Art, Masculinity, and a Cold Beer
- Feb 17
- 5 min read
Hey besties! Have you read my blog post about the FNB Art Expo? No? That’s okay.
Today, I’m going to drop a lot of names, so stay focused.
Let’s perhaps start with this: my somatic interpretation of consumption falls under three categories: access, quality, and presentation (in that order). How would this apply to art? First, you get exposure, then you can spot the work of a skilled painter, and then you appreciate the depth of the message conveyed.
In my blog post about the FNB art expo, I made an important reference to an article called Death of a Salesman: FNB Art Joburg and the End of the Fairytale in Art Africa Magazine. It’s a satire and social commentary by Adilson de Oliveira on the contemporary South African Art Scene, denouncing the capitalisation of art leading to the loss of its essence.
The article references Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman, a tragedy about a man who confuses financial success with personal worth. Willy, the father and aforementioned salesman, ends his days after a failed attempt to secure a promotion in New York, which leads him to lose his job. I don't think we're outraged enough about a salesman's final act of love being a premature insurance policy left to his family. Willy's son, Biff, nostalgically looks back at his father's life and states that he dreamed the wrong dream: that of being a successful salesman when there was much more to him than his job. His love for the outdoors, the affair he concealed behind closed doors, and the doubts around his role as a father and as a man.
Why am I telling you this? Well. I’ve recently spent some time at the Asisebenze Art Gallery and met Langa Qaphile, a fellow writer, passionate about photography and untold stories. We chatted for a bit and decided we just might be the A team for upcoming conversations: he with the camera, me with the words (talk about the friends we made along the way!).
Today’s culprit: Adilson de Oliveira. Don’t panic, he’s not in trouble, we just had a chat around a couple of cold beers that made me realise everything in the art ecosystem connects like a spider web.
After Adilson’s recent interview with Thokozani Mthiyane, I was curious to hear his stance on masculinity, as it was one of the main themes in Residuals. Especially with Death of a Salesman as the anchor of his article, where Willy’s torment is the pursuit of the American dream: to embody social admiration from financial success. The corporate world tends to censor for the sake of keeping a pristine demeanour and, of course, keeping the “machine” going. But how many artists have been constrained to replicate the selling formula against their stance in the hope of a bigger bag? Let's discuss in this piece I affectionately titled Art, Masculinity, and a Cold Beer.
The reality of many artists is that of Willy Loman: the illusion that wealth accumulated in the capitalist machine is universally attainable. The law of nature is such that if you’re not eating, you must be the meal (unfortunately, not in a cheeky dessert way, unless...). And the current ecosystem has a knack for exploiting naive artists eager to make a name for themselves.
I found the analogy brilliant and admire Adilson’s expansive outlook on the art scene. I re-read his article, and a lot became clearer when I could understand the references to the play.
My question about his commentary on the current art scene, “What is art without its sponsors”, found an answer during our exchange with him last week.
For further context on his work, a series of his paintings called The Apollo Café, named after the Stephen Gray poem, was mislabelled. I had skimmed (and that was my first mistake) through some of it and found the paintings under a different article that labelled them “Fat Man”.
“I wish more people took the time to visit my website and read what my art is about,” he said. Because to him, the subjects are not portrayed in full figure as a mockery; they are made to be beautiful and represent strong personalities of his family that he chose to honour authentically. Why do we run to pejorative adjectives when something/someone falls out of “the norm”? As a matter of fact, what is the norm, and according to whom?
The choice to portray his muse as superheroes in this series is not random. It was a nudge to one of his influences, Anthony Lister. Adilson connects the superhero’s wrestle with power, morality, and the human condition to the experience of immigrant communities. His Portuguese heritage finds solace and much honour in the strokes of his paintbrush. The poem referenced elevates the essence of corner stores run by immigrant communities in South Africa around the 1980s, by turning them into reference points for foreigners. Places where they did not just survive, but also fostered community.
The choice to paint them tired yet full of vigour contrasts their vulnerability in an environment that demands that they be strong.
Art and Politics cannot be dissociated because an artist creates from reference through his/her imagination. And what fuels imagination if not one’s reality? The same reality is dictated by socio-economic circumstances as a result of a political context.
And that’s where, in his opinion, contemporary gallerists and curators lose the plot. The same formulas are repeated without evolution because that is “what sells.” And when it sells, how much is the artist walking away with? But then again, what is art without its sponsors?
Perhaps the question I should ask instead is, “How could an artist fail to be an entrepreneur?”
In 2019, he became co-founder of The Magolide Collective alongside Mzoxolo Mayongo and explored screen printing, Afrofuturist, digital, and performance art through a decolonial lens. No wonder he talks about screen printing techniques, politics, and art in a way that is so natural it backs the weight of his satires. His work is testimony that pop art is more than just caricature. It summarises cultural references and gives them context to convey a message. Therefore, he does not speak like a mere critic, but rather as someone with experience from trial and error in the pursuit of his blueprint, and a great understanding of patterns and systems.
An empty cup Carnation soup hidden by a jacket Apollo Cafe scraps Old newspaper Old newspaper untitled The Apollo Cafe untitled Carnation soup
I believe he is realistic about the deck he is handed and mindful about each card he plays. His decisions have reflected a desire to stay true to himself and what he stands for: self-expression. How refreshing was it to exchange with a man who is enthusiastic about a niche Afrikaans drag queen? (Hey, I love Drag Race, and I love finding my people!)
I playfully told him that he looks exactly like his art. Not that his outfit was a scrapbook collage that screams “fuck the system”. But more so, his work echoed his beliefs and felt like an extension of him.
My conclusion: Masculinity is unapologetic authenticity. Willy Loman's death is a cry for help. How can we reshape our definition of success when there are mouths to feed and bills to be paid?
This entire conversation, to me, could have made for an elite blunt rotation, but I digress.
See you soon for more, besties! If you’d like to discuss, don’t hesitate to reach out. I write back ;)
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