By Ashley Allard
In 1825, the Slave Bell was built on the Spier Wine Farm grounds, on the edges of the Eerste Rivier. This bell, built by Andries Christoffel Van der Byl, helped control the estate’s slaves. It still stands today and serves as a reminder of the brutal past. But, for the Spier Light Festival, this monument has been turned into art; a haunting phrase is illuminated, its shadow cast onto the familiar white colonial monument; Soon it will be quiet. This artwork is done by Tiago Rodrigues and is a reference to 21 Gables. All slaves were once subject to the slave bell, but through art, this narrative assigned to the monument is subverted.
This is the general message that Spier Wine Farm has dedicated itself to in recent years; Winning the BASA Chairman’s Premier award for “sustained and extraordinary commitment to the arts”, Spier has dedicated itself to art that refuses to cover up the atrocities of the past and provides a space for South African artists, specifically artists of colour, to present their work and bring a different presence to the landscape.
Every year the Spier Wine Farm, known for its fruitful vines, restaurants and picnics with a view, hosts the Light Festival spectacle just before the Western Cape temperatures begin to drop. And every March and April, hundreds of people leave their houses at dusk to marvel at the exhibitions displayed on the vineyard grounds. Each artwork plays with light, sound and video; from sculptures illuminated by white lights, structures made of multi-coloured LED lights to films projected onto white-washed walls, the Spier Light Festival is something you simply cannot skip out on.
The artworks range from transcendental to gut-punching. This year, across the grounds, tree branches are lined with glowing owls, little guardians overseeing the visitors. Glass beads hang suspended, waiting for guests to stand in front before they light up, their sensor working overtime. Blue-hued tapestries hang like spectres and ripple in the wind.
Independent art short films are projected onto the smaller buildings scattered across the vineyards, each unique, critical, and breathtaking. Thania Petersen’s Baqa, for example, is a glittering short film that explores the growing dedication to Sufi practices in the Western Cape Muslim community. Sombre, eerie music echoes over a figure kneeling in a lake. Softly, slowly, layers upon layers of traditional material are draped over the figure, thickening in the water and gaining weight. Yet, the figure remains steadfast. The work of art ends with a shot of the discarded material floating peacefully in the glittering waters. Captivating and thought-provoking, Baqa is a masterpiece encouraging pride and dignity, especially when expressing belief in the Divine.
In a statement on the ephemerality of memory and experience, the piece Singing Stones by Jenna Burchell invites the audience to mix the digital with the natural through singing rocks. The stones are spread across the field, each producing a different note at the slightest touch. The audience is encouraged to place a palm against the smooth surface of the sculpture, feeling the strong vibrations emanating from within and fostering a focus on the calm. This interactive exhibition by Burchell is incredible, simple and yet incredibly thought-provoking in its animist sentiment.
Molimo O Nko E Metsi by Tseliso Monaheng entraps the viewer immediately. With music similar to that used for transcendental meditation, Molimo O Nko E Metsi juxtaposes the rural with the urban in a critique of migration politics. It comments on the historical displacement that South African people have experienced, playing with notions of identity and belonging.
In a Rorschach painting-esque short film, kaleidoscopic images collapse into each other, presenting clashing and complimentary colours, breaking the boundaries of imagination in a futurist artwork.
Spier is located on a contentious, arguably haunted space. The West Capetonian landscape is heavy with its history; however, it is more imperative than ever that we do not silence or brush over horrors of the past, which the Stellenbosch community tends to do. Spier is trying to use its location as a centre for relearning and exposure; exposure not only of the brutal past but also of South African artists who critique hegemonic discourses, providing them with a platform to shape and express their own experience. For this, Spier Wine Farm does not deserve a warm-hearted pat on the back; however, it does indicate that Stellenbosch might be getting ready for that conversation.
