Dutch Artists Debate Their Identity', by Erik Kambel ]

On January 24th, 2013, another debate was organized to discuss this subject. ‘Am I Black’ was held in the in Stedelijk Museum Bureau Amsterdam. The central question was whether it is useful to think along racial and ethnic lines about contemporary art in the Netherlands, and if it could be useful to develop an Afro-Dutch and Afro-European art discourse? One of the lecturers was art critic Rob Perrée, who is also known for his insightful contributions to Sranan Art Xposed. His lecture is entitled ‘The Other Black. Am I Too White?’ and was posted on the Sranan Art blog yesterday. Today SAX posts artist, writer, curator Charl Landvreugd‘s talk which he held on this evening. This will provide the SAX readers with another angle to the debate. Charl Landvreugd is currently working on an essay based on this lecture after which it will be available in English too. For now we only have the Dutch text available.

Lecturer Charl Landvreugd | PHOTO Courtesy Anne Ruygt, 2013

In his talk to introduce the angles from which the use of ethnic and racial lines in contemporary art in the Netherlands could be discussed, he discusses the different levels in which the work may operate. These levels, according to Landvreugd, may provide insights into the location of the work and the possible location of a continental Afro-European aesthetic. He pointed out that it may well be so that artist-curators are doing the research now that will profit institutions in the future. These artist-curators have the freedom to imagine and discuss the hyphenated quality of contemporary European society on their own terms. Landvreugd stresses the importance of research on these issues by those who live the experience of being a hyphenated European on a daily basis.

De projecten Wakaman en Becoming Dutch zijn beide gefinancieerd door het Mondriaanfonds. Het project van het Van Abbemuseum omdat ze als winnaar uit de bus kwamen voor de Stimuleringsprijs voor Culturele Diversiteit en Wakaman als onderdeel van het project Intendant Culturele Diversiteit.

In 2006 begon het project Wakaman dat zich bezighield met “… kunst van niet-westerse mensen die wel in het Westen wonen en de problemen die ze tegenkomen als het gaat om categorisering, herkenning en interpretatie.”1

In 2007 begon het Van Abbemuseum het project Becoming Dutch. Dit project vroeg zich af “… of de kunst alternatieve voorbeelden zou kunnen bieden om na te denken over een hedendaagse samenleving.” Op hun website staat: “Be[com]ing Dutch streeft ernaar onze ideeën over culturele identiteit te ondervragen en de processen van in- en uitsluiting in de huidige tijd te onderzoeken.”2

De Volkskrant, 12 januari 2006, de kop van het artikel: ‘Museum is wit bolwerk gebleven’. “De grootste kunstmusea in Nederland hebben geen allochtonen in dienst als directeur, onder de conservatoren of bij de afdelingen marketing, communicatie en educatie.”3

In een ander stuk werd de vraag gesteld waarom dat zo is en het antwoord was omdat men geen gekwalificeerde mensen kon vinden.

Onderdeel van de Stimuleringsprijs voor Culturele Diversiteit was niet alleen diversiteit in de musea, maar ook onder de bezoekers. De reden dat men niet genoeg allochtonen het instituut in wist te krijgen was mij duidelijk. ‘De Allochtoon’ herkent zich niet in de programmering en dat kwam toen, volgens mij, mede omdat er geen allochtonen zitten op sleutelfuncties in de musea.

Het Van Abbemuseum in de Volkskrant, 19 mei 2006, de kop van het artikel: ‘Wij gaan gastvrijheid creëren’ (bij monde van wie is onduidelijk).

VK: “Dat klinkt erg idealistisch.”
VAM: “Dat zijn wij ook. Musea hebben de luxe dat ze niet marktafhankelijk zijn. Het gaat om hoop, en verbeelding is ons instrument.”4

Hoop is wat de Wakaman-groep ook had en verbeelding was hun instrument om: “… kunst van niet-westerse mensen die wel in het Westen wonen en de problemen die ze tegenkomen als het gaat om categorisering, herkenning en interpretatie”5 vorm te geven.

Er restte mij niks anders dan me op de theorie te storten om de hoop en verbeelding van onder andere deze twee partijen te helpen vormgeven. Met het argument dat het tijd is voor mensen van kleur om voor zichzelf te spreken in plaats van dat er over ze gesproken wordt in een continentaal Europese context, wist ik een plek te bemachtigen aan de Kunst- en Archeologiefaculteit van Columbia University in New York. Na drie maanden zat ik met behoorlijke hoge stress in de kamer van mijn supervisor omdat elk tweede gesprek op school ging over ras of raciale verschillen en etnische identiteit in relatie tot kritische theorie. Haar advies was ‘to suck it up’ en dat ik er wel gewend aan zou raken. Met mijn Nederlandse hoofd ben ik erin gedoken tot aan het extreem Afro-nationalisme toe om geïnformeerd terug te komen naar een nieuwe Nederlandse gematigdheid. De grootste les die ik daarvan heb geleerd is dat wij in continentaal Europa en in Nederland in het bijzonder geen Amerikanen zijn en geen Britten. Onze gevoeligheden zijn anders, maar ook de manier waarop we omgaan met etnische verschillen en etnische identiteit in relatie tot nationale identiteit. Dat mensen van kleur over en voor zichzelf spreken en dat dit geaccepteerd wordt, is in de VS en Groot-Brittannië inmiddels niet meer dan gebruikelijk. Bij ons staat dat proces nog in de kinderschoenen en vraag ik me inmiddels hardop af of dat niet de reden is waarom men niet genoeg ‘allochtonen’ het instituut in krijgt.

In 2010, nog steeds met het idee dat men voor en over zichzelf moet praten, zat ik vanuit Harlem aan de telefoon met Patricia Kaersenhout. Ik maakte me vreselijk druk over de programmering rond de tentoonstelling Paramaribo Perspectives in TENT, Rotterdam. Tijdens dat gesprek besloten we actie te ondernemen. Mariette Dölle van TENT was het ermee eens en het debat ‘Am I Black Enough for You’ was geboren.

Charl Landvreugd at the Opening of ‘Paramaribo Perspectives’ with Patricia Kaersenhout just behind him | PHOTO Paramaribo Perspectives/Fred Ernst, 2010

Dit debat ging over cultuurmakers met Afrikaanse roots in Nederland en was erop gericht de diverse posities te laten zien die kunstenaars in kunnen nemen binnen ons systeem. Daarvoor en als vervolg hierop heb ik gekeken naar esthetische strategieën en kwaliteiten die deze cultuurmakers toepassen of moeten bezitten om een plek te verwerven in het systeem dat over enkele decennia nog relevant is. Daarbij zijn vragen gesteld die gaan over de interne dialoog in Nederland en met name binnen het ontwakende culturele bewustzijn dat een koppelteken bevat. Hierin vielen me enkele zaken op die leiden tot een volgend stel vragen die betrekking hebben op het niveau waarop het werk functioneert. Daarop voortbordurend vraag ik me af hoe het werk zich verhoudt tot de volgende vijf punten:

1. De rest van de Afro-Europese visuele productie (het Afro-Europese discours).
2. Het internationale discours van de Afrikaanse Diaspora.
3. Het dominante lokale discours.
4. Het dominante Europese discours.
5. Het dominante discours wereldwijd.

Al deze niveaus kunnen een inzicht verschaffen naar de locatie van het werk en tegelijkertijd de locatie van een mogelijk Afro-Europees discours of esthetiek.
De vraag die volgt op het niveau waarin het werk functioneert is de vraag naar het domein waarin het werk zich bevindt. Er zijn enkele categorieën waarnaar gekeken kan worden die gedeeltelijk een overlapping hebben met de vorige ‘hoe’-vragen. Tegelijkertijd kan het werk in meerdere van de volgende domeinen functioneren, wat ons inzage geeft in de mogelijke ‘local-global’-positie van de kunstenaar.

Ik kan me voorstellen dat deze vragen spelen bij menig curator die zich, vrijwillig of door beleid gedwongen, bezig houdt met kunst gemaakt door niet-westerse mensen in Nederland en/of Europa. Het is duidelijk dat bij elke kunstenaar deze vragen op een andere manier worden beantwoord. Kunstenaars die te plaatsen zijn binnen het dominante discours worden sneller opgepikt dan kunstenaars die zich verhouden tot thema’s die niet direct in de belevingswereld passen van het huidige publiek dat de instituten bezoekt. Zoals de Amerikanen zeggen, een ‘catch 22′, een kip-of-ei-situatie. En zoals altijd met zulke situaties, is de argumentatie gecompliceerd. Er zijn talrijke mitsen en maren te bedenken voor elk argument dat wordt aangedragen ten faveure van zowel de kip als het ei. De theoretische reflectie is slechts een onderdeeel van de ontwikkelingen. Het is misschien veel interessanter om te kijken naar wat zich afspeelt in het veld.

Wat er gebeurt, zijn initiatieven van kunstenaars die als tentoonstellingsmakers optreden en in die hoedanigheid hun eigen én de ‘koppelteken’-Europeesheid in het algemeen onderzoeken. De koppelteken-identiteit-kunstenaar-curator lijkt de verbeelding te hebben om het vooronderzoek te doen voor de grote instellingen. Vermoedelijk in de hoop en met de verwachting dat het verhaal onderdeel wordt van het dominante discours zoals dat in de VS en Groot Brittannië het geval is. De hofmakerij die daar heeft plaats gevonden tussen de deelnemers aan het discours ging niet over rozen, maar leidde uiteindelijk tot een vruchtbaar huwelijk. En ook al zijn er spanningen, doodslaan doen zij elkaar … niet meer, want “tussen droom en daad staan wetten in de weg en praktische bezwaren, en ook weemoedigheid, die niemand kan verklaren, en die des avonds komt, wanneer men slapen gaat”. (Elschot) En zo bouwen zij voort aan hun veelkleurig huis.

Bij ons is het hofmaken inmiddels op gang gekomen. In Dat vuur der grote drama’s uit 1982, toen de partijen elkaar alleen nog maar net in het vizier hadden, beschrijft Edgar Cairo treffend hoe negerdinges van voorheen zich ontwikkelen tot hedendaagse negerdinges. En wanneer je het over negerdinges hebt wordt het moeilijk en altijd weer lastig. Dat was toen zo en als ik kijk naar de respons die ik heb ontvangen tijdens het van de grond krijgen van dit debat, is het nog zo. “Het is al gedaan in de VS en Groot Brittannië” en “dit soort gesprekken zijn nog niet rijp voor het publieke debat” waren de meest gehoorde argumenten.

Het gaat mij om het gesprek en in de woorden van Michael Tedja in Hosselen zeg ik: “Ook juich ik toe dat we, al was het maar voor een ogenblik … niet verplicht zijn te buigen voor een opgelegde stijl en in plaats daarvan ons voordeel kunnen doen met ver verwijderde overeenkomsten en opmerkelijke verwantschap.” (Hosselen; Een diachronische roman in achtenvijftig gitzwarte facetten over beeldende kunst in identiteitsdenkend Nederland anno 2009, Amsterdam, KIT Publishers, 2009, p. 48)

Eerder had ik het over hoop en verbeelding. In het kader van deze middag; het idee van aan Afro-Nederlands en/of Europees discours wil ik afsluiten met een citaat van Edgar Cairo uit een interview met Charles H. Rowell voor Callaloo in 1998.

ROWELL vroeg: “How did your audience here in Holland receive your text?”

CAIRO: “Some Dutch found it funny or strange or curious. Others, especially people from the lower classes, saw it as a reflection of their own poverty. You see, the thing is that when writing about poor people as I did-because I came from a poor family, yes, backyard people, I would say, and you come out of the backyard and write on the backyard people-sometimes they don’t want to see their own stories. It’s too painful. It reminds them too much of the time they had to go through the mud where everything was under the water and their bellies screamed with hunger. What they want to read about is the new paradise, for instance. Later on, when they are in the position of having a refrigerator full of things and color TV, then they can laugh about the time they were poor, and then they read your book. But not the minute they are struggling to find a social position and they have to go for welfare, and there is all of this constant talk of turning them out again. They won’t identify with their own sorrows. But the sorrow is there. It’s their history. But you don’t only write about sorrow. Come on, I’m talking about human beings. We are talking about also things of happiness, laughter… Twenty years ago, sixty years ago, no black man was writing for black culture. Because they identified it with slavery. My own brother, when I was creating black psalms, black religious psalms, said to me, ‘Brother what’s that shit you’re doing there? Don’t you know that the more you keep looking for Negro things, you’re putting a burden on yourself? Someone’s going to break your neck.’ And that’s right, but that doesn’t mean that the black man’s culture is a burden. It means that the black man’s culture, the black man’s spirit, goes through a process to establish self-respect for those who have earned it for themselves, for their children, as a nation.”

Ook wij hier in de zaal hebben de luxe dat we niet marktafhankelijk te zijn. Het gaat om hoop, en verbeelding is ons instrument.6

An interested audience | PHOTO Courtesy Anne Ruygt, 2013

Host Jelle Bouwhuis (works for SMBA Project 1975, about contemporary art in relation to colonialism) | PHOTO Courtesy Anne Ruygt, 2013

1 http://www.intendant.nl/intendant/projecten/02/project.php acc. 28-11-2012

2 http://www.becomingdutch.com/introduction/?s=d acc. 28-11-2012

3 http://www.volkskrant.nl/vk/nl/2676/Cultuur/article/detail/764052/2006/01/12/Museum-is-wit-bolwerk-gebleven.dhtml acc. 28-11-2012

4 http://www.volkskrant.nl/vk/nl/2676/Cultuur/archief/article/detail/805933/2006/05/19/lsquo-Wij-gaan-gastvrijheid-creerenrsquo. dhtml acc. 28-11-2012

5 http://www.intendant.nl/intendant/projecten/02/project.php acc. 28-11-2012

6 http://www.volkskrant.nl/vk/nl/2676/Cultuur/archief/article/detail/805933/2006/05/19/lsquo-Wij-gaan-gastvrijheid-creerenrsquo.dhtml acc. 28-11-2012

TEXT Charl Landvreugd is a Dutch artist, writer and curator born in Suriname and raised in Rotterdam, the Netherlands. Aesthetically, politically, theoretically as well as practical black is the basis of his work. After his studies at Goldsmiths and Columbia University he continues his research into diversity through immigration in the arts on the European continent. He does so by bringing people together in a private and public sphere to discuss this diversity and make it intelligible. Apart from that he publishes his findings, portrays them through video art, sculpture an collages.

Curaçao Classics. Visual art 1900-2010 appeared as a result of an exhibition held in the latter part of 2010 in the Curaçaosch Museum; Antepasado di Futuro [Ancestors of the future].

Opening ‘Antepasado di Futuro’, with Felix de Rooy and Jennifer Smit | PHOTO Courtesy ‘Antepasado di Futuro’

Logo ‘Antepasado di Futuro’

The overview work is written by Jennifer Smit and Felix De Rooy, who were at that time the curators of the successful exhibition. In 2002 KIT Publishers published Arte. Dutch Caribbean Art, written by prof. Adi Martis and Jennifer Smit, in which the emphasis was mostly on art from Aruba and the Antilles. This publication about Curacao is then indeed of great significance, not only for the island itself and the Caribbean region, but  also for the Dutch art history; a history in which up until now little research has been done into the development of art in the former colonies.

There are similarities as well as differences compared to the situation in Suriname. In the beginning of the 20^th century painters in Curacao also worked according to the traditional, European academic style. The art education followed by most was comparable, taking place mostly in the Netherlands and to a lesser extent in Latin-America and the United States.

Charles Corsten (1927-1994), ‘Madona Pretu’, oil on hardboard, 1950 | PHOTO ‘Curaçao Classics’: René Emil Bergsma/Sinaya Wolfert

Charles Corsten (1927-1994), ‘Madona Pretu’, oil on hardboard, 1950, René de Rooy (1917-1974), poem ‘Madonna Pretu’, 1950 | PHOTO ‘Curaçao Classics’: René Emil Bergsma/Sinaya Wolfert

The book opens with the Zwarte Madonna [Black Madonna] from 1950 of Charles Corsen (1927-1994), a pioneering work in the growing cultural self-awareness of Curacao, full of references to the Afro-Caribbean culture. An example of the idea of the Black Atlantic. A Madonna referring not only to Europe, but also particularly to the oppression from orthodox Christian doctrine in order to suppress the Afro-Caribbean spiritual movements such as voodoo, winti and santeria. It is those cultures to which De Rooy gives plenty of attention in his own work.

Joannes Pandellis (1896-1965), ‘Erf in Otrobanda’, watercolor on paper, 1946 | PHOTO ‘Curaçao Classics’: René Emil Bergsma/Sinaya Wolfert

Various artists who have also worked in Suriname, appear in the book. For starters there is Griek Joannes Pandellis (1896-1965) who went to Suriname during the First World War, but left for Curacao in ‘29. He was one of the earliest artists working and teaching in the region.

Quintus Jan Telting (1931-2003), ‘Opus 1375′, acrylic on canvas, 1983 | PHOTO ‘Curaçao Classics’: René Emil Bergsma/Sinaya Wolfert

Of a later date is the work by the Curacao born Quintus Jan Telting (1931-2003). Telting had Surinamese parents, his father Govert Jan was an important Surinamese painter. The artist would see much of the world and worked for a long time, in among other places the USA, only to finally move to the Netherlands.  From work that was more impressionistic, it became rather abstract. His work is engaged, but also regularly refers to his love for jazz through for example titles that refer to the work of Thelonious Monk. Later his work becomes more figurative.

Carlos Blaaker (1961), ‘El Presidente de la Republica Tulariana’, oil on canvas, 2010 | PHOTO ‘Curaçao Classics’: René Emil Bergsma/Sinaya Wolfert

And finally the work of Nola Hatterman‘s student; Carlos Blaaker. Blaaker studied in New York, distanced himself from Hatterman and works in Curacao since 2009. Gallery Royal House of Art regularly shows works of art from his earlier years.

Felix de Rooy (1952), ‘Markanan di Alma’, mixed media, 1998 | PHOTO ‘Curaçao Classics’: René Emil Bergsma/Sinaya Wolfert

Vincent Jong Tjien Fa (1970), ‘Las Tres Potencias’, acrylic on canvas, 2010 | PHOTO ‘Curaçao Classics’: René Emil Bergsma/Sinaya Wolfert

In conclusion, the book is done in a clear design and contains many illustrations which are accompanied by texts which are short and basic, but provide a sufficient impression. The larger contributions of various international art critics and curators more than make up for this. Often De Rooy’s favorite word ‘bastard’ slips into the texts, and at a certain point those type of sentences start to become a bit boring; it gets somewhat judgmental, but it is a whiner who takes notice.\

René de Rooy (1917-1974), ‘Torso’, mahogany, 1972 | PHOTO ‘Curaçao Classics’: René Emil Bergsma/Sinaya Wolfert

Miss Lee Hodge (1899-1998), ‘I Shall Pass’, match sticks and paint on wood, undated | PHOTO ‘Curaçao Classics’: René Emil Bergsma/Sinaya Wolfert

With Curaçao Classics. Visual art 1900-2010 the authors reached an undeniable milestone in the Caribbean-Dutch art history.

Cover ‘Curaçao Classics’, with on the left: Felix Robert Casper Soublette (1846-1921), ‘Yaya Pauline’, photograph, 1907 and on the right: Minerva Lauffer (1957), ‘Promesa’, acryl on canvas, 2008

Curaçao Classics. Beeldende kunst vanaf 1900, Felix de Rooy & Jennifer Smit, Amsterdam, KIT Publishers, 2012. ISBN 9789460221583

Catalogue of the exhibition Antepasado di Futuro [Ancestors of the future] that was on display at the  Curaçaose museum from October 9^th, 2010 until January 10^th, 2011.

TEXT Dan Dickhof

Dan Dickhof writes about old, modern and contemporary art for various media –such as 8WEEKLY, worked in the area of auctions and helps with creating exhibitions. He studied at the art academy in The Hague and also works as an artist.

TRANSLATION Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld

In 1960 the Suriname-born artist Stanley Brouwn asked people on the street to show on a piece of paper how they would walk from point A to point B. This Way Brouwn was the result. A key work. In 1963 American Edward Ruscha photographed all the gas stations he came across driving from his home in L.A. to Oklahoma City, the city he grew up in. These he collected in the book Twenty Six Gasoline Stations. An iconic example of conceptual art.

Antonio Jose Guzman, Installation ‘Los Angeles Mapping Project’, 2013 | PHOTO Courtesy Artist

I was reminded of these artists when I heard of the Los Angeles Mapping Project, (2013) by Antonio Jose Guzman (1971). For a number of months he was artist-in-residence at the Windward School in Los Angeles, a college primarily for the children of the city’s wealthy residents. Privileged students who are frequently quite unaware of the (cultural) diversity of their surrounding area. Working together with more than a hundred of them, Guzman has illustrated the geography of their daily life. He had them record their route from home to school and also make maps of those parts of the city they never went to. He thus implicitly gave them insight into their own identity.

The result is a large installation composed of photos, drawings, light boxes, objects and sculptures that document basic geographic elements. Maps, cracks in the road, paving stone patterns, curbstones, etc. Sometimes aesthetic and consciously sculptural, sometimes dry and factual. The students’ contributions are included and incorporated into the work. In this way Antonio Guzman, following artists such as Stanley Brouwn, also brings up the issue of the authorship of the artist.

Antonio Jose Guzman, Untitled (‘Los Angeles Mapping Project’), 2013 | PHOTO Courtesy Artist

Antonio Jose Guzman, Untitled (‘Los Angeles Mapping Project’), 2013 | PHOTO Courtesy Artist

Antonio Jose Guzman, Untitled (‘Los Angeles Mapping Project’), 2013 | PHOTO Courtesy Artist

Antonio Jose Guzman, Untitled (‘Los Angeles Mapping Project’), 2013 | PHOTO Courtesy Artist

This work by Guzman fits in with his oeuvre in which he researches his own DNA in various ways (he comes from Panama, has African roots and lives in the Netherlands), in which he looks for transatlantic connections between cultures and in which he tries to expose the underlying power structures. He digs into his own past to feed the collective memory. In addition, every now and again he attempts to visualize the geography of the future. The presentations of these research activities are always realized using a wide variety of media: drawing, photography, sculpture, film, performance, workshop and lecture. Here, the concept behind and the intensity of the research is usually more important than the aesthetics of the result. He wants to open eyes, not please them.

Stanley Brouwn no longer shows as an artist, Edward Ruscha has developed along a different route. Antonio Guzman is already busy mapping out his next research project. It will no doubt soon be on show in a number of (distant) countries.

Invitation

From May 31 till June 12 in We Are Void Gallery (also on Facebook), Ferdinand Bolstraat 1, Amsterdam.

TEXT Rob Perrée, Amsterdam, May 2013

Rob Perrée works as freelance writer, art critic and curator, specialized in contemporary (Afro-) American art, African art and art using new media. His work has appeared in countless catalogs, books, magazines and newspapers. He is editor of the Dutch art magazine Kunstbeeld.

TRANSLATION Jane Hall

Digital art magazine Sranan Art Xposed appears three to four times a year.  SAX attempts to raise international awareness for Surinamese visual art, but also tries to keep a finger on the pulse of our dynamic art world and to add some more depth to it. Because our blog is in English, from time to time we also share good articles with the readers of the daily newspaper de Ware Tijd. This article will also appear in Dutch, in de Ware Tijd. For your free subscription to the e-magazine send your request to srananart@gmail.com.

The turnabout comes on June 15^th 1995. This is when the street life of Leonardo Benzant abruptly comes to an end. As a result of excessive drug use he is admitted into the hospital. From that moment on he knows that he has to change his life. He has to focus on making art. He must make use of the ‘healing activity’ that art can be. At the same time he becomes more and more aware of the potential of blacks. They can do more than the stereotypical representation of them that the white environment suggests. There is more to them than an emotionally charged slavery past. The rebel who has spent his days on and in the streets of Brooklyn becomes an artist who, fueled by his African roots, seriously starts working on an idiosyncratic oeuvre. Successfully so, it seems.

Leonardo Benzant, ‘Mama Kalunga and the Funky World of the Kongo’ | PHOTO Courtesy Leonardo Benzant

The Dominican Republic and Haiti are in the genes of Benzant. That’s where his parents came from. He was always puzzled by the fact that many people, particularly from the Dominican Republic, either consciously or subconsciously, did not associate themselves with Africa, even though for example, the music they surround themselves with, the food that they eat and the rituals that they perform make it almost impossible to deny those roots. For him that denial resulted in a search for his own identity. In the end it led to one single conclusion: “I am a person of African descent, why not acknowledge it.”

After his initiation, it is as though the world opens up for him. “You die and you are reborn in a metaphysical way. You are given information about how to work with spirits. How to use them in a positive way.” He sees himself as a sort of medium which brings to life the memories of his ancestors. As he is working, all kinds of stories come to him, stories from the past. “I see a movie in my head.” He gets the feeling that they have something to do with him.  “As if the people in it are family members.”

Those stories are projected into his work. In the past few years these are primarily paintings, wall sculptures and drawings, but they could just as easily be performances or videos. He does not restrict himself to one medium.

Leonardo Benzant, ‘Afrosupernatural Combat’ | PHOTO Courtesy Leonardo Benzant

The first thing one notices in his work is how colorful it is. Colors are to him more than just formal means, they are imaginations of energies, of emotions and of moods. The whole image plane is covered. Colorful shapes contained in a tangle of lines and characters. They look like abstract or at least abstracted works, but when you take a closer look you see figurative elements which are part of the lines.  They are practically natural continuations thereof.  The characters are mostly references or symbols, inspired by very old ideographic traditions (f.i. Congolese). Probably not easily interpretable for everyone, but as viewer you do feel that there is more hidden behind or within it. You don’t see what you see. You know that. The whole provides an energetic and lively image.  In that context Benzant likes to use the word ‘rhythm’. He compares his creative process to that of playing jazz music. Going out from a more or less fixed theme, improvising and staying open to the influences which present themselves to you at the moment, culminating in a fascinating composition.

Leonardo Benzant, Beings Born from Word and Stitch | PHOTO Courtesy Leonardo Benzant

The work in which he uses textile instead of paint refers to Yoruba culture. In Africa textiles are not only linked to certain rituals, religious or otherwise, they are, since the abolition of slavery, also used to relay an implicit political message to the colonial ruler. The slave trade has brought these textiles to the West, often while retaining their original meaning. For many forms of patchwork the lines can be traced back to Africa.

In his textile pieces the figurative aspect is lacking. There it is all about patterns and composing a distinct colorful whole, with all the symbolism that goes along with it and again, established in a highly improvised manner. In certain works the textile pieces are stuffed. Thus they grow into wall sculptures. Whether the fillings refer to traditional fillings which have healing or protective qualities, I don’t know, but it seems highly probable.  That these works were made in collaboration with others – such as family members – is in fact a continuation of the traditional way in which for example many American quilts have been and are made, and the way in which many African artists still make their works (think of El Anatsui with his ‘tapestries’ composed of aluminum bottle tops).

Of course Africa is a large source of inspiration for Benzant. Still there are also other, more basic influences. He is after all an artist of this time walking around in the present. He says that his use of colors and the way in which he combines colors or places them across from one another, also has something to do with his mothers wardrobe.  As a child he was fascinated by the wide range of colors of her clothing and the way in which she arranged them in the closet. His drawings are on the one hand inspired by the quick sketches that his father drew when he was trying to explain things. On the other hand they are also influenced by the written slang, similar to how colleagues such as Jean-Michel Basquiat used the imagery of the neighborhood in his paintings and drawings.

Leonardo Benzant, ‘Mayombe Magic in the Urban Jungle’ | PHOTO Courtesy Leonardo Benzant

Leonardo Benzant is insatiable. Sometimes he writes texts that make the work of the art critic redundant. It is not inconceivable that his work will move into a greater spatial direction. He currently limits himself mostly to the flat surface because his work circumstances demand it. It would hardly surprise me if his experience with performance (also in the sense of theatre) is developed further. The theatrical element that already shows through in many of his works will not be constrained forever. Video and sound will return when the context requires it and the financial means allow it.

He will however always remain the ‘Urban Shaman’ who builds bridges between the visible and the invisible world, who will incorporate the strengths and traditions from his ancestors and combine them with personal memories, thoughts, dreams and concepts, who will connect past and present into a sometimes mysterious but always emotional whole.

This article was previously published in Sranan Art Xposed, nr. 7, February 2013. Please visit Leonardo Benzant’s Facebookpage for the latest updates about his work.

TEXT Rob Perrée, Amsterdam, November 2012

TRANSLATION Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld, 2013

Rob Perrée works as freelance writer, art critic and curator, specialized in contemporary (Afro-) American art, African art and art that incorporates new media. His work has appeared in numerous catalogues, books, magazines and newspapers. He is editor of the Dutch art magazine Kunstbeeld.

The abolition of slavery is commemorated in many ways and in many places in the Netherlands. Rightly so. It is necessary to reflect on those events in our history that are likely to be forgotten, because they are a blot on that history. The exhibition Post Slavery Documentary is an initiative of Galerie Nola Hatterman, part of the Amsterdam Association ‘Ons Suriname‘. That association dates back to 1919 and has as its goal, to promote social contact amongst Surinamese.  An understandable aim. The result however is, that their activities, such as this exhibition, remain ‘hidden’ to the larger public. Too much ‘amongst-us’ does injustice to the artists who in fact strive to reach a larger, and even more international audience.

Post Slavery Documentary shows three large canvases by Ken Doorson (Moengo, 1978). He tells the history of the maroons by painting portraits of people who have played a role therein. Who those ‘heroes’ are is most of the time unclear. This probably doesn’t even matter. The viewer has to make do with suggestive clues which could possibly direct a train of thought: an orange lion, tresses, dates etc. Their emotions do come across. Doorson does this mostly by making effective use of color. The colors represent the state of mind. They communicate emotions. They take the place of drawn or painted facial expressions. With color he also places his heroes within the space.

It is not his intention to provide a blueprint of reality, he intends only to hand the viewer the ingredients to create his own story. He especially succeeds in doing so with the work Je Maintiendrai from 2013. I would not be surprised if that became just as iconic as his Boni from 2010.

Ken Doorson, ‘Je Maintiendrai’, 2013 | PHOTO Courtesy artists ‘Post Slavery Documentary’

Ken Doorson, title unknown, 2013 | PHOTOS Courtesy artists ‘Post Slavery Documentary’

Ken Doorson, ‘In remembrance of the faith’, 2013 | PHOTOS Courtesy artists ‘Post Slavery Documentary’

Carla Kranendonk (Steggerda, 1961) makes mostly large collages in which black women have a central role. It is not her intention either to create a careful portrayal of reality. For her it is all about the context. That consists of dozens of small photographs of black figures who have played a role in international black history. The Surinamese viewer will be able to recognize many, while the regular art lover will have to make do with the images as they are. Many have never made it to his or her history book or history lesson. A statement in itself. It is also striking that most are men, which makes it all the more understandable that the beautifully dressed, proud woman in the foreground steals the show. An underexposed aspect of an underexposed history?

The works are loaded with details. Shoes and bags especially stand out. They function in the first place as symbols of femininity, but just as much as a representation of the luxury of freedom.  It is amazing that Kranendonk manages to shape various techniques and media – painting, drawing, texts, embroidery, photography – into a natural and cohesive whole.

Carla Kranendonk, untitled, 2013| PHOTO Courtesy artists ‘Post Slavery Documentary’

The work on paper of Michael Wong Loi Sing (Suriname, 1968) lags behind that of the others. With regards to subject, there seems to be very little relation to the theme of the exhibition. They are primarily odes to women or to love, executed in white outlines on a colorful, expressionistically painted surface.  Short texts in the works – a kind of titles in the work – complete the whole. The imagery is not very original; the symbolism (sunny flowers for example) is too obvious. Corneille meets Struikelblok, that was the association that immediately came to my mind. In all fairness I have to add that the responsible curator also carries some of the blame. It is impossible for a small ‘drawing’ to compete with large, dominant paintings and collages.

Michael Wong Loi Sing, ‘Vrouwen Geur’, not dated| PHOTO Courtesy artists ‘Post Slavery Documentary’

In the introductory speech at the exhibition the complaint was made that the art of many Surinamese still gets too little attention. It would help if Galerie Nola Hatterman itself opened her doors wider and spent more time focusing on her mailing list and on her PR.

The exhibition was open until June 30^th 2013. Galerie Nola Hatterman, Zeeburgerdijk 19-A, 1093 SK Amsterdam, the Netherlands.

TEXT Rob Perrée, Amsterdam, June 2013

The original Dutch version of this article previously appeared in the local Surinamese newspaper de Ware Tijd of Saturday June 30^th 2013.

NOTE: In a reaction on a personal Facebook page, a remark was made that Michael Wong Loi Sing’s work Vrouwen Geur was inspired by the work of John Gabriel Stedman (1744-1797). As soon as we hear more details about this we will let our blog readers know.

Rob Perrée works as freelance writer, art critic and curator, specialized in contemporary (Afro-) American art, African art and art using new media. His work has appeared in countless catalogues, books, magazines and newspapers. He is editor of the Dutch art magazine Kunstbeeld.

TRANSLATION by Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld

Twenty artists participate in ‘Gedeelde Erfenis’. They come from or live in Suriname, Curacao, Denmark, Panama and the Netherlands. They represent different generations. They all have their own history. They make use of various media. A colorful group, which by itself already results in great variety. Variety in approach, perception and visual results. Consciously or subconsciously, the exhibition raises the question about how divided that shared past is being looked at.

Frank Creton remains closest to the gruesome aspects of reality in his figurative paintings: the poor treatment of the slaves. On a slightly abstracted canvas, Runny Margarita shifts that reality slightly by confronting a frightened overseer with the ghosts of killed slaves. The photographic works of Brett Russel (also on Twitter, and interesting interview) distance themselves in an ironic way. In Rode 2 he portrays a house slave. Vain, well conscious of his higher status, overly decked out, against a colorful, artificial background which is reminiscent of traditional photo studios that use  dream world wallpaper. Nardo Brudet (also on Twitter) goes one step further in the photographic work Happy Ending. He shows a happy black family which keeps slaves as well. The house slave in his picture is white. Staging and theme remind me of Yinka Shonibare (also on Twitter), the British/Nigerian artist.

Brett Russel, ‘Rode 2’, 2012 | PHOTO Courtesy artists ‘Gedeelde Erfenis’

In her work Sara Blokland (also on Facebook) often focuses on the way in which people are represented. In her  Representation of a Family she prints family photos on expensive looking tableware. She presents it like an installation in a china cabinet. With this she not only makes a play of the way in which blacks were displayed to the public in the past – as public entertainment – but also of the way in which Western museums exhibit ‘colonial’ objects. The ceramic heads of Helen Martina denounce the prejudice among many whites, that all blacks look alike. “You can’t tell one from another.” Many representations therefore comply with that cliché. In the Rodchenko-like photo montages of Henny Overbeek the portrayal of the black man as being only out for sex and thus by definition unfaithful, seems to be the theme.

In her mixed media-works Patricia Kaersenhout shows, on the one hand, the wealth of black culture (in the fabrics for example), but on the other hand she also wants to draw attention to the vulnerability of the blacks. An illustration of the dualism of a black woman born in the Netherlands?

Carla Kranendonk and Renée Koldewijn each in their own way, express their admiration for the black woman. The first, places her at the center in large collages. She finds herself surrounded by pictures of black heroes – men – but she in no way gives the impression of being affected by this. Koldewijn chooses to make colorful little statuettes of women, who, through the way in which they have folded their traditional headscarves, communicate amongst each other in a language that cannot be understood by outsiders. It would not surprise me if the figurines were also an ironic answer to the prejudice confirming  Aunt Jemima-like figures which have for a long time appeared in advertisements and which are still being sold to tourists. In a triptych Iris Kensmil has painted three black women in an expressionistic style, with lots of green, as if they have to be absorbed by their natural surroundings. Female slaves whose freedom was bought, who each in her own way accomplished something, that in Iris’s eyes, makes them heroes. [Note Rob Perrée: these works of Iris Kensmil were indeed made within the framework of ‘Gedeelde Erfenis’, but they are displayed solely in the Schuttersgalerij of the Amsterdam Museum (also on Facebook and Twitter).]

Renée Koldewijn, ‘Talking Heads’, 2013 | PHOTO Courtesy artists ‘Gedeelde Erfenis’

Iris Kensmil, ‘Kapitein 2′, 2009-2013
| PHOTO Gert Jan van Rooij

Remy Jungerman (an interesting interview in UPRISING NEWS), Ken Doorson and Jeannette Ehlers (also on Twitter and an interesting interview in UPRISING NEWS) portray black resistance heroes. The first made screen-prints in red, white and blue of a picture of his ancestor Broos. He thus refers implicitly to his double identity. Doorson uses dramatic colors to give his hero Boni a characteristic and valiant head. Ehlers shows, through the Haitian Toussaint, how successful a revolt can be. All three artists have chosen a hero who could be a hero because Winti spirits offered him protection.

Remy Jungerman, ‘Captain Broos’, 2007 | PHOTO Courtesy artists ‘Gedeelde Erfenis’

Another form of revolt appears in the collage-like works of Hector Raphaela. In it he suggests that music served as a secret language.  With it slaves could build or maintain their own culture. By opting for loose image elements on a monochromatic surface, Raphaela has succeeded in visualizing the improvisational character of music.

Hector Ceferino Raphaela, untitled, 2009 | PHOTO Courtesy artists ‘Gedeelde Erfenis’

Both Antonio Guzman (also on Twitter) and George Struikelblok went in search of their own DNA. Guzman photographed the door of the fort in Ghana through which blacks were herded to be taken away. In his works he wants to show that that door can also symbolize coming home, being proud of your roots. Struikelblok comes home in a totally different way. In a moving painting of two black shadows separated by blood splatters, he proves that he is much more than an artist who paints somewhat interchangeable, template-like, colorful canvases. He comes home in an artistic sense.

Antonio Guzman, ‘Susa and the Door’, Aguadulce, Panama, 2009 | PHOTO Courtesy artists ‘Gedeelde Erfenis’

George Struikelblok, ‘Gelijke’, 2012 | PHOTO Courtesy artists ‘Gedeelde Erfenis’

How diverse, how layered and how individual can black be? In the video work Atlantic Transformerz, Charl Landvreugd (also on Facebook and on Twitter) illustrates that by letting black heads appear and disappear. The changes are accompanied by penetrating techno-music.

Charl Landvreugd, ‘Atlantic Transformerz’, 2010 | PHOTO Courtesy artists ‘Gedeelde Erfenis’

At the beginning of the exhibition stands a sculpture by Tirzo Martha (an interesting interview in UPRISING NEWS). A traditional, wooden, African sculpture with combs stuck into it. A critical commentary on the blacks who cling to the clichéd image of their past: slavery. In fact Martha brings down those who continue to see themselves as victims and refuse to believe in themselves, in what they themselves can do and what they are.

Tirzo Martha, ‘The Afro-Healing’, 2012 | PHOTO Courtesy artists ‘Gedeelde Erfenis’

This exhibition clearly shows that a shared heritage does not equal a shared opinion of that heritage. It also shows that engagement and visual art don’t have to bite each other.

Gedeelde Erfenis. Slavernijverleden in de Kunst (also on Facebook) is open up until August 31^st in CBK Zuidoost, Amsterdam Zuidoost, the Netherlands.

When: June 20-August 31, 2013. Opening hours: Tue-Wed 11:00-17:00, Thu 11:00 am-20:00, Fri 11:00 am-17:00, Sat 10:00-17:00

Where: CBK Zuidoost, Anton de Komplein 120, Amsterdam. the Netherlands

The opening of this exhibition is a part of the program line of Culture 1102, ie Imagine IC, CBK Zuidoost and Bijlmer Parktheater. Click here for the full program.

From September 12^th thru October 20^th the exhibition continues in the Kunstenlab, Deventer, the Netherlands (also on Facebook).

TEXT Rob Perrée, Amsterdam, June 2013

The original Dutch version of this article previously appeared in the local Surinamese newspaper de Ware Tijd of June 29^th 2013.

Rob Perrée works as freelance writer, art critic and curator, specialized in contemporary (Afro-) American art, African art and art using new media. His work has appeared in countless catalogues, books, magazines and newspapers. He is editor of the Dutch art magazine Kunstbeeld. His website: http://robperree.com.

TRANSLATION Cassandra Gummels-Relyveld

During Carifesta XI there is a lot going on. Not only the official Carifesta XI program, but also ongoing exhibitions, galleries, the National Art Fair 2013. Please return to this post for updates, or visit our blog page What’s Up in Suriname. Our take a look on this blog: Leuke Dingen Suriname.  

Carifesta XI - Visual Arts 

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What: Carifesta XI - Murals

When: August 17, in the morning

Where:  ’social’ spots

Although no details have been provided for this item on the program, Paramaribo has recently been treated more and more to the great work of street artists. First a book was published, Schaafijs & wilde bussen, by Paul Faber, Tammo Schuringa and Chandra van Binnendijk. There was an exhibition too. This raised some awareness and acknowledgement for the high quality of the work of those street artists. Last year the initiative Switi Rauw! started with painting bright murals in shabby places. Just recently, at the beginning of August, Switi Rauw! organized a Streetfest: 13 artists, 10 walls, 7 days. Scroll down for the locations. 

A former painter of advertisements, André Sontosoemarto, is now working as a street artist.  On Friday August 17, 13:00-18:30, in the afternoon, he will finish this piece at the Paramaribo-beginning of the WIjdenbosch-brug, on the right side. Feel free to visit, or to stop to see the results later. On Saturday August 18, André will finish a mural in the heart of Paramaribo, Kerkplein, from 12:00-18:00.

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What: Carifesta XI - Main exhibition

When: August 17-August 24, 10:00-22:00

Where: Grand Carifesta Market (GCM), Main Hall, KKF-terrain, Paramaribo

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What: Carifesta XI - Artist Talks

When: August 17-August 24, 17:00

Where: Grand Carifesta Market (GCM), Zaal 4, KKF-terrain, Paramaribo

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What: Carifesta XI - Showcase

When: August 18-August 24, 18:00-22:00

Where: Grand Carifesta Market (GCM), KKF-terrain, Paramaribo

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What: Carifesta XI - Workshops

When: August 18, 10:00-13:00

Where: information not yet available

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What: National Art Fair 2013

When: August 16-24, 2013. Opening hours: 17:00-21:00 hrs

Where: Garden De Surinaamsche Bank N.V., Henck Arronstraat 26-30, Paramaribo

The Association of Visual Artists in Suriname, the ABKS, with a.o. Soeki, Anand Binda, Ron Flu, Sri Irodikromo, Kim Sontosoemarto, Pierre Bong a Jan, Leo Wong Loi Sing, Jhunry Udenhout and Ardie Setropawiro, will give individual demonstrations during the National Art Fair. You are invited to visit and enjoy seeing the artists at work.  

A first photographic impression of the National Art Fair can be found on the Sranan Art Flickr account. 

And a first impression in words is in the next blog post.

Dakaya Lenz, ‘Bent or broken’, 2013| PHOTO Marieke Visser, 2013

Leonnie van Eert, ceramics | PHOTO Marieke Visser, 2013

René Tosari, ‘Protection’, 2013 | PHOTO Marieke Visser, 2013

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What: Linked Heritage, an exhibition by the Amazon Museum Network, a network formed by the Musée des cultures Guyanaises in Cayenne, French Guiana, the Museo Paraense Emilio Goeldi in Belém, Brazil and Surinaams Museum in Paramaribo, Suriname, with a contribution by Musée départemental Alexandre Franconie, Cayenne, Frans Guyana

When: August 18, 2013-October 18, 2013

Where: Fort Zeelandia, Paramaribo

Read more about this exhibition in de Ware Tijd, August 1, 2013. 

Three years ago, the foundation was laid for the Amazon Museum Network, a network formed by the Musée des cultures Guyanaises in Cayenne, French Guiana, the Museo Paraense Emilio Goeldi in Belém, Brazil and Surinaams Museum in Paramaribo, Suriname. There have been a lot of cross-border activities of the network since then and recently a joint website was launched. Altogether, this forms a strong basis to engage. Starting next year, more museums and heritage institutions will join the network. We do not restrict ourselves to institutions in the countries that make up the current network.

The final part of the first phase was the idea to hold a joint exhibition. The celebration ofCarifesta XI in Paramaribo was a good reason to do so. It is the presence of representatives from a range of countries in the Caribbean region and countries of the South American mainland, which allows us to carry the network. We are proud that the Surinaams Museum and its location can make this possible.

Initially, the network focused on cultures that are present in all three countries, especially Amerindian/Indigenous people and Maroon people. They will also be addressed in the exhibition, of which archaeology is a part too.

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What: Unity in Diversity, exhibition by Ray Daal, Edgar Kwelling & George Ramjiawansingh

When: July 19-August 27, 2013 

Where: Grand Riverside Hotel (Facebook too), Anton Dragtenweg 68, Paramaribo

What: Streetfest: 13 artists, 10 walls, 7 days, by Switi Rauw

When: August 3-9, 2013

Where: Paramaribo, Suriname

Although this event has been completed, you can still visit all the murals in town to brighten the walls of Paramaribo City!

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Venues

Every day – Atelier Struikelblok, Amsoistraat 49, Nieuw Charlesburg, Paramaribo, +597 (0)851 0525 / 547090,struikelgeo@yahoo.com, website

Every day – Fort Nieuw Amsterdam, Wilhelminastraat, Nieuw-Amsterdam, Commewijne, +597 (0)32 2225, www.fortnieuwamsterdam.com. Open: Mon-Fri 09:00-17:00 and Sat, Sun and national holidays 10:00-18:00

Every day –  Gallery Egi Du (Carla Tuinfort), SMS Ramp, Paramaribo, +597 (0)881 6821

Every day – Gallery Singh, Koningstraat 63, Paramaribo, +597 492608

Wed-Fri – Museum of Fine Arts, Zwartenhovenbrugstraat 107 -109, Paramaribo | Open: Wed-Fri: 11:00-16:00, www.mofa-p.com/

Every day – Readytex / Readytex Art Gallery, Maagdenstraat 44-48, Paramaribo, +597 421750 / 474380,readytex@cq-link.sr, www.readytexartgallery.com

Every day – Marowijne Art Park, Moengo, Marowijne

Weekends – Contemporary Art Museum Moengo (CAMM), Abraham Crijnssenlaan, Moengo, +597 (0)856 5738. The exhibition is open on Saturdays and Sundays from 9:00-13:00 hrs and 16:00-19:00 hrs.

Open only when an exhibition is going on - Sukru Oso, Cornelis Jongbawstraat 16a, Paramaribo, Suriname, artgallerysukruoso@gmail.com

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Websites