Walter Oltmann: avoiding the explicit
by Colin Boyes
In what seems to be a deliberate antithesis in both medium and gender to the previous exhibition of three women artists, Michael Stevenson Contemporary followed up with the work of the male sculptors Samson Mudzunga, Kevin Brand and Walter Oltmann. Of the three it is Walter Oltmann's wire sculptures that made the greatest impression on me, a factor that I attribute to the subtlety of his work.
At present I believe that art in South Africa is in the same predicament as a Kylie Minogue song aired on 5FM. Upon encountering it for the first time you are a little apprehensive but gradually you start getting into it and after having heard it for the umpteenth time you wish that someone would shoot the DJ.
Such an analogy is made visible through institutions like the South African National Gallery whose recent exhibition 'A Decade of Democracy' primarily showcased contemporary media with an explicit socio-political message. One might be tempted to disregard my relatively unqualified opinion had it not found reiteration in several critical writings. The critic Ashraf Jamal advocates a release of artistic practice from the 'tawdry and dull enterprise of nation building'.1
By far the most distinguishing characteristic of Oltmann's art is the manner in which he avoids explicit and direct statements, indeed whilst viewing his work I was prompted to question whether his work functions at any level other than a formal one? Oltmann's emphasis upon form and his categorical exclusion of definitive statements have rendered his work susceptible to a multiplicity of readings.
It is his intention to invite viewer participation through the utilisation of subject matter that will 'open up spaces in the memory'.2 Indeed the very medium by which Oltmann has come to define himself as an artist is attestable to memory. Although he cannot recall when exactly the notion of coiling or weaving first came to him, he does have vivid memories of his maternal grandmother's flair for needlework and embroidery whilst his sculptures do also tend to evoke the skills of traditional African basket weavers. This he may have internalised as a child growing up in Natal.
One of my first observations was how highly reminiscent of craft his work is. How, then, can this justify the prices being asked by the gallery. Is it the scale of his work? Or his labour intensive medium? Or is it the gallery environment? Oltmann effectively calls into question the distinctions drawn between 'fine art' and 'craft'. Could the wire curios that are pressed against our car windows at almost every red light, removed from their street and placed in a gallery setting, possibly fetch the same prices that Stevenson is asking for Oltmann's work?
These seem to be questions that Oltmann himself is asking, and this is evident in his choice of subject matter. Pillow, can be described as a hybrid of both his previously explored themes - the domestic and the entomological. Both themes share one unique characteristic - their apparent inability to sit comfortably in a gallery environment, a factor that is echoed in their medium.
Oltmann's 'entomological' works like his Larva Suit II would seemingly appear more comfortable in an entomological display than in a gallery or art museum, whilst his 'domestic' works such as his Flowers are apparently devoid of narrative or any metaphorical intensity and might therefore be more commonly associated with a design fair. These themes combined with their materials and techniques of production effectively question the construction of categories that qualify the term 'art'.
Oltmann's creative process tends to act as an arbitrator between commonly associated opposites. This is evident from the manner in which his works gravitate between 'European handwork', 'African indigenous craft' and 'high art sculpture'. Oltmann's works embody process, a factor that he wishes his viewers to be fully conscious of as is evident through his following statement:
I enjoy a hands-on approach to sculpture and most of my work involves processes that allow forms to grow and evolve slowly into meditative statement. Above all, my work forces the viewer to identify with the time taken to make them and I try to bring this character into a dialogue with the materials and imagery that I introduce.3
In this way Oltmann gently reminds us that categories used to classify modes of production are not set in stone and that they are susceptible to interrogation and revision. In addition Oltmann exposes the prejudice often experienced by artists utilising a commonly associated 'craft' medium and questions whether the division existing between 'high art' and 'craft' has in fact ever been warranted.
Without knowledge of Oltmann's past work, it is quite possible that his underlying concerns may elude viewers. One might be forgiven for assuming that Oltmann's art functions at a purely formalist or decorative level. Clearly he does offer some form of social commentary. However what is unique is the passive manner in which he presents this commentary to his viewers.
By permitting viewers to absorb his images freely and to develop their own responses to the medium, Oltmann clearly illustrates that it is not necessary to produce works of art that express direct and explicit statements. Viewers are indeed capable of distilling meaning from a work without being shepherded by the artist who produced it. Lastly Oltmann's work effectively undermines the categories that form hierarchical divisions within the collective term 'art', which are possibly one of the most prejudiced and overlooked factors of exclusivity that have remained unreformed in artistic circles.
Closed: October 23
1 Jamal, Ashraf. 'The bearable lightness of Tracey Rose's 'The Kiss'' A Decade of Democracy. Ed. Emma Bedford. Cape Town: Iziko Museums of Cape Town, 2004.
2 Rankin, Elizabeth. 'Walter Oltmann: Domestic Relics' Three Sculptors, Three Readers. Ed. Joseph Sherman. South Africa: University of the Witwatersrand, 1995.
3 Rankin, Elizabeth. 'Walter Oltmann: Domestic Relics' Three Sculptors, Three Readers. Ed. Joseph Sherman. South Africa: University of the Witwatersrand, 1995.
