"What happens when first-world art rubs up against third-world art? 

Does it bleed?”

 

This was the challenge Andre Eugène, Leah Gordon and Myron Beasley, founders of the Ghetto Biennale, set themselves up to take on. For the last ten years in the Grand Rue slum of Port au Prince, Eugène has been at the heart of a small community of artists. There he met Gordon, a photographer, filmmaker and curator who has been going to Haiti since 1991, and Beasley, an international curator interested in the culture of the African diaspora. Discussing Eugène's own experiences of being denied visas to attend his own exhibitions in Miami, the concept of a respected art event that circumvented the exclusion from the western international art world was formulated, and the three made it into reality last year. With no access to government financial support to attend art fairs, most Haitian artists have little opportunity to reach the international artistic community - so, they decided to bring that community to Haiti.

 

Together with Jean Hèrard Celeur, Eugène is part of Atis Rezistans, a group of sculptors living and working in the Grand Rue. The artists recycle materials in a transformative process, their sculptures visceral collections of found objects - debris, discarded automobile parts, stereos, television equipment, skulls, timber. They present what Gordon describes as “a dystopian sci-fi view for the future”, and provide potent symbolism, as the artists are inspired by the spirits and practice of Voodoo as well as the realities of political oppression, poverty and Haiti's revolutionary role in the abolition of slavery. But there is humour and wit too. In Eugène's own words: “The west dumps its rubbish on Haiti. We take it, transform it, we make it into art and sell it back to them to put in their living rooms”.

 

Along with two other artists, Guyodo and Lherrison, Eugène is currently showing work at the Jack Bell Gallery's Strong Medicine exhibition in London. The works on display were created before Haiti's devastating earthquake last December, which caused Lherisson and other artists to lose their workshops entirely. Bell said: “They're all itching to get back to work, but there's not a single person who's not been affected by the quake in some way.”

 

Twenty-seven artists, five academics and six film screenings featured at the biennale, conceived as a “salon des refusés for the 21st century”. Gordon explains that many of the participants had “quite anarchistic, anti-authorial, non-material practices”. Works had to be realised using only limited available materials, which meant that many artists had to reconceive projects while facing extremely difficult circumstances. The visiting artists walked into a highly creative community, but also an incredibly poor one. Gordon felt concern for them, she says, but she adds: “The re-adjustments they made, with such a sense of grace and generosity of spirit, created some of the most powerful, moving art works and performances I have ever seen.”

 

Invoking Michel de Certeau, Beasley articulated the art of the Ghetto Biennale as “the art of making do” and describes how it “became a projection of possibilities”. With the Ghetto Biennale subverting the most traditional of art world formats, was there a sense that this tension, having something to react against, was a key element in the creative explosion?

 

Beasley describes how the “rubbing against” between arts from the developed and the developing worlds created “an inbetween-ness”. “Such spaces, which are often overlooked and even avoided, are liberatory spaces of great possibilities, but individuals must be willing to make themselves vulnerable and engage in an honest and sincere dialogue.”

 

The biennale didn't just come to Haiti - it came specifically to the ghetto. Even in Port au Prince, the art world is set apart from everyday life. Bringing the community into action is an important part of Eugène's work, whose apprentice scheme for young people is depended upon - “because there are no art schools for the poor in Haiti”. The Ghetto Biennale made a point of keeping everything, from the printing of invitations to the press conference, in the ghetto. “People from our neighbourhood and other poor neighbourhoods came to see the work. Normally these types of people never visit an art show.”

 

The response from the Grand Rue community surprised even the organisers. “I don't think anyone could have predicted the tremendous reaction that took place - it was testament to the beauty and power of art and its ability to transform community,” explains Beasley, who arrived on the site one morning of the opening to see hordes of people already there celebrating. Gordon describes “the visiting artists vibing with the local teenagers, kids and artists”. One of Beasley's highlights was the impromptu 'tele ghetto' - two local kids with a video camera made from a plastic motor oil container and a mic made from a stick and tape attached to cheap headphones. They kept up the ghost filming for three days, even interviewing the minister of culture.

 

So where does the Ghetto Biennale itself go from here? In another subversion of the biennale format, Gordon and Eugène want to continue working with the same artists that attended the inaugural event. The organisers are also keen to establish links with like-minded organisations, who aim to democratise art and bring together in an international community those artists who have to date been marginalised. Future partnerships are being struck with Palestine's Riwaq Biennale and the Africa Creative Network, with the aim of bringing artists together in different locations. The reaction to the event in Haiti was so positive, and so spontaneous, Gordon explains, that “the Ghetto Biennale - as a concept - should be open to anyone, anywhere, at any time. Dissemination of the idea is the most important aspect.”

 

In the meantime, Eugène and the biennale organisers are bringing that positivity from the Grand Rue worldwide. Gordon and Beasley have an upcoming book publication, Kanaval: Vodou, Politics and Revolution on the Streets of Haiti, and Gordon is at the Sydney Biennale discussing distance, diaspora and aesthetics in African and Caribbean art. In July Gordon launches The Invisibles exhibition at Riflemaker gallery, showcasing 19 years of her photographic work in Haiti. Her most recent photographs document the aftermath of the earthquake, and sales will go directly to victims of the disaster.

 

Biennale organisers have also established the Foundry fund, which channels resources directly to relief efforts in the Grand Rue. After getting food and shelter to communities, the funds will be used to acquire educational materials and to rebuild the area - enabling the community to display and sell their art once again.

 

 

Strong Medicine: Contemporary Voodoo Art from Haiti

On until 30 May

Jack Bell Gallery

London, SW1

 

Leah Gordon: The Invisibles

5 July - 10 September

Riflemaker

London W1F 9SU

Kanaval: Vodou, Politics and Revolution on the Streets of Haiti, by Leah Gordon