Described by Peter Brook as ‘an extraordinary achievement’, this haunting installation sets out to subvert a disturbing phenomenon, turning the notion of exotic spectacle on its head.
Exhibit B critiques the ‘human zoos’ and ethnographic displays that showed Africans as objects of scientific curiosity through the 19th and early 20th centuries. Translated here into twelve tableaux, each features motionless performers placed in settings drawn from real life. Collectively they confront colonial atrocities committed in Africa, European notions of racial supremacy and the plight of immigrants today.
As spectators walk past the exhibits one-by-one, to the sound of lamentations sung live by a Namibian choir, a human gaze is unexpectedly returned.
Edinburgh festival 2014 review: Exhibit B – facing the appalling reality of Europe's colonial past
This installation uses live models to revisit tales of the torture and murder of African workers and slaves, reminding us that our 21st-century ways of seeing history are still strongly skewed.
Review rating: 5 out of 5
Lyn Gardner
The Guardian, Monday 11 August 2014
Third World Bunfight's live installation, which uses the 19th-century freakshow or human zoo as the inspiration for an investigation into European colonial history, is both unbearable and essential. It's unbearable because of the suffering it depicts: the brief story of a Kenyan man castrated during the Mau Mau uprisings in the 1950s is set among the bone china of a genteel English afternoon tea; appalling tales of the torture and murder of African slaves and workers in Dutch colonies rises out of a Netherlands golden-age painting.
It's essential because the silent, unmoving figures at the centre of each one of the installations makes us confront how we look, where we look and what we are prepared to see. Sarah Baartman, the so-called "Hottentot Venus", who was exhibited in theatres and halls during her life and dissected and then displayed after death, stands expressionless on a turning plinth. Black asylum-seekers are presented as "found objects", although they stand before us living and breathing. It is hard to meet their eye. Again and again, as you wander through the installation and the heartbreaking sounds of traditional Namibian lamentations rise from the mouths of apparently severed heads in Dr Fischer's Cabinet of Curiosities, you long to look away. Maybe even run away. But you can't run away from your collective past.
Creator Brett Bailey has been fearlessly uncompromising in his approach. The experience in the exhibition hall is entirely without comfort. Confronting us with the appalling realities of Europe's colonial past – the stuff I definitely wasn't taught at school – isn't just some kind of guilt trip. It reminds us that most history is hidden from view; it reminds that Britain's 21st-century ways of seeing are still strongly skewed by 18th-, 19th- and 20th-century colonial attitudes. The masterstroke comes at the end: the pictures and the biographies of the ordinary black Edinburgh men and women who are taking part. Tomorrow, history will look a little different.
Exhibit B critiques the ‘human zoos’ and ethnographic displays that showed Africans as objects of scientific curiosity through the 19th and early 20th centuries. Translated here into twelve tableaux, each features motionless performers placed in settings drawn from real life. Collectively they confront colonial atrocities committed in Africa, European notions of racial supremacy and the plight of immigrants today.
As spectators walk past the exhibits one-by-one, to the sound of lamentations sung live by a Namibian choir, a human gaze is unexpectedly returned.
Edinburgh festival 2014 review: Exhibit B – facing the appalling reality of Europe's colonial past
This installation uses live models to revisit tales of the torture and murder of African workers and slaves, reminding us that our 21st-century ways of seeing history are still strongly skewed.
Review rating: 5 out of 5
Lyn Gardner
The Guardian, Monday 11 August 2014
Third World Bunfight's live installation, which uses the 19th-century freakshow or human zoo as the inspiration for an investigation into European colonial history, is both unbearable and essential. It's unbearable because of the suffering it depicts: the brief story of a Kenyan man castrated during the Mau Mau uprisings in the 1950s is set among the bone china of a genteel English afternoon tea; appalling tales of the torture and murder of African slaves and workers in Dutch colonies rises out of a Netherlands golden-age painting.
It's essential because the silent, unmoving figures at the centre of each one of the installations makes us confront how we look, where we look and what we are prepared to see. Sarah Baartman, the so-called "Hottentot Venus", who was exhibited in theatres and halls during her life and dissected and then displayed after death, stands expressionless on a turning plinth. Black asylum-seekers are presented as "found objects", although they stand before us living and breathing. It is hard to meet their eye. Again and again, as you wander through the installation and the heartbreaking sounds of traditional Namibian lamentations rise from the mouths of apparently severed heads in Dr Fischer's Cabinet of Curiosities, you long to look away. Maybe even run away. But you can't run away from your collective past.
Creator Brett Bailey has been fearlessly uncompromising in his approach. The experience in the exhibition hall is entirely without comfort. Confronting us with the appalling realities of Europe's colonial past – the stuff I definitely wasn't taught at school – isn't just some kind of guilt trip. It reminds us that most history is hidden from view; it reminds that Britain's 21st-century ways of seeing are still strongly skewed by 18th-, 19th- and 20th-century colonial attitudes. The masterstroke comes at the end: the pictures and the biographies of the ordinary black Edinburgh men and women who are taking part. Tomorrow, history will look a little different.
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