ST UA RTBI RDTEXT ALEXANDRA DODD PHOTOGRAPHY LAR LESLIE

22 SEPTEMBER 2012 WA N T E D

Th e r e ’s a performative stream to my work that usually involves me repeatedlyperforming a strenuous action for a prolonged period of time

23 SEPTEMBER 2012 WA N T E D

Stuart Bird, Over theRainbow, Supawood

and broken mirrors, 70x 210 x 20cm, Edition

of 3, 2011

YOUNG AFRICAN ARTISTS

I FIND STUART BIRD IN HIS STUDIO IN AN INDUSTRIALbuilding between Smith & Santos panel beaters and Pit Stoptyres at 48 Albert Road. Like much of Woodstock, thebuilding is being shimmied up a notch and the builders havetaken possession of the site. I follow a stray cat, adept atdodging angle grinders, straight to the source.

“I’m one of the only tenants that has stayed through thet ra n s i t i o n ,” says Bird, who was born in Benoni and grew up inDurban, before migrating to Cape Town to study at MichaelisSchool of Fine Art. “Previously, there was a lot of smallindustry here — an upholsterer, a polishing company, a smallcaterer. There was a West African Christian churchdownstairs and the minstrels would rehearse here too soSundays were quite vibrant and noisy. It’s being gentrifiednow, which makes me a bit uneasy, but I’m also quite happyto be part of the change.”

Stepping out of the industrial mayhem of stray planks andmen in hard hats into the utilitarian orderliness of the studio,it’s a challenge to imagine that this is where all the sweat andeffort of carving, grinding and filing gets done. The space isneat; the surfaces clean and uncluttered. Yet Bird isrenowned for his dedication to the physical exertion thatresults in his meticulously handcrafted sculptures andinstallations. Prior to studying, he apprenticed as a churchinterior restorer in the UK.

It is this conceptual slippage between the painstakingphysical intensity of the process and the seamlessness of theend product that is brought to light by his sculptures. Despitethe fact that hundreds of hours of careful labour go intomaking them, the objects themselves appear effortlesslycomplete. Take Chip off the old block, a noose carved out ofimbuia and suspended from the ceiling. The only clue that itis not rope you’re looking at is the pile of chips beneath it — areminder of the original raw material. Or his delicious ZumaBi s c u i t s series of carved and painted wooden plaques — part

of the Iziko SA National Gallery Collection. They’re soconvincingly like Zoo Biscuits, you could take a chomp outof them. But their conceptual bite is in the satirical icons(spear, shower-head, miniskirt, AK47) that adorn theirsugary-looking surfaces. Aesthetically polished and perfectlyhoned, they offer no evidence of sweat or grind.

Nor, for that matter, does the artist himself — not a fleck ofdust or a wood shaving on him. Lithe and taut, he wears aneat black T-shirt and jeans, and black-framed glasses. Heattests to being in the “vo r t e x ” of an intense day of doing, butthere is no chaos around him. “Th e r e ’s a performative streamto my work that usually involves me repeatedly performing astrenuous action for a prolonged period of time,” says Bird,who studied sculpture at Michaelis under Jane Alexanderand Gavin Younge and then completed his Masters thereunder Malcolm Payne’s supervision. “For a collaboration Idid with Belinda Blignaut and Linda Stupart atYOUNGBLACKMAN in Cape Town, my contribution wasjackhammering up the floor, which I did for about fourh o u r s .”

“Then, as part of the work I did for the MTN NewContemporaries show, I dug a hole outside the NSA Galleryduring the course of the opening night and transported therubble from outside into the gallery.” The themes of manuallabour and excavation brought to life by Bird’s act of diggingbrought his work into direct conversation with other artworksby Mohau Modisakeng and Kemang Wa Lehulere.

At the time of this interview, he was planning to dosomething similar for Belinda Blignaut’s recent show, A ShotTo The Arse at Michaelis Galleries, with its anarchistic punkethos. “I’ll be dancing for several hours to Rage Against theM a ch i n e ’s first album, which came out 20 years ago, in 1992.I was 14 at the time and their music really opened my eyes towhat activism could be. Their drive was very much againstsystems of oppression and elitism and rampant consumerism

and, looking back, their music was a starting block for mycurrent production. They were using their art for more thanjust a surface appeal.”

Bird’s first solo at Goodman Cape earlier this year wascalled Promise Land and in it he explored the promise and riskof life in contemporary SA — a country of immense potentialthat is also fraught with danger. Over the Rainbow, a glitteringarch constructed out of broken shards of mirror, is both awelcome and a warning — a reminder that the place towhich it grants access remains a fantasy that can be visitedbut never inhabited.

The exhibition also featured a video work based on aperformance that took place on top of a parking lot in the cityin which he used an acetylene torch to write the words“r e vo l u t i o n ” and “counter” in succession in an ever-increasing spiral that grew larger over the course of a fewhours. Again the endurance aspect was central. “Th eperformance was conceived around the beginning of theArab Spring, inspired by footage shot on cellphones. It alsohas a lot to do with what we’re currently going through in SA,with politicians constantly slagging each other off in themedia. The notions of revolution and counter-revolutionseem to shift according to who is talking about them. TakeBrett Murray and the whole Sp e a r issue – according to some,he’s now a counter-revolutionary, so there’s a complete 180°flip in the minds of some people.”

Whether it’s an installation of cobra-shaped men’s ties oran archly-worded neon sculpture, Bird never shies awayfrom dark emotion or thoughts that unsettle the mind.“People have described me as a conceptual artist, but there ismore to my work than that. I am not afraid of raw emotionand I channel that into the making of the work.”

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