Jesi Khadivi on O Quilombismo – Review

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The reopening of Berlins Haus der Kulturen der Welt was marked by three days of performances, concerts, lectures, readings, rituals and blessings under the banner Acts of Opening Again: A Choreography of Togetherness. Those familiar with new Bonaventure director Soh Bejeng Ndikungs’ program at Savvy Contemporary, which he founded in 2009 and quickly established as a forum for deliberation, experimentation and sociability, will recognize his continued philosophy of conviviality and hospitality as an integral aspect of the institution. -building. Yet how could such values ​​translate to the larger scale of a bureaucratic German institution, which operates within different parameters than more fluidly structured art spaces? How does a curatorial stance of cultivating intimate spaces within institutions ultimately expand the channels through which we can engage with art and each other? How does an invisible curatorial material like intimacy manifest itself in an exhibition? And finally, how could such a policy of conviviality be implemented within what Ndikung called the belly of the beast? These questions ran through my reflection on O Quilombismo, a show whose concept and content are entirely intertwined with the act of thinking how to institute.

The inaugural exhibition of HKW’s new program is inspired by a political ideology inspired by the quilombo, remote communities of colonial Brazil organized by escaped African slaves between the 16th and 19th centuries. Theorized by figures such as artist, poet, activist and politician Abdias Nascimento and militant academic Beatriz Nascimento, the notion of quilombismo gained momentum under the auspices of black liberation movements in Brazil during the second half of the 20th century who celebrated the quilombo as an autonomous space of freedom and liberation. This exhibition does not simply approach the quilombo as historical fact, but draws on it as a critical and narrative tool, asking how historical quilombos found on the African and South American continents might help us understand how generative spaces and in other words, the type of space that the new Haus der Kulturen der Welt strives to be.

In a subtle spatial reflection of the decentralized, non-hierarchical quality of the quilombo, the exhibition spans the entire building. Ibrahim Mahamas E PAIN ME (2023), an installation of historic hand-woven fabrics, covers the new Les Nana Benz terrace, while murals by Alberto Pitta depicting stories related to the Yoruba deity Ogum cover the facade of the buildings . A pictographic visual score by Tanka Fonta encircles the museum’s airy lobby, while hanging barkcloth works by Nikau Hindin lend a sense of lightness and possibility consistent with the traditional Maori use of manu kites for divination. and communication. In what was once HKW’s main exhibition space, now renamed Mrinalini Mukherjee Hall in honor of the famous sculptor, a floor mural by Nontsikelelo Mutiti meanders throughout the room.

Drawing on the artists’ research into the social and aesthetic dimension of hair braiding, a practice linked to social belonging and intergenerational bonds that has also historically been used as a means of conveying slavery escape cardsKubatana (together/unity/connection/touch/hold) (2023) traces a path through works that examine notions of collectivity, solidarity, storytelling, spirituality, transformation, and human relationships with non-human agents. In the adjacent Beatriz Nascimento Room, vibrant graphic paintings by Abdias Nascimento and Rubem Valentim, who draw their mostly abstract forms from the Afro-Brazilian candombl religion, share the space with work by Farid Belkahia, whose densely gridded painting Patchwork Culturel (1979) alternates squiggles, lines and patterned geometric shapes with Tifinagh letters. Maria Auxiliadoras painting Samba (1969) and Mallica Kapo Reynoldss Kubalee (1972) depict groups of people engaged in daily and vital practices such as sharing a meal, cultivating gardens or dancing.

In many exhibition spaces, the works are installed against brightly colored walls; the din of the video works seeps between the zones and the sound works infuse the visual experience with a palpable sense of rhythm. Such spatial and sensuous curatorial choices run counter to the presumed neutrality of the traditional white cube museum space. The decision to forgo didactic wall texts, while at times leaving the viewer feeling a bit lost and rudderless, also brings to the fore what appears to be a conscious conservative emphasis on the whole rather than individual parts. , thus positioning the exhibition as a holistic physical experience that prioritizes a sense of being and occupying the space as much as absorption in an individual work of art.

O Quilombismoand indeed the new Haus der Kulturen der Weltis program is anything but neutral, a stance that finds its highest expression in the overall project to rebrand the buildings steeped in history into a myriad of halls, corridors and auditoriums. Part of the post-war Interbau project undertaken in the late 1950s in a divided Berlin, Hugh Stubbins’ former Kongresshalle was built on an artificial mound to ensure its visibility from the former East Berlin. As the curator and theorist Doreen Mende has noted, it was built on the premises of liberal democracy and the idea of ​​freedom, which in this context was a tool of war. Ndikung and his team of curators graft another conception of freedom onto the house, informed and propelled by the radical poets, artists, activists and politicians whose names now adorn every nook and cranny of HKW’s iconic architecture. Perhaps these spaces, like the quilombos that Ndikung talks about in the reader accompanying the exhibition, can serve as a space from which to wage the ongoing struggle. Space in which momentum can be collected. Time will tell us.

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