In the centre of Luanda, a red neon sign on a three-story building adorns the facade of Hotel Globo. Built in 1950, after years of civil war, its once proud exterior has become a spectre of its former self. Despite its outwardly ruined structure, the hotel, once dubbed the most popular in Luanda, still retains an air of grandeur, representing the peak of modernist architecture in the African nation.

Over the last few years, a newfound energy can be felt pulsating through the building’s walls. Artists, creative producers and gallerists have re-occupied its spaces, transforming it into an arts hub. Jahmek Contemporary Art, one of Angola’s foremost contemporary art galleries, is based there, as is the project Fuckin’ Globo, a leading Angolan platform for intellectual and artistic discourse, bringing together artists, filmmakers, producers, curators and performers.

Due to colonisation, we were very distanced from things that identify us—one of them being our indigenous languages. – Wyssolela Moreira, multidisciplinary artist

“It’s a safe space,” said Luanda-born artist Sandra Poulson, who is presently showing her work in the 60th Venice Biennale, remarking how, unlike other spaces in Luanda, there’s no security guard with a gun at the door. “It’s the kind of place where you just drop in even if you don’t need to—even if Jahmek is not open. There’s an integration between Jahmek and artists’ studios, where some artists also live – that is rare to find. There’s always a conversation to be had and it’s free, anyone can enter.”

A dynamic artist-led scene

Oil-rich Angola boasts a young and dynamic art scene sustained without government support. There are no dedicated art museums in the country, very few art schools – and art supplies are difficult to access.

Jahmek Contemporary Art was established by Mehak and Jardel Vieira in 2018 and moved to Hotel Globo in 2022. Its first gallery was in Fábrica da Mission, an old soda factory in Luanda but the gallery was evicted in 2020 when the government decided to transform the space into the new electoral centre. They were given one month to move. “When I was growing up in Luanda there was no art scene and no galleries; every so often an art exhibition would be staged at the Portuguese Institute,” explains Mehak. “When we started the gallery there was no strategy. We went on intuition. Our mission is to foster the art scene and the next generation of Angolan artists.”

Since opening the gallery, Mehak has been on a roll. Her efforts have paved the way for artists to exhibit in major international art expositions, including Art Basel, in which she has participated twice – with Safe to Visit by Sandra Poulson in Art Basel’s Statements in June 2024, and at the 60th Venice Biennale where three of her artists – Poulson, Monica de Miranda and Kiluanji Kia Henda – are presently showing work. In Luanda, she stages regular exhibitions; she will open Yiji & Zad, a solo show by local collective Verkron, in September 2024.

A painful past, still present

For many Angolan artists, art is a means to heal. Their practices help come to terms with the past and forge a new identity, distinct from the memory and culture of Angola’s former Portuguese colonisers. Colonial bureaucratic structures and architecture remain; like the Portuguese language spoken in Angola, they make it challenging to differentiate between an Angolan and a Portuguese self. Artists, through their work, seek to unpack what it really means to be Angolan today.

From 1575 until 1975, Angola was a Portuguese colony. After centuries of colonial rule, nationalist and separatist movements launched a struggle for independence. Post 1975, multiple political factions battled for power, leading to a civil war – the conflict raged until 2002. It involved many foreign nations, including forces from Zaire and South Africa, which backed the National Liberation Front of Angola (FNLA) and thousands of soldiers from Cuba fighting for the People’s Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA), alongside support from the erstwhile USSR. Physical scars on dilapidated buildings in Luanda and the heightened security tell of the country’s violent struggle for liberation.

“My work explores [Angolan] identity and looks at the collective and the energy we share together, and the importance of indigenous healing and knowledge systems that bring us closer to our identity,” explains the multidisciplinary artist Wyssolela Moreira in her studio located in Hotel Globo. “I consider my practice a decolonial practice. …Due to colonisation, we were very distanced from things that identify us – one of them being our indigenous languages. Schools were set up to systemise society to think Portuguese and this has caused many issues.”

The ambition to decolonise the Angolan narrative and reconcile Angolans with their own post-independence modernity has driven the contemporary art world in Luanda before. Spearheading this drive 20 years ago was the late Congolese art patron, collector and businessman Sindika Dokolo – he was married to Isabel dos Santos, the daughter of Angola's former President José Eduardo dos Santos, who held office from 1979 to 2017. Dokolo, who died in October 2020 in an accident in Dubai, was responsible for supporting the Triennial de Luanda initiated in 2006 by Angolan artist and curator Fernando Alvim. In January 2020, a vast investigation called 'Luanda Leaks', led by the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (ICIJ) and its media partners, suggested that Dos Santos, Africa's richest woman, built her $2.2 billion fortune through the exploitation of her home country. The bank accounts and assets of Dos Santos and Dokolo, who had also advocated for the repatriation of African art, were frozen. Dos Santos can no longer return to Angola.

Dokolo helped underwrite Adam Szymczyk’s documenta 14 in 2017 on the condition that it would collaborate on a show in Luanda the following year. This never happened. In 2007, Dokolo lent his collection to the Venice Biennale for its first African Pavilion, led by Alvim and critic and curator Simon Njami. The show, titled Check List Luanda Pop, consisted of works from the Sindika Dokolo African Collection of Contemporary Art in Luanda, which was chaired by Dokolo and vice-chaired by Alvim; at that time, the collection was said to comprise around 500 pieces by 140 artists from 28 African countries.

“Sindika brought international attention to Angolan art,” said Angolan filmmaker Hugo Salvaterra. “There were artists that were born out of the first Triennale. Artists continue to reference him and give him credit.” In 2013, Angola returned to the Venice Biennale, this time with its own national pavilion. It won a Golden Lion for an exhibition curated by critic Paula Nascimento and Stefano Rabolli Pansera, the founding director of Bangkok Kunsthalle and former director of Hauser & Wirth, featuring the work of Edson Chagas. Staged in the Palazzo Cini near Venice's Ponte dell'Accademia, it featured a presentation of mass-produced posters depicting uncaptioned photographs of discarded objects and doorways from Luanda—which visitors were free to take away. Angola has since participated in the Biennale only in 2015 and 2017.

Leaving a legacy through art

Younger artists, while focused on their individual practice, are also keen to develop the local art scene for present and future generations. Doing so involves building infrastructure at home and raising  awareness abroad. In Chicala, a historical seaside district, Rompe, a non-profit activist collective, established in 2022 by Angolan artist Pamina Sebastião, aims to support Angolan artists by using art to encourage much needed intellectual and political discourse. The one-floor building includes areas for art education, workshops and exhibitions. 

“I felt there was a cultural context that wasn’t allowing for spaces like this one – spaces for continual learning, reflection and importantly for political reflection,” says Sebastião. “You have different types of artists in Angola but not a community built around art.”

In Luanda, a few additional art spaces exist, dedicated to nurturing the scene. Among these are ELA-Espaço Luanda Arte, a multidisciplinary commercial art gallery founded by Luanda-based British ex-banker Dominick Maia Tanner who in 2018 set up the residence programme Angola AIR; Galeria Tamar Golan, founded in 2012; and the NESR Art Foundation, a philanthropic enterprise by the family behind Webcor Group, an agro-industrial food production and distribution company, established in 2021 by Hiba and Wissam Nesr. This year, Luanda also had its first art fair: Luanda Art Fair, staged by Tanner with Africell, a mobile network operator.

While galleries have flourished, other spaces which opened in Luanda, such as This Is Not A White Cube and Movart, have since moved to Lisbon. “That’s the temptation of the diaspora,” said Tanner, who has lived in Angola for 15 years. “The artists can live abroad and can be met in Lisbon or London and their work can be sold to a Western or non-African collector. We need to build a local audience and collectors and not have the art leave the country,” he stated, stressing how his goal has always been to create a stable of loyal, local collectors.

While myriad challenges remain, such as the small pool of domestic collectors and the absence of any state funding, the determination of Angolan artists, philanthropists and growth of the scene has attracted the attention of major art world figures. Adriano Pedrosa, for instance, while preparing for this year’s Venice Biennale, visited Luanda.

This year marks the first time that the travelling exhibitions programme of the 35th Bienal de São Paulo takes place in Luanda at Instituto Guimarães Rosa until December 8, 2024. The exhibition recognises the historical and cultural ties between Brazil and Angola. One of the artists presented is Portuguese artist Carlos Bunga. His work, Habitar el color (Inhabiting colour, 2015-ongoing), a site-specific installation sees pink paint on the floor, taking up nearly the entirety of one room, and invites spectators to remove their shoes and walk on the wet paint, questioning the transience of social and architectural structures. The work seemingly reflects Angola’s state of literal and metaphorical transience, of dwelling between one world and another. Bunga’s mother was from Angola and fled the war of independence in 1975. She never returned. Decades later, her son did. “Angola is the land of my origins,” he says. “My mother is still alive in each person I meet.”

(Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official position of STIR or its editors.)