Zohra OpokuSassa

When Zohra Opoku and I began work on her exhibition, she suggested the concept sassa as both a theme and title with which to work. She had first come across the concept in Ladislas Segy’s book Masks of Black Africa, where it is described as the soul, or as universal energy that is invisible, but always present, as well as immanent in all things — humans, animals, plants, minerals; creating a sense of oneness and exchange. It is also described as feared, but appeasable through offerings and sacrifices. On researching the term sassa, I found no mention of it anywhere except in this first book, of questionable title, by the Hungarian art historian Segy. I modified the spelling of the term and found the concept of sasa in the work of writers, such as J.B. Danquah, Anthony Ephirim-Donkor and R.S. Rattray, which seemed to dovetail only with the latter meaning of the concept, as a somewhat malevolent, but appeasable spirit. Like many books that encompassed in one, all of ‘African philosophy’, Segy seemed to have conflated variant concepts of the soul, comparing the Ashanti sassa to the Dogon’s nyama and the Fang’s evur, not taking into account as others seemed to, that in Ashanti or rather Akan philosophy, many different concepts of the soul coexist. Even in my subsequent research in books by Ghanaian authors, (such as Danquah, Busia, Antubam, Sarpong, Appiah-Kubi and Gyekye) and early foreign anthropologists, (like Rattray, Meyerowitz, Field, de Marees and Lysted), the meanings for each term of the ‘soul’ varied from author to author. What became clear was that there was no one concept that described its entirety either in humans, plants or minerals. What I drew from the readings was that each person was a composite made of the mogya, the blood of the mother; of the ntoro, the seed of the father, which expressed itself as spirit or sunsum; as well as of the life force, the okra, which came from god or nyame; that the saman was the spirit after death, dwelling in the land of ancestors, asaman; and that sasa was the restless, often vengeful, spirit of one whose death was somehow unnatural. Even though the concept did not cohere with what we thought was its original sense, we decided to stay with the title. It now denoted more than the immanence present in Zohra’s work, the depiction in her photographs and sculptures, not so much of the outer form of the person, but of their essence, merging with the natural and material elements around them. It also pointed to the inscrutability of certain ways and concepts of being, for those of us brought up in the Diaspora or in cities far away from where these concepts still might hold some relevance. Inherent in Akan culture, there seems to be a certain guardedness of knowledge, especially of anything deemed sacred, a guardedness that in the past has led outsiders to mistake silence for absence, and to misread or misconstrue terms and concepts. There also seems to be a more deliberate ambiguity of meaning, knowledge that is simultaneously definite, but not fixed, so that when Zohra and I went on a research trip to the Ashanti region, we again found different people giving different variations on the term, expressing not so much an objectivity of knowledge, but many different subjectivities, whose ‘truth’ lay in their very relativity. The Ashanti region is where Zohra’s father, whom she met as a young adult shortly before he died, was from. Like many family members who die suddenly amongst the Akan, his death left behind questions and suspicion. The belief that the agency for one’s failings, for death, or even success lies in the hands of something external to one, to God or the ancestors in the case of good, and to witchcraft or the devil in the case of evil, is held across all belief systems in the country. Fear of others’ curses,

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or prayers for the wealth of blessings, are both so prevalent and consistent, that sasa as a concept, both in its malevolent manifestation, and as one interviewee attested, in its benign, blessing-bearing form, does much to explain a deeply spread reluctance — evident culturally in churches, on radio, in popular films — to take full accountability for the consequences of one’s own deeds. When Zohra first came to Ghana to meet her father, she was presented to him in his role as Kyedomhene of Asato, an Ashanti town situated in the Volta region. The Kyedomehene’s role, as told to me by royal expert Nana Twum Barima II was that of the ruler that stayed behind when the others went to war and guarded the home. The system of rule amongst the Akan, which is often translated erroneously as chieftaincy, a term that flattens all its complexities, is still structured largely around its military origins, and holds within it much of the cultural play of history and of the essence of the past. Everything I know of my cultural history, every passion, was awakened by my proximity to these cultural realities, in all their depths and layers. Zohra’s father passed away before he could impart much of his knowledge or understanding to her, and so it was that when we went to the Ashanti region, it was the Ahemaa, the Queen Mothers, she was interested in meeting and portraying. Even though the Ohene, the male ruler, serves as the ruler of the traditional system of power, each of the clans of the Akan trace their origins to an ancestress. Power is traced through the female line, so that the Ohene’s position is inherited matrilineally and nominated by the Ohemaa, who sits by his side. Capturing the Ahemaa in silhouette, as they danced the Adowa or in poses of graceful supplication, Zohra harnessed the sun’s power to print the images through large negatives using Cyanotype and Van Dyke Brown processes, creating images in indigo, the colour of Nyame, god of the sky; and in brown, the colour of Abrewa, the first ancestress of the earth; encompassing the dualities of being and of power expressed so eloquently in the person of the Ohemaa. The images were printed onto thick white bedsheets, given to Zohra by her grandmother, and so linked the notion of motherhood from East Germany, the provenance of her mother’s family, to that of her father’s in Ghana. These links are expanded on in the series of bodymasks, that echo and expand on the aesthetics of the classical sculptures and masks of the Akan, in which the forms portray the essence of the person, rather than trying to mimic their bodily form. In the mask titled, My Mother, a renovated insect hotel she found in her mother’s garden, its many snug, but still porous compartments, evoke a place of rest and of nurture, that place many of our mothers represent to us, a place to return to after our travels, a place within which to find ourselves again before we move on. Growing up, home for Zohra was East Germany, where the one constant, the place of refuge in a world she traversed as alien, was her grandparents house, and the mask to which she gave the title My Father, made up of seemingly incongruous pieces of wood, assembled in collage, balancing on a bench turned on it side, precarious, yet still stable, is dedicated to her grandfather. In the Akan concept of sunsum — the spirit passed down to one’s father — a sense of alienation sets in, an inability to thrive, if the child is separated from their father, from his protection, from the strength of his spirit. In his absence, a father figure, often connected to the mother steps in, to pass on the child, something of their nature through sunsum, in this case, the skill and creativity of her grandfather. Another father figure is represented in X-ray Mask. Set on fragile legs, its metal layers mimicking the machine from which it derives its title,

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the wooden blocks on its foremost layer, like so many parts of the body, loosened, floating, unanchored; a cubist study of a face drawn from memory. Zohra created the mask after her stepfather died after a period of illness, putting into material form that which was beyond language, drawing on the mask’s power to serve as medium to Asaman, to those that have left the earthly sphere. Within Akan philosophy, the sunsum of the father gave one a sense of being protected, and the mogya of the mother provided a connection to the larger lineage, a sense of home. Rituals, such as the burial of the placenta in the place of birth, rooted you and gave you a sense of belonging, without which you might feel rootless, prone to wandering. For those of us born with a more diffuse sense of what home was, this feeling of homelessness, or rather the constant search for home, was what defined us. In Batakari Mask, Zohra uses a chair, whose form is found across many parts of West Africa, to represent a place of home, and of stability. When I researched the design of the chair she used as inspiration, I found its original use was as a birthing chair, which seemed poignant in that the recourse to creation, or creativity, seems, again and again, an attempt to give birth to oneself, and to one’s own particular place in the world. The design that hangs from the top of the chair, with its rhythmic and musical qualities, is inspired by the linear design of the batakari, a smock from Northern Ghana worn mainly by men. Similar to the Agbagba Mask, that draws on the agbada worn by Yoruba men of Nigeria and Benin, she repurposes clothes meant to be worn by men for women; part protective armour, sturdy; part children's swing, playful. The exploration in her work of the tailoring of spaces reserved for men to our own bodies and selves, was one of the things that, in this Ghanaian artistic landscape — ridden by obstacles, and dominated by the narrative and presence of men — made me want to reach out to her, collaborate, grow side by side. Her self-portraits — printed on fabrics that reference her past in the world of fashion; creme canvas, brown satin, rose cotton, military denim — seem also to speak of the strength of inhabiting fully one’s femininity, reflecting the sensuality of nature; glimpses of lips, of hair, of eyes, revealing only what one wants to reveal when and as one wants to, standing strong in one’s own power. In an installation, we hear the music of mestres of capoeira; it was through journeys to Brazil and the discovery of this martial art form, developed as a strategy of resistance by slaves captured from the many different parts of Africa, that Zohra reconnected her with Ghanaian roots. We see a projection refracted through the Batakari and Agbagba Masks, that represent both home and self. Standing separate, but still connected, the other members of the bodymask family. The image on the screen, again an image of herself, almost invisible now, blending completely into the frame of nature, her corporeality disappearing into its depths. The search for definition through her different elements; her mother, mogya, her father, sunsum, the quest for home, evaporating into a greater whole. She has created her own versions of reality through time and place and through the elements around her, invented her own rituals and traditions, and in this defined for herself her own version of what sassa is and can be.

Nana Oforiatta Ayim Curator of Sassa & Creative Director, Gallery 1957

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Nana Bonsu Nyarko, Atwima Bodwesango — Sepaase, 2016 Van Dyke Brown Print on textile

208 x 142cm

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Nana Afia Serwaa Bonsu I, Appiadu Hemaah, 2016 Cyanotype on bedsheet

186 x 124cm

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Nana Yaa Adutwumwaa II, Brongahafo Kenyasi No.1, 2016 Cyanotype on bedsheet

194 x 143cm

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Nana Afia Abrefi, Bomsu Kumasi, 2016 Cyanotype on bedsheet

208 x 126cm

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My Mother, 2015 Found object

32 x 28 x 6 inches

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My Father, 2015 Found wood, cord, net, nails

58 x 69 x 19 inches

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X-Ray Mask, 2014 Teak wood, copper, magnetic paint, acrylic, cord, nails

18 x 71 x 31 inches

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Batakari Chair, 2014 Teak, Abachi wood, cord, nail

120 x 40 x 100cm

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Agbagba Mask, 2014 Teak, Abachi wood, cord, rubber

63 x 65 x 42 inches

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Selfportrait, 2016 Screen-print on textile

1498 x 100cm

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Pyracantha, 2016 Screen-print on hand washed paper

79 x 105cm

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Ficus Carica, 2015 Screen-print on textile

79 x 105cm

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Rhododendron, 2016 Screen-print on textile

79 x 105cm

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Cyperus Papyrus, 2015 Screen-print on textile

79 x 105cm

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Dicksonia Antarctica, 2015 Screen-print on textile

79 x 105cm

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Wisteria, 2015 Screen-print on textile

79 x 105cm

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Life Oak Tree, 2015 Screen-print on textile

79 x 105cm

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2014 The Billboard Project, Solo show in Public Space, Accra

Magical Riso Jan van Eyck Institute, Maastricht

...Do Delay, Public show by Pick Nick, Nicosia

Masked/ Unmasked, Dak’Art 11th Biennial, St.Louis

Paroles de Femmes, Alliance Francaise, Accra

2013 Healing the Environment and the Creative Arts Symposium, Institute for African Studies

Virtual Material, Musée de l Ethnographie, Bourdeaux

Post No Bill, Solo Show, Jamestown Community Theatre Centre, Accra

Virtual Material, Iwalewa Haus, Bayreuth

Attitude., Costumes & Visuals for Interactive Performance Installation Infecting the City Festival, Cape Town

2012 Berlin Textures, OKK/Raum 29, Berlin

Sommerhängung, Gallery Peter Herrmann, Berlin

Attitude., Costumes & Visuals for Interactive Performance Installation by Sebastian Klemm, Kunst im Club, Stuttgart

Handwash Only, Gallery Peter Herrmann, Berlin

2009–2012 Prèt-à-Partager Touring Exhibition: Addis Ababa, Ethiopia 2012; ifa Gallery Berlin & Stuttgart, Germany 2012; Nubuke Foundation Accra, Ghana 2011; City Hall Capetown, Southafrica 2011; CCA, AAF & YabaTech Lagos, Nigeria 2010; Fortaleza Maputo, Mozambiqe 2010; Le Mànege, Dakar, Senegal 2009 

Grants and Fellowships2016 Sacatar Artist residency, Salvador da Bahia, Brazil (BR)

2015 Kala Institute, Fellowship Award, Berkeley (CA)

Research Residency, Iwalewa Haus, Bayreuth (DE)

Artist Residency, Bagfactory, Johannesburg (ZA)

2014 Artist Residency, Jan van Eyck Institute, Maastrich (NL)

Art show funding, Goethe Institute + Alliance Francaise(GH), IFA (DE)

2013 Moving Africa(ZA), Visiting grant for Salon Urbain de Douala (CM)

Art Show funding Accra, Alliance Francaise+Goethe Institute (GH)

2012 Artist Residency, Art OMI, Ghent, NY

2008–2012 Prèt-à-Partager, Aktion Afrika, German Cultural Fund

Couture Commune, Artist Residency, Künstlerhaus Stuttgart (DE)

Artist Biography

Selected Exhibitions2016 Making Africa, Centre de Cultura Contemporània de Barcelona(CCCB)

Draping Histories, Solo Show, Kruger Gallery Chicago

Sassa, Solo Show, Gallery 1957, Accra

Africa Reframed, Øksnehallen, Copenhagen

Art Festival, Iwalewa Haus, Bayreuth

2015 He Doesn’t Have Anything On, Commune.1, Capetown

Material Effects, Eli&Edythe Broad Art Museum, East Lansing, Michigan

Remember to Come Back, Mariane Ibrahim, Seattle

Future Africa: Visions in Time, Iwalewahaus Bayreuth(DE)

Making Africa, Guggenheim Bilbao

Designing Futures, LagosPhoto Festival, Lagos

We Don’t Contemporary, (Curatorial project), Kampnagel Hamburg

Take it to the Streets, Alliance Francaise, Accra

Fellowship Show, Kala Institute, Berkeley(CA)

WOW PRINT, WOW, Amsterdam

Making Africa, Vitra Design Museum, Weil am Rhein

Studio Show, Jan van Eyck Institute, Maastricht(NL)

This catalogue accompanies Zohra Opoku’s exhibition Sassa at Gallery 1957, curated by Nana Oforiatta Ayim, 9 June — 10 August 2016

© Gallery 1957 Kempinski Hotel Gold Coast City PMB 66 — Ministries Gamel Abdul Nasser Avenue Ridge — Accra Ghana

All images © Zohra Opoku Designed by Hyperkit, London

All or part of this publication may not be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems or transmitted in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, including photocopying recording or otherwise, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.

www.gallery1957.com