Simon NJAMI - Jocelyn VALTON
In conversation
Art in Caribbean - A way to defy
History
Simon Njami is an independent curator. He was born in 1962 in Lausanne, Switzerland
although his roots are in Cameroon. He was brought up in Switzerland and attended
university there. In the early 1990s he was a
founding member and editor-in-chief of Revue
Noire, a magazine covering contemporary art and literature from Africa to
the Caribbean. He was the artistic director of
Rencontres de la
photographie africaine [Encounters with African photography] in Bamako and
the general curator for the Africa Remix
exhibition, which toured Museum Kunst Palast in Düsseldorf, the Hayward Gallery
in London, the Pompidou Centre in Paris, the Mori Art Museum in Tokyo and
Johannesburg over the period 2004 to 2007. In
2007 he was one of the curators for the African pavilion at the 52nd
Venice Biennale, Check List Luanda Pop,
and he is a visual arts consultant to Cultures France.
Simon Njami has
also published several novels, including Coffin
and Co. (Lieu Commun, 1985), African Gigolo (Seghers, 1989) and two biographies, James Baldwin
ou le devoir de violence [James Baldwin or the duty of violence] (Seghers,
1991) and C’était Senghor [It was
Senghor] (Fayard, 2006).
This conversation took place between December 2010 and
April 2012, with intervals lasting months, in Milan, Monaco, Cairo, Paris and
Guadeloupe. Published in the exhibition catalogue of "Who More Sci-Fi Than
Us, Contemporary Art From The Caribbean", but without the most "political
questions", here is the complete version.
* *
*
JV-1: Could
you tell us about the circumstances leading to Fondation Clément’s call on you
to curate 3x3, this succession of
exhibitions deployed
in three Parisian galleries as a ‘triptych’?
SN-1: It
follows a discussion that arose from the Parcours
Martinique event. This was held in Habitation Clément, a former plantation
home in Le François, in 2008 and was largely funded by the Fondation
Clément. This foundation wanted to get
involved in a project that would present artists from the region to the outside
world. That was how 3x3 was conceived. My idea was to
expose these rather protected artists to a more rigorous environment. And what could be more rigorous than the world of
commercial galleries where every artist is assigned a position on the basis of
the unrelenting criteria of the international market rather than considerations
of local history? I saw several benefits here. The first was that I would be putting these artists
in the real-life situation of exhibiting their work in one of the major art
capitals, where they would have to face the professional demands of such an
exhibition. The second advantage was that they would be exposed to real
reviews, not judging them by local values but giving an assessment of their
global position, thus showing each artist how they stood in global terms. The
third benefit was in arranging PR that was not purely due to a generous
benefactor but would, or could, let these artists profit from their work, a return
which (I repeat) is more objective and neutral than what they would get in an
environment without a proper market or major critical apparatus. Ultimately I hoped to see more long-term
partnerships emerging between the artists and the galleries representing them.
JV-2: Beaux Arts Magazine marked the occasion
by issuing a supplement; on its cover, in big letters, was a quote by Olivier
Poivre d’Arvor, the director of Cultures France: “The
Caribbean’s time has come”. Further on, the
art critic Emmanuelle Lequeux quotes him as saying: “It
is remarkable that a country as abundant in ambitions and resources as France
has had such limited involvement in the cultural development of the West
Indies. […] But now we have arrived at an
exceptional moment in history where, it seems, the Caribbean’s time has come.”
This would not be the first time that the
Caribbean (like Africa) has been all the rage in France - take the colonial exhibitions in 1931 or the Bal
Nègre at 33 rue Blomet in Paris in the 1930s (with Robert Desnos, Josephine
Baker, Foujita and Kiki de Montparnasse) -
followed by that exotic flash in the plan being snuffed out. Have you seen any advance indications that things
have really changed?
SN-2: As
far as Africa is concerned, we passed the flash-in-a-pan stage quite a few
years ago. The exhibitions you mentioned are
not without interest but they belong to what I would call a pre-contemporary
period. Some better examples you might have
mentioned are The Short Century by
Okwi Enwezor, my Africa Remix or the
African pavilion at Venice (in which I also included Caribbean artists such as
Basquiat and the Haitian Mario Benjamin) and, in the case of the Caribbean, Kréyol Factory (whatever reservations
one might have about this project). But if we
analyse and compare the two regions (Africa and the Caribbean), Africa has been
the subject of far-reaching efforts for two decades and now the continent’s
artists have attained a critical mass that enables them to operate both
individually and as a group - this is not the case for the West Indies. So I feel that the statement by my friend Olivier
Poivre d’Arvor was rather exaggerated and the result more of wishful thinking
than a realistic assessment. To finish the
comparative analysis: African artists clearly belong to a geographical area
that is not part of Europe. While the physical situation of West Indian artists
might be similar, they are still included as part of Europe (France in this
case). This has certain advantages (e.g. government grants) but I feel that
those are outweighed by the disadvantages as it is difficult for someone from
the international art world without the right background to figure out what
category they belong in. While being
categorised can be a burden, it helps give people an identity. I don’t feel there are any real advance indications
of progress. If you compare the French West
Indies with their Caribbean neighbours, you would also have to conclude they
are lagging behind. I think it would be a good
idea to link the French West Indies to a wider geographical area as a way of
getting that fabled critical mass, without which they will never get exposure. The initiative agreed last September by the
Dominican Republic to relaunch the Caribbean Biennial is an example that
deserves to be followed.
JV-3: On
the subject of the 3x3 artists, you
said in an interview you gave to the French television channel France O: “To
a certain extent these islands constitute a kind of comfort zone. The people are living there, they are at home, they
have their habits, there are local celebrities... everything goes along just
nicely. So I thought it would be interesting to expose them to a wider world -
to try and export them...”
You need to take account of the context in the
French West Indies, which is not the same as for the rest of the Caribbean and
nothing like that of mainland France: a lack
of spaces for curating, exhibiting, legitimising, a lack of galleries, the high
cost of travel (including within the Caribbean) and of transporting artworks,
the virtual impossibility for artists of maintaining a professional practice,
the scarcity of press and specialist journals, the lack of debating forums for
discussing art, a general public that is not schooled in art appreciation, a
public policy for visual art creation that is cautious or excessively
instrumental, etc. And we should add to that an
age-old exclusion from their geographical region and their natural cultural
environment with the aim of isolating them and increasing their dependence on
France. All in all, shouldn’t we really be calling such an arid environment
(for both the artists and their public) a ‘non-comfort zone’?
SN-3: No. I disagree. You
need a disaster zone to make cultural players start a rebellion. When I say rebellion, I don’t mean throwing stones
and so on. The only way in which artists can rebel is through their work, and as a group. Sure,
these islands lack an awful lot of things but they still have embryonic
structures, grant counters, modest means of getting ahead in the local setting
that let local artists avoid having to face the wider world. That is what I call the ‘comfort zone’, the kind of inertia that leads you to accept the
situation and become fatalistic. In places
where they really have nothing it is sink or swim. And
the artists who don't receive that tiny morsel that is still available on the
French islands are forced to find means of surviving without. Sometimes it is better for your energy to be faced
with a complete desert rather than the semblance of something.
JV-4: These
semi-measures sprinkled with a few grants that take the place of a proper
cultural policy hamper the development of a more robust ‘ecosystem’ that is
more under the control of local actors. Of
course, the image of a ‘grant counter’, referring to the state of dependence in
which we are currently being kept, is incompatible with the liberated position
every artist claims. On the other hand, the
emergence of an art scene in the Caribbean is not purely dependent on material
resources. If art encapsulates that element of
truth that is the life-blood of a society at a certain point in its history,
could the French West Indies actualy present
an alternative to this disaster zone you describe? It
is difficult to see a flourishing art scene and countless dazzling artists
emerging from a society that is still unsure of itself.
How can they break this deadlock when it is ultimately the West that
validates and imposes its criteria?
Shouldn’t the ‘art scene’ in the non-Western
countries, and in particular the South, the former colonies, be rejecting the
values of individual success and money so typical of the West in favour of
their own values?
SN-4: You
must not expect anything from the state. That
is the ultimate trap. And making do with what
it gives even if that gift is laughable. The
state does not create artists and artists who are truly free are precisely the
ones who do not complain about what they are not given.
Speaking in general terms, the French creative sector has become a poor
relative when seen in a global context. Yet
there is still a form of cultural policy at the state level even if we have
witnessed a clear decline in recent years. Regardless
of the amounts allocated, this means the destiny of the artists lies primarily
in their own hands. It is up to them, and them
alone, to force the authorities to recognise them using individual or
collective strategies. No-one ever gave
Jean-Michel Basquiat a grant. That is
precisely the key to all this. Collectives
have been set up in Cameroon, Angola, Egypt and the DRC through the efforts of
artists or cultural players who invest their own money to make things happen. There is now a biennial in Lubumbashi, in the DRC,
where I curated the most recent edition to support this artist’s initiative and
give it a wider impact. Similarly there is the
increasingly significant triennial in Luanda, Angola, taking place for the
second time this year and also an artist’s initiative.
In Cairo in Egypt an artist has opened an art centre where he invites
local and international artists to come and show their work. There are cultural players taking action in Douala
and Lagos. You cannot function in these
countries without solidarity and generosity. Withdrawing
into your shell will not lead to anything because even if you did achieve a
certain degree of success, that success would not be worth anything if you were
the only one to enjoy it. The museum staff
involved in the exhibitions I have curated in the West and Asia were
participating in a spirit of camaraderie, providing mutual assistance and true
friendship, and there was no element of competition among the artists. That is what we have to contribute. Besides the actual production of art, this is a
different way of viewing the world and how we relate to each other.
JV-5: The
abolition of slavery left us finally free - and destitute. I feel it is a legitimate demand to want the state
to use taxpayers’ contributions to satisfy their aspirations for a more
thriving environment. For instance, why have
these parts of the French Republic not been given any museums, despite projects
such as M2A2 led by Edouard Glissant in the 1990s? The
scale of a continent is not comparable to that of the West Indies. The African artists with whom you collaborate come
from big countries with their own wealth that they manage themselves. Their market opportunities are quite different, but
art is far from being a priority when up against fundamental problems. On the contrary, the triennial you mention in
Luanda, Angola, benefited from one of the continent’s most significant
collections of contemporary art owned by a rich businessman - Sindika Dokolo. No
need for public sector grants for Basquiat, rising to fame in a 1980s New York
that was swimming in cash. The gallery system
spotted the goose with the golden eggs and gave him the means to proceed, while
critics were quick to praise his rare talent. Nevertheless
he remains an isolated meteor representing an
inaccessible dream. Reality is rather more
complex in the Caribbean where they have to break through the rivalries and
confinements, and the political, commercial and linguistic restrictions set up
by the Western powers to facilitate their domination of us. I think these restrictions are at the root of the
real difficulty we have in positioning ourselves; it seems so difficult for us
to have an ambitious vision of a ‘country’, a state, and projects on this scale
when, whatever we do, we are reminded of our status of minor region and single
department (population 405,000) making up ‘overseas France’. Note too that you would never talk about the
‘inertia’ of contemporary artists in the Dordogne (population of 406,791) or
the Savoie (population 408,842), two mainland French departments. Perhaps that shows the ambiguity inherent in our
status.
Opinions are very divided in the French
Caribbean about the art foundation in Martinique on the site of a former slave
plantation. It was created by Bernard Hayot (a wealthy, influential businessman
and béké - white descendent of the original French settlers), the boss of the
GBH Group, patron of the arts and the sleeping partner in the triptych
exhibition. Was this controversy an obstacle
for you in making this project a success?
SN-5: Not
really. I am all for people who take action. And as long as the money funding it was acquired
honestly, I don’t see any problems in giving my support to initiatives that
seem to me to be going in the right direction. I
am familiar with the political debates rumbling on in these islands since
Césaire. But as far as I am concerned, I feel
the artists are, and should be, the only judges in this matter. The arrival of the Fondation Clément on the
cultural scene was a positive development. The
artists have an exhibition space and a collector who gives them support. You need to avoid confusing matters and take an
objective view: who is currently providing
most support for contemporary art in the French Caribbean and what events have
had an impact beyond the boundaries of these islands?
In my opinion, the Fondation is a crucial force and instrument in
developing a sensitivity to contemporary art on the islands. That is what is important.
And I think it is a good thing that Bernard Hayot has decided to put
some of his money in a venture that is not financially profitable, rather than
investing it in the stock markets. Coming back
to African countries and the different initiatives taking off there, it is
important to remember that the cultural budgets available to Martinique and
Guadeloupe are only one hundredth of those available in the DRC or Cameroon. But even so, things exist.
Mainly in the capitals, of course, where you find the biggest
concentration of people and resources. The
governments do not intervene in these movements, which they consider from a
distance - all the better. Initiatives can
come from anywhere. You don’t need to
reproduce the Venice Biennale in Fort-de-France, you just have to make
contemporary art a part of everyday life.
JV-6: If
that is to happen given the reality of life in Guadeloupe (and Martinique),
then art will undoubtedly have to become a ‘product of high necessity’ here. I borrowed that expression from Patrick Chamoiseau
and the collective that signed the Manifesto
for products of high necessity during the crisis in 2009. Let’s hope it can play a decisive role in getting
the islands out of this situation of deep crisis to which they are unable to
find a solution. The three exhibitions came
into being one year after the historic social movement of February 2009 in the
French West Indies, and in particular Guadeloupe. This was where the longest
general strike ever in French history took place, lasting 44 days. In Guadeloupe, 49 organisations (trade unions,
associations and political parties) united under the banner of LKP (Lyannaj Kont Pwofitasyon)* in an attempt to change the
ossified, paralysing social relations, dating from the time of the slave
plantations, and denouncing the excess profits of the major retailers. I am reminded of the work by the German artist Hans
Haacke who has highlighted the connections between the big corporations (such
as Total, Mobil, Lindt and Mercedes) and art through their role as patron with
the sole aim of buying respectability and a politically correct image in public
opinion. Given the context for the Habitation
Clément I described earlier, do we have reason to believe that Bernard Hayot
and the Fondation Clément obey a different logic and have the desire to change
the nature of these relations with their overlapping ethnic and social layers?
SN-6: This
question is closely linked to the previous one where you referred to the
controversy arising in Martinique and Guadeloupe because the Fondation Clément is the only private
party of any significance in the contemporary creative scene. But Bernard Hayot is not the only wealthy man on
the island. What are the others doing? In Africa we are seeing a generation of private
collectors appearing who have decided to use contemporary art as a vehicle for
their ideological concerns. Bernard Hayot is
not preventing other initiatives from flowering. What
he is really being blamed for, besides the history-related polemics, is that he
is the only one and is therefore risking creating a monopoly. But by calling me in, for instance, he was
appointing an ‘objective’ observer who was not involved in the internal
quarrels and friendships. What I see there is
a wish to open things up beyond the simple context of Martinique and
Guadeloupe. To my mind, this issue is often
not tackled properly because debates are governed too often by emotions rather
than reason. I think you need to view the
politics of large groups from a distance and with a certain cynicism. The fact that you accept sponsorship (because, as I
said, it is better for that money to go on culture than on arms) does not stop
you being clear-headed and fighting to right the social wrongs in a society
divided into rich and poor, profiteers and the exploited. As regards the Fondation Clément, I see a big
difference: the foundation doesn’t represent a
multinational group that speculates on the global stock markets. Here we are dealing with the old-fashioned kind of
capitalism, selling things that are the result of real work. That is quite
different to stock-market constructions that can only lead to economic
catastrophe, as we have seen with the banking crisis and the subprime product
crisis in the United States. Furthermore,
Bernard Hayot’s actions take place in a specific context that is connected to
his personal history. Whether you like it or
not, he is a West Indian and as such, he has decided to do something for his
‘country’. That assumes a degree of engagement
and personal moral values as he is participating in the development of his own
community as a citizen. He has above-average
resources for his actions and it is very much to his credit that he is using
some of these for the greater good. I do not
see any attempt to manipulate things in this. That
might be an issue if he lived anywhere other than Martinique and had got his
wealth from a different source, but that is
not the case. And having discussed these
matters with him at great length, I can say he never confuses his dealings as a
patron of the arts with his business affairs. These
are two different worlds, each obeying its own logics.
I can understand that people oppose the ‘boss’ in the social conflicts
you see in all democracies because that is an automatic rule, but I think it is
wrong to mix the two. And I am not aware that
the Fondation has ever slanted its communication in an effort to clear the name
of the Group. On the contrary, I have been
struck by Bernard Hayot’s desire to avoid mixing the two types of communication
and be discreet in his dealings. I would like
to believe, and am convinced, that the Foundation’s policy is governed by a
different logic. It is building up a legacy
that it intends should be accessible to all. Apart
from its strictly artistic efforts, there is also the aspect of remembrance
that occupies an important place in the Fondation’s work. I don’t think a major financial or industrial group
would have the same priorities or degree of engagement.
JV-7: Having
seen the first two sections of the 3x3 triptych
in Paris, I felt I needed to go to Martinique and find out how the display was
set up there and what kind of purpose
accompanied it at Fondation Clément. What
struck me was precisely that 'personal history' aspect you just mentioned. On the one hand a spectacular setting (on the site
of a former sugar plantation dating back to the 18th century), everything
recalling the power of the first settlers who built the plantation system (or
their descendants who are sufficiently influential to be able to receive the
heads of state of Western powers there). On
the other, a heavy silence on the subject of the history of the African slaves,
even though this cannot be dissociated from the history of these places as it
was their tragic destiny that enabled the accumulation of wealth. Without privileging a moralistic stance, one might
still consider the space reserved for art in such an environment to be rather
tendentious. What is your opinion? Given this context, shouldn't the contemporary art
world (artists, artworks, art critics and the public) use the means at its
disposal to question what is otherwise taken to be self-evident?
SN-7: It
has always been a matter of regret to me that the history of certain parts of
the Caribbean has been obscured. That is not
just the fault of the whites. Both whites and
blacks have adopted a fairly ambiguous attitude to this topic. I can quote Césaire from memory who said, in
talking of the Caribbean, that its people would never be capable of
transforming their situation until they had admitted all aspects of their
history. What does this history consist of? Slavery, of course, and Africa. But every time I visit the region I am struck by the
glaring omission of that continent in artistic debates.
It is not a question of agitating on behalf of the Negroes, i.e.
Africans, as in the early days of Négritude. Rather it is about incorporating
the developments in the African continent as an integral part of their own
history. There are few links, few projects
aimed at bringing these two parts of the world closer together even though that
might be where the future lies. We are told
that history is written by the victors. But
are we still tackling the debate in terms of conquerors and the conquered? We have just entered the third millennium. Various parties should relinquish their dogmatic
attitudes and create a true common space where all can feel at home. I mean, we have seen the results of manipulation in
Zimbabwe where Mugabe exploited the real problem of the allocation of land for
electoral purposes. History is what it is and
cannot be rewritten. On the other hand, there
are many different ways of dealing with it and drawing lessons from it. Habitation Clément is what it is. It became an art centre after having basically been
a tourist attraction and heritage site. Having
worked with him, I know that Bernard Hayot is always tuned in. But you cannot ask him to manage a legacy when he
is just one of the parties involved. The
foundation's team has been scaled down. It is
up to the artists to take action with some real projects that are not simply an
exercise in navel-gazing. That would enable us
to assess the Fondation's desire to be open. There
is a need to avoid taking positions of form, which can never tackle questions
of substance. I think it is time to deal
head-on with what the Haitian Jean-Claude Fignolé called 'the schizophrenia of
islands'.
JV-8: I
think it is only normal for there to be diverging views and discussions about
what the Fondation Clément is offering as we try to
grasp its objectives and see where there might be contradictions. After all,
this is a far from innocuous project taking place at a very sensitive site that
requires us to exercise maximum intellectual vigilance. It would be strange if all this were to take place
in an atmosphere of silence and total indifference in a society where there has
been no letup in the economic power of the descendants of the first colonists
and where mechanisms of domination benefiting this ethnic group still persist.
At the same time, I am not denying any possibility of dialogue. In response to a question as to why you chose
Bruno Pédurand to open the first section of the 3x3 triptych, you said: "I
chose him because of the way in which he is not essentially Caribbean."
You could never have said that about certain
major American artists whose works so strongly reflect their country and
culture. Andy Warhol painted the dollar bill,
Marilyn Monroe, Coca-Cola bottles and Campbell soup tins, Robert Rauschenberg
put a stuffed eagle in one of his most emblematic combine paintings, which he
entitled Canyon, Jasper Johns painted
the Star Spangled Banner. I am also reminded of the universe created by the
Cuban Wifredo Lam, an example closer to home, in his major work Jungle in the MoMA and his hybrids
combining voodoo gods, tropical trees and human creatures.
SN-8: We
always end up using standard phrases to express very complex ideas but what I
wanted to say there was that he sees himself above all as an artist and does
not feel he is prohibited from doing certain things because of his roots. It is obvious to me that an artist’s identity is
primordial because that is the wellspring for their view of the world. But when I say identity, I do not mean nationality
and ethnicity. I consider it as the complex
architecture that forms us and makes us hybrid beings.
We cannot make some incantation to sort all the influences that go to
make up who we are on the pretext that we have a message or a political claim
to make. Above all, art is that which is
displayed. You refer to a number of American
artists but I don’t feel these examples are entirely relevant to our current
discussion. Coca-Cola, Marilyn Monroe and the
Star-Spangled Banner have become abstract symbols that don’t necessarily have
anything to do with the American heartland. Artists
from other countries regularly use these same symbols - and one could add the
Italian Mona Lisa - because they are instantly recognisable everywhere. But it is undoubtedly true that the creative
process takes place in a context. What I meant
in the quote you gave is that the context should never dominate the actual
creation.
JV-9: Globalised
images that bear tribute to the way America dominates and fascinates the rest
of the world. Can’t context be seen as a
powerful source of energy in the work of certain artists? Thus Jean-Michel would not have become Basquiat if
he had not been the son of a Haitian, the descendant of African slaves, and
Matilda, of Puerto Rican origin, if he had not been brought up in one of the
West’s biggest metropolises, with all that that implies in terms of cultural
influences, if he had not paid regular visits to New York’s major museums with
Matilda, if he had not been intimately familiar with racism from an early age.
This context gave him his sensitive awareness of himself and the world around
him that he used as his material, taken from the cultural melting pot of urban
America, for his dazzling creations.
Edouard Glissant and Patrick Chamoiseau talk of
‘creolisation’ to refer to the process of opening up to the unpredictable. In my opinion, when we look at the Caribbean - once
the site of the extreme shock caused by the first big period of creolisation -
the best artists, the artists that should live on in history, will be those who
are able to adopt a stance of chasing after the unpredictable while developing
a sensitive awareness of their context and an individual response to it and at
the same time trying to help change it. There
are so many battles to be fought in these regions, questions to be asked -
shouldn’t artists be taking different positions to those in the dominant areas?
SN-9: These
days ‘creolisation’ has become a loaded word. I
prefer to talk of sedimentation. You have to
go outside Old Europe to look for modern man. The
problem is that modern man is not always aware of his modernity. You need to distance yourself, what Sartre called a
doubling up, to progress from the passive to the active stage. A Creole who does not realise he has the power to
destabilise the conventional world will not have any impact. Only those with that awareness will make a
difference, those that realise they have ‘miraculous weapons’ ripe for use. A weapon is nothing in itself, it is what you do with it that determines its
effect. Basquiat understood this. Lam understood this. Not
in a utilitarian way but in a completely ingenuous fashion, as an obvious fact. They
existed and that was enough to show the world a different way of viewing things and a different way of thinking. The impoverished people are the ones who are
convinced their actions derive from a single truth. Hitler,
Le Pen and all of those bottom-rung nationalists. We
are polymorphs, mutants, to quote Senghor. That
is our strength although it has often been seen as a weakness. Mutants hold the memory of the world. That is why they are able to bend it at will. They are free because they were once slaves,
because they were once colonised. And their
relationship to the world is one that can never be cut off, whether they like
it or not, because they are the world. Coming back to your rhetoric of domination, who
other than the mutant has been both dominant and dominated? And who better than him to give the world an
attitude that is free of all essentialist reverence? Let
us admit that Germans are Germans, the English are the English and Italians are
Italians. Who is the mutant if he is not the
impossible aggregate of all these?
JV-10: In
the Beaux-Arts Magazine supplement
you state: “Martinique and Guadeloupe [...]
are an integral part of France. An overseas
France, i.e. a France that is outside of France. […] For sure, 3x3 has not been created to remind us of
certain obvious facts. The people of Martinique
and Guadeloupe are French like people in the rest of France.”
There is a risk of alienation in this desire
for complete fusion, a risk of losing your identity and becoming transparent.
Some in the West Indies are fighting against this. Would
it not be better if the people of the Caribbean were to develop their own
vision, cultivate what makes them unique in the eyes of the rest of the world?
After all, the rest of the world would not be keen to see these artists trying
to erase what makes them truly authentic. Perhaps
we should consider a different reality, more complex, where these islands are
not simply appendages to France. Artists, to
whom innovating is second nature, could provide the key to the development of a
new kind of relationship with France, enabling a definitive break with the
vicious circle of domination.
SN-10: We are
returning here to the discussion about identity. It
seems clear to me that saying “The people of
Martinique and Guadeloupe are French like people in the rest of France” relates
to another issue as I felt it was self-evident that this was not the question. There is another world with its own realities
(economic, for example) that the artifice of the French Republic cannot erase. I like to take concrete facts (in this case legislation)
to demonstrate the limitations to the relevance of such obvious statements. But at the same time stating you are different is a
non-issue; what is more, it is a refusal to benefit from the rights granted to
you through your status, which might be an aberration of history but is still
the current situation. Here too we find the
concept of doubling up so dear to Sartre. How
can we reconcile this dual belonging? How can
we turn it to our advantage? Nothing is worse
than a status imposed upon you, a status you do not control. I think it is necessary to embrace all those
contradictions that are the essence of a human being and transform them
according to our requirements, reducing them to our fundamental needs. The important thing is for these needs to be
defined and for a reflection on the concept of “Us” that Ernst Bloch was so
fond of. That is the starting point for any
dialectic revolution.
JV-11: With
regard to artists from the Caribbean, commentators often evoke the concept of
‘identity’ in order to remind us that it is a ‘state of withdrawal’, a stage to
be ‘passed’ quickly. You conclude the
presentation of the exhibition by saying that “the beauty of humanity lies in
what it produces, not in how it is defined.” Could you not say as well that the
beauty of humanity also derives from its capacity to define itself?
Let us consider the literature: Aimé Césaire opens the way with Négritude, Edouard Glissant follows with l’Antillanité,
Raphaël Confiant, Patrick Chamoiseau with Créolité, Edouard Glissant
again (who died during the timeframe of this interview) with Créolisation
and Tout-Monde, which makes a
distinction between atavistic cultures with a single root and rhizome cultures
with multiple roots. Could we not argue that
far from keeping Caribbean people stuck in static attitudes, this introspection
and questioning is a sign of a dynamic and open approach that offers a
preliminary resistance to the reductive definitions that some people would like
to use to sequester them?
SN-11: The capacity to define yourself does not
make humanity beautiful; it constitutes humanity. That is what Sartre called doubling up, i.e. the ability to reflect
actively on your actions. Colonisation and slavery imposed passivity on their
subjects, turning them into automatons through deadening labour and rules that
stopped the subjects from being able to think for themselves. Because being
able to think means being able to rebel. It feeds ontological reflection on
yourself and, inevitably, on the other. When I said earlier that history is
always written by the victors, that is what I was alluding to. This history,
which I call the official version, is
precisely what the damned of the world should be rebelling against. Not by
applying sterile revisionism but by developing a parallel history with its own
rhythm and its own narrative. And this history can only be written by those who
have lived through it. We are condemned to be continually reinventing the
future. But this can only be done with a modicum of success if this future is
not an extension of the past leading to a dead end. And not the frozen past
that caused generations to talk of “our
Gaulish ancestors” but an intimate past, one that almost emerges from the
inexpressible. And the identity at the heart of this debate is precisely that
shifting, elusive thing that all intellectuals and artists doggedly attempt to
portray. As an open process, not a closed truth.
Jocelyn Valton is an art critic
and a member of AICA (international association of art critics). He abandoned
his psychology degree to practice photography and went on to study art at the
Sorbonne. Photography, contemporary art and the art of sub-Saharan Africa
became his main areas of interest, taking him to Senegal on a trip to finish
his studies. In 1992 he returned to Guadeloupe, his birthplace. He teaches
there and takes an interest in signs of art emerging in the Caribbean as a
means of posing questions. His recent publications deal with subjects mixing
social issues, politics and art as an extension of life.
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