The classic European portrait painting is one we are well accustomed to. The blank, unapproving gaze; the imposing aquiline nose, and the pale skin so delicate it looks like it may tear at the touch. It’s an image that is pervasive, not only in acclaimed museums around the world, but as an approach to portraiture that has dominated for centuries. But Sungi Mlengeya is among the generation of African artists who have broken through the canon with her series of ink-black portraits of young women in East Africa. Rounded faces, soft expressions, full lips and noses greet the viewer, shifting the vision of who the portrait subject should be; and allowing the viewer to feel welcomed, rather than dismissed by the face depicted on the canvas.

I’m not the only one who feels this way. On the opening night of this year’s Investec Cape Town Art Fair, where the young Tanzanian artist enjoyed a solo show with Uganda’s AfriArt Gallery, a small crowd gathered around Mlengeya’s work, looking almost trance-like at her striking creations. Later, I saw her work shared across Twitter, described by one user as “the power of the black women personnified”. And still elsewhere, the artist’s images found homes in Instagram stories and iPhone wallpapers, a long and glorious journey from the still somewhat exclusive realm of an art fair.

But for Mlengeya - who is self-taught and only gave up a career in banking to be a full time artist in 2018 - the goal is not popularity. The work, informed by her environment and social circumstances, pushed the artist to create something uniquely feminine and representative of the world in which she operates.

“The paintings are a visual exploration of ties between women and the roles unity, support and friendship have in reconstructing their position in society,” she tells me. “I celebrate women who surround me and want to share stories of their experiences as they break through chains of conformity from deprivative social, cultural and everyday civil settings.”

The message is, though subtle, immensely clear. Mlengeya makes use of dense acrylic black and brown paint to sculpt her goddesses, painting them in groups, alone, and sometimes very close up. A tilted face or profile angle reveals a strong jaw, a deep cupid’s bow or a set of sad eyes. Set against a stark white background, the women are all-consuming and beautiful; but still in a sense at odds with their surroundings. Mlengeya displays a deep sense of intimacy between her and her subjects, and this feeling carries through to the viewer. These women may be in tough circumstances, but through this work, they are also made immortal.

Instead of downtrodden, third world visual symbols, Mlengeya wants her viewers to see more. “I want to spark a new line of thought in my audience that might change the way we act, or not act, in situations that come up again and again in the road to pursuing our true preferences freely and uninhibitedly,” she explains.

And perhaps that where the magic lies. There’s a deeply embedded message which the artist is sharing, but Mlengeya also wants us to receive the work through our own personal lens. Whether that’s the simple joy of her technical prowess, a reconsideration of who deserves to be depicted in works of portraiture, or, for a black woman like myself with East African heritage, the ability to see people who look like me treated as precious and complete subjects.

Words Binwe Adebayo

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Published on 23/03/2020