Just as the
acclaimed Irish painter Francis Bacon painted biomorphic portraits of people
that were grim, disfigured and expressive of the torment that the individual
(or the artist) apparently felt about life generally and Bacon’s life in
particular, so Samuel Githinji also paints man-size figures that seem to reflect
his own tortured perspective on his life and possibly on those of everyday
Kenyans.
Githinji,
whose emotionally powerful paintings are currently on display in his second
solo exhibition at the Red Hill Gallery, fills his larger-than-life sized
canvases with stick figures painted with bold black and red strokes set against
a plain black and white background. Occasionally, he mixes his blacks with a
deep, dark blue. But neither his colors nor his shapes, stark lines or
scribbles are meant to suggest a semblance of beauty. Instead, like Bacon, his
ghoulish figures are meant to be ugly and grotesque.
One feels
they are meant to send a strong signal as to the suffering of ordinary Kenyans
whom he occasionally paints with halos, as if to say they are society’s suffering
servants in a state where corruption robs them of any hope for their future.
Compounding
that sense of hopelessness and poverty, Githinji also sometimes rips his canvas
with holes which are comparable to the tattered rags that his pencil-thin men
are wearing.
Another
feature that makes one feel his men are in bondage to their hopeless conditions
is the horizonal black or blood-red straight lines that cross the chest of
every man, as if he is dwelling behind bars. Hints of barbed wire also
reinforce that feeling of entrapment that Githinji so effectively conveys in
his paintings.
But what
might be the most disconcerting aspect of his figures’ features are their faces
which, like Bacon’s, are distorted beyond recognition of any humanity. Instead,
some look more like bestial creatures which might imply that poverty itself
turns men into beasts for survival’s sake.
The faces of
others look hollow, featureless, as if their very identities have been erased
in light of the heavy burdens they feel just being alive. Meanwhile, a few
remind one of Edvard Munch’s painting, ‘The Scream’ which also has an emotional
impact that is tragic yet undeniable.
Githinji’s
art, equally, has an emotional impact that is desperate yet undeniable. Indeed,
in spite of someone feeling ‘turned off’ by the tortured expressions of his figures,
one may also find it difficult to take one’s eyes off these disturbing men.
They seem to confront you with more questions than answers. They might even compel
you to ponder what reasons could inspire this talented Kenyan artist to step
away from painting the pretty decorative art that sells so well to tourists.
It’s because
the artist has powerful sentiments to share about society and the powerful
forces that ignore the needs of the vast majority whose lives are desperate.
Yet as nihilistic
as Githinji’s stick-men seem to be, his art is not entirely hopeless. Instead, one
can occasionally find a small flower (or two or three) sprouting out of the
rubble and filth. The flowers, some white other blood red, seem to symbolize
that touch of hope that Githinji suggests in the halo and crown he occasionally
gives to his characters.
Yet one is
not meant to be fooled by any sense of false hope. That crown is a crown of
thorns, the kind first worn by Jesus Christ before he was crucified. It hints
at the notion that times will continue to be tough in Kenya, but there may be
hope. Yet who can wait for the kingdom to come? Not Githinji.
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