"Off the Wall"

LAG Article May 2016

I have often found it difficult to reconcile the kind voice that welcomed me to an interview back in 2002 to the tenacious mogul who negotiated many an artwork deal to the daughter who mourned the passing of her mother.  But then again Queen Asteroa as she is also known is a force that resists packaging of any kind; even at 80 she is still every woman!

One might even conjure a narrative of Linda as a protagonist whose life can be echoed and mirrored with almost every woman, but the complexity of the South African history snaps dividing lines of race, class and political credibility further limiting the possibility of consolidation. The mirage that is the Spiritual of the Rainbow Nation is yet to shine a guiding light on the simplicity and complexity of the everyday experience here.  It would also appear that our attempts at redress of past injustices are yet to sooth the pains of our tears.

 Linda Anne Givon was born in 1936 at a time when James Whale’s “The Show Boat” was released to record viewing numbers and Vladimir Tatlin’s introduction of Russian Constructivism had reached a pinnacle in Modernity.  The modern era is not a part of my lived reality in spite of the rambling prophecies of my being an old soul!  I can therefore only imagine and surmise things from the ambient voices of my father  ‘Abuti Sach’ (himself a recent collegiate to the 80’s school of wisdom) and late grandmother ‘Gogo Da’ and even then their point of entry is a musical one, possibly parallel and never meeting this world borne in the mind of Lin!

We have had many conversations about art, the world and life.  When asked about the modern art movement that stirred her passion, Lin noted poignantly that Constructivism during a time of revolution in Russia had allowed for a change in art production from compositional practice to a constructive one.  A significant change that, if one attempts to visualise the meanings of both words, might suggest a contradiction. How possible is it to envisage building the hope of a nation during a destructive time of rebellion? Yet the concept of building as opposed to composing brings light to a way of thinking that promised imagined possibilities sans limitation in spite of the reality that was South Africa at that time. 

Linda had once intimated a time while living in London, that she had sat facing a Rothko work in somewhat of a meditative state for hours, losing herself in the depth of layers, until a security guard alerted her to the museum’s closing.  This Russian narrative though brief allowed for mourning and renewed vigor for the opening of the Goodman Gallery in South Africa in 1966.  For a cultural product like this to open its doors on the foot of Verwoerd’s assassination and the Group Areas’ Act declaration of District Six as a white area, how could one have foretold the satirical performances by black artists at the hands of the Nationalist government security branch during their exhibition openings?

One can only but shake their head and be stumped at the audacity and folly that took place under the teargas that was the Apartheid era.  And the haze of those stomped cigarette butts can still be smelt today.  I couldn’t have known this backdoor story about the gallery before my eminent join in 2002. We were such characters, the GG staff, deflecting public reaction to some of the exhibitions housed there.  An angry photographer taking umbrage to the homage of one his most famous works, or an irate attendant wanting to scream in reaction to a bible installation. Some of the walkabouts that took place in the absence of the artists allowed for a more candid discussion that I often hoped created discussion platforms that could have been articulated in the archive of an institution that now stands 50 years tall.  There is a silent lament for publications that concisely and subjectively unravel the trajectory and tributaries of the dialogue between artist and audience in such an intimate environment.

Why then should there be a celebration? Custom calls for it – it isn’t everyday that such a historical icon turns 80.  Beyond that though it is significant that space, place and memory are given life.  Our old though wealthy in wisdom are often sideline in the ‘bolt-speed’ dash to the next best one-liner that can be burned at the stake.  The cautionary old and experienced voice can often steer our anxiety driven reaction to a necessary contemplation.  There is a grave risk in ‘snap-chatting’ important texts and assigning an unknown authority in an attempt at morality.  Our history warrants better consolidation than a mere review.  But that being said it is also equally important for there once written into the archive to be a gracious exit.  It is my firm belief that every wise soul deserves as dignified a memorial befitting of a president. 

 There is admittedly the reality of our current economic climate, the waning sales of publications and decline in the acquisition of artwork that disturbs our attempts at remembering.  We resist anything overtly luxurious and stretch our already exhausted Rand to honor tradition and gestures of love. But where is this fertile rich Africa they speak of? This ever ready to give rebirthed and replenished place formally known as the Dark Continent?  Who is this Africa they call the future that houses the newly democratic South? This South that is excitedly anticipated by her brothers and sisters and disappointedly coined arrogant?

Or is it possible that these counter-productive perceptions be left to the already thinning teargas smoke of apartheid with a view at the constructive and re-constructive? When the inevitable transition of Lin comes given these parameters how will she and many others her age find resonance?  The birth of my son has increasingly made it important for me to arm myself with some consideration of these questions. Not for the purpose of morality or concretization of what is wrong or right in this current environment, but rather for the eternal internal child that will need to mirror some essence of truth to its image when it sees its reflection as will be the case with my son and daughter.

This child’s salute and acknowledgement of another will need to observe but not immersed in the ambient fear and pain, have empathy, compassion, gratitude and love. Dogmatic religious persuasion will have to take a recessive stance while the progressive essence of the soul advances.  Who knows, perhaps we all have to personify an essential wisdom that resets us to ‘0’ so that we are able to see the abundant wealth that is our country and our continent.