RADAR: Art

Your artwork is so distinctive. Talk us through your creative process.
It’s hard to explain because I’m always putting compositions together, even outside of the studio, and ruminating on my next artwork. There are so many moving pieces that influence my artworks, whether it’s people, colour, music or conversations. But when it’s time to get to creating, I set up five or six blank pieces of paper or canvases, and I work on all of them at the same time, at the same pace. While I’m working, I like to listen to some pretty strange melodic music that gets me away from reality. I work on the piece for anywhere between eight hours to eight days to four weeks – it just varies with what I am trying to achieve. I don’t like to be around people a lot of the time, and I don’t like people in my studio while I’m working, so it’s a pretty lonely process. But then at the end I have all these artworks that relate to one another, and when they are in an exhibition, there’s an underlying narrative that connects them all.

How do you navigate the balance between traditional African aesthetics and contemporary design?
I think that balance comes naturally to me because I can’t help being a contemporary artist. I enjoy the freedom of referencing art history and masters such as Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, Peter Clarke and Ernest Mancoba, while also seeing Africa through my own lens. The most powerful source of inspiration for African artists is our location. It is part of our history, our ancestral lineage. It’s the story of our continent and our culture. I like to rely on my imagination, but not in a serious way. A lot of my work is very playful. I have fun. But I do think that my work is executed with a high level of professionalism, too.

Colour plays a powerful role in your work. What is it that you want to communicate through your palette choices?
Colours are never predetermined, so I make sure that I have access to every colour in my studio. Before I start a body of work, I’ll choose a set of colours that I can speak to, or a set of tones that I’ve seen work really well, maybe in a piece of architecture or design. Four or five years ago, I would only work in red and black, so I’m in a very different place now, where I want colours to inspire people. Sometimes I just want the colours to be the focal point as opposed to the visual language or the structure of the work.

Your work explores the themes of identity and resilience. What aspects of your personal journey have most shaped the stories you tell through your art?
The fact that I have a Zimbabwean father and a Dutch Afrikaans mother is an empirical facet of who I am, and who I am plays a major role, consciously and subconsciously, in the work that I create. My sobriety has played a major role in helping me to understand my personality and the identity that I want to portray. All those variables have allowed me to connect more emotionally and more intimately with my work. When I was younger and studying art, I never wanted to make work about my identity; now it feels like a natural progression because making work about being a “third culture” individual in South Africa is the most honest thing I can do. I’ve also come to understand my identity as being Zimbabwean and Afrikaans. After all, it is how the world sees me. By leaning into that and leveraging it for my benefit, I understand that it’s the most honest voice that I can give to my audience.

How do you see African identity evolving, especially through the lens of contemporary art?
It’s a bittersweet transition. The bitter part is that I see a lot of African artists trying to fit into what they think is expected of them, and sticking to very traditional ways of working. Their themes are Black people in poverty which locks people of colour on the African continent into the same landscape. The sweet part is that there are people like me, and a handful of other creators in South Africa, who have broken out of that mould, who are using abstractionism and expressionism to produce work that doesn’t always portray an African on a canvas. I think we are trying to ask: “What does it mean to be a contemporary African?” without relying on the expectations that the art world has of us. I’m hopeful that the more traditional African artists will catch up and begin to think: “Oh, because these more modern African artists are being recognised in the Global North, they must be doing something right.”

Is there a particular piece of yours that holds deep personal significance or marked a turning point in your career?
My debut solo show “Masks Of Modernity”, which was held in Cape Town in 2024, felt like a turning point for me. It was a body of work that consisted of both big and small canvases as well as ceramic, stone and wooden sculptures. It set the bar for what and how I want to produce and showcase my work in public. I think that exhibition was probably the most honest and most vulnerable work I’ve ever produced.

What conversations do you hope to start through your art?
I think the art world, specifically in Africa, has lost its ability to be critical, so I really want to start conversations about no longer accepting or applauding mediocrity. I want people to talk about the fact that we don’t have to follow traditions to be successful. I want people to vocalise their criticism of the art world, its mechanisms and even my peers to a certain extent. I feel some artists do the absolute bare minimum but get the highest and best rewards, so we have a very low bar that is easy to reach; anybody who supersedes that bar just gets swept under the rug because they’re “doing too much”. I’d like to talk about how us artists can help each other to grow in a positive way: how do we encourage each other to evolve? How do we learn and educate one another about how to take this thing one step further together?

What advice would you give to young African artists trying to find their voice in an increasingly digital and commercial art world?
I think the most useful thing that I could say to young creatives is that hard work is the best foundation for any practice. Have patience and allow yourself the time and energy to experiment. So many young artists want to develop a language and to become famous for that language; but that language can become a cage. It could make you famous, but it can become a trap that you unfortunately have to live in for the rest of your career. I often tell young artists I meet that, adjacent to their art practice and until they can live off of the profits of their work, they shouldn’t be afraid of getting another job. I believe that as an artist, funding your dreams and your career is just as important as making the artworks themselves. Remaining hopeful, having conversations and being brave enough to ask difficult questions of your peers and yourself is also vital. It takes a lot of bravery and a willingness to be different.

IG: @samurai_farai

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