Ashley Johnson |
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Artists
DASART showsTransmigrations - the showFokofoDasart Archives |
I would like to approach this project from an African historical perspective. Before Western man began to explore Africa, it was indeed a dark continent. Oral traditions ensured that Western encroachment had to rely on painstakingly slow transcription by missionaries and explorers. A great many assumptions were made and the continent came to be viewed through Western cultural perceptions. Essentially, the Europeans believed they were bringing culture and progress to backward peoples. The Western literary tradition became part of the conquering process. And yet, when one reads accounts of those times, one is struck by the undying sameness of human nature. The heathen behaviors that the West regarded as cruel and barbaric, are repeated blithely by Western representatives in the occupied territories.
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![]() Work 1 : Death of LucasThis is a walk-in situational painting that recounts an event in my life. This event was the murder of a person called Lucas. It epitomises the mob justice that is so prevalent in South Africa. The painting was executed as a ritual expiation of guilt in that I was unable to stop the murder and became complicit in it by default. Lucas was unknown to me and to the people who murdered him. Indeed even his transgression proved to be unfounded. It began one Saturday morning as I was walking from my studio. I heard a crescendo of shouts and turned to see a man running desperately in front of a mob of about twenty men, women and children. He ran through my gate and confronted me, his eyes wide, pleading with me to save him. The crowd began to shout that he had killed someone. Before I could respond he darted past me and headed towards my home. I also began to pursue him. We cornered him in my vegetable garden and I realised that he was already wounded. I begged the mob to wait for the police but knives were drawn on both sides. The people began to throw rocks at him and eventually felled him with a flagstone. They dragged him off, apparently meaning to finish the job outside my property. Lucas managed to free himself and made his last stand behind the swimming pool wall. In this confined area four men stabbed and hit him until he fell, not without causing some wounds of his own. As he lay, two men held his arms while a third stabbed him in the chest. He was possibly already dead but the mob dragged him off and repeated the killing almost ritualistically. One man even cut his shoe in half before they drifted away. I was left guarding the corpse while the wails of his pregnant wife drew closer. His family and friends had been following in the wake of the vengeful mob. Later that evening, after the ambulance and the police had finally arrived and departed, the father of Lucas approached me to take his son's wife to the maternity ward as they thought her labour had begun. Wending my way through the squatters' shacks I was overcome by the futility and desperation of it all. On finding their home, I asked the woman's brothers what the cause of the fight had been. Apparently the wife had been seeing Lucas off on the bus to Soweto. On the way a man had accosted her and tried to drag her into the bushes. Lucas fought the man who produced a knife and both were wounded. The other man staggered off and collapsed at a shebeen (informal bar) where his friends were drinking. They thought he was dead and set about their vengeance. Lucas tried to escape but the mob hysteria grew so that even little children were trying to trip him as he ran. The man who fought with Lucas did not die. Lucas's wife was turned away from the hospital as she was not in labour yet. This type of story is not unusual in South Africa where life and death are so close together on the scale that it is easy to mistake one for the other. |
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