Raphael Chikukwa has been described as one of the leading young curators in Africa, but the 35-year-old speaks like someone older than his years. It's something about the pace he talks at. His speech is not overly slow or deliberate - rather he talks as though he knows that the words matter.
We are in the cafe of the Manchester Art Gallery (MAG) surrounded by tables with the chairs incongruously stood on top of them. Upstairs a team from the gallery is quietly putting up Chikukwa's exhibition, Visions of Zimbabwe, unloading the rough wooden crates and hanging pictures.
In the middle of the space one of the artists and two gallery staff are blowing up condoms. These become pink, yellow, green and black transparent sausages and are being used to make a wedding dress.
'Most westerners would expect to see stone carving in an exhibition of African art, but we are also moving on,' Chikukwa says quietly and seriously. During the two hours we talk he barely smiles and doesn't laugh.
The exhibition is made up of ten artists and three writers, and includes installation, video, photography, sculpture and graphic design with a strong grounding in conceptual art. The artists range from the up-and-coming, such as Alice Tavaya, to internationally renowned artists such as Berry Bickle and Tsvangirayi Mukwazhi. The writers include Guardian journalist Andrew Meldrum, who was famously deported from Zimbabwe.
Meldrum says that Chikukwa's commitment to modern art is also a political statement. 'I remember when someone asked him if he could do something on the Zambezi valley,' says Meldrum. 'He said: "No - the days when we could create pretty images of Zimbabwe have gone. Now, while people are starving and being tortured, we have to talk about what's going on."'
Many of the pieces in the exhibition are new or have been reworked in response to Chikukwa's request to the artists to comment on the issues facing Zimbabwe today. The art addresses the issues of land rights, HIV/Aids, human rights, freedom of expression and the rule of law.
According to Unicef, 30 per cent of Zimbabwe's adult population of 7.7 million are living with HIV/Aids, and life expectancy has dropped from the mid-50s to 34 since 1970. Amnesty International says the authorities are using the law to harass, arrest and torture anyone seen as opposed to the government.
Exiles tell stories of beatings and electrocution, of pregnant women being buried up to their necks for a month and only being given water to survive. All of which the newspapers in Zimbabwe don't report as the independent ones have been closed down. When words fail, art speaks, Chikukwa has said of the exhibition.
But he insists the show is not anti-Mugabe and that some pieces, such as the photographs of colourful markets and the celebrations that marked the return of the country's Olympic gold-medal winning swimmer last year, celebrate Zimbabwe.
Other pieces support the issue of land rights. He didn't instruct the artists how to respond, he says. He wanted the show to demonstrate the artists' mixed feelings about Zimbabwe, to bring the country to the attention of a west focused on Iraq and to take Zimbabwean artists out from under the shadow of their South African counterparts.
'I'm happy. It has been my dream to have a big international show, because I feel we've been misrepresented for too long,' he explains. 'Most of the big curators like Okwui [Enwezor] think nothing is happening in Zimbabwe in terms of contemporary art. This is an arrogant view. I believe good art comes from struggle, and I think this is a new beginning for the Zimbabwean art world.'
The show is full of tensions. Chikukwa is happy to be in England, the land of his country's former colonisers, and happy to be in Manchester as he sees it as more on the 'periphery' than London.
But he condemns British museums for not returning African art and rejects the British Museum's 'world museum' argument. 'I don't regard museums in the west as museums - they are houses of stolen goods. Let those who want to know about our history come to Africa.'
He rejects the South African president Thabo Mbeki's talk of an African Renaissance, because museums there have also failed to return iconic sculpture to Zimbabwe.
The exhibition came out of Chikukwa's involvement in the cultural festival that was part of the 2002 Commonwealth Games. There he met James Walmsley, who works for the Manchester-based organisation Black Labrador Arts.
Together they worked on the idea, which took off after Chikukwa persuaded Walmsley to go to Zimbabwe to see for himself what the country was like and to meet the artists, almost all of who live in Zimbabwe. Chikukwa and Walmsley then approached the gallery.
Natasha Howes, the curator of exhibitions and displays at the MAG, says the gallery is committed to showing culturally diverse work and was very impressed by the art they were shown, particularly the photography.
She says that when the gallery is showing a group of artists from a particular country, it likes to have a curator from the same country in order to give the exhibition more integrity. The gallery has been told that artists in Zimbabwe aren't being persecuted, but given the nature of the material, Howes is still concerned about them and Chikukwa.
Persecution also plays on Chikukwa's mind, though he doesn't know whether the show puts him in more danger. 'At the moment I've got no idea what the consequences will be, but I'm always thinking about it,' he says. 'Somebody has to do it though. We are trying to create a platform for Zimbabwean artists.'
Artists have so far escaped the government's attention. Art, apart from traditional stone carving, is on the edge of Zimbabwean culture. This is partly because the expense of art materials means it isn't taught in schools and also because it used to be only taught in white schools and still carries that stigma. The authorities now judge that art doesn't reach the masses, so tend to leave the artists alone.
So in one sense, art could be seen as failing as a voice of the people. Chikukwa disagrees: 'I wouldn't say failure, because there isn't a platform for it. Although the government doesn't take much notice of it, especially conceptual art, it has always been part of our lives.'
Chikukwa discovered art in his childhood in the midst of struggle. The first white man he saw was an army officer who had come to get his father's gun. He was so frightened, he ran into the maize and stayed there for 24 hours.
The first time he travelled in a car was when he was taken with his family from their village to the 'protected villages' set up during the years before independence. There were no houses to sleep in and he awoke to find frost on his blanket.
The protected villages were surrounded by high walls and electric fences, and had a loud speaker. Radios were banned - his first arrest was for listening to Radio Mozambique. But during that time his brothers taught him how to carve sticks and sculpture.
After school, he got a certificate in fine art from the Harare Art Centre and then went to South Africa, first getting a diploma and then a certificate in arts and culture from the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg. Among other projects and jobs, he worked at the Johannesburg Art Gallery with Okwui Enwezor, before deciding to go back to Zimbabwe.
He returned during the food riots in 1999 - there was no transport so he had to walk the 36km home. He now lives in a township outside Harare, and works as a freelance curator for the National Gallery of Zimbabwe and helps to run the Harare International Festival for the Arts.
One day he hopes to bring a biennale, like the one in Venice, to Harare, especially now that the one in South Africa seems to have stopped for good. In his spare time he helps at a local orphanage for children whose parents have died from Aids.
He also works on his own art. He has contributed some of it to the exhibition, recreating one of the illegal drinking dens where the war against independence was hatched, inspired by veteran journalist Bill Saidi's memories.
He's also working on a series of collages that use the images of Zimbabwe's present leaders. But in spite of the persecution, restriction of movement and financial hardship that living in Zimbabwe has brought him, he says his work is trying to bring a message of reconciliation.
'We have a painful history, but if we hang on to it we will never move forward,' he says. 'There are blacks and whites, males and females in the exhibition, and that is the Zimbabwe I want to see. If art can achieve that, it is bigger than politics.'
We are in the cafe of the Manchester Art Gallery (MAG) surrounded by tables with the chairs incongruously stood on top of them. Upstairs a team from the gallery is quietly putting up Chikukwa's exhibition, Visions of Zimbabwe, unloading the rough wooden crates and hanging pictures.
In the middle of the space one of the artists and two gallery staff are blowing up condoms. These become pink, yellow, green and black transparent sausages and are being used to make a wedding dress.
'Most westerners would expect to see stone carving in an exhibition of African art, but we are also moving on,' Chikukwa says quietly and seriously. During the two hours we talk he barely smiles and doesn't laugh.
The exhibition is made up of ten artists and three writers, and includes installation, video, photography, sculpture and graphic design with a strong grounding in conceptual art. The artists range from the up-and-coming, such as Alice Tavaya, to internationally renowned artists such as Berry Bickle and Tsvangirayi Mukwazhi. The writers include Guardian journalist Andrew Meldrum, who was famously deported from Zimbabwe.
Meldrum says that Chikukwa's commitment to modern art is also a political statement. 'I remember when someone asked him if he could do something on the Zambezi valley,' says Meldrum. 'He said: "No - the days when we could create pretty images of Zimbabwe have gone. Now, while people are starving and being tortured, we have to talk about what's going on."'
Many of the pieces in the exhibition are new or have been reworked in response to Chikukwa's request to the artists to comment on the issues facing Zimbabwe today. The art addresses the issues of land rights, HIV/Aids, human rights, freedom of expression and the rule of law.
According to Unicef, 30 per cent of Zimbabwe's adult population of 7.7 million are living with HIV/Aids, and life expectancy has dropped from the mid-50s to 34 since 1970. Amnesty International says the authorities are using the law to harass, arrest and torture anyone seen as opposed to the government.
Exiles tell stories of beatings and electrocution, of pregnant women being buried up to their necks for a month and only being given water to survive. All of which the newspapers in Zimbabwe don't report as the independent ones have been closed down. When words fail, art speaks, Chikukwa has said of the exhibition.
But he insists the show is not anti-Mugabe and that some pieces, such as the photographs of colourful markets and the celebrations that marked the return of the country's Olympic gold-medal winning swimmer last year, celebrate Zimbabwe.
Other pieces support the issue of land rights. He didn't instruct the artists how to respond, he says. He wanted the show to demonstrate the artists' mixed feelings about Zimbabwe, to bring the country to the attention of a west focused on Iraq and to take Zimbabwean artists out from under the shadow of their South African counterparts.
'I'm happy. It has been my dream to have a big international show, because I feel we've been misrepresented for too long,' he explains. 'Most of the big curators like Okwui [Enwezor] think nothing is happening in Zimbabwe in terms of contemporary art. This is an arrogant view. I believe good art comes from struggle, and I think this is a new beginning for the Zimbabwean art world.'
The show is full of tensions. Chikukwa is happy to be in England, the land of his country's former colonisers, and happy to be in Manchester as he sees it as more on the 'periphery' than London.
But he condemns British museums for not returning African art and rejects the British Museum's 'world museum' argument. 'I don't regard museums in the west as museums - they are houses of stolen goods. Let those who want to know about our history come to Africa.'
He rejects the South African president Thabo Mbeki's talk of an African Renaissance, because museums there have also failed to return iconic sculpture to Zimbabwe.
The exhibition came out of Chikukwa's involvement in the cultural festival that was part of the 2002 Commonwealth Games. There he met James Walmsley, who works for the Manchester-based organisation Black Labrador Arts.
Together they worked on the idea, which took off after Chikukwa persuaded Walmsley to go to Zimbabwe to see for himself what the country was like and to meet the artists, almost all of who live in Zimbabwe. Chikukwa and Walmsley then approached the gallery.
Natasha Howes, the curator of exhibitions and displays at the MAG, says the gallery is committed to showing culturally diverse work and was very impressed by the art they were shown, particularly the photography.
She says that when the gallery is showing a group of artists from a particular country, it likes to have a curator from the same country in order to give the exhibition more integrity. The gallery has been told that artists in Zimbabwe aren't being persecuted, but given the nature of the material, Howes is still concerned about them and Chikukwa.
Persecution also plays on Chikukwa's mind, though he doesn't know whether the show puts him in more danger. 'At the moment I've got no idea what the consequences will be, but I'm always thinking about it,' he says. 'Somebody has to do it though. We are trying to create a platform for Zimbabwean artists.'
Artists have so far escaped the government's attention. Art, apart from traditional stone carving, is on the edge of Zimbabwean culture. This is partly because the expense of art materials means it isn't taught in schools and also because it used to be only taught in white schools and still carries that stigma. The authorities now judge that art doesn't reach the masses, so tend to leave the artists alone.
So in one sense, art could be seen as failing as a voice of the people. Chikukwa disagrees: 'I wouldn't say failure, because there isn't a platform for it. Although the government doesn't take much notice of it, especially conceptual art, it has always been part of our lives.'
Chikukwa discovered art in his childhood in the midst of struggle. The first white man he saw was an army officer who had come to get his father's gun. He was so frightened, he ran into the maize and stayed there for 24 hours.
The first time he travelled in a car was when he was taken with his family from their village to the 'protected villages' set up during the years before independence. There were no houses to sleep in and he awoke to find frost on his blanket.
The protected villages were surrounded by high walls and electric fences, and had a loud speaker. Radios were banned - his first arrest was for listening to Radio Mozambique. But during that time his brothers taught him how to carve sticks and sculpture.
After school, he got a certificate in fine art from the Harare Art Centre and then went to South Africa, first getting a diploma and then a certificate in arts and culture from the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg. Among other projects and jobs, he worked at the Johannesburg Art Gallery with Okwui Enwezor, before deciding to go back to Zimbabwe.
He returned during the food riots in 1999 - there was no transport so he had to walk the 36km home. He now lives in a township outside Harare, and works as a freelance curator for the National Gallery of Zimbabwe and helps to run the Harare International Festival for the Arts.
One day he hopes to bring a biennale, like the one in Venice, to Harare, especially now that the one in South Africa seems to have stopped for good. In his spare time he helps at a local orphanage for children whose parents have died from Aids.
He also works on his own art. He has contributed some of it to the exhibition, recreating one of the illegal drinking dens where the war against independence was hatched, inspired by veteran journalist Bill Saidi's memories.
He's also working on a series of collages that use the images of Zimbabwe's present leaders. But in spite of the persecution, restriction of movement and financial hardship that living in Zimbabwe has brought him, he says his work is trying to bring a message of reconciliation.
'We have a painful history, but if we hang on to it we will never move forward,' he says. 'There are blacks and whites, males and females in the exhibition, and that is the Zimbabwe I want to see. If art can achieve that, it is bigger than politics.'
