At an overcrowded opening, I caught myself eagerly searching for the remnants of my colleagues that were laid bare before everyone. My hand stained by the mixture of wine and sweat, clutched a glass of unknown red wine while greeting strangers at the door with a smile – hinting that they were indeed old friends. Those attending this much-anticipated presentation were there in support of the artist, but also to spot who’s who amongst the constellation. We were all teased by Kamyar Bineshtarigh, an Iranian artist currently based in Cape Town, marking his second solo exhibition at Southern Guild.

In ‘Group Show’, he investigates the physical transferal of preliminary records present in the plaster of buildings and interior architectures of that which we inhabit. In particular, the studio, as a space of making, was laid out and designed for applause. We are presented with indulgent motifs, all stemming from visual artists from South Africa, working in different styles, mediums and with divergent histories.

To achieve this sense of a protohistory, cold glue is drenched over the varying surfaces present in the studios of his colleagues. Once this second skin is set, he carefully peels away the jargon of others. These mixed-media assemblages excavate the weight of others’ words and the historiography of scribbles announcing the secrets from studios. Bineshtarigh does not work with simulacra, the illusion of the first representation, but engages with the physical removal of a direct representation. His transfers become a microcosm of multicultural diversity embedded in the artistic practices he records. The exhibition is distinctly comparative, featuring a cross-generational timeline that ultimately creates an experience rooted within the community itself. An intro-communal experience encompassing an eclectic representation of a vast collection of stories. He does not burn the bridge of collaboration but instead pays the toll of representation. 

The ethical capacity of the exhibition raises implications of material ownership that unabashedly refuse to shy away from the viewer. The mechanics of authorship are spread across the entire breadth of the exhibition. As the adhesive dries on the walls of each artist’s studio, when a transfer is completed, so too does their ownership. The new ownership solidified in Bineshtarigh‘s pockets. We must not interpret these arrangements by applying them to the binaries of what constitutes a plagiarised aesthetic, but instead appreciate the visual allegory of that which is kept by artists behind their doors, which are now readily available. We are given the leftovers. Moments of in-between thoughts are caught in the ooze of the glue. But the scraps of others often become the meal for tomorrow. This is what we are offered: a meal to feed a community. 

The absence of titles at the opening, which could have reflected the various represented artists in question, further formalises the mystery of whether or not Bineshtarigh has indeed made everything. Is this mystery only afforded in the gallery space on an opening night and abandoned for the logistics of purchase? Some artists are recognisable. Vusi Nkomo’s geometric references become clear visual hints, winking to our possible understanding of his abstracted practice, while Dominique Cheminais’ contorted figures paired with references to Ernst Ludwig Kirchner are displayed as equals within the cloudy, translucent veil smeared over them both. The exhibition’s architectonic memory carries the weight of others’ marks and the stains of their purpose. 

However, only a few visitors are familiar with these practices, which have been reanimated and re-contextualised, so the question becomes: Does the average bystander know who these artists are? I wonder then, if this is an exhibition for the public or for the contemporary art community. The viewer’s own identification with the images presented becomes subordinate to the framing of the exhibition. If the unknown disorients you, then inspecting the website of Southern Guild may provide clarity, as it did for me. An onlooker at the opening asked me, “Does the original artist receive a cut of the profit?”, which I, too, am curious about. However, the mechanics of this matter within this instance must instead be facilitated by those working within the gallery context so as to safeguard the exhibition’s rhetoric. After speaking to some of the artists whose work has become commercially preserved, I learnt that many of them adopted a self-reflexive approach, stressing the communal character of studio agendas. They were chuffed to be considered and eager to provide Bineshtarigh with the skin of their walls. 

‘Group Show’ provides us with stories memorialised in their new ownership. Bineshtarigh excavates the modes in which artists function and how they navigate their intimate environments. He becomes a signifier for communal appreciation for collaborative community practices. The exhibition provides a particular language to inaugurate perspectives and mediate expectations by assigning an aesthetic value within each artist’s portrayal. The exhibition presents a symbolic economy, marking a particular time and place where the epoch shifts its intention.

There are often protocols for group exhibitions, where invitations are extended and a submission is not always guaranteed. But in ‘Group Show‘, Bineshtarigh took care when he cut memories from the plaster of his community. He took the time to kneel into their practice and staple thoughts together. There is an intimacy in what he has accomplished by giving walls and floors another hour to live.