Sharlene Khan - What I saw, what I thought

On 4 September 2008, I had a rare opportunity to see the work of one of South Africa's young and upcoming artists' work on display. The exhibition titled 'What I look like, what I feel like' wasn't her usual work on urban immigrants, the work that has occupied her imagination for a while now. It was on an interesting theme, her.

While any work that is reflective of ourselves is often a risky project to undertake, many autobiographers often do it, because within the story of the self, emerges the story of others, in which concerns about one's identity become key in relation to the general context of the work's production. I am talking about great names like Eskia Mphahlele and Richard Wright, in literature, for example. Often, people who write or produce autobiographical work recreate their stories to embrace a certain theme that touches base with the stories of hundreds, even millions of others. Such has been the case for some of the most famous autobiographers.

It is with this is mind that I approach Sharlene Khan's exhibition at the Gallery Momo, in Parktown North. Her work was a collection of photographs, each telling its own story, yet all of them forming an intricate narrative of how she sees herself personally and as an artist in South Africa today. The style of presentation was quite interesting. Each piece consisted of two separate yet related photographs, which together told a story of how she viewed herself and her identity.

Her work rotated around questions of gender and power, education and unemployment; and unequal race relations in post-Apartheid South Africa. The displays were at once personal and public. Personal because the artist used the opportunity to directly speak about her feelings towards how very specific groups have viewed her in the last few years during her struggles to make a mark in South Africa as a young, black, female artist. She makes references to several controversial landmarks in her career.

For instance, one display titled 'Doing it for Daddy' makes special reference to an article she wrote a couple of years ago about the disadvantaged position of the black artist in the present South Africa. It inadvertently makes reference to the backlash she received for writing this piece. She also has a mounting based on a phrase that appeared quite recently in a blog spot which picked on her as an example of those artists who were not doing much to help in the Xenophobic violence. She clearly uses this space to speak to issues close to her heart using the most effective form of expression available to her.

An array of her pictures speak to more general themes. For instance, one of the pieces titled 'Princess Warrior' was particularly telling in a freudian kind of way. This is a picture of the artist dressed in army gear, holding a blood-stained knife on one hand, and on the other hand, holding a severed (white) head. She is in the process of wiping her brow with the knife-holding hand. Next to this photogragh is a rather completely different picture. It is of the artist sitting on a toilet seat, blowing into a air-bag, perhaps nauseous from the earlier exprerience?

In the 'gender room' we had a most inspiring piece about her identity as a Muslim woman, who although free, struggles with the demands of her culture. A very provocative piece, which was, quite naturally, the first to sell! In one picture, we have the artist standing naked, free, but already defined by the boundaries and expectations of her culture (demonstrated through the intricate stitchings in the form of gown measurements around the naked body). In the second picture, she is covered from head (face) to foot, in a bou bou, a prisoner in her clothing!

I was honoured to have been a part of this opening night, not because I know much about art, but because I thought this was a form of rebirth for many, who felt, thought and exprienced the things they saw on display.

An inspiring display of courage, determination and artistry! An evening well spent.