I once overheard a conversation about John Cage. Two people were discussing a suposedly silent work called 4’33 Cage had composed that had subsequently been recorded. “When you take the CD to that track and then press play,” said the one, “you’re literally playing silence.” “Okay … ” said the other. “So,” continues the first, “the question is: If you turn the stereo to its maximum volume will you hear nothing as you’ve made silence so loud as to obliterate noise?”
Is this question philosophical, metaphorical or literal? Zambian artist Anawana Halowa’s installation Loud Silence somehow manages to skid between all three. (Though the title of her work is less question than oxymoron, but still … )
On a literal level “loud silence” makes no sense as anyone will tell you that the idea of amplifying silence is absurd. Use the most sophisticated decibel meter in the world: silence equals absence of sound. Therefore, it can never be loud, right?
Well, in Halowa’s video, the woman is fast asleep and engulfed in silence. But the blanket she sleeps under is made of wired-together coins that scrape against one another with the heave of her body to create a noise rendered excruciating by its apocalyptic distortion. Those observing silence have their eardrums pierced by small sharp shards of shrieking metal.
The metaphorical aspect of the work is probably its most obvious, yet not without its narrative power. From an artist who says of herself: “One could call me political but I would rather say I deal with social crises,” the work speaks plainly of the threadbare nature of a political economy unable to offer its citizens comfort or warmth.
Furthermore, resistance toward this undesirable situation is pointless: when you toss and turn you just make more noise. That which you truly wish to express remains silenced and growing ever louder because of it.
As for the ruminants on the philosophical pastures — they’ll never come home. I’ve stood next to shoulder-height audio bins with a version of Cage’s 4’33 turned up to speaker-splitting volume and all I heard was the dust on the wires. Of course there are different types of silence. Most fundamentally, one is the decision to make no noise; the other is having that decision taken from you. So what exactly is Halowa saying in her work?
In her country silence is loud because voices have been stifled? This is a silence that needs to be broken?
If the level of noise generated by the rumbling bass notes and convulsing feedback in the video’s soundtrack is anything to go by, the answer to both those questions is an emphatic yes. Halowa’s installation is described as “a commentary on the biased economic world system that we are currently living in; how ‘Third World’ countries are affected; the role they play and how poverty in these regions is ignored”.
Being ignored is a particularly sneering way of being told to shut up. That first noise on its blithe way out now brutally shoved back down into silence could seethe, fester, ripen and return with a bellow so loud the dead will rise and shine. We’ll just have to wait and listen.
The details
Loud Silence by Anawana Halowa forms part of the NSA gallery’s Young Artists Project in Durban and is on show in the Multimedia Room of the gallery until Sunday March 27
Pink and proud ‒ local and lovely
It’s not all drag queens and feathers flying in the local content of this year’s Out in Africa gay and lesbian film festival. Rather, the stories of male cross-dressers and gay family conflicts are used to explain deeper issues that cut through society.
Albert Venter’s feature documentary Clora Venus, a tribute to the life of cabaret artist Leoness von Cleef, is most impressive. Made over a four- year period, the work engages the real life individuals who knew and performed with Rafiq Isaacs — father, former Quranic instructor and drag diva who committed suicide in 2001. Gay citizens of Johannesburg will enjoy a nostalgic trip into a previous era when clubs and bars hosted the garish antics of Von Cleef’s troupe The Pussies Galore.
While Clora Venus dwells on the tragedy of malfunctioning families, another documentary, about lesbians who adopt children, shows the success of the new family unit. Two Moms is directed by Luiz de Barros and Andile Genge. It’s a touching look at a well-to-do lesbian couple who challenged and changed the course of South African legislation when they took the issue of adoption rights to the Constitutional Court. Judge Anna-Marie de Vos and her partner Suzanne du Toit live an exemplary family existance in the wealthy enclave of Plettenberg Bay.
De Vos commutes to work in Pretoria while their adopted kids manage to live a surprisingly normal life. This involves hanging out on the family farm, horse riding, attending Knysna’s Pink Loerie bash with their folks and finding a language with which to explain their existence to their friends.
On the opposite side of society we have the township life described in Sipho Singiswa and Gillian Schutte-Singiswa’s remarkable documentary Umgidi: The Celebration. Like the previous works, Umgidi is frank, enlightening and, above all, well told.
Having been imprisoned (and circumcised) on Robben Island, Singiswa endeavours to return to his place of incarceration in order to make an ancestral offering. A family conflict ensues when his gay younger brother, who has refused to be circumcised, attempts suicide.
Schutte and Singiswa have made a highly relevant and emotionally charged documentary that spares nothing and shows African society confronting taboos. But through this the Singiswa family has found a vocabulary to discuss issues of gender identity.
The local work also includes a feature documentary about women poets, two short animations and short fiction. — Matthew Krouse
Details: The festival takes place in Gauteng at Cinema Nouveau until April 3. The Cape Town season is at Cinema Nouveau at the V&A Waterfront from April 1 to 17. Tel: (021) 461 4027/63 or visit www.oia.co.za.