Phumzile Khanyile:
A Calling
Consider metamorphosis.
Mariam-Webster defines it as a change of structure or substance especially by supernatural means.
Perhaps, this is what award-winning South African artist Phumzile Khanyile, is moving towards. However, she is reaching back generations to retrieve the instructions for this transformation.
Our conversation begins with Khanyile speaking about navigating the industry, and how it has affected her artistic practice, “You must remember why you started something. I came into photography very depressed,” she says,
“It was a life or death situation, I was in a really dark place. I didn’t know this thing could take me anywhere, I just knew it gave me a space to say the things I couldn't speak about. I couldn’t speak about my traumas.”
This process of image-making as a form of unpacking personal experiences, became a way for her to deal with the ‘undealt with’. This would lead to Khanyile creating Plastic Crowns, a body of work that has garnered her international acclaim, and introduced a new set of
obstacles in its wake. “Depending on where the work was discussed, I realised that my grandmother was getting villainized.” She continues, “It felt like I was starting to lose my voice, the work took a life of its own. I started to feel guilty because this is not what I was saying.”
Plastic Crowns, according to Khanyile, confronts the layered complexity of family history and the complicated relationships we have with our family. Universal themes that may have gotten lost in the pursuit for the commercialization of narrative. She found herself thrusted into spaces where she had to defend the work, as it was being misinterpreted. “That time became depressing, and maybe that’s why I disappeared for such a long time.” She says, candidly.
“We don’t have too many people thinking outside the box, or eliminating the box altogether.
Rarely do we consider the consequences of success as a young artist, especially when it’s through work that is tackling issues of generational trauma and lived experiences. One has to constantly revisit this subject in panel discussions and exhibition walkabouts. Then there is the industry’s expectation for the artist to make ‘more of that’. This is not always possible, as artists grow and start being concerned with new subject matter. “We don’t have too many people thinking outside the box, or eliminating the box altogether. There’s a world where, as an artist, I can develop and still make work that has an impact.”
Recently, Phumzile has had two questions in her mind: ‘What am I doing and why am I doing it?’ Asking herself this has been imperative in defining the path for her practice and mapping out her next moves. Once this intention was laid out, something otherworldly happened.
“I started having dreams. A lot was happening in my life that I couldn't articulate, so I started trying to translate my dreams into something.” She recalls how this act of dream interpretation would manifest into Sabela Uyabizwa, a series of works that sit at the intersection of photography and abstraction. “I was quickly recording these figures and symbols before they left my mind after waking up.” She explains.
I recall Emily Dickinson’s poem, ‘The Wind Visits’, in which she addressed the fleeting, ephemeral nature of the elements, and how she invites in the impermanence like a host. Similarly, the practice Phumzile took on when documenting these faded transmissions from the dream realm.
She realised that these dreams were linked to her great grandmother being a traditional healer, and her own looming spiritual calling.
“Strangely the dreams were taking me back to my grandmother’s house, where I had
created Plastic Crowns. I didn’t want to show this place again, but the dreams forced me to
look at the space differently.”
It was through these night visits that Khanyile got to know her great grandmother, who passed away when she was very young. “I never knew she was a healer, I just remember she treated me differently from the other kids. This work opened up a whole new world for me.”
Sabela Uyabizwa, when translated means: respond, are you being called. A call to action she received from generations down her lineage. The work becomes an experiment in making material the immaterial, through being a vessel for these messages to be revealed.
“It’s almost like, I’m trying to figure out why I have this ‘calling’, if you would even call it that. Clearly it’s here for me.” She says, profoundly. “It feels like I've stumbled upon a wound. A wound that has affected me and has affected the past generations of women. And I have a daughter so either I am repeating patterns or I am trying to stop patterns.”
“How I look at it, it’s amazing technology. The dreams have shown me that there is information in my DNA that I am getting access to.” she says.
She speaks on divination, the practice of seeking knowledge about the future, by mode of looking back and healing the past. Recalling a time she met a young traditional healer who told her she could decide how she would embody her gift.
“What I’m doing with this work is healing deep wounds. I want to understand why I react the way I react to things. It feels like my purpose is infused with real life. If my gift is not functioning in my real life, then it is not a gift.”
Seemingly, Khanyile is scratching at the surface of the unknown and watching the residue take whatever form is necessary.
For metamorphosis to occur, the new must birth itself and step into a different paradigm. So upon quantum travelling and discovering the wound, what does generational healing look like?
“Like a mess. It’s about being authentic, which is one of the hardest things to do. Healing is about breaking down and breaking open.”
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images©Phumzile Khanyile
