ansisterLogo home about us contacts events site map
media room sponsors forum dot gallery workshops artist's studio dot research  

Ansisters Event August 2005


Detail from the performance 'Patterns Outside My Head' by Janine Lewis, Rantebeng Makapan and Bonisile Nxumalo. As part of the FACE Ansisters 2005 event, Constitution Hill, Johannesburg.

Copyright © FACE 2005.
All rights reserved.

links... : inspiration : 16

  1. call to action
  2. shush now
  3. poetry
  4. schmidt's clicks
  5. seed persons
  6. hearing visions
  7. mother
  8. gebreekte snaar
  9. voorgevoelens
  10. halssnoer
  11. DNA
  12. Uexküll's spider web
  13. first mothers
  14. clay and plaster
  15. these hands
  16. con hill
  17. you shine
  18. ladybird
  19. Hymn to Her
  20. For our children
  21. ...



is an old fort whose entrance is lined by gun holes facing the door - if they were manned and shooting you had to make it past about 20 shooters pointing into the cart/car width passage

the space is maintained but not over-renovated - you can feel its age through your eyes and pores as you touch the bolts, bricks and stones - installations populate the spaces with signs leading you to Mandela's cell and so forth - walking into the courtyard you come across a chef trimming herbs for a lunch sandwich in the Old Fort cafê and find sunglassed jo'burgers and tourists sipping tea

as your life and the jack-knifed truck drive through from pretoria rushes through your mind - you try to be mindful of the space you're in - the doors that locked souls behind them - the bolts that could never open but for the mercy or mission of a guard - as you finish your tea and get up to inspect your quest of art, you try to be gracious about the walls that look like old houses - you try to sense the dreams and nightmares that got stared into them - you try to silently greet the souls that haven't left - stunned by the presence of lip gloss and glitz - somehow you wish a guide would lead your step - remind your heart - point out the hole that swallowed a certain percentage of soul

so between the conversation of power supply and projection - of installation and creation - of event and occasion - you take a sharp breath at the thing that stretched to torture - blinking in disbelief at how recents it looks - searching for the thoughts of the man who sketched out its dimensions, ordered its wood and chose that colour paint - your natural curiousity trying to pick apart its operations - your instinctive revulsion coiling back from wanting to know any more

in the cells you contemplate the presence and absence of natural light - the size that needs to be measured and cut - the height that needs to be reached to suspend and tie up - and you can't help gravitating quickly back out the door - before it slams and slides it's huge bolt shut...

Posted 10 June 2005,,
author: katty vandenberghe.