Light, Memory & ‘Ukama’
by Alexa Robinson
The 12th of June,
Gathering bodies between wisps of wind
Through wakes of film negatives hanging,
Strips of fabric spanning
over the community dance floor.
Flashing smiles from familiar faces,
from unacquainted faces,
yet all equally taking up their spaces.
Community spaces sometimes have familiar objects that remind us of our past, or the faces in those spaces make us feel seen and recognized. Other times, it’s just the general ambiance emitted from the moving bodies vibrating on a similar frequency. After all, we are social entities — each and every one of us is striving to link in, click in and connect with our kin.
Humans engage with the world through environmental cognition. From the moment we emerge into this multisensory soup we call the world, we begin to assign value to certain objects and attain certain behaviours based on the reactions of other people. Then we navigate the world and our own realities accordingly. These subjective experiences and individual perspectives allow us to form connections to the world outside of ourselves. This analogy was first coined by Sigmund Freud, known as projection.
Sigmund Freud explains projection as the process of displacing one’s feelings onto the outside world as a mechanism to create predictability. When our fears and insecurities are provoked, it is common for us to unconsciously project our ideals so as to comfort our egos.
Projection became a topic of interest to me during the height of lockdown, when the freedom to express oneself seemingly began to dwindle. As safety regulations harshened, choice became implausible. One of the ways people curbed this unpredictability was through online platforms, which were a mode to express oneself and reconnect with a broader community.
These digital spaces became more interactive and engaging. They allowed people to project themselves in a virtual, metaphysical space as opposed to tangible, physical spaces. In redefining the spaces where we could spend time together and share with one another, our online profiles became cyber, curated territories where we could share what we did, learnt and read.
After the strict lockdown regulations subsided some, I took to the streets of Stellenbosch to find a way to re-engage the bodily senses while bringing people together in a safe and comfortable space. I erected an interactive art piece on Church Street, made up of multiple transparent slides, each with its own abstracted narrative. The piece implored the viewer to use their cell phone torches to shine light through the slides, thereby projecting image onto the opposite-facing wall.
As more people took part, the abstraction of the images formed part of a communal narrative. Each light varied in size and opacity depending on the distance of the person projecting their light.
Before long a palimpsest of multiple different narratives emerged, an ephemeral dance of delight and dismay, where participants of all kinds came to play.
As I stood behind a pool of people veiled by rays of light, something began to stir; an internal murmur calling me to create more of these immersive public spaces.
The end of 2020 rolled in, and the beginning of 2021 had rolled out. Steph and I had been in contact and she had asked me if I wanted to build an installation for THAT POTJIE PARTY. This was the perfect opportunity to build another light projection installation. But from what material? At this point, time edged closer to the party, and so did my looming emigration to America.
Before I moved down to the Western Cape to start studying, I found my mom’s old film camera. Before I was born, my parents lived in America and my mom had purchased the film camera I still shoot on. Finding this camera was the beginning of my journey of shooting film. By the time you read this, I would have emigrated to America permanently. But before I left, I found a bag of film negatives in and amongst my belongings. This would be my material.
This installation acts as a memoir, a totem, a symbol of the growing collection of memories I carry. It contains a shoal of people, a full life, and the artefacts of places and times well-spent. My photography acts as a medium in which to catch the transience of everyday existence. Through film, a relationship is formed between capturing a moment and letting it go. A fleeting moment is inherited by the limits of the 36 frames of my camera roll.
These photographs tell the story of the dance of delight and dismay. Of seriousness and of play. The sigh at the end of a long day and the smile that is constantly on display.
Using my own film negatives and negatives I received as donations (Josh Rijneke and Willemiena du Preez, I thank you), I wanted to collaborate multiple narratives. In doing so, I would create a space where the audience could interact with the light and re-create their own stories by reconfiguring the existing film. Using six different light sources, six different perspectives were forged, overlapped and projected onto six corresponding screens.
Shared familiarity began to arise between the audience participating and the photographers. When examining the film closely, they reveal subjective experience. But when the images begin to coincide with one another — places, people, objects begin to feel familiar.
It became like a dream with multiple layers, morphing into a shared narrative made by, of, and for the audience.
This is demonstrative of ‘Ukama’, a notion which inspired my work. Ukama is a Shona word, meaning ‘we are related’ or ‘we are family’. Ukama’s root stem, etymologically, is hama. This means, ‘relative’. This notion refers to ethics of the Shona people of Zimbabwe, who believe in the immortal value of family, society and nature, which is passed down through ancestral rituals and remembrance. The term brings awareness to the kinship of current societies with past societies, future societies, as well as our other relationships with the non-human. It suggests that humans are intrinsically connected to the biophysical too, like, the earth, the sky, the water. It is not concerned with the individual but rather with the intersectional relationships that emerge between earthly, inanimate and transcendental (Lesley Le Grange; 2012).
When the event was finished, we spoke about ways to dispose of the film negatives. The group who helped me construct the installation on site — including Michael Gerhard and Chris Diedricks and me — decided to burn the whole installation. This demonstration symbolized that with death comes rebirth; a clean slate for a new chapter.
I’d like to give thanks to the Volunteer group who helped me put together the installation in the weeks leading up to the event. Jayde, Chloe, Guy, Mishkah, Ijeoma and Leah. A large thank you also goes to Jeanelle, for sewing all the screens together.
Move in the space that is yours, that is ours, take a moment to pause.
References: Lesley Le Grange (2012) Ubuntu, ukama, environment and moral education, Journal of Moral Education, 41:3, 329–340, DOI: 10.1080/03057240.2012.691631
