kagablog

review: Mary Corrigall

Wim Botha’s work has always been an art of calculated mimicry. Preferring to summon the precise visual character of dated but familiar vocabularies, he doesn’t simply borrow from the canon of art history and reinvest them with contemporary issues. He has never made an effort to reinvent established visual idioms; because we are viewing them in a time and place far removed from the context and conditions under which they were devised, they are involuntarily open to new interpretations. Botha forces us to place these old-fashioned idioms within our own milieu and it is in this process of identifying their present-day relevance that his art works its magic.

In this exhibition, natural history drawings common to the Enlightenment era and medievalesque linocuts of mythological figures are juxtaposed. The natural history drawings speak of an objective truth, and the linocuts conjure myths that are sustained by belief, summoning that long-running polemic between science and myth-making.

Botha doesn’t reveal any preferences; his interest seems fixated on the disparate ways in which human beings deal with the ultimate quandary that plagues human kind: mortality.

Death has always been a popular theme with artists and the public; the status and attraction of Damien Hirst’s pricey works could well be attributed to his fixation on this theme.

Botha’s interest seems focussed on the iconography of death and how that shapes our understanding of mortality and how we cope with that unpalatable reality.

His detailed pencil drawings of animal skulls immediately recall the quasi-scientific mode of illustration that was popularly adopted during the Enlightenment era in an effort to control the material world.

Even the scientific titles underpin the notion that these are technically accurate renderings. In this post-colonial, post-apartheid era in which we find ourselves deconstructing the systems that constructed racism, we are well aware that belying the naivety of realistic drawings are ideological and political undertones. Nevertheless, this type of drawing evokes a universal impulse to understand and harness the complexities of the material world. Yet, the process of creating such detailed drawings has quite the reverse effect on the illustrator, who inevitably becomes lost in the form of the object of his or her study, only perceiving its surface character rather than its function in the larger scheme of things.

Focusing on the object’s materiality, especially in the case of a skeleton, which alludes to other dimensions, also obviates any spiritual or philosophical undertones. Realistic renderings of skeletons emphasise their triviality; they become mundane objects of study rather than weighty symbols of death.

Botha’s drawings are mostly of animal skulls, so the discourse on death is even further removed from any concrete reality of human mortality. It’s a way of exploring experiences from afar. Much solace is to be derived from these drawings of skulls. They provide a window through which we can view the essence of life rather than death. In Python reticulatus (2008) it is only the jaw and sharp teeth of a snake that remain after it has perished. It’s as though the underlying nature of the snake has been revealed in death. Once the layers of skin and flesh have fallen away, the true character of the snake is divulged.

The skeleton is a curious manifestation of death because it transcends death. While the rest of the body decomposes, the skeleton remains intact - within a certain time frame. The skeleton not only lives beyond the life of the body but in these drawings it has a life of its own.

Yet, its almost homogeneous structure means that it does not retain the nuanced personality of the being that it is derived from. It therefore does not function as a marker of the being that is now deceased but rather, as that of a species. In other words, it only has universal resonance, symbolising the existence of life rather than death.

Undoubtedly, Botha’s art provides fodder for much metaphysical and art-historical contemplation but compared to his last big solo exhibition at the Standard Bank gallery in 2006, this one is a bit of a letdown.

Similar natural history drawings have already been shown at this gallery, when it was called Art Extra. Time Machine (2008), a large installation of a human bust carved from bibles with a long, twisting, snake-like configuration of air-conditioning vents circling below it, does break new visual ground for the artist.

But it is cramped within the limited dimensions of this small gallery; perhaps it is best suited to a museum, where visitors can view it from afar, taking in its full visual splendour. Nevertheless, Botha fans will relish the seemingly incongruent fusion of industrial and religious symbols.

Wim Botha’s solo exhibition is running at the Brodie/Stevenson gallery in Johannesburg until December 13