At a border, visa in hand, the stamp of approval, a door opens and presented with infinite possibilities, a marked man confronts the makings of his identity as he enters a new world of many possibilities. His face is an intrinsic marker of self; laden with the lacerations of antiquity, wounds wound with the wisdom of the ancestors assisting him on his journey.
This self, sculpted under a surgeon’s knife, makes the man identified immediately by his own. The angle and orientation of the cicatrix that sits silently on his skin signify his belonging to a specific ethnic group. However, to those illiterate in this language, the scars are a superfluous sign that does not define beyond human. Stepping over the threshold, a passport in hand, each steadfast stamp erases divisions once carved at a table in Berlin creating superficial scars lacking the depth of the incisions that left permanent marks of culture. These marks, which have become relics from a time when transhumance was the main reason for travel, still retain significance even when away from their point of origin. Thus, having crossed borders, followed lanes, and passages, alleys and streets, pinning places of importance, this marked man is boundless and hopeful as his physical world expands way beyond the self others set out to carve for him. He now resides in a space full of other marked men, marked with cultural cicatrix leaving their mark as they merge and melt in a multicultural mecca where they are unique but not separate.
This man is an inception of mine based on a viewing of the work of Kinshasa based visual artist Alexandre Kyungu Mwilambwe. Through an intriguing juxtaposing of Cartography and Nzoloko (Scarification) - the demarcation of the city merged with that of humans, the artist has set out to redefine and question the relationships between people and their living spaces. Stemming from a desire to learn more about his identity, his unique and easily distinguishable style has become a way for him to reframe the effects of The 1885 Berlin conference on the freedom and mobility of Africans. Curious to learn more about this refreshing take on the carving of new African nations, which one may argue attempted to narrow the identity of Africans, merging ethnicities to become nationalities, I spoke to the young and exciting Congolese artist.
We quickly began to get acquainted with each other by sharing nuances of our respective African cultures. He was interested in my name Akworkor, which originates from the Ga Dagme tribe of Ghana given to a second born female twin. I explained how in Ghana, names were loaded with meaning and informed others of many things about one’s identity. My first name alone told people of my ethnicity and position in my family, and my family name was somewhat of a postcode. This prompted us to begin contrasting African traditions of identity markings with that of the West. Having noted that identities across Africa were created through names and scarification, we concluded that African people saw their identity as something contained within themselves. Therefore markers of this were to be placed on the body, either physically or by a word that constitutes a distinctive designation. We then agreed that newer Western cultures relied heavily on tangible objects external from the body like maps, which demarcate borders and group people, or passports and ID cards to prove or show who we are.
I wanted to know how these things were connected? And how they came together in his work to build a new space for all? And finally how they could be used to illustrate a more positive take on the effects of the Berlin conference?
How did this interest become your art language?
I studied art in Kinshasa. When I graduated I felt like I needed to know more about myself, my identity. I wanted to know what I came from. Through this process of interrogating myself, I got together with 5 other artists and we discussed new possibilities of art to integrate self and prompt the same in others. We wanted to explore how modernity and globalisation affect the construction of the self. My reflection led me to colonisation. My question was: If Western people had not come to Africa and the connection between the two had not been established, what would be the reality of maps? When I looked into my history, I noticed that my ancestors, earlier, did not use maps. I looked for an equivalent in my culture and found Nzoloko. It’s a Lingala word that translates to scarification. When I explored the practice of scarification I discovered they tell a lot of stories about identity and sometimes the prosperity or beauty of a person. I then wanted to use this research to explore the perception or representation of people and space through the comparative elements of scarification and maps. I began by considering that now if we want to cross to go to another country we need a passport or some documentation that approves our right to move. Then questioned, without this in older times, what element of our culture would ancestors have used to recognise where they're from. I found this in scarification. As an element used in many African countries, I concluded that it is like a passport of our ancestors. So, I began by interrogating maps in the present form, found Nzoloko as an ancient African form and now both elements are the basis of my art so I can redefine and question the relationship between people and living space.
What do these elements tell us about the relationship between people and space?
In my work, through maps and cartography, I talk about connection and the discovery of people. It is not an element to talk about divisions. Maps create lines to describe and define one space that creates a connection between a lot of people of different cultures. I often use maps of different cities within one work because I want to show how today people from different places share one space. With regards to scarification, it is a practice used throughout the continent with different cultures sometimes sharing symbols. If we consider that before, the body of a person is one of the spaces then the map is the scars on the body, describing and defining that person, who is then connected to many others. Furthermore, now another element used to connect people to space is the passport. It’s not inside the body but moves with it allowing access to space. For this reason, you will also see elements of the passport in my work like visa stamps.
What other elements are in your work?
I use the door as an element in my work because I think it’s a universal symbol. All people when they need to cross from one space to another pass through a door. In a sense, it’s like a border. I use the door to talk about discoveries and openings of new realities. It is like a metaphor for human opportunities and the possibility for one to meet other people. Through exploring this theme of human migration and immigration, I have often raised the question about the reality of mobility in Africa before the borders were created during the Berlin Conference.
What did you discover through your interrogation of Africa before and post colonisation?
The idea of building a space for all which my work is centred around is not new, it was always a reality of Africa. When colonisers wanted to come in to manage and control people, they thought that to separate us would make us manageable. I don’t believe the maps are bad, but the conception of them was. However, humans build the space, it is not the space that builds humans. The borders were put there to separate and control but Africans used them as an opportunity for meeting
What do you hope your work will say to people?
This process for me is to create an anonymous space showing how people can come together and identify inside a space and not be separated by the space. My work shows my belief that people can live freely in a shared space. I want to propose a new global space for all people to live together in a world of many borders. For me, borders have a function similar to a door. When you build a house the door is there to allow you to enter a space and return back to the space you left. Borders, therefore, do not create separation, but possibility and a connection.
Click on the image of Alexandre below to find out more about him. He is currently represented by Calabar Gallery.
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