1. What do you think is implied by the concept of ‘absence’?
SC: The concept of ‘absence’, to me, implies that something material or physical is at a remove, out of sight, missing. It’s linked to an awareness that said ‘thing’ is no longer there, and a desire for it be made tangible once more. You anticipate or long for the its return. It also implies that what was once centre stage has temporarily stepped off. Whether intentionally or through force, there has been a transition, which I think is where, at least with regards to the latter, trauma steps in — there is an uncertainty about whether or not it will ever return.
2. In the context of curation, what are some of the reasons why anyone would choose to frame or portray absence?
SC: From my understanding curation is a lot like editing in the sense that you have to be selective about what does or doesn’t get seen, based on whatever story you are trying to tell. Often you construct a narrative based on pre-existing or commissioned objects, which, like words, have their own (albeit varied and subjective) associations.
Over time there is a collective understanding that forms about what these objects mean. It’s a product of seeing something in a particular way, over and over again. The more we associate an object with a specific story, the more that object takes that story’s form. This process of seeing (or not seeing) creates blindspots that solidify with time — big, unaccounted gaps in the fabric of history.
The choice to frame or portray absence is often linked to an urgent desire to tell a story that hasn’t been heard before, that has been forgotten, or that has been intentionally or forcibly erased from the ‘authenticated’ version. It’s an attempt to rectify these processes of erasure and account for the complexity of your own experiences.
3. Given these reasons, how would one begin to actually do this – to curate absence, to display something that isn’t there?
SC: I think it begins by pointing out what the dominant narrative is, and how this obscures or alienates your own perspective. It’s about trying to get people to acknowledge that there is in fact something missing from the picture, but in order to do that you need to expose the various threads that make that picture up. You have to go back to the material, back to the source.
4. In your experience, what are some of the reactions that you’ve observed concerning the presentation of absence, or the lack of something?
SC: Whenever someone attempts to shift the focus of the dominant narrative of the time there is inevitably a variety of conflicting reactions and a lot of confusion. It can cause a lot of discomfort, not only for those whose perspective is being challenged, but also for those who are having to relive their sense of loss. It can be traumatic. As a result you’re often initially met with indifference (which could be a form of self-preservation), sadness, or anger.
5. To what extent do you think the idea of curating absence could reflect cultural exclusion?
SC: If it’s handled with sensitivity, contextualised properly, and able to remain open and inclusive, the curation of absence can be very constructive, not only in attempting to reflect cultural exclusion but as a means through which to begin the processes of healing that such erasures do not allow. It’s necessary, however, to note that there are dangers with such curatorial practices. If an artwork that is ‘contra’ is being exhibited in an institution, for example, and that institution has historically (whether intentionally or not) played a role in the construction of an exclusionary narrative, then it’s important that this is acknowledged, otherwise you run the risk of obfuscating and perpetuating such exclusions.
In this sense I view the curation of absence as a catalyst that requires ongoing meditation. It’s important that the conversations that such an exhibition might elicit are taken beyond the site of exhibition and out into the public domain. There should be this continuous back and forth, so that you don’t have a situation where one dominant narrative becomes supplanted by another, equally exclusionary narrative.
6. In terms of public interaction with artwork – what is your take on the idea that galleries (controlled environments) lend credibility to exhibitions as opposed to the exhibition of fragile art (fine art) in an open public environment?
SC: Whenever artwork is displayed in a gallery it is inevitably viewed through the lens of that gallery, which is to say that the gallery space has it’s own history. The artist that exhibits in that space enters into a broader conversation that that gallery has been having with the public for quite some time. As a result the work of the artist becomes a part of that story. There is a kind of authentication that happens through association. The gallery also lends credibility to the idea of this object as ‘art’, but the same object placed in an open public environment could elicit a much wider range of interpretations. It could be anything. Whether you choose to value it as art object, something that is utilitarian, or something that is just ‘there,’ is completely up to you. As such I don’t think either is more credible. It just depends on the grounds on which you as the creator of said object or exhibition want to have your discussion and whether or not you think it necessary for your work to be viewed within the context of ‘Art’.
7. What is your impression of the term ‘de-curation’?
SC: It’s an interesting term. To me it implies a process of undoing, of revisiting the various narratives that we’re familiar with and trying to open them up to new ways of seeing.
8. What is your view, as a curator, about the destruction and removal of the artworks at UCT?
SC: I never went to UCT, so it’s interesting for me to see how the artworks that were removed, either by the university itself or by students, have almost become more visible, in the sense that the conversation around them is now reaching my outsider ears and I’m able to go and research them.
From my experience of other institutions and from what I’ve read about the display of many of these artworks is that they lacked context. A painting or sculpture is displayed publicly, without acknowledgement as to why it is there, what relevance it serves, or what it means, historically. Without being grounded it becomes part of the woodwork, so to speak — part and parcel with the institution, it’s architecture, and everything that the institution stands for. This is evidenced by the fact that artworks by anti-apartheid activists were also destroyed. Within this framework the destruction of artworks is unfortunate, yet unsurprising, as the works are viewed/maintained as symbols of the institution, rather than artworks in and of themselves.
Sven Christian* is an arts writer and curator currently enrolled in the Curatorial Training Programme at Zeitz Museum of Contemporary Art Africa (Zeitz MOCAA) as the Adriane Iann Assistant Curator of Books and Works on Paper.
*All views expressed in this interview are his own.
Curating the Absence 