metropolis m

These four pillars were identified with input from a larger committee. For his own research, Nwagbogu travelled through the country and met with various culture bearers, including traditional chiefs and priests, to answer a question that had been plaguing him for a while: ‘Why is the world out of kilter, why is Africa lagging in terms of our ability to engage and share knowledge, despite being so wealthy?’ The answer was uniform, and it came down to patriarchy and the removal of women’s roles from power. Issues of globalisation appeared, too, and the embracing of foreign identities and ideologies, especially of the individualistic West; one that is happy to breed billionaires while trampling on millions in the process. The African continent has enough experience with the consequences of this kind of ideology.

Nwagbogu continues: ‘Through patriarchy introduced by colonialism, there was a loss of gèlèdè.’ Gèlèdè? He explains that gèlèdè is a Yoruba tradition surrounding the veneration of the mother: ‘The men would wear clothing and put on a mask and perform a dance to honour the mother, to honour women and the wisdom they hold. I wanted to use gèlèdè to deal with this issue of epistemic injustice and violence. During my research – it might be apocryphal, as you know – but the etymology of the word gèlèdè comes from ‘everything precious is fragile.’ I thought that was such a powerful, powerful line. It struck me as something really incredible.’ And just like that, Nwagbogu had found a title for the exhibition.

Artefact-making
As for picking the artists he wanted, Nwagbogu explains he had complete curatorial control. He mentions that interference is the only kind of challenge he will not accept. Without direct intention, the lineup of artists is gender-balanced with two women and two men. They were chosen because their work matched his curatorial vision for the pavilion. Nwagbogu offers his philosophy that ‘art is about creating artefacts.’ He tells me that people will look back on our time, the rampant ecological destruction, the unconscionable wealth inequality, but also the high level of education – and will wonder what we were thinking. The artefact created by the artist’s hand can offer some sort of answer, also for the contemporary viewer. Nwagbogu says: ‘I don’t think these artefacts should always be heavy on social commentary, but they should just give us clues about how we live.’ Seen through the lens of artefact-making, it is clear that the four artists were chosen for their work’s quality of shedding light on contemporary existence. All of them have roots in Benin, either from birth or through other paths. The group is varied in age and practice, offering a rounded spread of artistic possibilities.

Quenum’s work subverts the expected through the staging of objects. Her works often seem to encompass transformations or translations into sculpture, either from language, symbols or weaving techniques. Hazoumè’s work also defies the expected, mostly through the use of found materials in novel ways. One of Hazoumè’s pieces, abandoned gas canisters made to resemble traditional African masks, dovetails neatly with Nwagbogu’s concerns surrounding ecology, tradition, identity and artefact. Bello’s female-centred portraits stare down the viewer in arresting, saturated blues. Bello’s works also surround the question of identity, her colourful works find their context in the indigo tint that members of the Yoruba ethnic group used as dye. Lastly, the multimedia work of Akpo blends modern notions with traditional symbology, creating time-bending works that place the past into the present.

Returning works
For an international exhibition well over a hundred years old, it seems rather surprising that there are still countries making a debut. Ethiopia, Tanzania, and Senegal will also be joining for the first time this year. The West’s extractive conquests and general belittling attitude towards the African continent are consistent and easily found. Art is no exception, neither is the Biennale. There are a myriad of reasons that countries do not participate, so it is disingenuous to place the blame squarely on the institution itself. Nwagbogu offers his explanation: ‘I think a lot of the governments haven’t understood the value of art to the creative economy and to the economy in general, period. So the more they understand that, the more they see it working, the more they want to support it. It’s really about trusting the process and investing in artists so that they can help you shape and improve your economy.’

That being said, it is no secret that the festival has a history of proportionally poor representation of African countries and that there have been numerous controversies in the past, showing blunders and failures of the Biennale in its dealings with the continent. For example, in the 55th and the 56th Biennale, the new Kenyan Pavilion featured a majority of artists hailing from China, not Kenya. The general long standing issue of the absence of African countries is crystalized in multiple iterations of a general African Pavilion. Without negating the work that African artists and curators have put into making these pavilions come alive, it is doubtful Europe or America would face the same treatment at an art fair.

These faults are, however, not the main subject at hand. Nwagbogu says, ‘It’s so important that we keep thinking about how we can keep the focus not in Europe but on the African continent; where we’re from, where we live.’ While greater and consistent representation of African countries is desirable, it should explicitly not be with extractivist motivations, as often tends to be the case. ‘It’s always go. Extract the best. Take it to Europe, or take it to America, or take it to wherever. Look at these shining lights from the continent, and then those guys that are celebrating, you will never see their work in Africa again!’ Nwagbogu offers his suggestion: ‘I’d love to see intellectual and physical infrastructure built on the Continent to encourage long-term sustainable modes of engagement beyond the extraction economy.’

Nwagbogu believes supporting existing biennials and building new institutions on the African continent is crucial. He explains that the Venice Biennale can function as a vehicle through which artworks can gain greater circulation that gives beyond valuation in the art market. Nwagbogu understands the seduction of art fairs, where purchases are the point, but international biennales, triennales and institution building dig deeper roots. Nwagbogu explains that he would have loved to have – simultaneously or closely in sync with the opening of Benin’s pavilion at Venice – an echo exhibition for the locals who, for all sorts of reasons, cannot travel to Venice to be a part of the exhibition. Although that idea isn’t realised, it’s indicative of a curatorial vision that doesn’t forget the local, even in international contexts.

When asked if he would like to see the pavilion have more than one iteration, Nwagbogu seems more concerned with a broader future of Beninese and African art. ‘Benin is building a bunch of museums, including a contemporary museum, and the idea is to ensure that the works come back to Benin and are part of the collection,’ he tells me. Nwagbogu touches on the importance of developing the next generation of young, Black thinkers. He marks a difference between those making events, and those curating. Nwagbogu: ‘I want to find modes of remediating ideas, changing the world for the better, thinking about how we can introduce art as a kind of adjuvant or glidant into society to create more engagement. That’s really something that I’m very concerned about. Even in the most deprived situations, nations, or displaced peoples, art means something and offers an outlet. Everybody is interested in aspiration and hope.’