Going Local: New country, new canvas

Have trends in art shifted since the first democratic election? Do we perceive art differently? Has there been an attempt to break down barriers?

The exhibition that recently opened at Pietermaritzburg's Tatham Gallery, The Art of Democracy: 20 Years of Collecting, tackles these questions through a selection of work acquired by the gallery over this period.

When the gallery's director, Brendan Bell, initially heard that arts and culture in KwaZulu-Natal was encouraging museums to mount displays relating to 20 years of democracy, he was inclined to ignore what he considered a "PC celebratory PR exercise".

Then he changed his mind; this would be an opportunity to reflect on the collection, on changes to acquisition policy, and on how art acquired during this period mirrored political, social and economic transformation. Had gaps been filled? What was the position of the African versus Western aesthetic, or of craft versus art?

"In working with this show, I realised the extent to which social issues have dominated," says Bell, "although not to the exclusion of aesthetic concerns and logical growth of the collection as a whole."

Local craft work had, of course, been collected by the Tatham long before Bell's appointment but under his leadership the trend was formalised. "It had been acquired on an ad hoc basis and we needed historical representivity. Take beer drinking pots, for example: how were they used in the past and how over the course of time have they changed from a domestic utensil into aesthetic objects in their own right?"

Over the past two decades the Tatham has consciously become a repository of local art and has assumed a specific, regionalised character. "I'd always felt that representing the region was as important as purchasing works by highly acclaimed South African artists," says Bell. "When tourists come they want to see local works."

There have been many other changes to the gallery's policy and procedure framework, all thoroughly debated and thought through over many years, says Bell. These have included, for example, purchasing work that might have previously been termed "ethnographic, naive, genre or primitive" as well as a deliberate attempt to collect works that reflect the "cultural traditions of the major cultural groups of KwaZulu-Natal".

Works making up the exhibition have largely been included within displays throughout the museum rather than being isolated in the main exhibition room. All relevant work is identified by a coloured label. "It makes more sense," says Bell. "The works then make conversations. They are hung with the intention of inviting comments and questions."

Many of the labels include comments and questions that direct a viewer's attention beyond what is immediately apparent, to broader issues. An example is a work by Progress Matubaku called Something for Growth. It shows an image based on the iconic 1976 Hector Pieterson photograph. The label reads: "In the painting, the body of the student is replaced by a small bundle wrapped in the new South African flag, delicately cushioned. What does it contain? Black cherubs hold up an empty banner. What images would you suggest to symbolise the first 20 years of South Africa's freedom?"

For Bell the role of public galleries is vital. He says resistance to "cutting-edge" contemporary art expression is grounded in ignorance. "People need to feel safe, but art museums can provide opportunities for deeper engagement with contemporary expressions."