Morné Visage – FOVNTAIN

Smith Studio (Cape Town) will be showcasing the unique work of the immensely talented Morné Visage. The solo exhibition, FOVNTAIN, opens today (03-10-2018) and will run until the 27th of the same month.

Below is an emotional short story, titled Two Brothers, written by Damon Galgut in response to the show:

“To escape from their country, a man and his brother stow away on a ship. They hide below the deck, in a narrow space between two storage containers, the sound of massive engines working underneath them, and they are here for perhaps four days before they are discovered.

Then they are dragged out into the light, which almost blinds them. The world is white and edgeless and they can hardly see

the faces of the sailors who beat them, or the captain who sits in judgement on them, or the huge grey circle of sea that is now their fate.

They are set adrift, clinging to the broken remains of a crate. They float through light, they float through dark. Their sight has come back to them, but there is nothing to see except for water, which takes on the infinite forms of absence, now pouring and flowing, now placid and still, now creasing into lines that rise and fall, rise and fall. They do not speak, or if they do, only a little, because words are no longer the point.

Then the man’s brother drowns. He lets go of the crate and sinks beneath the water, his face twisted so that he seems to be smiling. (Or possibly he is smiling.) The clear lines of him hover for a moment, then fade away, as if he’s being erased.

Light and dark, light and dark. How many times? Why does it matter? The man washes up on a stony beach, the edge of a continent he’s never stood upon before.

To escape from their country, a man and his brother stow away on a ship. They hide below the deck, in a narrow space between two storage containers, the sound of massive engines working underneath them, and they are here for perhaps four days before they are discovered.

Then they are dragged out into the light, which almost blinds them. The world is white and edgeless and they can hardly see

the faces of the sailors who beat them, or the captain who sits in judgement on them, or the huge grey circle of sea that is now their fate.

They are set adrift, clinging to the broken remains of a crate. They float through light, they float through dark. Their sight has come back to them, but there is nothing to see except for water, which takes on the infinite forms of absence, now pouring and flowing, now placid and still, now creasing into lines that rise and fall, rise and fall. They do not speak, or if they do, only a little, because words are no longer the point.

Then the man’s brother drowns. He lets go of the crate and sinks beneath the water, his face twisted so that he seems to be smiling. (Or possibly he is smiling.) The clear lines of him hover for a moment, then fade away, as if he’s being erased.

Light and dark, light and dark. How many times? Why does it matter? The man washes up on a stony beach, the edge of a continent he’s never stood upon before.”

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