In last week’s column, I gave a rather sunny account of arts and culture partnerships between Europe and the postcolonial Global South. The creative economy in a country such as SA is buoyed by European cultural funding entities — from Germany and France in particular, but also Switzerland, the Netherlands and many more.
It could be argued that such an acquired dependence (a function of the dismal support provided by the SA government) facilitates the exercise of “soft power” on the part of former imperialists. This is a moot point. The funding, institutional support and networking opportunities offered by these programmes promote cultural production in SA and also often enable our artists to find new audiences for their work.
The reception of African arts and artists in Europe is, of course, a contested subject. Historically, from theatre to music and visual arts, there has been a tendency to view African artists in exoticised, “Orientalist” terms — that is, the artists and their work have not been allowed to escape predetermining Eurocentric frameworks that implicitly or explicitly consign the (racially marked) Other to an inferior, subservient position.
This has started to change as Europe’s demographics have shifted; cities have become more cosmopolitan, diverse places, and younger generations who have grown up over the past three decades are less likely to assume cultural superiority over those who come from the Global South.
There remains, however, much to be done in shifting collective attitudes towards African people: dangerous stereotypes and generalisations persist, and what may appear to be benevolent ignorance has the effect of perpetuating them. Exposure to African artists is a crucial part of educating European publics out of their prejudices.
The final leg of my recent visit to Germany was a trip to Bayreuth in Bavaria. Long associated with Richard Wagner, whose operas are performed annually at a festival that he initiated — Wagner was not known for his modesty — the city also boasts a vibrant, modern university campus. Among the University of Bayreuth’s strengths is a large interdisciplinary African Studies research and teaching programme.
In 1981, six years after the institution opened, Ulli and Georgina Beier founded a museum “for modern and contemporary art with a connection to Africa”; this would later come to be known as Iwalewahaus, a name folding the Yoruba phrase Iwà l’ewà (“character is beauty”) into a German “home” for African art.
Located in the city centre, Iwalewahaus is a three-storey edifice that seems to match the buildings surrounding it; over the road is the famous Margravial Opera House, a temple to the Baroque excesses of 18th-century opera and to European Hochkultur more generally. Yet behind this imposing façade is a deliberately diverse and inclusive space. When I was given a tour by Bayreuth scholar Ifeoluwa Aboluwade, we entered by a back door, passing a huge mural inspired by traditional African masks and stylised portraits.
Dozens of works from the Iwalewahaus collection are on display as part of the multi-part exhibition Bewegte Versammlungen/Floating Assemblies, including paintings and sculptures by SA artists Deborah Bell, Mbongeni Buthelezi and Talya Lubinski. The art of the everyday in Ghana is represented by Paa Joe’s elaborate and colourful coffins, as well as posters advertising hair salons.
The Iwalewahaus mission to challenge Germans’ perceptions about Africa remains an urgent one. Just a few hundred metres away, in Bayreuth’s pedestrian shopping district, there is an outlet of the pharmacy chain Mohren Apotheke. Mohren means “Moors” but has been employed for hundreds of years as a clumsy reference to black people, often attached to commercial products (Mohrenkopf is still used by many Germans to describe a chocolate-covered confectionery item). These items, in turn, are commonly accompanied by racist caricatures of blackness in company logos. I was astonished to see, proudly embossed on Mohren Apotheke’s shop front windows, three or four variations on this theme.
The next day, a news story broke about a customer who confronted a bakery in the town of Herford in northern Germany about its ongoing use of the term Mohrenkopf, reigniting a long-standing controversy. It may be a coincidence, but when I walked past the Mohren Apotheke two days later, the windows were clear. I’m taking this as a sign of progress.
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