Casspir Full of Remark
William Kentridge’s 1989 work, “Casspir Full of Love,” is a piece of political satire about the apartheid, a system of institutionalized racial segregation in Southern Africa, which lasted from 1948 to 1994. During this period, the minority of wealthy whites controlled the country through politics, social ruling, and reign over the economy. Laws under this regime favored whites, and strictly enforced racial segregation, especially against black africans. Media was silenced when it came to speaking out against the government, and after black africans were removed from their homes and placed in segregated neighborhoods, riots and many acts of violence shifted the country into a state of emergency. This prompted the deployment of casspirs. Casspirs are armored riot control vehicles, which were used against citizens at peaceful protests and riots. At the same time, police were given the power to arrest and detain anyone suspected of supporting anti-government ideologies, and media coverage of racial violence was outlawed. This, along with many dehumanizing acts from the government, inspired William Kentridge to make a collection of art pieces, including, “Casspir Full of Love.” The piece portrays a shelf full of the heads of males, conveying the boundaries and connections the parties share, while simultaneously succeeding on capitalizing the violence of apartheid.
The shelf in, “Casspir Full of Love,” is misshapen, leaning slightly to the right. Inside the shelf are three planks. The first is wide and close to the ground. The plank forms a straight line horizontally, connecting both sides of the shelf’s wall-like exterior. Crammed below this section of the shelf, a single, bald head lays on the ground, eyes shut with a fairly restful expression. On top of this plank sits two stacked heads. The lower is roundish, grimaced and staring blankly at the audience. The higher is skinny and long, resting sideways in an unnatural way. Its eyes are shut, and two horizontal lines stretch from its brow to its forehead. Unlike the lower, its lips are rather large, and a ripple seems to form around the chin line, sending a pulse through the backboard like water rippling from a raindrop.
Above these heads is a long plank, slanted like the oblique slanting line. The plank is clearly too long to fit in this shelf and subjugates little space to the heads it carries. These heads, in particular, are plain faced, showing little to no facial features. Like the ones below, they are stacked upon another, the latter being covered in shade. Its eyelids are barely noticed under a black veil, and a scar, similar to the Nike “swoosh” symbol, is etched across its forehead. The other head is the least human-like of the group, looking more like a rough sketch of what a head should look like. The facial features are obscured by drawing lines, and a large slash of pencil line splits it in half. Lastly, the smallest of the planks sits slightly above the sketchy head. The two heads here are unlike any other, with stern expressions. They both sit upright, and one fashions a receding hairline. The other is faced away from the audience, a pompously shrewd expression still worn clear as day, and the number one etched into its temple.
This grotesque imagery represents the Population Registration Act of 1950, which divided South Africa into four racial groups. Resting on the ground, below the bottom most plank, is the head of a black African. The two heads on the first shelf represent the “Coloured,” a term used to describe those of mixed race. Above these are the heads of Indians, as represented by the Nike swoosh symbol. The shelf here is slanted to represent similarity in the social hierarchy of the Indians and the Coloured, displaying one over the other yet falling within the same category. Of course, standing bigger than life above the rest are the heads of two Whites. They are depicted as more proper than the rest, sitting upright, with far more normalized expressions. These heads show elitism over the rest, even portraying the number one on the left head. This portion of the shelf is smaller than the others, as they are the minority. Despite this classist placement, these heads are all dead men. Not one of these men could call themselves greater than another. Kentridge didn’t agree with the acts of the South African government but recognized that it is through white privilege that he was able to make it where he is today. He wanted to display a form of impartialness in his art, not showing preference to either side, but still accurately displaying a connection through separation.
“Casspir Full of Love,” might show acts of violence committed by the South African government at the time, but its success varies from perspective. To know of apartheid and of casspirs is to have a window to the inspiration of Kentridge’s work. Not so much an appropriation of the casspir, Kentridge mocks the South African government, by naming his art after a machine used to peddle hate. He masks his intentions behind a false image and an estranged title but describes these acts of racial violence in a sly, satirical fashion. He shows similarity to Kitsch in his irony, but unlike Kitsch, is neither cheap nor mass-produced. The piece is not a form of memorabilia, but a reminder of the indecencies of apartheid. Be that as it may, the piece itself can be unsuccessful at portraying the deeper meaning. Without context, the piece comes off as an example of Bourdieu’s taste. In either case, “Casspir Full of Love,” as well as other pieces by Kentridge, were erected into greatness, and can now be found in galleries across the globe.
What Kentridge has done with his work is very neutral. He does in fact highlight the atrocities and discrimination of the apartheid, making it more renowned amongst different societies. However, he also profits greatly from these atrocities, with a large portion of his overall work being thematically relative in some way. His choice to be impartial and not directly attack the South African government is a compromise he had to meet to achieve success. His actions merely recorded the racial violence, bringing no change to the system itself, which sparks a question. If apartheid was still active in South Africa today, would Kentridge continue making art off of it? Would he milk more success out of the violence, or would he protest it earnestly? Perhaps to Kentridge, spreading this information through art is more than enough.
Bibliography
Manchester, Elizabeth. “'Casspirs Full of Love', William Kentridge, 1989, Published 2000.” Tate, Jan. 2002, www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/kentridge-casspirs-full-of-love-p11838.
Kentridge, William. “William Kentridge. Casspirs Full of Love. 1989 (Printed 2000): MoMA.” The Museum of Modern Art, www.moma.org/collection/works/111246.