The figure of JH Pierneef (1886-1957) continues to hover like a spectral presence over the SA art scene. His work regularly fetches the highest prices at prestigious auctions. He is an unavoidable art historical point of reference.
For some artists, this inspires homage or earnest imitation; for others, it calls for parody and subversion, an Oedipal mockery of the ghostly father figure.
For Johan Stegmann, Pierneef is a useful sparring partner — a means of exploring white Afrikaner identity, of critiquing modernism, and of experimenting with different artistic media and techniques (in this case, linocut printing). The relationship is not antagonistic: instead, it is a collaboration, reflected in the fusion of their names in the recent exhibition Stegneef Piermann. Stegmann affirms that he hoped “to build on the legacy of Pierneef while simultaneously trying to avoid its ideological blind spots”.
The construction analogy is appropriate, given both Pierneef’s and Stegmann’s architectural interests. This body of work plays with the symbolism of a Dutch Reformed church, the Voortrekker Monument and the Hillbrow Tower, turning each of them into a comical space rocket.
Pierneef’s paintings and prints are generally associated with a rural aesthetic: scenes largely unpopulated by human subjects, with only farm buildings and fields marking the presence of people. Instead, his iconic trees and mountain vistas are predominant. Stegmann jams these together with contemporary urban imagery, inserting the Johannesburg skyline into the “empty space” behind and between Pierneefian trees.
The standout image from the exhibition, Breestr. Boom — used on the catalogue cover and in posters advertising the exhibition — results from a similar clash of past and present, rural and urban. The “boom” of the explosion that rocked Johannesburg and left Lilian Ngoyi Street (formerly Bree Street) torn to shreds merges with the “boom” of Pierneef’s much-loved thorn tree. It is a puzzling, pleasing fusion. Did the tree cause the destruction we see, or is it a mere survivor? Did it grow out of the wreckage?
Despite this big-city citation, the majority of the works in Stegneef Piermann emerged from a small-town locale: Richmond in the Northern Cape, where Stegmann enjoyed a residency in 2020 under the auspices of Mapsa (Modern Art Projects SA). This gave him a chance to immerse himself in Karoo landscapes and to work with printmaker Mongezi Ncombo. Subsequent prints were produced with Barry van der Westhuizen at the Curious Little Press in Pretoria.
Stegmann speaks enthusiastically about the organisations that have supported his creative practice over the past few years: “I think of Stegneef Piermann as an opportunity to celebrate valuable institutions that continue to play pivotal roles in the careers of many SA artists — both young and not-so-young.”
This includes Pretoria’s Trent Gallery, where the work was exhibited earlier this month. Stegmann describes it as an egalitarian, accessible space: “A small gallery/framing shop with work by unknown start-up artists on offer alongside the likes of Diane Victor, Banele Khoza, William Kentridge and Robert Hodgins. Here Pretorians engage with serious contemporary art in a way that is unintimidating and demystifying.”
This is achieved, Stegmann affirms, through founder Stuart Trent’s “force of personality”, balancing “a salesperson’s savvy with an incredible kindness and generosity ... There is a sense of community, with people coming in not only to pick up frames or browse artworks but often just to chat. It’s a world away from the vibe of the typical modern fine art gallery ... it feels a bit like something from a time when a young Gustave Doré would be hustling to sell prints through a small publisher’s workshop.”
Happily, Trent Gallery is also a world away from the Pretoria in which JH Pierneef came of age, launched his career and ultimately became feted by the Afrikaner nationalist establishment. After his death, his work was embraced both by apartheid ideologues and by the “English liberal” arts sector, ensuring that the reception of his work was suffused with whiteness.
One imagines that Pierneef would be rather glad to have his prints revivified and repositioned by an artist who was born 100 years after him, a self-described “critically thinking young Afrikaner”. Crucially, however, Stegmann resists any hint of self-importance, rather embracing a satirical mode that even extends to self-satire.
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