Berni Searle

Rory Bester, 'Interview with Berni Searle for The Field's Edge'

Published in The Field's Edge: Africa, Diaspora, Lens, Rory Bester and Amanda Carlson (eds), USF Contemporary Art Museum, Tampa, 2003

RB: How have you approached questions of domesticity in your work?
BS: In Still (2001) I make roti, a flat bread that is generally eaten with curry. This tradition has been passed down to me from my Mauritian great-grandfather who was a cook. There is very little that connects me to this heritage in terms of a lived tradition. Food is a tentative connection to this heritage. While the 'performance' imitates how roti is made, it's more important that it evokes a sense of the ritual of making the bread. There are many different variations to making roti, and I work with notions of memory, performance and enactment as ways of constructing these identities. Covering myself in a white substance has racial obvious connotations. But often there's a tendency to see this work in relation to a South African context only, which I think is very limiting. After all, making roti is similar to making bread, an activity that many different people can relate to, regardless of nationality.

RB: And in Profile (2002)?
BS: Profile was commissioned for a Spanish exhibition that dealt with ideas of boundaries and borders. Rather than starting with broad concepts such as nation, nationality and nationalism, I thought about the impact of boundaries on a more personal level, which inevitably then led to broader questions about borders. I looked at the role of heritage, religion, colonialism and apartheid in constituting often conflicting notions of borders. Various objects, such as a souvenir British spoon, a paperweight in the shape of a windmill and an Arabic prayer, were pressed into alternate cheeks, leaving an embossed negative. Some of these artefacts are not necessarily ones which I would have in my home - like an anti-riot unit shield - but the fact that these objects are 'souvenirs' which might have been put in display cabinets or on the mantelpiece suggests a degree of domesticity.

RB: How does your work engage representational questions around the history of ethnography in Africa?
BS: Systems of display and representation that are connected to colonial histories have informed my work for a while. In my installations for the Second Johannesburg Biennale I dealt with the static ways in which indigenous cultures are displayed in museums and the damaging effect of such representations on a sense of self. In more recent works, like the Colour Me series (1998 onwards), I use the language of ethnography to address and challenge stereotyping in South African politics, history and visual culture.

RB: In these works your own body becomes a critical representational vehicle. How do you position this self-representation in relation to a history of ethnography?
BS: Issues around self-representation have been debated extensively in South Africa. Being able to represent oneself is important in the light of the lack of black women artists working in the field, but this does not mean that there is any authentic position from which to speak either. Self-representation is also important in relation to the history of ethnography which manifests itself in various ways in my work. In "Red, Yellow, Brown" (1998), another work from the Colour Me series, I presented myself for observation. I include the number of the exposure along the edges of the prints, drawing attention to the ethnographic role of photography in justifying perceived differences between people, particularly in relation to the racialised and gendered body. The idea of a specimen for inspection is reinforced by the enclosed box of spices below the image of the body, the colors of which don't entirely correspond with the colors of the spice sprinkled over the body (even though its the same substance). I have also incorporated color test charts at the bottom of each image that are slightly out of focus and as such are not to be relied on.

RB: And how does ethnography present itself in the Discoloured (1999 onwards) series?
BS: I identified parts of the body that are vulnerable but not highly visible or often exposed. I stained these areas with black Egyptian henna, leaving a temporary bluish-purple mark that resembles bruises. Photographs of these areas were taken under a pane of glass, which resulted in a heightened and distorted sense of what was being seen. Things don't add up on other levels: the substance that makes the mark is different to the colour of the mark itself. Areas which are softer like the tummy, absorbed less henna than hardened areas, like the soles of the feet.

RS: How important is the 'performative' aspect in your work?
BS: My works have a definite performative character to the extent that they invoke movement and indeterminancy. But there is an assumption that because it's performative, I perform. I have been asked on a number of occasions to do performances. The problem with 'performing' is that I am more directly and easily consumed or exoticised, which I'm trying to avoid. Mediating the 'performance' through lens-based media provides me with options to reconstruct myself in the process. Ana Mendieta describes the 'performative' as actions that are derived from and located within a grid of power relations. It's not just artistic but something that is more embedded in everyday life and culture. This sums up the significant potential of the 'performative' for me.

RB: To what extent is your use of the camera more than just a documentation of your performance?
BS: The camera is not neutral, so it can't be seen to be merely 'documenting' a performance. The camera is placed in a specific position and there are a number of formal and conceptual concerns that are negotiated. The use of the medium also draws attention to the way photography has been used, often as a way of producing 'evidence' that systematically classifies and categorises information. As a counter strategy to the use of the camera as verification and proof, I have used the medium to withhold information, thereby pointing to an indeterminacy of content. In The palms of the hands, the small of the back, the nape of the neck, under the belly, the soles of the feet (1999), small, framed photographs, by virtue of their scale, appear to be 'details' of larger digital images installed below. Some of these smaller photographs disrupt expectations because they contain more 'information' than the relatively larger digital prints.

RB: Is there anything else about the use of photography that appeals to you?
BS: Dealing with issues of lens-based media is more important in some works than they are in others. There are also differences between working with still images and video. Generally, I am interested in digital processes and technologies that extend the possibilities of how I present myself. I am not interested in knowing how to take good photographs. Apart from the conceptual concerns that I have mentioned, I find the medium useful to work with in terms of the immediacy with which I am able to express myself. Coming from a sculpture background, which often involves long processes, I find I can concentrate on the concept and translate it relatively quickly. Furthermore, using photographs as part of installations extends the two dimensional nature of the image and creates the possibility for 'new' meanings to emerge through its juxtaposition with other images and objects.

RB: How do you work with the photographers who document your work?
BS: When I work with photographs I provide 'directions' for the photographer, in terms of what I would like, or at least think I would like, since there is a degree to which the sensitivity of the photographer comes into play as well. I usually work with Polaroid photographs to be able to see what is being photographed and to look at more formal aspects before shooting on medium format. I think it's important to note that most of my works are not exhibited as photographs, but as digital prints of the photographic images which have been scanned and printed on different media such as backlit paper, vellum or transparencies. So while the work draws on the photographic image, it also moves away from the medium at some point. But when I have the photographs taken, the photographer is capturing a subject who has had some say in how she wants to be portrayed and what she is doing while the photograph is being taken. I'm also in a position to determine the way in which the work is presented. Once it is in the public arena though, I have to relinquish control!

© 2008 Michael Stevenson. All rights reserved.