By
Margaretta wa Gacheru (28 January2019)
Few Kenyan
artists create anything like what could be called ‘protest art’. Yet Kaloki
Nyamai definitely qualifies as one of them. In his just-ended exhibition at
Circle Art Gallery entitled ’Mwaki Nginya
Evinda Enge’ (Kikamba for ‘The Fire Next Time’), Kaloki like James Baldwin
reflects on the tensions and contradictions of his people’s past and present.
In Baldwin’s
case, his reflections were specifically on race and the historical legacy of
slavery as it’s impacted African Americans’ lives. In Kaloki’s case, his art
also explores issues of identity and the historical legacy of, not slavery, but
colonialism, including the pre-colonial and post-colonial.
His
multimedia art, which has transitioned dramatically from being more figurative and
picturesque to becoming conceptual and symbolic, isn’t an easy read. But it
isn’t meant to be. Its cryptic, apparently chaotic style is part of what makes
it subversive and radical.
For like his
beloved grandmother Mutuve who got into trouble for composing and singing songs
that were truthful, hard-hitting and inadvertently political, Kaloki’s art
explores sensitive issues of power, patriarchy and a post-colonial Kenya that
could also be seen as controversial.
Like
Mutuve’s music, Kalobi’s art tells stories meant to rouse awareness of what was
lost, broken or simply forgotten of Kenya precolonial past. The recurrent
symbols used in most of his tapestry-like canvases mainly come from
pre-colonial times: like the three-legged stool (a symbolic seat of power), the
cow (a symbol of wealth) and sisal string which had immense value in
pre-colonial Kamba culture where it was used for making everything from plates
and ropes to clothes, mats and other types of home interiors.
Kaloki uses
symbols from the past in several ways. First, he uses them to speak to and
critique the present. But also he uses them to explore and expose
contradictions arising in a culture that has yet to address (leave alone
grapple with) the colonial hangovers plaguing our present times.
For
instance, in one painting a young woman stands atop a stool, suggestive of her
having attained a semblance of power or social equity. Yet the stool is broken,
as is the culture, Kaloki implies. Her power is illusory; the status quo still
holds.
Similarly,
in a work like ‘The Activist’s Daughter’ (Kana
Kaa Munenei), it’s the man standing on the stool. And despite his
apparently being ‘x-ed’ out of his patriarchal reign, given that a girl holds a
large megaphone, he remains standing on the stool, irrespective of the ‘x’, says
Kaloki.
Using
charcoal, acrylic and spray paints with sisal, wires and string from burnt tires,
Kaloki’s white-washed canvases have a three-dimensional effect since he’s
stitched a second set of stories in sisal on the other side of every work. By
so doing, he says his canvases aren’t meant to serve as wall-hangings. They’re
meant to be free-floating so they can be seen from various perspectives.
What’s more,
the stitching has special relevance to this multi-talented artist (who’s also
worked in film, fashion and interior design) since it signifies his
appreciation of his coming from a matriarchal culture (where women usually are
the ones who stitch).
It also
implies that Kaloki sees some hope for healing the country’s wounded culture, a
culture that has yet to deal with the trauma of colonialism and war.
Ultimately,
Kaloki’s biggest complaint and protest is against his fellow Kenyans who continue
to fawn over the rich and powerful, be they black or white. It’s a sentiment
best expressed in a painting of a small man at the bottom of the piece,
cheering the Big Man at the top. Kaloki would prefer the little man reclaim his
identity and dignity.
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