
‘It’s not like it ever ends, capitalism is just another form of slavery’ – in conversation with artist Buhlebezwe Siwani
In her work, Buhlebezwe Siwani gives subtle hints through repetition and movement, and creates an ambiguous bodily interpretation of history and colonialism. Nele Brökelmann speaks to Siwani about her solo exhibition currently on show at Rozenstraat – a rose is a rose is a rose.
On a rainy December afternoon, I meet Buhlebezwe Siwani (1987, Johannesburg) at Rozenstraat, to speak about her artistic practice and her first solo-exhibition in the Netherlands: ulwela amaza. In her work she uses isiXhosa, one of the 11 indigenous languages that are spoken in South Africa: which is the one that is spoken by people in her parents’ hometown. Siwani’s show consists of a new film and performance, where she uses dance as a method for communication. Without a translation of the words, the viewer is confronted with not understanding, but still a lot can be drawn from the dancers’ movement and gestures, the performances’ locations, the tactile elements in the space, and the continuous singing that fills the whole exhibition space. It feels like an invitation to genuinely watch and listen, draw connections, and understand lived realities and generational traumas.
Upon entering the main exhibition space, there are seven life-sized screens standing on the floor. They show several dancers of colour in a group of six, dancing and moving in different locations in Amsterdam, Middelburg and the North Sea. The locations all have colonial histories, the WIC (Dutch West India Company) in Middelburg was involved in the Atlantic slave trade and bringing colonial goods from Brazil, the Caribbean and North America to the Netherlands. The VOC (Dutch East India Company) in Amsterdam was involved in the Asian slave trade and bringing colonial goods from their established port in Jakarta to the Netherlands.
Mounds of different colonial goods are draped around the screens: chocolate, coffee, sugar, turmeric, chili and tea. The same six elements are lying in six Delfts Blue teacups in a small side room, the only space where a video is projected horizontally on the wall. In this video the six dancers wear ceremonial clothes and perform in front of the North Sea, repeating some of the movements seen on the screens in the main room. At one point, a cargo ship passes by, hinting at the ancestry of colonised people, who have been forcefully brought to the Netherlands, and the goods that have been looted from their home countries.
The dancers in the videos shift between dancing and gesturing. In several videos a masculine dancer seems to be pulling up something wide and heavy and smashing it back onto the ground. In others, a feminine dancer lies on the ground, she seems to be in pain and screaming. In another video a dancer in a big dress referencing the 1700’s, repeatedly puts her hand in front of her mouth while looking straight at the viewer. The latter is filmed at the Van Loon Museum in Amsterdam, a city palace from the 17th century, depicting the look of a well-off family’s house during that time. Another video is filmed in the Bijlmer, on a grass field in-between the columns carrying the highway, and at the Anton de Komplein. Anton de Kom (1898-1945) was a Surinamese resistance fighter and writer of the book ‘We Slaves of Suriname’. Here, the dancers wear contemporary clothes, like a grey hoody.
In our conversation, Siwani gave me subtle hints of the meaning behind her work, in the same way as she does with the visitors of the exhibition. Through repeating elements in the space and the videos, connections can be made that make it possible to decipher meanings for yourself.
How do you see your role as an artist in relation to history?
‘I think it’s everybody’s job, not only for artists, but everyone who works in any sector of the humanities and cultural production, should excavate histories and significant cultural elements that are forgotten. In order to look forward and think about the future, we need to look at the past and think about where we currently are in the present. I think it makes sense to look at every single direction or factor that has brought us to where we are currently, and the things that could potentially impact what happens in the future.’
You were born in South-Africa, but now you live in the Netherlands for most of the year. How does this influence your practice?
‘It affects my practice in the sense that I still have so many stories to tell from a South African standpoint. But who’s to say that I won’t find stories here either. There are multiple things that we have to come to terms with, in the sense of colonial fetish, colonial export, and the fact that a lot of Dutch people have forgotten or never learned that the Dutch actually colonized South Africa. So, it’s really interesting to talk to Dutch people, because they always think that it was only the British, while the descendants of the Dutch in South Africa are the architects of apartheid. My practice has also changed because I get to look from a South-African perspective at where these people are from. It’s taken me a long time, for example, to see Dutch architecture as something beautiful, because my first reaction was: I’m stuck!’
In what sense?
‘It was just very traumatic, because it was a reminder of colonialism, apartheid and so on. In South Africa we have architecture called Cape Dutch, which looks similar to the buildings here. The architecture here is not new to me, I’ve seen it. Neither is British architecture. We have been colonized several times. I’ve already seen all this architecture, but I’ve seen it where it shouldn’t have been.’
What roles do the locations and the dancers play in your work?
‘I wanted to look at particular places that already exist. I did not want to give my interpretation of these places or display exactly what happened. The dancers become the interpretation of the places, which are full of historical references and historical significance in the past and the present.’
Can you give an example?
‘In Middelburg you had the WIC, and in Amsterdam the VOC. I wanted to tie the two together, because they did similar things. So, there are similarities, but also differences. In Middelburg the ships used to bring in the slaves, but you also have the Oostkerk in Middelburg, which was the first church that denounced slavery. We filmed in front of that church and at the North Sea where slaveships surpassed and cargoships still pass. It’s important to go to these places.’
'The dancers become the interpretation of the places'
And in Amsterdam?
‘The Van Loon Museum in Amsterdam is one of the locations we filmed at, because the Van Loon family had plantations in Suriname. Another one is the Central Station through which people nowadays enter the city. I also filmed at the Bijlmer. A neighborhood where a lot of immigrants were placed and still move to. If you cannot find a specific ingredient or product that you are used to from your own culture, you can surely find it in one of the shops there. It’s a place I identify with as a black person. There’s also the Anton de Komplein where people of different cultures meet at the markets. A lot of things have happened here that speak directly to the subject I am talking about in this exhibition.’
How does it speak to the subject?
‘I mean, how did immigrants come here? Through slavery and through choice. If you want to decide to call this place home, you call it home, but are you happy here? Is this where you want to be? It’s not an easy choice to make to come here, if you are let’s say from Congo. Would they still choose to come here, if things hadn’t been done the way they have been done in the past? Would you be happier where your ancestors are from, if things would not have been looted or taken? Who can say that they wouldn’t be a first world country, if things would have gone differently? And currently, these countries are still being looted. So, it’s not like it ever ends, capitalism is just another form of slavery.’
What role do the chocolate, coffee, sugar, turmeric, chili and tea play in the exhibition?
‘They are there for the senses, the smell and tactility of them threads the exhibition together on another level. You could also read the mounds as a topographical map of sorts, that maps places.’
Water is a recurring theme in your work, how do you see these different bodies of waters?
‘Well, water is one big mass, but it’s not all the same. It reaches different places, looks different and speaks different languages. The great thing about water is that it’s an ever-changing, but ever-present entity. And it’s an entity that humans cannot control as much as they try, because it has its own energy and exists on its own plane. Our bodies are also masses of water. There are stories about people who have been created out of water or clans of water people, islanders for instance. In my hometown, there are people who have moved there from water, like the ocean in West-Africa. These are the same bodies who decided that instead of being enslaved, they’d rather jump and join their ancestors in the sea. These are the stories we carry within us and the reason why this exhibition exists.’
In your work you use one of the indigenous languages of South Africa. Why did you decide to do that?
‘It is one of our indigenous languages, my own language from my hometown. There are 11 official indigenous languages in South Africa. The settlers that have been born there, don’t speak any of them, they only speak English or Afrikaans. On top of that, I have experienced, that they base people’s intelligence on how well they speak English or Afrikaans. It’s weird, unethical and unfair! By using my own language I’m bringing our own histories and culture to the forefront.’
On the opening night and the last Saturday before closing the exhibition, there is a live performance in the space. Why did you add that extra element?
‘The dancers activate the space and the screens; it basically brings the exhibition to life. The movements and gestures are similar to the ones shown in the videos, but they are not doing exactly the same thing. During the opening, the performance opened up the exhibition space, charged the room with energy, and it will stay, until they close it. With the performance on the last Saturday of the exhibition, they will take their energy back.’
The exhibition ulwela amaze is still running until the 2nd of March at ROZENSTRAAT – a rose is a rose is a rose
Nele Brökelmann
is beeldend kunstenaar