CYSK #27: Sungi Mlengeya
Creator/Painter
Habari,
The first issue of Unbound went out at the start of summer. Six months in, I have swapped tank tops for three or four layers. Looking back at the growing archive, I have been thinking about how to fully capture the breadth of creative excellence on the continent. I have some ideas, but I would love to hear your thoughts on who else I should be featuring, both emerging and established. Post a comment or drop me an email.
We’ve had a good run of female visual artists on Unbound. Recent highlights include April Kamunde, Nikiwe Dlova and Billie Zangewa. This week, I am adding another name to the list: Sungi Mlengeya, this week’s Creative You Should Know. Sungi is a supremely talented visual artist from Tanzania, perhaps best known for her remarkable series of monochromatic paintings that depict Black subjects against white backgrounds. The effect is striking and completely enthralling. Her work has been exhibited in Cape Town, Kampala, London, New York and Miami. On the day I interviewed her, Tanzania had just finished its presidential elections. There were still police roadblocks and general tensions, so I am especially grateful that she still made time to speak with me.
Was there anyone or anything that encouraged the artist in you before you started calling yourself an artist?
I can trace my love of creating back to when I was a child living in Serengeti, because my parents worked with wildlife. My childhood was very quiet. I did not have the distractions of the city. With boredom, you find ways to fill the time, and my sister and I did a lot of crafts. My mom had Women’s Value magazines that included recipes and a craft section for kids. We would spend our afternoons cutting paper and making things. When I got to primary school, we had art classes, which is not very common in many Tanzanian schools. There is not much emphasis on creative subjects. I was lucky to attend a school that taught us music and drawing. That is where I discovered that I could draw. If I had not had that experience, I may never have realised it.
I had a very good teacher who was always encouraging. In secondary school, there were no art classes at all, but somehow I still knew I wanted to be an artist.
What type of artist did you imagine yourself as?
I always thought of Leonardo da Vinci. I cannot remember how I knew about him, but I knew I wanted to be a big artist. I wanted to be as famous as Leonardo and for my work to be studied throughout history. My best friend’s boyfriend at the time, Obi Mbise, was an artist, and he chose to attend art college in Bagamoyo on the coast of Tanzania instead of pursuing a traditional university course. I thought it was such a brave choice. He was the only serious artist I knew who had chosen to study art. He painted wildlife and still does. He became my point of reference and my inspiration.
As a self-taught artist, what helped you learn the most: books, social media or trial and error?
YouTube. Videos were where I got most of my knowledge. Many of them used different techniques, which was confusing at times. I would practice what I saw in one video, and then something would appear on the canvas. From there, I would continue experimenting on my own.
Among the artists you know, do you see a difference between those who are self-taught and those who studied art?
I am thinking of professional artists I know from Uganda, because I lived there for a few years. Most of the ones I know are older. It is a difficult question because everyone’s practice is unique. In my case, I feel a bit freer. If I had learned all the rules and theory, I think I might have felt restricted. My black and white style, which became my signature, began as an accident. If I had gone to school and learned composition more formally, I might have thought, “No, the painting should not look like this.”
Tell me about the moment you discovered your visual language.
It was one of the first portraits I made. I wanted something striking, something that would catch the eye the moment someone walked into a room. I struggled to decide on a background, so I decided to work on the figure first and deal with the background later. When I finished the figure, who was very dark-skinned, I loved the contrast against the unpainted space, so I decided to leave it as it was. Many people who saw those works loved them. Later, when I tried different backgrounds, people still told me the white backgrounds were the most striking. I felt the same way, so I kept returning to them.
It reminds me of a blank sheet of paper. Before you write or draw, the space holds so much possibility. That is what the white backgrounds have come to mean to me. They create a sense of freedom and possibility for me, the viewer, and even the subjects in the paintings.
In your recent work, you explore dance and movement. Are you a dancer or someone who enjoys dancing?
Yes. I enjoy dancing. I have not danced in a while, now that I think about it, and I should get back to it. When a good song is playing, I feel the need to move. There is so much joy in that. Dance has many elements that carry over into life: the way a dancer takes up space, the way they own their body and their movements, the way onlookers seem to disappear. Whether dancing for an audience or alone, they are focused entirely on the act of dancing. It is freeing and joyful.
When I began exploring dance, I realised that most of the choices I make in my personal life are guided by the question, “What do I enjoy?” rather than “What am I supposed to be doing?” It has always guided me. Even choosing art was not a popular path in Tanzania. It was unusual, but it did not matter as long as it was what I wanted. I have always wanted my life to feel playful and fun.
What sort of dance/dancing do you enjoy most?
Dancehall!
You split your time between Arusha and Kampala, and you have travelled around East Africa. How have these places shaped your artistic identity?
Arusha is a small town with a small art scene. Much of the art is aimed at the tourist market, especially wildlife paintings and Tinga Tinga styles. When I started out, I did not want to create that type of work, which meant my market was very small. Eventually, I felt I needed to leave and experience other places.
Kampala has had a huge impact on me. I had great mentors such as Daudi Karungi, the founder of Afriart Gallery, who was connected to my gallery but also a friend. There was a large community of artists from Makerere, who knew all the art lingo. At first, it felt strange because I was simply painting, but being around them forced me to reflect more deeply on my practice. I learned so much. Without that experience, I think my understanding of the art world would be far more limited.
Your work has been shown at major fairs across Africa and internationally, including Art Basel Miami. How has recognition changed things for you?
It is a double-edged sword. You achieve the success you wanted, which is wonderful, but there is also an expectation that comes with it. You may become associated with a particular style, which takes away some of the playfulness. There is a risk in trying something new. You can experiment in private, but there is still so much you need to deliver. Your time for experimentation becomes limited, even though it is essential.
Now, when you look back at your earliest paintings, how do you feel about them?
For some, I feel proud. I think the work was very good for someone just starting out. But others make me cringe. I think, “I do not want to see that anymore.” I sometimes wish I could go back to the buyer and take it off their wall. Some pieces felt strong at the time, but now I am more critical of them.
If you were not working on canvas, what other medium do you think you might use?
Probably something related to paper or collage. That is what we spent most of our afternoons doing in Serengeti. We cut paper and glued things together, so I think I would have done collage.
Who is a creative whose work you admire?
Lynette Yiadom-Boakye. I love her paintings. I disappear into them. They make me feel nostalgic for something I cannot quite identify. They remind me of the illustrated figures in the English textbooks from primary school. They make me feel warm and nice.
You can find out more about Sungi here and her gallery Afriart, which is home to many other incredible artists.
Don’t forget to send your guest suggestions. Back next week!