Ghanaian architect and writer
It is an opportunity to talk to the rest of the world about Africa, and also to talk to Africa from here (Venice). The ability to be several things at once — traditional and modern, African and global, colonized and independent — is a strong thread running through the continent and the Diaspora. We’re used to having to think about resources, about switching on a light with no guarantee of electricity. We’re able to grapple with change. That capacity to overcome, to negotiate, to navigate ones’ surroundings is going to take center stage.
I don't expect this exhibition to teach anybody anything, I don't think it's a didactic exhibition. That's not to say that people won't learn something from it. But I don't want any of the participants to be the ones dictating what the lesson is. It should be read from it. What they have done is put out an authentic, genuine, sometimes vulnerable story. What happens to that story is somehow beyond their control. What I hope that the audience takes from it is a kind of openness where previously, there might have been a closeness, or an unwillingness to engage with the other, not on our terms, but on their terms.
I think all cultural output is a form of narrative. Somebody once said that culture is the sum total of stories we tell ourselves about ourselves. So, there's a very deep need to say something, to impart something. In these questions of colony, identity, territory, and history, there is a sense amongst many black practitioners that we've never had the space to tell our own stories, and part of the act of recuperating what has been lost is the desire to speak. In some senses, the Biennale has been a healing experience, a kind of closing over of a wound, of a void.