ERF 81 or the Tamboerskloof farm, an ex-military space and a site layered with historical narrative, is threatened by gentrification. When Andre Laubscher moved in together with his family in 1995, the land was turned into a farm and in the process a vibrant, creative community began to form where artists, musicians and writers set to work. Moreover, it became a haven for abandoned children, a place for vegetable growing and markets as well as a conservatory for endangered animals. However, recently the residents have been served eviction notices and Erf 81 is on the verge of a meltdown. The UCT Michaelis Centre for the Archive with the help of Pippa Skotnes, Barnabas Mushuti and Lyndall Cain in collaboration with Photographer Ashley Walters and residents Dirk Winterbach and Andre Laubscher wish to fight for the plight of the farm and what it represents and thus this show forms an important step in hopefully averting the farms’ succumbing to such land appropriation or repossession. To save this vibrant community, petitions have been signed and this exhibition therefore marks an important statement of social commentary or rather more specifically, arts’ capacity to address current social issues. This kind of issue of course is pertinent the world over, but in particular to South Africa where land issues remain highly contested.
In general, Walters photographs are crisp and clean. They exhibit, on the one hand the vibrant life of the place, while on the other hand, many images are illuminated by a curious light that appears threatening. Essentially, the light appears to be contrived, rather than the natural light of the day. In a sense then the photographs present a duality: the spirit of the people and the details of the environment as well as an eerie light. Perhaps this reflects the current situation as the place is at once a hub of energetic, creative activity, while also seeming to reach a nadir, a twilight, the dark night wherein the future is uncertain, where sleep, death and an end is a reality.
The possibility of this bleak outcome is further expressed or represented by the sculptural installations, where there is as much a sense of documenting and archiving, as there is a sense of alive vibrancy. In this sense, there is a depressing sense of loss and an attempt to somewhat arrest time as the impending future looms large. This is then strengthened, as it were with Winterbach’s sculptures of guns and masks. The guns are well-made, but not functional, so that while the land battle is real, it is also fictional, that is, art is what is deeply celebrated at this space/place. It would therefore be a great loss if it were to be no more. In that case, art’s weapons became ineffective and the “real guns” prove unassailable. I am not sure precisely how to interpret the masks. Perhaps they refer to the spirit-energy and playfulness of the place, yet placed under museum-like cabinets and the like, they are transformed into dead and vacuous objects. Their provenance and their fate remain unknown.
In sum: One hopes that the fate of the farm will be saved from industrial and competitive markets, and remains a centre for art, an orphanage of sorts and a natural environment that supports its inhabitants. One cabinet with many paintbrushes metaphorically allude to the choice that is now faced: Will Erf 81 lead to a creative painting in literal and figurative terms or will the farm, like the brushes merely be a memory and no longer tools with which to create, grow and expand consciousness? A modicum of time with Walters photographs suggest that this bifurcation remains so until a decision is made. But what these photographs also tell is that there is a texture and richness to the area and its people that would be a great loss should it not survive. To this end, the exhibition has little to do with mere market politics and economics as it does with social conscience. A welcome pool of water in a world where art is merely objectified as good investment or pretty design…
