A Glance of Freedom: Considerations on Nicole Rafiki’s Outtakes from the Congo Diary
by Maria Esmeral Henriquez
She stands alone, her feet strong and grounded. She wears an orange skirt; the fabric, with touches of turquoise blue, is bright, vibrant, alive. Her blouse, made in a black thin veil, falls over her legs. With her left hand she holds a flower torch.
With her right hand she lifts a piece of fabric. Behind her a wall made of rusted metal binds the question of where she could be. There is no expression in her face; the word ‘Cuba’ in red and gold covers her eyes. Her posture is straight, firm, solid. A tender breeze is perceptible in the slight movement of her clothes.
Outtakes from the Congo Diary by Nicole Rafiki is a visual plea for singularity. This piece can be understood as an allegorical image, in which elements within the composition hold symbolic meaning, and together represent an abstract idea. Allegories are rich and complex structures in which the message is often a dialogue. The depicted figure’s right hand, raised in the air and holding a piece of fabric, recalls Liberty Leading the People (1831) by Eugène Delacroix, a painting which shows a woman, clothes ripped, raising the French flag and leading a multitude to battle, personifying liberty.
“Outtakes from the Congo Diary by Nicole Rafiki is a visual plea for singularity. ”
The origins of the allegory of liberty can be traced to Iconologia, a publication by Renaissance Italian iconographer Cesare Ripa – an ‘emblem book’ that became the model for allegorical images in early modern Europe.[1] His Liberty presents a woman dressed in a white robe, symbolising purity of soul and body. She holds a staff, referencing the dominion of land, and carries a pileus hat.[2] The woman in Outtakes from the Congo Diary is not wearing a white robe to symbolise an illusory, and inhuman, purity of body and soul. She does not personify; she is. She is not an object or an idea; she is human, a woman. The vibrant fabric of her clothes is a message in itself, a message she lifts firmly in the air with her right hand.[1] She doesn’t hold a staff alluding to sovereignty and obedience; she holds a flower, a lamp – life and light.
Ripa, Cesare, Della novissima iconologia (Padua: Tozzi, 1610). Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library
The thin black blouse that veils and unveils her breasts materialises numerous paradoxes around nudity. When associated with virtue and beauty, female nudity is accepted because it is unreal, mythological or ideal. One cannot desire something that doesn’t exist, therefore there is no sin. In Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People, the woman’s ripped robe reveals one of her breasts. The nudity of this ‘character’ should not be sexualised or misinterpreted; it represents the idea of a nourishing mother, a generous protector and fierce warrior – a republic. It is a holy nudity; sacred, allowed, respected, and noble.
Thomas Stothard, Grainger W. engraver, The voyage of the Sable Venus, from Angola, to the West Indies, (1794).
Moral dilemmas appear when there is an identity. In the blurry frontiers of history, what is right or wrong, accepted or censured, is often determined by social hierarchy, not by ideological, ethical or moral paradigms. The black veil over the breasts in Rafiki’s piece invites numerous fundamental interrogations. When is a naked breast vulgar? When is a naked breast holy? Who decides? The answers seem blurry, veiled, like the blouse. There was no purity or virtue in the colonial gaze; those bodies could be profane.[1] Many matriarchal societies were profoundly poisoned with the idea of Eve, the sinner, an object of desire, inferior to men.[2] That delicate black blouse over her breasts invites to deeply transform contemporary social paradoxical paradigms about nudity and urges us to claim some freedom.
“Outtakes from the Congo Diary can be seen as a visual manifesto of hybridity. The standing woman materialises the artist’s reflections on the struggles of Congolese women on the front lines over a century of conflict. ”
Outtakes from the Congo Diary takes its name from Che Guevara’s diary of his revolutionary quest in Congo alongside Cuban guerrillas in 1965.[1] Though described by Che himself as a defeat, Cuban ideas permeated Congolese society. Communism spread and the gender division introduced by colonialists vanished from the spirits of individuals who pursued leftist ideals. Rafiki’s image presents a woman standing, connecting with the spectator through an allegorical language.
Image: Outtakes from the Congo Diary as presented at Rafiki´s solo exhibition Bis (2020). Photo: Nicole Rafiki
The ‘Cuba’ sign covering her eyes is actually the packing of a chocolate bar, presented to the artist by a stranger as a gift during the installation of her solo exhibition at Fotografiens Hus, Oslo in 2020. The bestower of chocolate turned out to be the Cuban-born, Oslo-based artist Juan Andrés Melinés Benito. This present from a stranger illustrates the continued solidarity and shared connection between the diaspora in general, and Cuba especially, to the continent of Africa by Cubans and the Congolese-Cuban shared cultural heritage. Rafiki’s work is as much a commentary on the pertinence of the unexpected.
Outtakes from the Congo Diary and the representations of liberty – Ripa’s and Delacroix’s – use symbols in the same way: they are reminders of the past. For Ripa and Delacroix, it is a past that claims to be general, edited, glorious. The past of the winner, the history of the ‘good’ conqueror. Rafiki, on the contrary, is all about singularity. There is no generalisation here; every element in the composition is a step on the road she has walked. Outtakes from the Congo Diary can be seen as a visual manifesto of hybridity.
“The standing woman materialises the artist’s reflections on the struggles of Congolese women on the front lines over a century of conflict”
Image: Nicole Rafiki and Outtakes from the Congo Diary. Photo: Self portrait, 2020
The standing woman materialises the artist’s reflections on the struggles of Congolese women on the front lines over a century of conflict. She is not wearing a Western symbol of liberty on her head but instead showing her hair, high, strong and proud. The corrugated metal sheets behind her tells us she could be in many places but not in every place; the material is specific of a condition, hostile and rough. Her posture is serene, reachable, welcoming; as if she, with great dignity, is calling for unity.
Symbols are reminders of specific moments from our past. As history develops, the meanings of symbols transform. They travel, mix, learn. The need to communicate, and the ways we do so, are deeply rooted in our experiences. Illegitimate daughters and sons of Europe, we can also use Western visual languages to tell our stories. Nicole Rafiki’s Outtakes from the Congo Diary is a visual voyage, an invitation to see, to wonder , to stand. She makes visible what is, or has become, or was made, invisible.
Maria Esmeral Henriquez is a Colombian, Oslo based art historian specialised in visual culture and visual epistemology. She is currently doing a Ph. D. in History and Civilisations at The School for Advanced Studies in Social Sciences (EHESS), Paris.