Money can buy you many things.

One of those things is art. Money and art are synonyms. Many have debated through the centuries what art is, and the focus is mostly on western perspectives. But the thing that most forget (or neglect) is that art equates to leisure which equates to money.

Why do I say this? Because one needs to have time to make art. If one's society does not deem art valuable there will be no time for artists to make and produce art. There will be no relevance to art. More specifically, art in a society without leisure will not be art as we understand it today.

I need to have time to visit a gallery/museum.

The artist needs to have time to create the work besides making money to buy food to survive.

And so on.

Why do I say all of this? Because the ultra-rich in our societies can buy art for the sake of buying it and building elaborate galleries/museums to showcase all of these works.

The Rupert Museum in Stellenbosch, South Africa, is a prime example of this. In this museum, you will find contemporary art but also art from the 1930s which the Rupert foundation is exhibiting.

Art can in one instance liberate but in another, it can also show the financial and economic divide.

Much like the art it exhibits, it showcases the absolute disconnect of society.

Embers covered in gold.

We burn everything to the ground, yet, that becomes art. In a paradoxical move, that which we burn down becomes art.

In current-day politics, the burning down of a building becomes art. Because art is inherently political. And through art, we can voice our dissent. But this is not the intention of the artists at all. Here is the explanation from the artist:

Art can mean many things.

And many things imply diversity:

What is art?

That is a question that has been asked since we stumbled upon diversity. Because the west found differences in the world, they took their position as hegemonic and norm. Art is an example. For many years, art from Africa was seen as akin to craft and not art. But since many political movements and so on, African craft has turned into African art.

Art is.

Whatever the artist says it is, art dictates movement.

A Bag Full of Water.

Symmetry. It is a matter of perspective.

A bag full of water hanging precariously from the ceiling. The sounds of a river projecting from another room. Disembodied voices fill the room. A table full of sand with neon bright reds showering over you.

A projector plays stochastically. Movement activates the sensor. A strange fiction plays out in front of you.

Death is movement.

The body becomes a slow-moving entity. At once it is, then it is not. A strange figure lays on the floor betwixt rocks. Is it me that lays there? Is it me who is dead-art?

Sitting, staring, shitting.

Artworks made from steel to look like Polystyrene. Have we reached the peak of humanity in which we copy that which we want to forget? Copies of copies but then we get to the stage in which copies become reality and we cannot face the reality we have created.

Art is nightmares.

The only sanity that pulls me back is the insanity of the 1930s. What a time of luxury and affluence that relied on colonial money.

Normality.

What is normal?

The work speaks of simplicity, of a directness that discomforts and alienates. Why should it be like that? Is the normal that strange? Are we merely made drunk on security and familiarity? Strange this thing we call reality.

Postscriptum

Visiting a museum or gallery can be strange. You confront yourself in a strange mirror there, a place that makes you question your own position in life. But this affluent practice, this rich man's game, is not for everyone.

You leave moved, not by the art itself but by the way your mind tries to make sense of things. Yes, it is the art that causes these thoughts, but it is inherently just a mirror that was held up in front of you.

I hope you enjoyed this rather abstract journey. All of the photographs are my own, taken with my iPhone. None of the art is my own, nor am I making money from posting them here. It is merely a reflection on things. The musings are also my own. I hope you are well. Safe travels!