Ilené Bothma

In “The Gilded Cage”, the artist creates a meditative escape, a sanctuary where she confronts the tangled emotions of loss and trauma. Through detailed self-portraits, floral imagery and unifying textile elements, these oil paintings explore a woman’s journey through divorce in her forties. The artworks depict her reclaiming her sense of identity after a process of grief and betrayal.

The symbolism of the gilded cage unveils the delicate tension between societal restrictions, particularly those imposed by a male-driven world, and the grief of a life lost. Self-portraiture allows the artist to share deeply personal narratives that resonate with universal experiences. Viewers are invited to confront societal boundaries, the yearning for liberation, and the resilience inherent in the human spirit.

Flowers, with their fleeting beauty, speak to the duality of life and death. Their blooming and withering serve as a sensory reminder of our impermanence. Within their delicate petals lies the essence of both celebration and mourning. They become symbols of sensuality, representing an aging woman daring to reclaim her space in a society where it is so often denied.

Amidst the interplay of light and dark, fragility and strength, texture emerges as a vital language. It speaks of layers, both seen and unseen, inviting a deeper exploration of past pain and trauma. The stark contrast between flat black and lustrous gold reflects the conflicting emotions: the newfound, hard-won freedom coupled with the anxiety of loss and the leaving behind of a previous self. The radiant gold promises transformation and possibility, forever hinting at the unknown treasures that might await beyond the gilded cage.

Burning built bridges, oil on board, 42 x 29.7cm, R6 500

The Gilded woman I, oil on canvas, 89 x 71 x 3.5cm, R29 000

The Gilded woman II, oil on canvas, 89 x 71 x 3.5cm, R29 000

The Gilded woman III, oil on canvas, 89 x 71 x 3.5cm, R29 000

The Gilded woman III (detail), oil on canvas, 89 x 71 x 3.5cm, R29 000

A shadow of her old self, oil on board, 42 x 29.7cm, R6 500

Braids of lies, oil on canvas, 71 x 71cm, R26 000

Glimmers of Light, oil on linen, 80 x 100 x 1.8cm, R35 000

Flecks of Darkness, oil on canvas, 76.5 x 101.5 x 3cm, R35 000

Stumbling floral shadows, oil on canvas, 60.5 x 91.5cm, R29 000

Stumbling floral shadows (detail), oil on canvas, 60.5 x 91.5cm, R29 000

Three’s a crowd, oil on canvas, 76.5 x 101.5cm, R35 000

Three’s a crowd (detail), oil on canvas, 76.5 x 101.5cm, R35 000

Wayward wilted wreath, oil on board, 42 x 29.7cm, R6 500

Unravelling delights, oil on board, 42 x 29.7cm, R6 500

Exhibition statement

Through my artmaking process I attempt to both unravel and knit together my personal experiences. In the past I have interrogated my relationships within the domestic space with the specific focus on domesticity and motherhood. Recently my interest has shifted towards looking more closely at the role of the woman once her so-called role of reproduction has been fulfilled and the aging process becomes more visible. This interest, together with the recent end of my marriage, has led to a process of making that was simultaneously performative, painful, therapeutic, and empowering.

The entire body of work revolves around the notion of making ‘new skin’. A ‘new skin’ to find my sense of identity as a soon-to-be divorced woman and a single mother. Yet also, making new skin for the one that is rapidly starting to age since I turned 40. In a society so clearly obsessed with youth I have noticed an increasing sense of fading, even disappearing, within social settings. Anecdotal research has led me to believe that many mothers feel less “seen” once they have fulfilled their duty of bearing children. This body of work is an emotional processing and subversion of these roles that have been prescribed to women, especially within my own Calvinistic Afrikaner upbringing.

Through performative video, photography, and various sculptural works I mourn the past and the future, yet also attempt to find a new way forward. The armor worn in the performance is made from handmade porcelain and stoneware discs, each painstakingly made and glazed in various tones of cream and pink, suggesting the colour of biology. These pieces of ‘brittle flesh’ have been sewn together to create a ‘new skin’, an armor that is both protective yet extremely fragile. The skin does not quite fit yet. It is not malleable; it is breakable and vulnerable. It speaks of the ambivalence I experience not only in my personal life, but also towards the process of aging and the way in which women are seen later in life. There is a certain freedom in becoming invisible, yet it can also feel disempowering. It is within this awkward in-between space of empowerment and vulnerability that I explore various ideas around bodily autonomy and subjectivity.

The performance documented in the video work involved moving through various barren settings where the terrain is both beautiful and treacherous. The process of walking barefoot over tiny rocks in freezing temperatures was physically painful, reflective of the emotionally painful process of mourning. Yet through the journey there is a looking towards the horizon, a certain level of both acceptance and empowerment.

Porcelain and stoneware are deliberately used for its delicacy and association with the domestic space. Ceramic discs that are something between mangled pastry dough and dinner plates display images of both drooping breasts and provocatively posed bodies. Visceral sculptural works that look like wombs or possibly other organs are displayed in various states of disintegration. Fleshy clay and pink tones suggestive of traditional femininity are all used to indicate both female sexuality as well as decay and bodily entropy.

Tear serves as an ode to the old self, shapeshifting out of protective need. A shedding of a blistered skin and the putting together of shattered pieces of a new whole, knowing full well that the original shards may never quite fit together again.

Weeping Wound, Weeping Womb I, 2022, Porcelain, stoneware, copper wire, acrylic and oil paint, 46 x 26 x 14cm.

Weeping Wound, Weeping Womb II, 2022, Porcelain, stoneware, copper wire, acrylic and oil paint, 46 x 31 x 14cm.

Weeping Wound, Weeping Womb VI, 2023, Porcelain, stoneware, copper wire, acrylic and oil paint, 49 x 24 x 12cm.

Weeping Wound, Weeping Womb V, 2023, Porcelain, stoneware, copper wire, acrylic and oil paint, 55 x 37 x 14cm.

Part of the exhibition Tear at Brutal Curation. See Tear (A selection of installations shots) for exhibition statement and more information regarding these works.

A shadow of herself, 2023, stoneware, 27.5 x 21.5 x 3.5cm.

Build a bitch, 2023, stoneware, 32 x 24 x 6cm.

Deepest darkest, 2023, stoneware, 25 x 21 x 11cm.

Delicate defeat, 2022, stoneware, 24.5 x 22 x 4.5cm.

Infected feels, 2023, stoneware, 26.5 x 19.5 x 11.5cm.

Jar of hearts, 2023, stoneware, 27 x 21 x 12.5cm.

Maybe you’re the problem, 2023, stoneware, 28.5 x 26 x 3.5cm.

Nobody puts baby in a corner, 2023, stoneware and acrylic paint, 23.5 x 14 x 10.5cm.

She has ice in her veins, 2022, porcelain, 24 x 18.5 x 3cm.

Side piece, 2022, stoneware, 31.5 x 23.5 x 4cm.

Suck it up, buttercup, 2022, porcelain and acrylic paint, 27.5 x 20 x 3cm.

Unbreakable, 2022, stoneware, 23.5 x 21.5 x 4.5cm.

Part of the exhibition Tear at Brutal Curation. See Tear (A selection of installations shots) for exhibition statement and more information regarding these works.

Brittle Beginnings I, 2022, photograph printed on Dibond, edition of 5 plus AP, 19.8 x 29.7cm.

Brittle Beginnings II, 2022, photograph printed on Dibond, edition of 5 plus AP, 19.8 x 29.7cm.

Brittle Beginnings III, 2022, photograph printed on Dibond, edition of 5 plus AP, 19.8 x 29.7cm.

Fading into Brittle Backgrounds, 2022, photograph printed on Dibond, edition of 5 plus AP, 56.1 x 84.1cm.

On the Edge of the Knife, 2022, photograph printed on Dibond, edition of 5 plus AP, 56.1 x 84.1cm.

Towards a Tenuous Cloud, 2022, photograph printed on Dibond, edition of 5 plus AP, 28 x 42cm.

Part of the exhibition Tear at Brutal Curation. See Tear (A selection of installations shots) for exhibition statement and more information regarding these works.

All That Remains

In her 8th solo exhibition (2022), Ilené Bothma continues to investigate her personal narratives and intimate relationships. Varied mediums such as textiles, painting and ceramics come together to interrogate issues surrounding women’s labour and materiality. Bothma employs solitary human figures hidden underneath cloths of varying transparency together with more abstract landscape imagery to explore her own understanding of interpersonal connections.

Two small, meticulous embroideries illustrating solitary icebergs centre the exhibition, alluding to something unnamed hidden beneath the surface. Icebergs may appear as solid surface, even land, yet they are not: they have been cast adrift. They are liminal objects that are constantly eroding and changing over time, much like our relationships with time and with those closest to us. Solitary like icebergs, the human figures float alone in a blue ocean, possibly drowning beneath the sea of cloth.

In this body of work, the viewer, like the figures, is immersed in the colours white and blue, but the qualities of that immersion are ambiguous. The symbolism of white may, in a western context, highlight purity, innocence and new beginnings, while, in the East, may speak to mourning and death. Equally, blue may be associated with both sadness and serenity.

All That Remains therefore brings to the fore the fragile equilibrium between holding together and falling apart; it witnesses the fragility of structures, the tenuous links that hold us together, and probes the underlying fears of when they all fall apart.

Remnant I, 2022, oil on canvas, 90 x 125cm.

Remnant II, 2022, oil on canvas, 90 x 125cm.

Remnant II (detail), oil on canvas, 90 x 125cm.

Part of the solo exhibition All That Remains. For more information on this show see All That Remains (installation shots).

Spectre I, oil on canvas, 130 x 95cm.

Spectre I (detail), oil on canvas, 130 x 95cm.

Spectre II, oil on canvas, 130 x 100cm.

Part of the solo exhibition All That Remains. For more information on this show see All That Remains (installation shots).

Descending into Darkness, white rope and ribbon, approximately 260 x 290cm

Part of the solo exhibition All That Remains. For more information on this show see All That Remains (installation shots).

Softly into that good night I, mixed media (rope and porcelain), approximately 1800 x 1910mm.

Part of the solo exhibition All That Remains. For more information on this show see All That Remains (installation shots).

Softly into that good night II, oil on canvas, 107 x 188cm

Part of the solo exhibition All That Remains. For more information on this show see All That Remains (installation shots).

Place of fear, porcelain, 18,5 x 15 x 1cm

Place of drift, porcelain, 17 x 15 x 1cm

Place of hope, porcelain, 19 x 15,5 x 1cm

Place of dreams, porcelain, 17,5 x 16 x 1cm

Place of nothingness, porcelain, 21 x 15,5 x 1cm

Place of plenty, porcelain, 19 x 15 x 1cm

Place of sadness, porcelain, 17 x 15 x 1cm

Part of the solo exhibition All That Remains. For more information on this show see All That Remains (installation shots).

Stairway to Heaven, porcelain and resin glue, 31 x 17 x 13cm

Part of the solo exhibition All That Remains. For more information on this show see All That Remains (installation shots).

The day a hole opened in the sky, embroidery on handkerchief, 35,5 x 35,5cm.

The day a hole closed in the sky, embroidery on handkerchief, 35,5 x 35,5cm.

Part of the solo exhibition All That Remains. For more information on this show see All That Remains (installation shots).

Images courtesy Mike Abel

“Come to terms with death, thereafter anything is possible.” Albert Camus

With her latest body of work, artist Ilené Bothma lifts the veil on the particular anxieties of motherhood, as well as its inextricable love. Life, Death and All the Fear In-Between is a series of extraordinarily detailed portraits of her two young children, herself and her husband – all seemingly peacefully asleep. The translucent skin and the poses of the sleepers, with their hands resting gently on their chests, or their forms obscured under fabric, give us pause, though. Are they only asleep?

Ilené uses the conceit of these somnolent subjects to explore in oil paint and watercolour one of the central tenets of human life: the deeply existential angst around dying and, more specifically, the death of loved ones.

The exhibition title draws on the concept proposed by anthropologist Ernest Becker in his 1973 book, The Denial of Death, that the majority of human actions are undertaken primarily as a means to ignore or evade death. This body of work, however, functions in opposition to this idea; through her uncanny portraits, Ilené delves into, confronts and ultimately comes to terms with her own unbearable fears.

Art focused on death and our relationship to it has a long history – from the ancient Egyptians’ funerary art, to the sumptuous still lifes of the Golden Age Dutch vanitas painters, from the postmortem images of Victorian photographers to Damien Hirst’s The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living. Ilené uses the ritualistic and monotonous nature of her own methods to reduce the fear of the unknown to something familiar, something tolerable.

The utter stillness of the paintings, with their soft tones of skin and cloth, with the painstaking repetition of the shapes within the lace, provides the viewer with a meditative escape, a frozen moment to consider fear, love and loss. Through sharing in her process, Ilené leaves us better equipped to deal with our own intractable sorrows.

The Great Perhaps I, 2020, oil on canvas, 73 x 59cm.

The Great Perhaps II, 2020, oil on canvas, 73 x 59cm.

The Great Perhaps III, 2020, oil on canvas, 103 x 83cm.

The Great Perhaps IV, 2020, oil on canvas, 103 x 95cm.

Images courtesy Mike Abel

Part of the solo exhibition Life, Death and All The Fear In-Between. For more information on this show see Life, Death and All The Fear In-Between (installation shots).

Great Expectations, 2020, oil on canvas, 120 x 90cm.

Image courtesy Mike Abel

Part of the solo exhibition Life, Death and All The Fear In-Between. For more information on this show see Life, Death and All The Fear In-Between (installation shots).

Hide and Seek, 2020, oil on canvas, 117 x 83cm.

Image courtesy Mike Abel

Part of the solo exhibition Life, Death and All The Fear In-Between. For more information on this show see Life, Death and All The Fear In-Between (installation shots).

The Making of Madness, 2020, oil on canvas, 120 x 73cm.

Image courtesy Mike Abel

Part of the solo exhibition Life, Death and All The Fear In-Between. For more information on this show see Life, Death and All The Fear In-Between (installation shots).

The Sound of Silence, 2020, oil on canvas, 120 x 73cm.

Image courtesy Mike Abel

Part of the solo exhibition Life, Death and All The Fear In-Between. For more information on this show see Life, Death and All The Fear In-Between (installation shots).

From a whisper to a scream, 2020, oil on canvas, 120 x 73cm.

Image courtesy Mike Abel

Part of the solo exhibition Life, Death and All The Fear In-Between. For more information on this show see Life, Death and All The Fear In-Between (installation shots).

Into the Next, 2020, watercolour on bamboo paper, 40,5 x31,5cm (framed).

Behind a cloud, 2020, watercolour on bamboo paper, 40,5 x31,5cm (framed).

Lucid Dreaming, 2020, watercolour on bamboo paper, 40,5 x31,5cm (framed).

False Awakening, 2020, watercolour on bamboo paper, 40,5 x31,5cm (framed).

Clinging to Eventually, 2020, watercolour on bamboo paper, 40,5 x31,5cm (framed).

Images courtesy Mike Abel

Part of the solo exhibition Life, Death and All The Fear In-Between. For more information on this show see Life, Death and All The Fear In-Between (installation shots).

The Infant's Lament, 2019, oil on canvas, 120 x 80cm.

The Infant's Lament (detail), 2019, oil on canvas, 120 x 80cm.

The Mother's Lament, 2019, oil on canvas, 120 x 80cm.

The Mother's Lament (detail), 2019, oil on canvas, 120 x 80cm.

Resolve, 2019, oil on canvas, 79x 59cm.

Relinquish, 2019, oil on canvas, 79x 59cm.

Resistance, 2019, oil on canvas, 79x 59cm.

All the images that form part of the Lamentation series are painted in a darker palette in a further exploration of the complexities of motherhood and child-rearing. These images are a direct continuation of the works made for the solo exhibition Between Grief and High Delight. The darker imagery alludes to the darker side of parenting, the difficulties of it and the grief. Like the word ‘lament’ suggests, these images deal with an element of sadness that is always present in motherhood, whether it is in terms of the periods when the mother must necessarily be separated from the child, or in the crying of the infant, or even the myriad of tiny little ‘griefs’ that can be experienced within a single day.

In ‘Between Grief & High Delight,’ Ilené Bothma uncovers her experience of motherhood. There is a sense that the truth of being a mother exists in the space between these polarities, in the everyday routines of child-rearing.

It is in this complex space that Bothma, a mother of two, situates her work, which lies on the spectrum between multiple binaries – art and craft; personal and public; mastery and mystery.

Multiplicity is revealed in Bothma’s use of scale. Her finely-rendered paintings feature mother and child larger than life. The size of the figures reflects those of the intense emotions involved. Her knitted skin-scapes are likewise scaled up: textured flaps serving as a reminder of our origins. Conversely, the portraits on ceramic plates are intimate moments, hidden between floral patterns on oddly fleshy clay.

Aside from the monochromatic backgrounds, the only colour featured is the pink of intimate biology, where the boundaries between mother and child are erased. The two are almost indistinguishable under their veils.

Bothma’s media are likewise varied: smooth and rough, fragile and pliable. In her emphasis on complexity and process, the performative nature of what Bothma does exposes the constant labour of parenting tasks. It also, however, serves as a meditative escape.

While ‘Between Grief & High Delight’ exposes aspects of being a mother perhaps not often acknowledged, the thread running through all the work is its power, connection and strange beauty

http://99loop.co.za/exhibitions/ilene-bothma-solo

https://www.artsy.net/show/99-loop-gallery-between-grief-and-high-delight-ilene-bothma

Gather Ye Rosebuds (2018). Oil on canvas, 130 x 115cm.

Part of the solo exhibition Between Grief and High Delight. For more information on this show see Between Grief and High Delight (installation shots).

http://99loop.co.za/exhibitions/ilene-bothma-solo

https://www.artsy.net/show/99-loop-gallery-between-grief-and-high-delight-ilene-bothma

A play in five acts (2018). Porcelain, 26 x 22 x 2.5cm.

Apocalypse (2018). Porcelain, 23 x 20 x 2.5cm.

Dark Gifts (2018). Porcelain, 33 x 24 x 3cm.

Delicately Dissolve (2018). Porcelain, 23 x 20 x 2.2cm.

Flesh and Bone (2018). Porcelain, 29.5 x 24.5 x 3.5cm.

Honeymoon (2018). Porcelain, 25 x 20 x 2.7cm.

Mother’s Glass (2018). Porcelain, 25 x 20 x 2.7cm.

Staring into the Abyss (2018). Porcelain, 27 x 22 x 2.5cm.

Out damned spot (2018). Porcelain, 23.5 x 20 x 2.5cm.

The Weight of the World (2018). Porcelain, 28 x22 x 3cm.

Momentary (2018). Porcelain, 27 x 22 x 1.7cm.

Split skin (2018). Porcelain, 28.5 x 22 x 2.8cm.

Contemplating her next move (2018). Porcelain and crochet thread, 30.5 x 22 x 2.5cm.

Sharp Edges (2018). Porcelain and crochet thread, 25 x 28 x 3cm.

Head in the clouds (2018). Porcelain and crochet thread, 28 x 30.5 x 3.7cm

Part of the solo exhibition Between Grief and High Delight. For more information on this show see Between Grief and High Delight (installation shots).

http://99loop.co.za/exhibitions/ilene-bothma-solo

https://www.artsy.net/show/99-loop-gallery-between-grief-and-high-delight-ilene-bothma

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends (2018). Oil on canvas, 130 x 180cm.

Part of the solo exhibition Between Grief and High Delight. For more information on this show see Between Grief and High Delight (installation shots).

http://99loop.co.za/exhibitions/ilene-bothma-solo

https://www.artsy.net/show/99-loop-gallery-between-grief-and-high-delight-ilene-bothma

Entangled Particles (2018). Oil on canvas, 130 x 115cm.

Part of the solo exhibition Between Grief and High Delight. For more information on this show see Between Grief and High Delight (installation shots).

http://99loop.co.za/exhibitions/ilene-bothma-solo

https://www.artsy.net/show/99-loop-gallery-between-grief-and-high-delight-ilene-bothma

Down down down the rabbit hole (2018). Lace and acrylic beads, dimensions variable.

Part of the solo exhibition Between Grief and High Delight. For more information on this show see Between Grief and High Delight (installation shots).

http://99loop.co.za/exhibitions/ilene-bothma-solo

https://www.artsy.net/show/99-loop-gallery-between-grief-and-high-delight-ilene-bothma

In this solo exhibition at 99 Loop, Cape Town-based Ilené Bothma celebrates what she calls a ‘weird marriage’ – between the artistic and domestic self, between fine art and craft materials, and between critical distance and emotional experience.

This collection of paintings, soft sculptures and installation pieces is a continuation of Bothma’s previous work, which deals with issues of female and domestic relationships, through an uncanny distortion of the familiar and comfortable.

To explore the interactions between the private and public roles of women, Bothma combines both traditional fine art media, such as watercolour, with techniques more often regarded as craft, like embroidery, sewing and knitting. All her work, though, is labour-intensive, with lace masks hand-painted in incredibly fine detail, and portraits painstakingly stitched on antique handkerchiefs. This process is a reflection on the repetitive nature of our daily lives. As she explains, ‘The home self experiences the relationships and lives in the domestic space, whereas the artistic self analyses them’.

Through the use of strange materials and combinations, re-imagining stockings as skins and hair as fine cracks in vintage crockery, Bothma asks us to question our own comfort, and perhaps feel discomfort with the quotidian and identify with the metaphorical layers of lace and knitted masks she wears in her own work.

Text courtesy 99Loop gallery, Cape Town http://99loop.co.za/exhibitions/ilene-bothma-theatre

Mid-Morning Slump I (2017). Painted ceramic plates, 27 x 17.5cm.

Mid-Morning Slump II (2017). Painted ceramic plates, 30 x 24cm.

Mid-Morning Slump III (2017). Painted ceramic plates, 27 x 17.5cm.

Mid-Morning Slump IV (2017). Painted ceramic plates, 27 x 17.5cm.

Mid-Morning Slump V (2017). Painted ceramic plates, 23.5 x 17.5cm.

Mid-Morning Slump VI (2017). Painted ceramic plates, 25.5 x 17.5cm.

Mid-Morning Slump VII (2017). Painted ceramic plates, 27 x 17.5cm.

Mid-Morning Slump VIII (2017). Painted ceramic plates, 25.5 x 17.5cm.

Mid-Morning Slump X (2017). Painted ceramic plates, 29 x 23.5cm.

Part of the solo exhibition The Theatre of the Mother-Cord. For more information on this show see The Theatre of the Mother-Cord (installation shots).

Mother's Milk (2017). Oil on canvas, 100 x 80cm.

Part of the solo exhibition The Theatre of the Mother-Cord. For more information on this show see The Theatre of the Mother-Cord (installation shots).

The Deep End (2017). Mixed Media, 70 x 140 x 105cm.

Part of the solo exhibition The Theatre of the Mother-Cord. For more information on this show see The Theatre of the Mother-Cord (installation shots).

There's No Place Like Home I (2017). Embroidery on handkerchief, 25 x 28.5.

There's No Place Like Home II (2017). Embroidery on handkerchief, 26 x26.5.

There's No Place Like Home III (2017). Embroidery on handkerchief, 22.5 x22.

There's No Place Like Home IV (2017). Embroidery on handkerchief, 21.5 x23.

There's No Place Like Home I (2017). Embroidery on handkerchief, 25 x27.

Part of the solo exhibition The Theatre of the Mother-Cord. For more information on this show see The Theatre of the Mother-Cord (installation shots).

A series of archival prints altered through embroidery and imitation gold and copper leaf that formed part of the solo exhibition The Theatre of the Mother-Cord.  For more information on this show see The Theatre of the Mother-Cord (installation shots).

Fool's Copper (2017). Archival print on paper with imitation copper leaf, 59 x 40.5cm.

Fool's Gold (2017). Archival print on paper with imitation gold leaf, 59 x 40.5cm.

When the cracks start to show I (2017). Archival print on paper with embroidery, 59 x 40.5cm.

When the cracks start to show II (2017). Archival print on paper with embroidery, 59 x 40.5cm.

Putting one's best foot forward (2017). Archival print on paper with embroidery, 59 x 40.5cm.

Between the devil and the deep blue sea (2017). Archival print on paper with embroidery, 33 x 26cm.

When the chickens come home to roost (2017). Archival print on paper with embroidery, 33 x 26cm.

Memento mori (copper edition) (2017). Mixed media. Dimensions variable.

Part of the solo exhibition The Theatre of the Mother-Cord. For more information on this show see The Theatre of the Mother-Cord (installation shots).

When Medusa Went Home (2017). Mixed media, dimensions variable.

Part of the solo exhibition The Theatre of the Mother-Cord. For more information on this show see The Theatre of the Mother-Cord (installation shots).

Under threat of exposure I - IV (2017). Watercolour on paper, 31.5 x 21.5cm.

Part of the solo exhibition The Theatre of the Mother-Cord. For more information on this show see The Theatre of the Mother-Cord (installation shots).

All that glitters (2017). Stockings, stuffing and gold thread, 175 x 38 x 7cm.

Part of the solo exhibition The Theatre of the Mother-Cord. For more information on this show see The Theatre of the Mother-Cord (installation shots).

Leda and the Swan I, II & III (2014). Embroidery by Ilené Bothma on images from short film by Anna Lupien, Orion Szydel and Ilené Bothma. Photographic prints on hahnemühle etching paper. 31 x 43cm each.

The triptych Leda and the Swan is comprised of three digital photographic prints of a strange almost surrealist-like scene where the surface of the prints has been altered through the painstaking act of embroidery. The series of images portray a female subject with a strange white shape over her head sitting on a rock surrounded by water, while an organic object on a raft appears to float closer to the subject in each consecutive image. There is something disquieting about their presence within the landscape.

According to the well known Greek myth of Leda and the Swan, Zeus transformed himself into a swan in order to rape or seduce Leda, the Queen of Sparta. Although the identities of Leda and that of the swan could potentially be ascribed interchangeably to the subject sitting on the rocks and the floating organic object, the title is more significant in terms of the myth’s implication of both violence and seduction. The fact that the object seems to be moving closer to the pregnant female subjects suggests a growing threat.

The watery landscape with the pregnant figure sitting almost mermaid-like on the rocks suggests further oceanic myths. It brings to mind stories of the drowning sailor led to his death through the seductive powers of the mermaid. The position of the subject, the movement of the object in the images, the embroidery that gradually takes over the water’s surface, together with the title, enhances the narrative potential of the triptych.

The act of embroidering into the surface of the images can also be seen as another element of violence. The act of piercing and penetrating the surface of the images implies both wounding and suturing; breaking and binding. A violent seduction with needle and thread. Yet, there is something inherently nostalgic about hand embroidering. It is a craft of a bygone era that is not widely practised anymore; it is something we associate with our grandmothers.

Doormat (2014). Woodcarving.  75 x 45 x 3cm.

Doormat was created during a residency at Est-Nord-Est, Saint-Jean-Port-Joli in Canada where there is a distinct focus on woodcarving within the artists' center and the community at large.

By using wood to produce this object, the artist attempted to further explore her interest in the use of contradictory materials for the production of sculptural works. The wood is hard yet fragile, likely to decay and rot, but unlike an actual welcome mat that has some texture, the wood is smooth and would leave the users unable to clean their shoes effectively. Thus the object has the potential to be used as a doormat but sits on the brink of dysfunction.

The lacy pattern that was created through the drilling of holes through the surface of the wood furthers this interest in contradiction. The pattern itself could be seen as feminine whereas the act of drilling holes would be seen as masculine. The act of drilling also becomes an extenuation of the abuse that is enacted upon a doormat on a daily basis, both in a beautiful and destructive way.

The doormat was considered in terms of the space that it occupies. It sits in front of a door; it is an odd space where you are no longer outside or inside someone’s space (as most houses have walls and gates surrounding them). The doormat sits within a space where you do not yet know whether you are ‘welcome’ or not, whether you will be granted entry or not. You are both inside and outside at the same time.  It is a transitional space and holds the awkwardness of the in-between: the either/or, the normal/abnormal; the ordinary/strange.

Balaclava series: Self-portrait with knitted rope (2016) Watercolour on hahnemühle paper, 61.5cm x 50cm

Balaclava series: Self-portrait with doily (2016) Watercolour on hahnemühle paper,  61.5cm x 50cm

The Balaclava series consist of a number of painstakingly painted self-portraits. Each portrait has some form of 'balaclava' or headpiece covering the head of the artist and the head appears to almost float on the white paper that surrounds it.

There is something slightly disturbing and disquieting about these portraits. This aspect  echoes the artist's interest in the  uncomfortable nature of the domestic and her increasing concern with elements of violence.

These two works lead to a solo show entitled Veiled Threats at 99Loop gallery, Cape Town.

Elysium I,II & III (2016). Embroidery by Ilené Bothma on images from short film by Anna Lupien, Orion Szydel and Ilené Bothma. Photographic prints on hahnemühle etching paper. 31 x 43cm each.

From Boob to Bib I & II (2014). Watercolour on hahnemühle etching paper. 50 x 35cm (unframed).

From Boob to Bib I & II are intricate watercolour paintings of old, stained, crocheted baby bibs. The painting style is clearly quite painstaking thus mimicking the laborious nature of the act of crocheting these old-fashioned baby bibs. As with all the artist’s works there is an interest in the abject nature of the objects themselves. The objects are (or perhaps, were, considering their outdated nature) used  to soak up saliva and protect a baby’s clothing from food, yet they were beautifully and delicately crocheted thus creating an aesthetically pleasing object and image.

Hairline Cracks (2012). Found plates, hair and glue. Dimensions variable.

Hairline Cracks consists of seven different found plates covered with banal flowery patterns. Some of the imagery on each of these plates has been partly sanded off, after which the same images were meticulously re-drawn through the use of the artist’s hair and superglue. The thin lines of hair are evocative in their fragile beauty, yet materially hold a sense of abjection. It is aesthetically pleasing yet mildly disturbing at the same time.

The plates are displayed in an old-fashioned manner against the wall, reminiscent of grandmother’s house. A sense of history is inherently embedded in the secondhand objects themselves while the nostalgic feel of the plates further produces this sense of history, something that comes from the past. The areas where hair has been used to re-draw the patterns have lost their colour; the lines seem almost insubstantial. This loss of colour and fragility imply a fading memory, a degradation, a memory that will over time be lost.

Yet, the act of re-drawing the images without colour could perhaps be seen as a re-writing of histories or memories. The images of conservative flowery plates are made ‘new’ or ‘different’ through the act of re-drawing the images on the plates. The obsessive and painstaking nature of this manner of drawing implies a difficult and fragile change, but possibly a change for the better.

Little white lies I, II, III & IV  (2014). Watercolour on hahnemühle etching paper. 26.5 x 31.5cm (framed).

Four detailed watercolour paintings of a secondhand handkerchief in different crumpled arrangements. Each composition is precisely painted in minute detail and appear almost photographic at first glance. The function of this object,  namely blowing one’s nose, creates an inherent sense of repulsion, yet each image is beautiful in its delicate execution of the lace detailing thus advancing the artists interest in Julia Kristeva’s notion of the abject.

Little white lies (installation) (2011). Handkerchiefs, hair and glue. Dimension variable.

This is a series of second-hand handkerchiefs covered in flowery and lacy patterns. These objects are slightly stained and glued into crumpled forms, yet still aesthetically pleasing in their delicate form. When one attempts closer inspection one sees that these objects have been embroidered with human hair. Some of the original patterns have been covered with hair, strands of hair are protruding from the edges and hair is sewn as to form lines of text.

These handkerchiefs relate to the body in that they are generally used for blowing one’s nose. It is the combination of hair, stains and the implication of bodily fluids that is intended as a means of disturbing the bodily parameters of the viewer. These objects are both repulsive and attractive at the same time; thus suggesting a certain sense of the abject while also suggesting the ambivalence that the artist experiences towards the domestic.

Veiled Threats (2016) is a series of self- portraits investigating identity politics within the domestic space, specifically the role of the woman within this sphere. This body of work developed out of an interest in the uncanny nature of home, an increasing concern in violence perpetrated against the home, as well as a long standing concern with issues surrounding the self. Watercolours in combination with mixed media works investigate surface and artifice; distortions of identity; adaptations of self in the face of things we have no control over. 

Grave Threat, watercolour on hahnemühle paper, 54 x 43.5cm

Triple Threat, watercolour on hahnemühle paper, 54 x 43.5cm

Credible Threat, watercolour on hahnemühle paper, 54 x 43.5cm

Thinly Veiled Threat, watercolour on hahnemühle paper, 54 x 43.5cm

Blackmail, watercolour on hahnemühle paper, 54 x 43.5cm

Idle Threat, oil paint, glue and enamel on board on paper, 54 x 43.5cm

Empty Threat, oil paint, glue and enamel on paper, 54 x 43.5cm

Conditional Threat, oil paint, glue and enamel on paper, 54 x 43.5cm

Tiny Threat 1, oil paint, glue and enamel on board, 18 x 18cm

Tiny Threat 2, oil paint, glue and enamel on board, 18 x 18cm

Tiny Threat 3, oil paint, glue and enamel on board, 18 x 18cm

Tiny Threat 4, oil paint, glue and enamel on board, 18 x 18cm

Tiny Threat 5, oil paint, glue and enamel on board, 18 x 18cm

Tiny Threat 6, oil paint, glue and enamel on board, 18 x 18cm

Untitled I & II (2014). Watercolour on hahnemühle etching paper. 39 x 55cm (framed).

Untitled I & II are painstakingly detailed paintings of traditional, crocheted doilies with their intrinsic connotations of domesticity. The doily is an apparently functionless object that has been shunned by modern society, yet many households seem to still have these relics buried away somewhere in a dusty old box. It is this dysfunctionality and secretive sentimentality within the domestic space that makes these objects so alluring to the artist.

Untitled (Breaking cups film stills) (2011) Film still from 6m35s video.

Video available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wmmGq8nu_s

These film stills were captured from the video work that forms a certain documentation of the act of breaking the crockery that is displayed in Untitled (glued cups on table). The cups and saucers can be seen shattering repeatedly against damask patterned wallpaper. Each time an object hits the wall a dark mark is left on the lightly coloured wallpaper. The initially crisp sound of the breaking crockery becomes increasingly duller as the ‘repaired’ crockery becomes more difficult to break. The objects were each broken four times and the onset of each breaking cycle is subtly indicated through a slightly different colour tone for each sequence. This process is infinitely repeated as the video is looped for display.

This video together with the installation work uses the cups and saucers as a metaphor for human relationships. How many times can a relationship sustain some form of ‘impact’ before it is irreparably damaged and deformed? Or is it actually the way in which two human beings impact upon each other that makes them stronger?

Untitled (glued cups on table) (2011). Tables, cups, plates and glue.

This work consists of quintessential porcelain teacups and saucers that were repeatedly broken and glued back together. These objects were placed on a drop down table (of which one eave is being propped up by another smaller table) in such a way that it seems some cups and saucers are inevitably sliding towards the edge of the table. It seems as if the process of destruction and reconstruction is about to repeat itself.

The precarious nature of this construction suggests the uncertainty that is often experienced within an intimate relationship. The imminent fall of the sliding cups implies the destructive nature of human beings and the violence that is so often associated with the domestic space, while the reconstruction of the cups and saucers implies the impetus to recover and repair relationships.

In the making of this work, it was discovered that it became increasingly more difficult to break the objects after each restoration. After a cup was glued back together it did not break along the same lines as it did before and it seemed that the glue actually provided some extra strength to the object. Thus, interestingly, the objects were stronger after they had been broken and repaired, but now were no longer functional as any liquid would just slowly seep through the tiny cracks.

Slippery Slope (2013). Found chair and knitted stockings. 105 x 78 x 100cm.

This sculptural piece developed quite intuitively when a secondhand chair was found without a seat. Stockings were cut into thin strips and used as knitting material in order to simulate an organic, undulating seat that cascades over the edge of the chair onto the floor. The title ‘Slippery Slope’ implies a complex and precarious situation that will most likely end in disaster, a suggestion that is reinforced by the way in which the chair seems to be sinking into the floor. Will the weight of the knitted mass pull the chair over or can the chair right itself again?

Untitled (video on table) (2010). Table and video projection. Duration: 25min16s. Dimensions variable.

This projection piece involves a table with a damaged surface placed on its side while a video is projected onto the other side of the table. It seems that an attempt has been made at ‘fixing’ the table, by glueing wood-chips meticulously into the surface of the table. The video projection involves a performance by the artist.  The artist attempted to stand as still as possible in her underwear within a domestic setting. The performance lasted less than half an hour as her body started shaking and the position could not be maintained.  This was done in order to portray some sense of the awkwardness of the domestic space and the level of discomfort that the artist experienced within this situation.

Holding on (2011). Found object with carving. 29 x 29 x 75cm.

Holding on is a three-tiered corner table that has been transformed by carving a handprint into the surface of this found object. In one area the palm print pushes right through the surface so that the second tier of the table becomes visible when viewed from the top. The carved hand alludes to the simultaneous absence and presence of human touch. The corroded surface suggests the deterioration that is inevitable with the passing of time. The object becomes a metaphor for the body that becomes worn down through time. This piece is also concerned with the body within a relationship, the way in which another person is allowed to imprint on the other. The question is, is this process destructive or productive? Is the table broken or more beautiful? Is the person whole or slowly being destroyed? Or is this just part of the poetics of the everyday?

Nothing without you (2011). Found chair seat, hair and stocking. 33 x 36 x 20cm.

Nothing without you consists of a slightly curved chair seat covered with a flesh-coloured stocking. A flowery pattern is sewn into a part of the surface with the artist’s hair. There is a certain commingling of masculinity and femininity in this object. This merging of dualities, like male and female, familiar and strange, comfortable and awkward opens up a space for expressing ideas around the human condition. This piece, like many other works, was concerned with altering the found object through time-consuming processes to explore the poetics of the everyday and forms part of the artist’s ongoing inquiry into the banality of the domestic space.

Extra Soft (2011). Toiletpaper, toiletpaper holder and artist’s hair. 70 x 16 x 11cm.

Extra Soft contains a roll of toiletpaper mounted in a holder against the wall as if it exists in a typical bathroom while the toiletpaper is rolled down to almost touch the floor. The object seems out of place and awkward. The viewer comes closer to see that the embossed pattern of the paper itself has been re-embroidered with thin strands of hair. Hair delicately follows the crossed lines on the surface of the paper. More hair protrudes from the side of the roll to suggest that this sewing continues throughout the entire roll of paper.

This artwork is concerned with the notion of abjection in relation to the tedium of the domestic space. The use of bodily material such as hair in combination with a material that is used to remove bodily excess again plays on the artist’s interest in the domestic space as an area of contention, contradiction and awkwardness. The labour that was necessary to complete this work speaks of the repetitive nature of the home while evoking a sense of the performative nature of the act of making.

Residency at Est-Nord-Est, Saint-Jean-Port-Joli, Canada.

These photographs document a work that was made during a residency in July to August 2014. The sculptures themselves were ultimately not entirely successful as an installation, but were quite effectively used as props for a performance in collaboration with artists, Orion Szydel and Anna Lupien. Film stills from this performance were used to create the tryptich Leda and the Swan.

Images courtesy of Jean-Sebastien Veilleux.

Studio images from residency at Est-Nord-Est, Saint-Jean-Port-Joli, Canada.

All Torn Up Inside (2010). Book with artist’s hair on table. 22 x 14 x 3cm (book); 32 x 28 x 47cm (table).

This work consists of a book on a table of which the pages have been individually sewn together using the artist’s hair. The title on the side of the book has been partially removed and what has been left reads as “The Soul”. There is a certain suggestion that the book holds the owner’s secret thoughts and desires which is barely protected by the thin and fragile strands of hair. The fragile barrier can easily be broken and the content uncovered, but in doing that there would be a destruction that could possibly never be reconstructed.

All torn up inside is an exploration of secrets, trust and ambivalent desires.

Moonshine and Roses (2011). Chairs, hair and stocking. 38,5 x 42 x 89cm / 38 x 42 x 83cm.

Moonshine and Roses talks about an odd pairing of sorts: a certain strange, dysfunctional togetherness. This is emphasized through the way in which these chairs have been placed side by side yet slightly apart against the wall. Each chair has been altered through the use of laborious processes, mimicking a certain sense of the tedium of the domestic space. The chair on the left was carved in half over a period of three days using only a woodcarving tool. The piece of stocking that tentatively holds the two halves of the object together implies fragility and evokes a bodily quality. On the other chair a flower on the pattern of the chaircover has been re-embroidered with the artist’s hair, evocatively yet subtly suggesting the female body.