'Male Order' at the Irma Stern Museu
by Annwen Bates
The 'Male Order' exhibition at the Irma Stern Museum "sets out to examine the ways in which the representation of South African masculinity has changed over time, and been constructed and de-constructed through art". The works exhibited are all drawn from the permanent collection of the Durban Art Gallery, the exhibition curated by the gallery's director Carol Brown.
In a variety of media (sculpture, painting, photography and craft), which span a range of styles and eras, 'Male Order' sets out to show that there is unity in diversity, that there is order in difference. The diversity of works seeks to support the idea that there is some unifying, essential aspect to South African masculinity. Each work has individual loadings of creation context and artistic intention, but these nuances have been underplayed in favour of supporting the broad theme of South African masculinity over time. Thus the exhibition's diversity is both its unifying theme and its shortfall.
The exhibition's proposal is that there is an order, a species, that is male and all that is male is a part of this order. Such across-board inclusion may seem obvious, but this reductionist version of South African masculinity (which makes this gender construct a singular) is problematic. Masculinity, especially in a context as diverse as South Africa, is not one essential entity. There are masculinities, and similarly their representations are also plural. It is investigation of such plurality that 'Male Order' does not serve-up.
On arrival, the exhibition visitor is introduced to the show's concepts and intention by a wall-text. Quoting from Edward Said's groundbreaking book Orientalism, the text explains that masculinity is a construct rather than a given. Although the underlying concept is that constructions of identity rely on power and politics, this quotation is severely misplaced.
Although Orientalism is pivotal in the history of postcolonial studies, it is dated and tackles the issue of Orient as Other and not, as this wall-text suggests, the Black male as Other. A quotation from a contemporary South African source would have been more appropriate to this exhibition, which claims to explore South African masculinity.
In order to categorise representations of South African masculinity, the exhibition is divided into five sections: Power, Land, the Body, the Self (Identity) and Trophies. Some of the chosen works and their meanings in relation to each category are explained in the wall-text. The works selected are interpreted in relation to the category for which they have been chosen, leaving no doubt that the work's meaning fits into the curatorial project. A good idea for those who don't catch the plot, but surely, if cleverly curated, the works should 'speak for themselves'?
For example, the loading of the Pierneef as a quintessential representation of virgin, un-colonised landscape is given much significance in the wall-text. However, this loading does not carry through into the exhibition. Similarly, the wall-text's single sentence explanation on how to interpret the Trophies section reads as follows: "How do men reward themselves and what are considered appropriate masculine activities?" The question remains unanswered by either the wall-text, since there is no further explanation of the chosen works' meanings, or the chosen works (see later in the review). Again, the curatorial method lacks continuity from wall-text to exhibition space as well as in terms of its own explanatory method.
Starting out, the works that welcome one to the exhibition are far from welcoming. Trauma and erosion of self are the end points of institutionalised power argues the Power category, and Wilma Cruise's three nightmarish Bully Boys (1992/3) are a suitable introduction to this idea. They stand as life-size hulks of grey stoneware, armless, mouthless and without individuality. With only a suggestion of eyes and ears, and their solidity of form, these figures call up visions of ominous robots of destruction from a futuristic totalitarian regime. Yet, in a post-apartheid context viewers are aware of the specific fascist past of South Africa.
This is explored in works that confront the loss of individuality, erasure or malformation of facial features as well as works weighted with military undertones. Hentie van der Merwe's Cape Town Highlander's Officer (1999-2000) is an example of the latter and shows only a blurred, red uniformed torso. Of the former, Robert Hodgins' Love of Four Generals features characters with grotesque features - teeth with blood dripping, snouts, eyes peering through monocles - disguised momentarily by strokes of bright, flying colour.
Moving from the Power to the Land section, the transition lacks progression and thematic division. For example, Pierneef's colonial painting Golden Gate (1935) is cited in the wall-text as a point of comparison for post-colonial representations of the land. However, this work is situated amidst the Power works, away from the other Land works. Thus, the comparison is not a directly visual one in the exhibition.
The powerful irony of Meissenheimer's Plot te Koop (Plots for Sale) with its once proud white farmer now offering his land for sale, juxtaposed with the colonial vision of securing ownership of virgin land in Golden Gate is lost by separating these works. Instead of the meaning being implied it is necessary to inscribe it with the wall-text.
It is also unclear as to how the differences between representations of the Body differ from representations of the Self or Identity. In both these categories, works alluded to or blatantly depicted a male figure. Yet the differences between nuanced understandings of a particular unloading of Body or Identity is lost. Patrick O'Connor's Prometheus Variation II and Langa Magwa's New Identity (1999) each draw on various traditions of representations of body, self and identity.
Prometheus suggests the bleeding figure of Prometheus with glimpses of arms, torso and thighs through dripping red, orange and blue. A legend of antiquity is the point for representation of a South African masculine identity, or so argues 'Male Order'. New Identity depicts two (Black) faces, one in profile the other covered with a large barcode. Here is a very different exploration of identity. Has the Black male, in body and identity, moved from an identity as a person to identity as a consumer? Or perhaps, is the visual 'curiosity' now a 'consumable' curiosity?
In their technical production, these two works highlight some nuances. Prometheus is a mixed media on board, while New Identity is burnt, scratched and cut out goat hide. In subject matter, mediums used and interpretation these works offer different explorations of South African masculinity, or perhaps more appropriately, South African masculinities. How do these works relate to their respective masculinities? How do they relate to each other? Are they of the same order?
Many unanswered questions surface after sifting through the platitudinous diversity of this exhibition. For me, the section Trophies, which seemed an afterthought in both the wall-text and the exhibition, prompted many questions. What does Walter Oltmann's copper wire snake gripped in a pair of hands mean to men in terms of a trophy with which they would reward themselves?
Both this piece and Ernest Majwajwa's sports trophy made out of telephone wire are helpfully titled Trophy. Yet should these titles be interpreted so literally? Perhaps I am na�ve, but I don't think that a fleshy, nipple revealing ageing lady of ill repute, such as the one represented by Isolde Krams' sculpture The Monument, would be the order of every South African male.
The 'unity in diversity' or 'Simunye' lens has been overused in post-apartheid politics, media and now art. Uncritically using this lens, 'Male Order� does not consider it necessary to challenge the viewer with nuances. It is a pity, somehow in the mish-mash the works lose their impact for many of them are incredibly compelling. The Durban Art Gallery must be complimented on the works in its collection that reward inspection in their own right.
'Male Order' causes no eruption. There is no powerful jolt of the perception, of a government-driven destructive apartheid masculinity, or an uncertain but more individual post-apartheid masculinity. The curatorial aim to explore constructions of masculinity by extracting meaning from the chosen works falls flat as it seems that the meaning it proposes has been imposed. 'Male Order' presents a postmodern pastiche, a scrapbook of essentialised South African masculinities.
Such unquestioned, uncritical ordering according to seemingly 'essential' qualities has ruptured South African identity disastrously enough in the past.
April 9 - 26
UCT Irma Stern Museum, Cecil Road, Rosebank
Tel: (021) 685 5686
Fax: (021) 686 7550
Email: bpettit@protem.uct.ac.za
Hours: Tue - Sat 10am - 5pm
Annwen Bates is a student of Art Criticism, currently studying her Honours at the University of Cape Town.
