"Art should make people feel save" - Interview with Amoako Boafo
We had the honor of speaking with renowned African painter Amoako Boafo, whose solo exhibition at the Belvedere in Vienna last year captivated audiences. In this candid interview, Boafo explores the roots, meaning, and identity of his art.
buntesAT: Outside the art world, one still encounters a lot of Afro-pessimism today. Can your art be seen as Afro-optimism, and could you describe the essence of your art?
Amoako Boafo: I don‘t think in boxes that much. I approach my own way from how I feel about my experiences. For me, painting is a space from where I got to explain myself the way I want to be heard. There is no bargaining. Like, I am in charge. I decide everything, from color to size, from composition, what kind of message, what energy I want to bring in. I have the bargaining power, which is the starting point of my painting for me. I think that is what any black person or non-white person thrives for. To be able to be heard the way they want to be heard. To be able to exist in a space where they are respected. That is what I thought my painting does for me. I think that is where I see blackness. I am suggesting different ways looking at blackness.
bAT: You say that you were inspired by Viennese Modernism. As one of the most well-known contemporary African painters, you are often compared to Egon Schiele. How important are African traditions and African symbolism regarding your artwork?
AB: Art has not been well documented on the African continent. In Ghana - and I am honest - art is not something you look at and feel inspired to study. It has not been in the culture. My relationship to art has grown after my arrival in Vienna. This is where I got exposed to art.
bAT: Your artwork is not only enduring because it was featured in the Belvedere and in renowned collections; it‘s also visionary, both in terms of identity and society, marking a turning point and offering a break from a “bleak” past. Your paintings are directed towards the future and suggest that at some point, one might no longer speak of black people, but simply of people. Do you see this potential in the development of your work? Is this something you intend and desire?
AB: I don't know about the future. I feel like everything that happens, is suppose to happen. I don't think I ever had to put my existence of my blackness into question, because from the continent that I come from I am part of the majority. I wake up every morning and the first person I see is a black person, so that was never questioned. But here it was questioned.
bAT: Do you know that some people from the African continent say that they have become “black” the moment they entered the European continent and before have just been people?
AB: That is my point! I never had that question. You are existing, because you are supposed to be here. You don't question your blackness. You don't question your existence. You come to Europe and all of a sudden you are reminded that you are not supposed to be in that space. You are not good enough to be here - that is a confrontation that you have on a constant basis. That also made me want to do the work that I do. Given a kind character and self-confidence from where I come from and just be who you are - that is power. I have always wanted to put that into the depicted characters. It reminds people how I feel like, how I know I am black and how I will not allow myself to be placed in those small boxes that are full of negativity.
bAT: What is your take on dedicating art to a higher goal like freedom, peace, or equality? Or should art rather have a theme or topic, but not serve a purpose? If you – like Picasso, who used his art as a weapon against war – were to use your art as a tool or weapon against a social condition, which one would it be?
AB: I think art has the potential to make people feel uncomfortable. So they can think a bit more. It is supposed to give freedom and power to people being looked down onto. It should boost their energy, for them to be able to march on. Art should make people feel safe. When you as a black woman walk through my exhibition, like the one at Belvedere, you feel represented. When you walk in, you walk in differently. Now you are not going to hide. You might be the only black person in the space full of white people, but the walls are with you. They are full of black people. I think art should serve that kind of purpose.
bAT: The so-called "freedom of the artist" - does this freedom exist in your opinion? And how would you explain it to another person, a student, for example?
AB: I only paint black people. Someone asked the question: "Why do you only paint black people". For me, that is the freedom that I bring. To be able to do what I want and not be affected by someone else's opinion. These people look at my work like, "You are a great painter, but if you'd change the color of their skin, you might be successful." As if blackness is not good enough to be documented.
bAT: You could ignore the fact of this black negation. But on the contrary - you put a focus on it in your exhibition at Belvedere with the painting "Why do you only paint black people." You didn't ignore it, you didn't hide it. You put it in a very prominent position. Why?
AB: When this question was asked I was doing self-portrait. So I thought this was a very stupid question. I mean, I am painting myself, with my experiences and how I want to be seen. As a white person, you think it is very fine for you to be documented and painted and there should be no question about it.
There were a lot of white people in my class and nobody questioned why they paint white people. But my paintings were questioned on a daily basis, like "Oh, can't you paint something else". As if they would say what I paint is not good enough.
bAT: How important is the concept of visibility for the African continent and for Black people today?
AB: I want to be free with the people that inspire me and the paintings I paint. I also want them to be able to be part of history. Why would I have a community that inspires me, but then go out and paint someone else? I do paint certain famous characters, because they have an impact on the community, they create space for other people to exist in. But I mostly want to focus my community. There are people in my space that otherwise would not be known. They will never be respected, they will never be looked at as someone important in life, except for me, as they inspire me. For me, they are the ones that keep me grounded, because they remind me of how I grew up, where I came from, how life used to be. That is very, very necessary for me. I need them to know that they are important, that is why I put them in my work. And they can exist like any other famous people. Because at the end of the day I was like them. And look what happened. And if this can happen to me, it can happen to anyone. It sets a really nice reminder, to know where you are coming from.
bAT: In your paintings, you also aim to break stereotypes about Black bodies and their perpetual sexualization. You have turned to the fashion world as well. Isn’t that a contradiction?
AB: No. Fashion is a statement. When people get dressed they get photographed. And when you look at how they are represented in that photo, it tells you exactly who they are and how they look at themselves; the confidence they wear.
Now I do body politics from the angle where people hyper sexualize the black bodies because this is what they know here. They either hyper-sexualize the black body or think the person is some type of drug dealer, at least that was my experience here. That is what they know. I am not here to change that narrative, they know that there are different ways of looking at blackness. They have decided to limit their understanding of blackness to these two negative aspects. I am telling them that black bodies can be intellectuals, can be beautiful and so on. So, I can do fashion and I can paint and they both represent confidence.
bAT: But in fact, you are changing the narrative. How important are beauty and aesthetics in your artistic concept?
AB: Beauty is important for me as a way of approaching life. The pictures you see represent beauty and joy. But, life can be ugly and beautiful. Multiple truths can exist at the same time. It can be ugly and still be beautiful. Without ugliness one cannot appreciate beauty, without beauty one cannot perceive ugliness. They are both working hand in hand. My work is about showcasing this dance, this codependent relationship.
bAT: I even think you contradict existing aesthetic stereotypes.
AB: I come from a space where there is beauty. There is no question about it, of course I want to show the full spectrum.
bAT: By now, you have exhibited all over the world. Which exhibitions have you enjoyed the most, and why?
AB: I think almost every single one of them played a big role. So, I wouldn't really pick out a space as the most important one that I have been shown in. From my first show in LA with Robert Projects to Mariane Ibrahim in Chicago and Gagosian in New York to doing all the single blacks shows and all the museums in the United States - those were all important spaces and important moments in my career. So, I cannot really pick one as the most important.
bAT: What do you appreciate about a gallery, and what displeases you about the art market?
AB: Galleries play their part, because without them I don’t think anyone would make it into any museum. Galleries are the ones that show your work, give you a bit of a push in certain angles, place your work. From there your critics are important, you have curators that show interest. My gallery wouldn't have made it to Belvedere if it wouldn't have been for a curator. So, all of them play a role, the galleries play theirs, critics play theirs, curators play theirs. And then you have the museum that cements you in history. This is what almost every artist wishes for.
The market can be hard, you can't really trust in what anyone says. People can be sweet, they will take the time and make you feel comfortable with them, and then they just flip.
bAT: You were born and raised in Ghana and studied painting in Ghana and Vienna. What do you need today to function as an artist?
AB: Tennis. To be able to function as an artist, I need sports. For me, Tennis is the space where I exist without worries. Like, I don't have to think about anything, I just think about how to get the next point, the next tennis point. Being on the court for two or three hours is all I need to get back to the studio. If I don't have tennis, things are going to be difficult.
bAT: While in Vienna, you taught painting to women who had experienced violence. Since then, you’ve established a painting school in Ghana that supports artists and educates young children. How do you perceive your role as a teacher?
AB: I have not established a painting school in Ghana, I opened an artist residency, dot.ateliers, which welcomes artists from Ghana and from around the world. I wouldn't consider myself a teacher. Back in Vienna, that teaching experience gave me the opportunity to help transform something painful into something beautiful. Because, making beautiful paintings from certain bad experiences helps to change the ending of those narratives. Instead of just leaving it there and you having to deal with that experience and to just live with it, we could make something beautiful out of it.
It‘s the same thing that I want to keep doing in Ghana: Spaces, where people can come to and release their stress. dot.ateliers is a place where artists are not really pressured to paint - paint - paint. You come to the space if you feel inspired enough to do work. You may also get there and feel stressed or stuck. This is also part of the process - sometimes I go to the studio and I can't paint. Sometimes I just need to rest and sit with the paintings. It is part of the process. I think it‘s also important for people to just take their time and rest. That’s what dot.ateliers offers.
bAT: So you’re not focused on shaping the next generation of African artists?
AB: We’re giving them the space to develop if they choose to. They have a space where they can fall in love with art, because now they can see it—they see how other artists live. Back in our days, we didn’t have that. You didn’t know how artists lived, whether they were successful, or if they could even pay their rent. You fell in the art practice blindly, driven by passion, not because you expected to make a good living from it.
Art in Ghana was different from looking at art in Austria. In Europe, you know exactly what you are getting. When you study art here, you can see the possible paths for an artist. You study with the mindset of picking a card: “I’m making paintings, and I want to become like this painter.” And with that card in hand, you build your work and career around it. In Ghana, we didn't have that.
bAT: So, are you a role model for the young generation of African artists?
AB: Ya, I think so.
Photos: Solomon Okpurukhre / Madge Gill Bukasa
