Questioning the Norm Under Fire: The Concept of Landscape
The corresponding relationship between landscape and identity requires a critical reconsideration of the traditional landscape genre in art and photography. The Namibian artist Nicola Brandt urges for a more balanced interrogation of the concept of landscape that leads to a change of mindset.
By Nicola BrandtIn her book Landscapes Between Then and Now, the artist and scholar Nicola Brandt examines the increasingly compelling and diverse cross-disciplinary work of photographers and artists made during the transition from apartheid to post-apartheid and into the contemporary era. She sheds light on established and emerging themes related to aftermath landscapes, embodied histories, (un)belonging, spirituality and memorialization. Brandt shows how landscape and identity are mutually constituted, and profiles this process against the background of the legacy of the acutely racially divisive policies of the apartheid regime that are still reflected on the land. As a signpost throughout the book, Brandt draws on the work of the renowned South African photographer Santu Mofokeng and his critical thinking about landscape.
Landscape and IdentityIn a presentation at the 2019 Museum Conversations in Windhoek, Brandt presented aspects of a critical approach to the subject of ‘landscape’ as it is practiced in art and photography. As proposed by the South African photographer Santu Mofokeng, landscape is not separated from the self: ‘Landscape is not geography, certainly not in the romantic sense. It is about your view, where you live, where you die, that is your landscape.’ For Mofokeng the landscape is seen, experienced and embodied. It can be said that no view created by an artist can adequately convey the profound sense of embodiment of place that Mofokeng speaks of. In the context of the urgency of land restitution, Mofokeng’s description has become increasingly relevant. The ‘western’ historical meaning of land, or ‘landscape’, has little relevance to the demands for land, but nonetheless has a tenuous, uncomfortable connection.
The scholar Renzo Baas describes the mindsets behind many of the earlier representations of landscape: ‘The production of the “empty” landscape, with its rhetoric and rationality of terra nullius, is infused with white potential and disavows previous claims to these so-called “empty” spaces. The colonizer – by first possessing the land artistically – can claim the discursive landscape and start to infuse it with ideals imported from the metropole [colonial power networks in Europe] … The colony becomes a space in which knowledge about the “Other” is produced as much as knowledge about the Self is disseminated.’
“An Inventory of Remnants”, Dias Point 2013. The wooden bridge shown here in 2013 leads from the replica Dias Cross on a rock pinnacle overlooking the sea to the shore. It has since been washed away. The Portuguese explorer Bartolomeu Dias landed here at Angra Pequena, the present-day !Nami#Nus / Lüderitz, Namibia, in 1487. Archaeological findings show that long before the first Europeans arrived on the Namibian coast, the Khoisan already knew the area. Herero and Nama prisoners were kept in the vicinity at Shark Island during the German-Namibian War and Genocide of 1904-1908.
“Chief More’s Funeral”, GaMogopa, from ‘The Bloemhof Portfolio’, 1989
“Next to the Graves”: A private residence in Riverside Road, Swakopmund, built directly next to unidentified graves of Herero and Nama prisoners-of-war who died during the German-Namibian War and Genocide (1904-1908).
German colonial officials with family members in Togo
“Progress”, Salt Pans, Walvis Bay 2011
Herero women constructing the railway as forced labour during the Namibian-German War of 1904-1908
“The Earth Inside”, !Nami#Nus/Lüderitz 2013, Triptychon: These mounds mark prisoner-of-war graves outside !Nami#Nus / Lüderitz. Nama and Herero prisoners who died on Shark Island, or from exhaustion working on the railroad, were buried here. The graves lie directly next to the newly developed rail track and dirt road. They remain anonymous and unmarked.
“End of the Line”, KZ Auschwitz (1997)
“Possession”, Uakondjisa Kakuekuee Mbari, Namib Desert, 2013
German colonial officials in Togo
Lüderitz in Namibia, formerly Deutsch-Südwestafrika, founded 1883 at the Lüderitzbucht in the South Atlantic, named after the Bremen merchant Adolf Lüderitz, entered in the annals as "Meilenschwel".
The colonizer’s imprint, and value system, can still be clearly seen in structures such as architecture, monuments, museum exhibits and artefacts, remaining street names and fences containing vast tracts of commercial and private farmland. In places like Swakopmund or Lüderitz in the constituency ǃNamiǂNûsǃ, the land and unmarked graves remain a silent witness to the colonial legacy.
Beyond the Colonial ArchiveIn the colonial archives one finds documentations of towns, settlements and infrastructures alongside portraits, ethnographic photographs, and snapshots of white colonial agents at leisure and in pursuit of their projects. Beyond the representation of seemingly ‘benign’ activities and landscapes, the archive offers stark contrasts. Brushing up closely are images of forced labour and brutality, and of the German-Namibian War of 1904–1908 during which the colonial genocide took place (see: Johanna Wild, Ovizire Somgu: From Where Do We Speak? Exhibition Catalogue MARKK Museum Hamburg, 2018, pages 8 and 9).
“Notwithstanding the dehumanizing portrayals, these images also give visual sovereignty and evidence of the continued presence on the land of those who lived here prior to the arrival of the colonizer. Nevertheless, these colonial photographic archives primarily reveal the attitudes and aesthetics of white supremacist patriarchy and how it is mapped on the land.”
“After waves of violence and displacement, links to ancestral lineage, and in turn to ancestral land, are now beginning to dominate the conversation.”
At one level Namibia’s physical landscape forms an integral part of the collective psyche. It is a landscape of extremes. Beyond the immediate socio-political representation of land and what landscape means to the viewer across the political divide, the land bears witness within a time-scale that we cannot ever fully grasp. Artists might attempt to draw attention to these different temporalities – stretching beyond contemporary imagination and memory to marks, scars and traces linked to the geological and the primordial and back to the present. In myriads of small details, the landscape presents us its evolution, and its destruction.
Against the background of legacies of occupation, genocide, forced removals and economic disenfranchisement, the present generation continues to fight to have its voices heard, and transmits the knowledge and memory of past (and present) traumas in ways that go well beyond the visual image. They are communicated through aural histories, ritual, in music, in places of historical significance and most of all, in the gaps and spaces in-between visual representation.
Critically-engaged artists and activists, including eco-feminists and queer bodies challenge the mastery by only a few of what should be our shared world. Cross-disciplinary artists, and I include myself in that, use a range of strategies and formats to try and make visible memories and power structures situated in place. Through certain interventions, artists have the capacity to re-map possible new futures both onto place and their own being. In an increasing number of performance and collective works, and the use of the body in their works, emerging artists are redefining their place in the contemporary landscape.
Interview with Nicola Brandt during the "Museum Conversations" 2019 in Namibia: