For me seeing El Anatsui’s work for the first time is like experiencing a Rothko painting for the first time: no reproduction prepares you for the presence you feel standing in front of the work. Each and every time I’m in awe. This is why I had to rush to Meyina, El Anatsui’s first solo exhibition. It’s hosted at the Prince Claus Fund here in Amsterdam and curated by Bisi Silva.
El Anatsui’s work centres around themes of recycling, workmanship, consumption, contains historical references to alcoholism and colonialism, and the works show how human use of the same material add palpable layers to a work. The first work of El Anatsui’s I ever saw was a wooden sculpture in Ghana, years ago now, for sale in an art gallery. It’s why I remembered his name. At Meyina, the exhibition, I was confronted with a similar piece, work from before his fame and before Golden Lion for Lifetime Achievement in 2015 at the Venice Biennale. Having moved one from wooden sculpture, Anatsui is now known for his large metal tapestries, which are constructed out of metal bottle caps from local Nigerian distilleries that his team of about 40 young men work into large, rich cloth-like sculptures.
A highlight for me, apart from the actual work, was the video Fold Crumple Crush, by Susan Vogel, in which we get to see the process and the context in which the works are produced. Though a little too long for my liking (53 minutes!) the videos shows you where the artist works, who he works with and where his ideas come from. Though he worked with several materials over the years, El Anatsui’s leap from wood into the metal caps happened quite by chance. In the early 2000s when he found a batch of liquor bottle caps by the side of the road and he decided to use them for his next work. It’s an example of the fluidity of his process.
The liquor bottle caps get taken apart, these bits are connected by wire and the guys who work there come up with smaller patches. These patches are then arranged by Anatsui, so that the overall result is a sculptural piece that looks like fabric or cloth. I do not believe in the idea of the ‘genius’ of the individual artist, so it was refreshing to see a very matter of fact approach to El Anatsui’s artwork. He manages a production site of which the product happens to be art, but it could quite easily have been something else. This could raise questions about the very fundamentals of the concept of art, but the video stays away from those. The viewers are left to deal with those questions for themselves. I found it fascinating and felt the video should have received more attention.
My main objection to this exhibition was the location. The original space was an office, which over time was formed into a gallery space to accommodate these types of exhibitions. The Prince Claus Fund has an amazing network and I’m guessing it called for a space to showcase those in that network. The downstairs exhibition space is a large room which is opened up the staircase up to the Prince Claus Fund offices. Though the staircase might offer more options and more wall space, I feel they don’t provide for a good viewing. The works are almost viewed as after-thoughts, squeezed into spaces that were not intended to host them. It’s a little too obvious the space is used out of necessity. I felt like the work deserves a little more respect.
I have read that El Anatsui does not provide instructions to those who receive his work. Curators are therefore given free reign in deciding how to display the work. This open interpretation often leads to a similar outcome, with the tapestries being loosely hung against the wall, highlighting the fluid quality of the work. I’d love to have seen a draping of the work in a more three-dimensional way. There was plenty space in the middle of the room to drape over an object or to maybe even show the backside of the work. The work is sculptural so it would be interesting to see it in its sculptural state.
Last but not least, it was enjoyable to see references to ‘Sankofa’, a concept I dealt with quite extensively in my master’s thesis. It’s a Ghanaian Asante symbol which means ‘going back to retrieve’. It’s basically about understanding the past, appreciating where you and everything around you comes from, in order to move forward in an informed way. The concept became popular after Ghanaian independence in the late fifties when the country wanted to cultivate and nurture a Ghanaian identity. It’s good to remember that this is the context in which El Anatsui attended art school. The concept is also relevant in an exhibition which deals both with the artist’s legacy and new works. Now we’re informed and I’m excited about what’s next.
Brain & Guts 