Guy Tillim's 'Leopold and Mobutu'
by Kim Gurney
Guy Tillim's latest exhibition at Michael Stevenson Contemporary offers a clear illustration of why this photographer leaves in his wake a string of awards - most recently, the DaimlerChrysler Award for Contemporary South African Photography (2004).
'Leopold and Mobutu' captures traces of the colonial occupation of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) by Belgium's King Leopold II and vestiges of Mobutu Sese Seko's more recent rule. Tillim also traveled to Belgium in January 2004, and images of historical sites there are juxtaposed with scenes of daily activities in the DRC.
The presentation of Tillim's digitally printed photographs in diptychs and triptychs is a new and striking feature. According to the artist, individual prints are linked by obvious, rather than mystical connections. Not only does Tillim risk limiting his viewers' interpretation with his choice of coupled images, but he also risks evoking facile comparisons between images.
Fortunately, the ultimate effect is in fact the opposite. In part, this is because Tillim links each set of images in totally different ways. This frees up the viewer to spot alternative counterpoints both within each set and between them rather than eliciting a reductive response.
Some photographs, for example, are linked visually. In one triptych, vegetation is the common element: a soldier in leaf camouflage, a reflection of leaf-like forms and a helicopter's blades bending leaves. Others are linked more conceptually: a path, a landing strip and a train all suggest travel.
There are also direct comparisons. The terrace outside the bedroom of Mobutu Sese Seko's dilapidated Gbadolite palace is juxtaposed with the terrace outside explorer Henry Stanley's house in Matadi. Both are suffering from neglect and pillage.
The presentation opens up interpretation in another way too. It is tricky for a photographer to avoid the pitfall of taking photographs in African countries experiencing upheaval without perpetuating negative stereotypes. The diptychs and triptychs avoid this by the way in which each image extends or modifies the message of its partner.
The conscious framing of the images also reminds us that they were selected as a slice of life from a particular viewpoint. This is reiterated in photographs that play with reflections, including the photographer's own.
Tillim is best known for his black-and-white reportage but he introduced colour at his 2003 exhibition at the same venue. In 'Leopold and Mobutu', he successfully juxtaposes colour with black-and-white, perhaps due to the muted hues he elicits digitally from his colour prints.
One of the most striking works in this series, which also distils Tillim's aesthetic, is a pair of images of a fallen Henry Stanley statue. On the left are the broken off boots, now in disrepair and overrun by vegetation. On the right, the remainder of the statue lies face-down on a rusted steamboat.
Only on second viewing did I notice a young bystander relieving himself right next to the statue's boots. This is typical of Tillim's style: he is a passive observer, watching from the sidelines, waiting for a particularly unusual or striking moment to capture his image.
This photograph immediately recalls fallen statues in media reports - in particular, of Saddam Hussein shortly after the US toppled his rule in Iraq. The scenes of jubilation then stand in marked contrast to this forgotten one-time hero, displaced and neglected.
This underlying sense of the cyclical nature of life is evident throughout the show. In part, this is intentional: the title immediately invites parallels to be drawn between two different regimes, one replacing the other but each with a limited life span. A photograph of Mobutu Sese Seko's famed palatial recreation hall, complete with chandeliers, presents a harsh reminder of ego's follies. The verdant bush voraciously reclaims the space as it presses in through the broken-down wall.
Walking through this exhibition, it is tempting to connect the images with a sort of narrative but it is a futile exercise. Tillim is not advocating a moralistic reading. He is merely capturing moments and presenting them for introspection.
In his own words: "My journeys have been idiosyncratic, often purposeless, not so much to commit journalism as to travel for its own sake. Perhaps the more successful images reflect this; perhaps a pattern can be discerned from their parts. I can describe moments, or trace a journey, by the images I am left with. They themselves form a thread."
Opens: May 12
Closes: June 19
