Many of the materials used to create the works on show are quite commonplace in homes. But a slight, or overt, subversion is always applied. Kirsten Eksteen’s crocheted steel wool blanket re-introduces an object so ubiquitous with the home, yet almost invisible. Often discarded after use, by knitting the object into a tapestry Eksteen changes its utility context to become suggestive of other domestic thematics. There was a moment in our thinking around the curatorial framework of the exhibition where we were quite interested in the philosophical notion of ‘flat ontology’. It relates to the ways in which the subject hood of objects can change continuously. We see this in the work of Stephané E. Conradie as well, where her sculptures almost become monuments to the superfluous character of kitch and cluttered objects that lose their individual importance when they find their way into knickknack second hand shops. There is a way in which the artists from this exhibition highlights the simple elements of the home that are often overlooked or forgotten. They see the importance in the histories of walls and the resonance of a bedframe. We think that the exhibition captured this in its quiet way. 

Upon first introduction with the Krone x WITW gallery we were both quite taken by its scale. A former storage barn on the farm, the gallery feels vast and open. We wanted to shift that feeling, providing visitors with various ways to move around the space. Most notably ‘The Righteous Path II’ by Inga Somdyala and ‘These Voices’ by Wezile Harmans contributed to this intention. 

Central to the home is the language spoken in the household, growing up - the first language - and its connection to religion and cultural practices. The common language spoken in Tulbagh, where the exhibition is set, is Afrikaans. Evidently the exhibition has reflected this occurrence as both contextually relevant and strange in itself. There is an awkwardness to the ways in which language dictates the doctrines of religion and culture. Perhaps this is most evident in Turiya Magadlela suggestively placed bed frames, covered in the pages from an Afrikaans Bible. It was not necessarily our aim to have such a focus on Afrikaans throughout the exhibition, but it soon became an emerging theme. Indeed, Conradie’s Afrikaans titled ‘Geestelike Onderhouding’ (meaning ‘religious support/maintenance’) is a precarious assemblage of half-filled miniature liquor bottles that speak to the ‘dop system’ that was once prolific on farms in the Western Cape. While her work provokes the stigma of the Afrikaans oppressor, Kamyar Bineshtarigh’s paintings forms part of his on-going research into archives of Arabic-Afrikaans and the enslaved communities and indentured Muslim labourers that first recorded this creole language. Similarly it is also used as a celebration of culture, and a manner of claiming space, of making a home. Asemahle Ntlonti’s laboriously treated canvas surfaces are all titled in her mother tongue, Xhosa. ‘Khaya khulu I, II and III’ speaks of the beauty of a home and the histories kept in the painted layers of its walls. Wezile harmans invites us into a room of his creation, made of stitched mutton cloth, and lined with handwritten phrases that brims with affirmation and self-love, proclaiming that the home is also a place of confidence and of care. 

Both of us call South Africa home. Being born here, having studied here, and shaping our professional practice here means that one works in this context by forming part of the context. A major benefit to this is that often the artists you work with are close friends of yours. You’ve seen them shape their careers. There is a backlog of information that you can tap into that helps you understand their work through the work their peers create, the socio-political contexts their work responds to, the shifting spaces their work has been exhibited at… Having access to these nuances that informs artists’ practice remains an exciting component to our work and research. 

There are many ways to approach ‘reading’ artworks. One such way could be to consider the medium from which an artwork is made. The material composition of much of the work on Home Strange Home informs the artwork and the intention from the artist. These materials in themselves can evoke memories and feelings for the viewer, making one consider your own connection to the artwork. Many of the artists have made it an essential part of their practice to source very specific materials. They allude to geographical places through site-specific sourced earth, gender roles through simple utility objects, boundaries through the use of stitched and woven textiles that could either heal or hurt, social structures through found trinkets and tableware, the list goes on. But perhaps a curiosity of the mediums used to create each work could offer the viewer an entry point.