The miracle is, in fact, that, given the overwhelming odds against women, or blacks, so many of both have managed to achieve so much sheer excellence, in the face of violent, selective and shifting definitions of history and art, and in the face of direct suppression, omission, gatekeeping, lack of transparency, and outright unprincipled opportunism of unscrupulous gallerists, and their ilk.
Their aim was to raise the profile of black artists and the Afro-Caribbean community through a series of sculptures, paintings and exhibitions. It was also an eye-opener for contemporary white artists as this political movement encouraged conversations on art reflecting culture and the state of how mainstream art did not include the experiences of the black population.
Because she knows all the people she makes portraits of and because she invites some of them more often to pose, watching these photos means looking at intimacy between two people. An intimacy comparable to the intimacy of the photo works of the American Nan Goldin, an artist whose work Zanele Muholi is familiar with. The ‘models’ feel free to look strong: they want to be seen.
The topics raised in the Diaspora Pavilion are deeply serious and function within a discourse that has been going on for the past decades, in which the former ‘other’ is claiming an equal and independent position within today’s world, according to their own narratives, not the ones put forward by the former oppressor.
In an era where smart technology has rendered the traditional role of libraries almost redundant, Funda is laying an active role in the conservation of the history of African literature as well as black fine artists. The incubation programme is developing a community arts publication with a mission to tell untold stories of the South African arts sector, as a form of creating an archive for future generations.