Separated by a street crossing from the concentration of neighbouring galleries, SMAC in central Cape Town seems a relative newcomer. My mistake. Since 2011 it has garnered a solid reputation for supporting local artists and tie-ups with international art fairs including the Art Basel series and New York’s Armory Show.
SMAC first opened in Stellenbosch, where it still has a second branch. Hence the name; Stellenbosch Modern Arts and Contemporary. I was expecting a less prosaic explanation from charming gallery-cum-communications manager, Lebo Motsoeneng, but what’s in a name, after all? SMAC’s flagship space is an inspired heritage building restoration showcasing room-by-room and wall-to-wall creativity.
Indeed, the gallery represents a surprisingly large number of artists. Perhaps the best-known, both locally and internationally, is Johann Louw. Coinciding with my visit, his works were on full-throttle display, the milestone At Sixty curation anchoring SMAC’s main ground-level Artist Room and commanding one of the upper floors.
Louw’s use of harsh, almost brutal grey-black charcoal strokes tells of restlessness and discontent, an underlying malevolence. Onderonsie-Onverwag (translated as Unexpected Confrontation) shows a dog attack — but the snarling animal may be discerned as protector against a man with bad intentions. Either way, it’s compelling, the dark energy raw and unsettling, conveying the context of a country shrouded in apartheid-like monochrome angst, isolated and uncertain.
At Sixty runs until the first week of October, but SMAC generally always has some of Louw’s works for viewing.
At the recent Armory Show in New York, the gallery curated a selection of Marlene Steyn’s works, many of which are now on view at SMAC. Titled Mind Fullness, the wordplay perfectly captures Steyn’s surrealist style — a vision of people baffled by a surfeit of imagery, confused by change, overwhelmed by the clutter of modernity. Wild Goose Face is serene, but also, with branches, faces, and water everywhere, overwhelming. One’s eye doesn’t know where to go, much like us in this 21st-century hamster-wheel life.
Steyn also creates in sculpture, specifically in glazed ceramic presented in standalone figurine form, or board-mounted. Enthralling — part child’s play, part ghoulish, some bordering on horror — these, too, have satirical or questioning titles, making each a comment on individual frailty or foible, or societal breakdown. Two standout, new works are So Full of Emptiness, depicting a faceless young woman, her features and by implication her personality blanked out, and Wednesdaze, unmistakably resembling the Addams Family character, but less sullen, more vacuous, blissful in her ignorance.
My favourite is Auntie So Shill, a freakishly delightful piece evoking the slug characters in the 2006 movie Flushed Away — stalk-eyes easily frightened, gasping wide mouth, ugly and isolated, shunned, like so many people today.
I find Wallen Mapondera’s works a mixed bag. The multi-disciplinary Zimbabwean artist’s abstract paintings are beguiling; clear among the surfeit of symbols are his pebble-shaped icons, little mnemonic bubbles that fuse the unknowable dreamscape into something coherent. This works beautifully in, for instance, the pastel lightness of Gomba Remarara, seemingly a body floating away, the Shona title referring to a sense of emotional pain in the departure of a loved one.
But Mapondera is better known for textile- or everyday object-based tessellated constructs. Favourite Quote is made from egg crates, painted straightforwardly in a vibrant red. A small section features Mapondera’s bubble mnemonic, breaking the monotony of the 1.2m x 1m piece, but, beyond fleeting initial impact, it’s difficult to connect with. At least Hurongwa (Plan), a wavy constellation of thread, wood and cardboard, can be interpreted as conveying a meaning, its incompleteness representing colonialism’s rupture to traditional African life, perhaps, or, assessed bottom to top, how simple foundations are broken, fragmenting life into unnavigable complexities and meaninglessness.
Baba Tjeko’s creations reflect this theme more accessibly. Stylistically, Tjeko often presents collages which fuse Sesotho Ditema mural art or symbols with duller, hazier Western slice-of-life depictions. Warm Energy is an ironic comment on colonialism’s cultural penetration, the young black man’s attire atypical of African dress and more attuned to 1950s American office wear, his enigmatic smile bordering on obsequious. The overlapping traditional collage depicts a woman more genuinely serene, even happy. In Against the Blue Sky the man’s gaze is down and downcast, the boy unformed and distorted, with the accompanying collage a contrast of clear lines, indicating determination and a rising anger. Observed together, the pieces convey a sense of loss, alluding to a disconnect, the discomfort of an identity shearing between past and present.
SMAC also features two artists who create in unusual mediums. Michaela Younge creates meticulous merino wool tapestries on felt, each a bizarre tableau, juxtaposing wealth or degeneracy with mundanity. They, too, portray societal breakdown, but Younge often spells out the satire in her artworks’ titles, like the sing-song The Party Was Underway, When The Waters Began To Spray, The Couples Continued To Sway and Fill Available Ashtrays, the words and image a jolting story of frivolity despite looming disaster.
A neighbouring wall features Frances Goodman, who uses acrylic nails and sequins, her materials a comment on — and challenge to — beauty stereotypes and attitudes to femininity. The title of glossy, pastel-and-pink Bitch-Esque undercuts what is, to me, a come-hither Marilyn Monroe. My reflexive reaction is precisely what the artist wants me to reflect upon. That’s what meaningful art does: it elicits responses and probes for different perspectives.
