Token and talent

The question is what an artist does with the connotations of “woman”, “black” or “LGBTQ”, argues Kate Sinha.

By Kate Sinha · 13 February 2018, 02:00

“The pinnacle was surely the Zanele Muholi exhibition, where visitors were expected to take an interest in the lazy concoctions of a spoilt slut simply because she comes from South Africa and is lesbian and black.”

In response to the sentence above, which I wrote, the Rietveld’s management decided last week to bar me and Stefan Ruitenbeek, with whom I discuss art on the YouTube channel Keeping It Real Art Critics, from the academy. That decision ultimately led to a public discussion at the Rietveld Academie.

After the discussion, on my way out, a young woman approached me. She had understood what I meant by my description of Zanele Muholi, but said it had nevertheless hurt her as a black woman. She wanted to know whether I understood that and, if so, why I had written it that way. When I answered that I had written it that way because I really believe it is true, she said to me: “But then you’re basically saying I’m fucked, because if I want to succeed as an artist, according to you I either have to be talented or I end up as some sort of proof of inclusivity, a ‘token’, in the hands of a white curator with her own agenda.” I said: “Yes, that’s right. I also think you’re fucked, in the sense that you will have to take responsibility for this situation yourself.”

No stalemate

What I meant was that she is “fucked” as long as she experiences being an artist as a stalemate of which she is the victim, rather than seeing it as a responsibility that lies with her. Because there is no stalemate at all. Having talent and being a “token” are in no way opposites; above all, both represent a reality when it comes to making art in our society. If, as an artist, you fall within the category of “woman”, “black” or “LGBTQ”, you inevitably have to deal with the accompanying connotations. Those connotations are everywhere: in the way others look at your work, but also in your own head. I notice it myself as a woman. The “tokenhood” is, as it were, lying in wait, and the question is what you do with it. Ultimately, that is what the concept of talent refers to, because the only responsibility you can and must take as an artist is to maintain an interesting relationship with reality. If you do not, you will have to deal with people who do not think your work is good — people like me, in other words.

I believe not only that Zanele Muholi fails to establish an interesting relationship to her position and identity, but that she does not even try. Hence the “lazy concoctions”. The fact that not everyone agrees with me about this is an interesting nuance.

Profound

A Dutch woman who approached me thought Muholi’s work was “the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen at the Stedelijk, not only because it brings some diversity into the white male culture, but also because it is profound work”. Now, I believe one hundred per cent that she found it beautiful, but what does that word “profound” mean in this context? I think that question brings us to the heart of the matter: admiring the black woman artist who makes work about her blackness is, for the benevolent viewer, itself an aesthetic, profound experience. It is a kind of imagined enlightenment in which the viewer enjoys looking up to someone about whom there is a comfortable consensus that vague others look down on her. Muholi facilitates that, and that is precisely what I hold against her. Because I do not look down on her, and I do not feel like answering for others.

Kate Sinha studied archaeology and makes videos about art with Stefan Ruitenbeek.