In Conversation With is a digital interview series which aims to present artists in their studio, talking about their practice. Explore In Conversation With Mhlonishwa Zulu (b. 2002, South Africa), a Cape Town-based artist with roots deeply entrenched in KwaZulu Natal, South Africa. Moving fluidly between surrealism and magical realism, the artist delves into the intersections of fantasy, faith and lived experience.
Let’s start this conversation at the beginning of your artistic journey. Are you able to share what sparked your love of art?
I have been making art for as long as I can remember. I was largely influenced by friends and male figures whom I looked up to. They would draw characters from television series, and that inspired me to start doing my own sketches.
Can you give us a sneak peek into your studio practice? What does the making process look like for you?
The first thing I do before engaging with my practice is pray. I also need music to allow my thoughts to find their flow as I work; it is integral to my process and is a component I deeply lean on. Lastly, because creating is a very intimate and personal experience, I require a degree of seclusion.
At present, what key explorations and themes underpin your practice?
I am exploring objects as sites for both meaning generation and degradation. I have been very interested in the simultaneous interplay between both realities and how viewpoints can shift which one is experienced and propelled forward. Mundane or dilapidated objects act as relics or archives that seem lost to the passage of time. But where do the narratives of these things go? If they remain, in what capacity do the remnants exist? Who do they hold relevance for, and how does that relevance sustain itself?
How do you make decisions around composition, colour, and form?
I tend to map out the terrain through colour and light. I can work through scale and distance this way, starting off lightly, then building up where necessary. Form follows thereafter, going hand in hand with the composition. When an object finds its place in the composition, I am able to determine how much weight I want to give to it. It is fun to distort and play with perceptions of weight, shifting the balance of my compositions so that the viewer is never on solid ground.
Over time, we have seen you embracing repeated motifs which have, in turn, allowed you to develop a distinctive visual lexicon. Chairs, fences, rocks, bricks, clouds and gates, are among several key objects that feature throughout your œuvre. What draws you to these objects in particular?
These objects interest me because of their perseverance. They exist beyond their functional lifespan or social expiry date, even if they are neglected. The anthropological mapping that these objects provide is fascinating to explore and holds an interesting key to how they represent and depict society at different stages of history. I often think of Dalí’s painting, The Persistence of Memory (1931). The artwork makes me think of how time acts as a vehicle for meaning generation through lived experience.
You were raised in KwaZulu-Natal, and you are currently practicing in Cape Town. Given your interrogation of place and positionality, what did this move mean for you? Did it shape your work in unexpected ways?
I feel that my move from KZN to the Western Cape was needed to actually rekindle that initial love for the landscape of home. The focus on landscape came from a growing sense of security and sanctity in home, which I only fully realized once I had left. Homesickness is a real thing, so to be able to witness that and see what I value in space has been very humbling. The way I now look at land and landmarks wherever I go has been greatly influenced by these shifts in physical terrain. I am drawn to the expansiveness of space now, be it mountains or seas.
Which artists and art movements do you feel have had the greatest hand in shaping your artistic sensibilities and approach?
My work is influenced by key Surrealist and Magical Realist figures from both the Western and African art canons. Salvador Dalí, René Magritte, and Edgar Ende have influenced the way that I navigate landscape, composition, mood, and atmosphere. These artists are able to establish a unique tension in their respective œuvres. Johannes Phokela’s work has also deeply shaped my approach as an artist.
What has been the highlight of your career thus far?
I am blessed to say that it is hard to choose a single highlight. Showcasing my work at the Investec Cape Town Art Fair was undoubtedly one of the best; it opened my eyes to the sheer scale of the art world and how far I can go within it. It is incredibly exciting to pursue my passion and say that this is my life - something I dreamed and prayed for. The most exciting focus for me right now is the preparation I am undergoing for my second solo exhibition with Bode.
Let’s unpack the title of your upcoming exhibition, Tabula Rasa. What does it mean? What drew you to it as a point of departure for this body of work?
Tabula Rasa is a Latin phrase that essentially translates to ‘blank slate’ or ‘clean slate’ - both translations offer layered degrees of meaning in this body of work. In my practice, I have been reducing a lot to work with the bare bones of painting while exploring the terrain of the human condition. It has been fascinating to see how we can think through space and time as vehicles for generating as well as neglecting meaning, and what it then means to suspend meaning entirely.
To wrap things up, what advice would you give to other emerging, independent artists navigating the art eco-system at the moment?
One thing that I was told, which helped me out immensely, is to simply do. It is one thing to be an aspiring young artist with dreams, ambitions, and ideas, but in order to see those things become reality, you have to step out and make it so. Placing yourself in the physical space is the only way you will adapt to the ecosystem and find yourself rooted in a way that serves your practice and career. That means going to exhibitions, seeing art (especially returning to shows after the opening night crowds have cleared), and actively engaging with artists, curators, and writers. Above all, make work. The more you make, the more you make sense of your making, and you can only go up from there.
Images courtesy of the artist. Photography by Nicholas Hill.