From where I’m standing
Discussing the politics of representation
Last month the Institute of International Visual Arts (Iniva) hosted the second in its series Significant Voices, giving the floor to the artist Yinka Shonibare.
The packed audience got a real sense of what makes Shonibare tick. With humour and honesty the artist talked about his early years, his Yoruba heritage and post-colonialism.
Shonibare’s trademark – African Batik, often on fictional figures from British aristocracy, has an interesting story behind it.
In the 1980s, says Shonibare, Margaret Thatcher talked of returning to Victorian values. “Victorian” used to scare him, as it conjured notions of the Heart of Darkness. But he made a choice. Instead of running from it he embraced it and pushed it further.
“It was okay for Picasso to mess around with African heritage. My exotic is Victoriana,” he says, “It is my fetishisation of European culture.”
Born in London, he left for Lagos as a toddler, to return as a 17-year-old. With middle-class parents, Shonibare says he always felt the right to occupy the centre and couldn’t fully grasp “why one group would be unfair to another group, especially racially”.
So he read texts and explored the historical situation that led to the inequalities. He says he visited places such as the Museum of Mankind to help him to understand cultural stereotypes.
He never had any feeling of being the “other” until his art professor questioned why he wasn’t producing “authentic African art”, when he preferred to interpret Perestroika.
Shonibare makes it quite clear that his art is not about the representation of politics but the politics of representation.
“I’m not interested in the polemic – it’s about engaging in an entertaining and seductive way.” And he adds: “I could say something very political but not so political that my audience would want to kill me.”
He emphasises that art for him is largely about embracing his need for expression – he makes art for himself and if others can enjoy it, well, good.
The packed audience got a real sense of what makes Shonibare tick. With humour and honesty the artist talked about his early years, his Yoruba heritage and post-colonialism.
Shonibare’s trademark – African Batik, often on fictional figures from British aristocracy, has an interesting story behind it.
In the 1980s, says Shonibare, Margaret Thatcher talked of returning to Victorian values. “Victorian” used to scare him, as it conjured notions of the Heart of Darkness. But he made a choice. Instead of running from it he embraced it and pushed it further.
“It was okay for Picasso to mess around with African heritage. My exotic is Victoriana,” he says, “It is my fetishisation of European culture.”
Born in London, he left for Lagos as a toddler, to return as a 17-year-old. With middle-class parents, Shonibare says he always felt the right to occupy the centre and couldn’t fully grasp “why one group would be unfair to another group, especially racially”.
So he read texts and explored the historical situation that led to the inequalities. He says he visited places such as the Museum of Mankind to help him to understand cultural stereotypes.
He never had any feeling of being the “other” until his art professor questioned why he wasn’t producing “authentic African art”, when he preferred to interpret Perestroika.
Shonibare makes it quite clear that his art is not about the representation of politics but the politics of representation.
“I’m not interested in the polemic – it’s about engaging in an entertaining and seductive way.” And he adds: “I could say something very political but not so political that my audience would want to kill me.”
He emphasises that art for him is largely about embracing his need for expression – he makes art for himself and if others can enjoy it, well, good.