Menagerie in thread

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BUFFALO with googly eyes: Grave yet demure, one of the Projekt works on show at Kim Sacks. Photograph by Geoff Sifrin.

A POT PLANT with a cactus growing inside it sits self-assuredly on a shelf. Until you come closer to peer at it more carefully, that is. Suddenly you realise it is not real. Or not in the conventional understanding of the term, that is. Suddenly you understand that it is a constructed bit of illusory life, made of thread, crocheted in the dense and fine Japanese stitch known as Amigurumi. It’s the work of Peta Becker’s Projekt, which blends her ideas and the handwork of close to 40 women from various countries in Africa. And it’s one of many in Connecting Threads, an exhibition currently on show at Kim Sacks Gallery.

Between the crocheted beasties, crocheted hanging potted flowers, crocheted rude-looking cacti and crocheted angels holding wilting yet crocheted flowers, there are more conventional works on show – works that you may have always associated with the Kim Sacks Gallery. These include a considerable body of exquisitely made thrown ceramic pieces by Dale Lambert and Gaby Snyman that feel so fine, you are reluctant to breath near them. There’s also several swathes of hand-printed fabric by David Bellamy, which sit comfortably somewhere between being decorative and being vista-like in their reach.

But it is the crocheted plants that will grab you by your sense of incredulity and you will want to have them all, as you leap from work to work helplessly emitting audible shrieks of delight at their aesthetic cheekiness and sheer brilliance. The stitch work is by its nature in the round, so what you get is a robust shape that’s lightweight yet implicitly three-dimensional. With a gravitas all of its own that will make you laugh.

It’s an approach to craft that ramping up the creative possibilities of women with skills in distressed communities, to high end products and an income in the same vein. The works of Projekt are no easy or lumpen craft pieces that could sit in the confines of what is known as ‘airport’ art or a vulgar flea market. Rather, they cheekily cock a snoot at all the conventions which knock crocheting off the fine art table.

There’s a rich and generous blend of well-made products in this exhibition and in all the shelved works in the rest of the gallery space, which surround the highlighted work quietly, offering a meaningful aesthetic experience. Kim Sacks is an African gallerist with arguably still the best eye in the field. And this exhibition is another opportunity to see how she puts together a concatenation of objects, traditional and playful, innovative and old, that make you look at them differently and force you to dance between what craft might be and why it differs from fine art.

  • Connecting Threads features work by Peta Becker, David Bellamy, Dale Lambert and Gaby Snyman, at the Kim Sacks Gallery, 153 Jan Smuts Avenue, Parkwood, until June 30. 011 447 5804.

A bit of this, a bit of that

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TURKEY tales: He who plays the piper calls the tune. Drip blok by Sarel Petrus and Dylan Graham. Photograph courtesy Fried Contemporary Art Gallery.

TRY NOT TO be misled by the title of this exhibition. It isn’t the third iteration of a computer game about snakes. Or eyes. Once you’ve disposed of that preconception, you’ll feel a little freer to explore the collaborative pieces in this showcase to the work of Pretoria-based Found Collective, clearly in its third manifestation, which promises to allow the voices of disparate visual artists to sing together.

And disparate is kind of what you engage with. Not much information is available on the Found Collective, which comprises a whole range of artists, old and young, well known and relatively new on the scene. There’s an overwhelming sense of an inner circle here, which doesn’t offer much for the outsider or casual gallery visitor to hold onto.

Not all of the works on show fit with all the others, and the essence plays into the notion of a collective that is more about disparateness than it is about a well curated and hand-picked body of works. In some strange ways, this exhibition contains a little of the energy that jump-started aspects of European surrealism into life, by way of Exquisite Corpses – conventional parlour games translated by diverse hands into collaborative drawings of strange creatures.

But that’s just about the energy in the show: these are not all representations of creatures. Some are beautiful in terms of the unexpected segueing of artists’ input. Others, less so. While Lothar Bottcher and Christo Niemandt offer a meditation on a rearview mirror, called Project Project Re-view Mirror, the work tries to do too many things at once and results in being too obscure.

Shenaz Mahomed in collaboration with Cobus Haupt on the other hand, have created a work which blends formal figurative sculpture with filigree. And the result? Rather quirky and endearing while it teeters with solemnity. This little Aniconic female figure stands like a boyish and contemporary Joan of Arc on a chunk of wood, elegantly.

There are horses by Angus Taylor and Rina Stutzer protruding rudely from a Vusi Beauchamp painting and Sarel Petrus and Dylan Graham have together created Drip blok, a bronze-cast plucked-looking turkey poised on a table covered in drips and images of armed artillery men. The digital drawings reworked into something else by Alet Pretorius and Banele Khoza feel a little contrived and a tad overworked, the splotches of cast bronze peppering the wall by Guy du Toit and Lala Crafford, called Lig en lug aangehaal, considers something held in great earnestness with a quizzical eye. And then, there’s a magnificently made relief print, with blind embossed edges by Helen Lotter and Hannah Kempe called Lacuna.

All in all, it’s a useful showcase for the kind of thinking and technical skills that’s happening among the artists in this group, but as an exhibition in these linked spaces, it doesn’t sing with visual or conceptual harmony.

  • Snake Eyes 3.0 by Found Collective is at Fried Contemporary Art Gallery, 1146 Justice Mahomed Street, Brooklyn Pretoria until June 16. Call 012 346 0158.
  • Participating artists: Maaike Bakker, Vusi Beauchamp, Lothar Bottcher, Bernard Brand, Bianca Brand, Tatenda Chidora, Lala Crafford, Jayne Crawshay-Hall, Guy du Toit, Pieter du Toit, Brendon Erasmus, Heidi Fourie, Dylan Graham, Cobus Haupt, Hannah Kempe, Banele Khoza, Allen Laing, Helen Lotter, Shenaz Mahomed, Setlamorago Mashilo, Franli Meintjies, Isabel Mertz, Christo Niemandt, Sarel Petrus, Alet Pretorius, Marika Pretorius, Nkhensani Rihlampfu, Johan Stegmann, Angus Taylor and Carly Whitaker.

 

Can you ever be at home in this world?

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HIDDEN: A foreigner peers through a gap in the fence while angry South Africans protest outside the premises in Johannesburg. Photograph by Alon Skuy. 24 February 2017.

A MAN CRADLES a baby’s head with searing gentleness as he squeezes himself and the child under a barbed wired fence. You don’t know if the child is alive or dead, but can see the wedding ring on his finger and the fear and excruciating pain on his face. And even before you know the context, if you are a human being in this world, you empathise. This could be you, running away with the life of your child in your hand. This exhibition of work by veteran photographers Alon Skuy and James Oatway will burn itself into your mind’s eye as it must: it’s a testimony to the madness of our society in an attempt to breach that ‘never again’ moment.

More than that, this body of over 60 photographs, drawing from the scene of xenophobic catastrophe from 2008 and onwards in various pockets of violent South Africa, is so potent, you can feel the heat of the images as you stand in front of them. You can hear the anger of the approaching mob, and feel the rumble of the context: there’s no place to hide. The collection of photographs on show here is  a profound tribute to the strength of gut, soul and eye of these two men, and all the other intrepid photographers before them and after them who witness horrors happening from behind their lenses and capture them for perpetuity.

And yes, indeed: a whole range of moral fingers get pointed at work of this nature, about the presence of the photographer in the scene. You look at Oatway’s  sequential images which saw Mozambican migrant Emmanuel Sithole being stabbed to death in 2015 and understand the 28 second time lapse between the first and the last. And that all the photographer could do was his job. But it also makes you think about how exposed these photographers are in a context which is not immediately theirs and a sense of violence which can spill without vision or reason into their lives at any moment.

Killing the Other is an essay about xenophobia. It’s a true account of what happened and continues to happen in contexts where people from elsewhere are perceived as a threat to people from here. It’s about how history repeats itself, but it’s also a tiny slice of what makes PTSD happen in the life and sensibility of a media professional. You look at these works and think of what Dean Hutton or the photographers associated with the notorious Bang Bang club in the 1980s – or people in the cut and thrust of any war – weathered by being in the important and terrible thick of things.

The images are not all explicitly violent. Some of them are about people making a life in a new place. They’re about a terror of the unanticipated. And the vulnerability of a person in the eye of a mob maddened by bloodlust. Curated with empathy and wisdom, the experience of the exhibition is focused and direct.

You need to take the time to look at each of these works individually and allow it to reverberate through your sense of self, in this exhibition. It’s not a show that you can glance through flippantly: it’s something that will touch you in your sense of community.

  • Killing the Other by James Oatway and Alon Skuy is at the Johannesburg Holocaust and Genocide Centre in Forest Town, until July 1. Call 011 640 3100.
  • The centre boasts a comfortable, well-designed and immensely pleasant coffee shop called Issy’s, which you can read about here.

What lies beneath

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RAISING other people’s nightmares: Frederik Eksteen’s painting, Hell/Institutional Critique. Photograph courtesy Fried Contemporary Art Gallery.

AS YOU ENTER this intimate little space, your heart and eyes are grabbed by a lion lying ponderously before you. It’s the central focus of a large scale painting called Cave Painting and as you move closer to the work so do other things in this piece begin to unfold and appear. This is one of the centrifugal points to the exhibition of recent work by Frederik Eksteen currently on show in the Collectors’ Room at Fried Contemporary Art Gallery in Pretoria.

Cave Painting is not a work about a lion. It’s about much more. The human form, subject to geometric plotting and cross-casting lies in palimpsests throughout this rich and interesting work in which the artist demonstrates a mature understanding of composition and what can be left blank on the canvas.

The other painting in this ensemble is perhaps even more astonishing and the curators of the show have cautiously hung it at a vantage point where you have to already be inside the space to see it properly. This is a horizontal painting called Hell/Institutional Critique, and snide and sad associations with institutions aside, it is a fleshy vortex which threatens your sense of physical stability. It’s a remarkable painting in which you will lose all sense of time as you gaze as its raw, uterine-like interstices.

Eksteen, whose work has been covered before in this website, here, is an artist who clearly doesn’t kowtow to trends, but he knows them and understands their roots. Along these lines, he has invested his career in developing an approach to his work which is unique as it is honed. The four other works exhibited in this showcase exhibition are in mixed media on paper, and here you see a sense of almost mythological whimsy where marks made, subject matter, medium and the idiosyncrasies of the approach work together with a kind of mad synchronicity that makes you aware of the slithery movement of a snake in a state of moulting, as it makes you unable to turn away from the organic forms, the lizard’s claws, that skirt with abstraction, seduced as you are by the sheer beauty of the marks made.

It’s a modestly sized exhibition, but one that is certainly worth the drive to Pretoria.

  • Recent work by Frederick Eksteen is at the Collectors’ Room, Fried Contemporary Art Gallery, 1146 Justice Mahomed Street, Brooklyn Pretoria until June 16. 012 346 0158.

Fabulously disoriented by the humble toothpick

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TEXTURE that gives you an inviolable urge to touch: A detail of one of Chris Soal’s toothpick works. Photograph courtesy No End Gallery.

SOMETHING DEEPLY VISCERAL happens to you when you’re standing in front of one of Chris Soal’s wall pieces on his debut solo, Orbits of Relating. It’s like being in the presence of a field of wheat or a sea anemone that blows this way and that, affecting your sense of direction and making you want to plunge headlong into the texture created.

It’s an extraordinary exhibition, in this cute little gallery space that has been around for just two years. But the work on show here are neither cute nor little in concept or actualisation. They offer an essay on objects that are so insignificant in your general navigation with the world, that they’re almost invisible: the toothpicks and the beer caps that come into and slip out of our lives with almost no shadow or impact.

Soal has amassed an untellably huge collection of these things and has magicked them into grandeur. The works might evoke what Lee-At Meyerov had done with used tea bags, or the artistic integrity that Walter Oltmann has infiltrated into industrial wire. Indeed, the concept of redefining the commonplace particularly in a sculptural medium is not brand new, and rests on the history of the readymade in different ways, but Soal works with these tiny sticks with an impeccable sense of focus, yielding texture and flow that is fluid in its impact.

While there are polyurethane glue drawings on paper that feel more gestural than impactful, and chunks of raw wood that seem to be exploding with outcroppings and tumours of toothpicks, it is Soal’s work Our Deepest Longing that is the exhibition’s piece de resistance of the exhibition. But still, it begs to be 100 times the size. It’s a steel rope made of a blending of beer tops and toothpicks; working with burnt and unburnt surfaces, Soal has created a woven object which begs comparison with abstract pieces that are a cipher for horror in an infinitesimal way. Think of Nandipha Mntambo’s Echidna or the work of Nicholas Hlobo in terms of its embracing something huge and fearsome but never crudely describing it as such.

When you emerge from Orbits of Relating, you feel a little like Lewis Carroll’s little fictional Victorian girl, Alice – there’s a part of you that is completely and deliciously lost among all those directioned toothpicks, describing a landscape of connections. It’s a very fine debut exhibition indeed, and will leave you a little haunted by the sensory experience, and also with your eyes opened to more of Soal’s work.

  • Orbits of Relating by Chris Soal is at No End contemporary gallery, 60 Fourth Avenue, Linden, Johannesburg, until June 23 2018. 073-616- 3073.

A burnished menagerie

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KING of the beasts, at rest and with mirth, a work by Michael Teffo. Photograph by Robyn Sassen.

IS IT CARVED wood? Or is it burnished clay? Maybe it is made of flesh and blood? Nothing is completely obvious in this biblically loaded exhibition of beasties which you know and others from the annuls of sculptor Michael Teffo’s sense of whimsy. Either way, you will want to eat the texture of these pieces,  currently on show at the SA Association of the Arts. Collectively, the work has a rich numinous quality to it, that doesn’t allow you to categorise what you see with ease. And as such, these monster-animals are compelling and friendly, magicking the smallness of the gallery space into something uncontainable.

There are close to 30 works in the narrow exhibiting space at the far end of the venue, and yet, they sit comfortably together – maybe waiting, like the sculptured hedges in Stephen King’s The Shining, to move surreptitiously when you aren’t looking.  Either way, the play of three dimensional work with relief carvings that are inked up and hung on the walls, is a complex curatorial achievement that doesn’t fight for air.

The biblical essence of this body of work is strong, but stronger is the manner in which incidents in the original chunks of what seems to be driftwood are given voice. There’s a dog that’s also a cock in this collection. And a frog that casts the limits of frogness to the wind. There’s a lion that embraces the joys of his power with a torsion that is as much about ‘lionness’ as it is about a gnarled piece of wood worked on with love and focus.

It’s an exhibition of whimsy and the bible that will engage the curious child in you, but this is not to say that the work is unsophisticated or childish. Rather, it is about grabbing the quirky essence of a beast and allowing it to peer through the reddened or blackened surface of the medium and in doing so, skip the boundaries of taxonomy, with levity and grace.

Dog star, celebrated

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DOG at rest, an ink wash work on paper by Sue Pam-Grant.

TANTALLON PEGASUS IS the quirky name of what appears to be a pointer. He’s big, he’s bony, he’s got a patent and well-developed sense of humour and he’s entirely vulnerable. Lying this way and that, asleep, with his ears back, his legs spread or curled up in a ball of dogness, he is the dog you encounter in Dogscapes, a new exhibition by Sue Pam-Grant. But this exhibition is less about the artist’s pet than it is about her curious exploratory line, and the manner in which she plays with a medium brand new to her working practice.

The pristine space on the left as you enter 33 Twickenham Avenue, the building in which the South African Research Chair Initiative is housed, is filled with a body of etchings and monoprints with ink wash; yet its flamboyance seems muted. Until you come up close, that is.

Nine etched images, printed with the assistance of Newtown’s Artists’ Proof Studio, form a curated whole, framed in one frame, on the facing walls of the space. There’s a series of work laid out on the floor and a series of works in wash laid out on trestle tables in the centre of the room. There’s also a large ink drawing of the dog in question lying in a comfortable ball. It’s exhibited on a carpet on the floor. So, from the very outset, this exhibition pushes classical exhibiting parameters.

As you approach the works, however, all the jesting and internal doggy jokes fall away. Pam-Grant’s cursory, exploratory line, sometimes frail under the impact of the subject she draws, and the intaglio press used to make the work, sometimes robust and direct, investigates the anatomy and personality of her dog in a loose and unprecious line. The line is allowed to skirt with abstraction around the proverbial landscape of dogness that Tantallon Pegasus offers, as it retains a modicum of being descriptive. With this line, you get to understand much about the subject of the focus, the medium she is playing with, and the possibilities of a project ring fenced, edited and curated, very well, in this show.

And loose lines and grey backgrounds might offer a digression from the idea of correctness in intaglio printmaking, you might think. In this exhibiting context, however, and surrounded by the professional apparatus of published etchings – there’s a concertina-bound artist’s book magnificently in slip case covers on show with the aid of archival gloves in the gallery’s reception area – the body of work attains and retains a very particular gravitas.

It is through all of these lines and washes, where things are allowed to bleed and flow together and over other things; where chance is allowed to happen, that a dog is revealed and celebrated in a way that makes you fall in love with him, even if you have never met him.  Dogscapes is about an artist taking a line for a walk in the same way that she may,  her big beautiful bounding hound.

  • Dogscapes by Sue Pam-Grant is curated by Alexander Opper at the Gallery for the SARChi Chair for South African Arts and Visual Culture, 33 Twickenham Avenue, Auckland Park, until mid June. 011 559 7221 or visit Pam-Grant’s website here.

Curiouser and curiouser

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EVERY which way: Geometric forms, a drawing in charcoal and chalk on brown paper, by Gordon Froud. Photograph courtesy Total Exposure.

AS YOU ENTER the upstairs space, courtesy of the architects of the Standard Bank Gallery, there’s an implicit sense of event. This is obviously always the case. But it’s enhanced several-fold in Gordon Froud’s first major retrospective. How? Curatorial decisions have dramatically place a massive polyhedron in your face. This exhibition is about time – but it’s also all about space and geometry and God.

But ah! you might cry, as you summit the staircase, this polyhedron is stumped. It’s got blunt points. It’s dramatic, sure, but there’s something artisanal about it. And then you step a little closer and look at the tessellation wall works, which surround said polyhedron. They may you feel as though you have stepped into a child’s kaleidoscope on crack. And then you realise they’re made of black plastic coathangers and cable ties, and the blunt edges of the polyhedron are appropriate because the whole object is made of giant traffic cones. It is then that the world begins to turn on its axis for you as you engage with this extraordinary exhibition.

Mooted as a mid-career project, this exhibition sees Froud in his mid 50s, offering sophisticated and carefully articulated summation on all that he’s been working on and interested in through his career. And while the geometry is central to it all, there’s an ethos as to where this geometry is found and how it is extrapolated that keeps you curious to the very end.

But more than that, Froud takes the whole of the upstairs gallery space and uses it with clarity and empathy. It’s a humble exhibition that is about the real skills of looking and drawing on supports such as brown paper, but a proud one too, that examines a great diversity of artmaking approaches. Ultimately, it is satisfyingly balanced in the layout of work, which takes you through four ‘chapters’ of possibility.

You do, however, emerge from this exhibition remembering Froud’s fondness for all things Alice in Wonderland.  Not because there’s a Cheshire Cat secreted in the interstices of the lines and circles here, but rather because the mathematical ethos of Lewis Carroll’s madcap ideas are spun under the surface of these works.

And while as a body of work it touches on everything from Jewish to Christian to Hindu to Buddhist splays of spiritual values, it also doffs a cap to Leonardo’s thinking and sees a spot of geometry in the world as it stands. In doing so, it evokes the thinkings of György Doczi on proportional harmonies in nature and everything else.

That said, a couple of series in this exhibition, including the photographs of the figure in geometry, feel almost too diagrammatic and if you’re not in the know in terms of mystical values, they may leave you cold. Similarly, a series of embossed images toward the chronological closure of the show feel so busy that you cannot look at them. But Froud is an interesting character and this exhibition really does go the extra mile in offering something for everyone. It’s astonishing to acknowledge that all of this is the work of one artist.

And further to everything, this society has a troubling relationship of not being able to celebrate its own. For whatever reason. Often an artist needs to go overseas and earn ticks from the so-called “International community” before he or she gets a nod from local establishments. Froud’s show here and now kind of bucks this trend, but for a mid-career show to be mounted in the latter years of as prolific a practitioner as he, feels uncomfortable. However, as you walk through the four chapters of this exhibition, so do you realise that this is most likely where serious fine art in contemporary society is pointing right now: the invested thought. The carefully drawn line. The gesture that is unashamedly analogue. This is an important show for all the right reasons.

  • Harmonia: Sacred geometry, the pattern of existence by Gordon Froud is at the Standard Bank Gallery, central Johannesburg, until June 15. 0860 123 000.

Things we take when we go

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EFFERVESCENT words and the power of etching. Andrew Munnik’s He Goes. Photograph courtesy Fried Contemporary Art Gallery.

ONE OF THE central catastrophes of our world is the untold damage done to people who are forcibly dispossessed for whatever reason. People who are shoved from their land, pushed into hostile terrain. Chinese contemporary artist Ai WeiWei reflects on refugees in his enormous current advocacy film Humanflow. Much quieter, and considerably less dramatic, but no less to the point, is Andrew Munnik’s current body of work, on show at Fried Contemporary Art Gallery.

Entitled Strangers in a Strange Land, this modest collection of six intaglio prints and three large scale paintings touches all the issues central to the horror of loss – that is loss of identity through possessions, through association. In being so, they’re not invested with precious earnestness. Rather they’re quite quirky pieces that will make you smile a little as your gut is wrenched by the reality referred to.

But above all, Munnik makes curious use of the presence of words and letters, which take on the role of lines cross-hatching one another. As a result, texture is cast and presented in the body of an image, but look more carefully, and the words and letters pop out at you. It’s almost as though you are looking at a bag of memories that from far looks homogenous, but up close contains nostalgia and anguish, the things left behind, and those that are lost.

The paintings are less successful in their engagement with subtlety.  They’re less easy to fall into, from your heart onwards. Has this to do with the mix of repeated elements in Stay off the Grass, a contemplation of children in a ring-fenced space? Perhaps, but still it is the etchings that grab your eyes back each time, and capture an energy and an intensity that will make you think about possessions, about ownership and about the value of fitting in. You can’t read the text that swarms madly into and out of focus, but you understand it as text, and tease it apart for the value that the written word brings to the skill of holding on in a society where you might be excluded.

  • Strangers in a Strange Land by Andrew Munnik is in the Collectors’ Room at Fried Contemporary Gallery in Brooklyn, Pretoria, until April 7. 012 346 0158.

Your name, my body

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COMING and going. Paul Emmanuel’s Maniere stone lithograph, Platform 5. Photograph courtesy Fried Contemporary Gallery.

THE WORDS THAT describe you — your name — are among the things that unequivocally define you. It’s a proper noun in the world and something that when you are no longer there, will evoke you to strangers. It is upon this premise that much of Paul Emmanuel’s work on his current exhibition reflects. Entitled Impermanence, the pieces on show draw from several bodies of work created over the last decade or so; there are photographs of installations in the fields of France, Mozambique and Grahamstown, and samplings of series of works contemplating mortality.

Remember-Dismember (2015) is a single channel video playing on a loop in the gallery. It encapsulates the untellable, inscrutable nature of a name as it considers the vulnerability of the body as a receptacle for the names of those who are no longer here. Segueing with his thinking in The Lost Men, this video work sees Emmanuel intimately holding on to the anonymous young men who died in trenches, ignominiously rendered fodder by the war machines.

Indeed, on so many levels, Emmanuel becomes as a Wilfred Owen over a hundred years after the First World War. Only his poetry is in gesture rather than descriptive words. And he takes the names of the young men who fell in various wars and embosses them painfully into his flesh, which he photographs, and prints onto sheets of fabric, allowing them to billow in the wind, forcing the gesture from the realms of visual art into performative spontaneity on the arms of nature.

But that’s not all. This exhibition touches on several streams of Emmanuel’s thought processes, including works from his breathtaking stone lithograph series of 2011, dealing with different stages in life. Platform 5 is a particularly poignant case in point, as is Table Number 12. The work is painstakingly fine yet bewilderingly wide in its reach. It’s beguilingly simple in focus and dizzyingly deep at the same time.

In Platform 5, people come and go anonymously through turnstiles in a railway station. In Table Number 12, an elderly man puts on his jacket. On a level, these are ordinary images. On another, they reach through the span of what it means to be alive, vulnerable and mortal in this world, thus irrevocably linking The Lost Men images to these that contemplate how transient it all is.

While it’s always a treat to immerse yourself in Emmanuel’s distinctive line work and intensely refined focus, this exhibition touches on the notion of retrospective even though it is not comprehensive and the space dwarfs the work. These bold and subtle gestures need the infinity of hundred-year-old battle fields, now grown green and fertile, as platform to the banners and flags of soldiers’ names forced into the soft flesh, the yielding skin of the living artist. The exhibition in all its sense of preciousness and intimacy becomes as a cipher to the breadth and depth of Emmanuel’s focus on the tactile anonymity of war and the scars it leaves in society, implacably.

  • Impermanence by Paul Emmanuel is at Fried Contemporary Gallery in Brooklyn, Pretoria, until April 7. 012 346 0158.