Of Afrosurrealism and Black Beauty: The Works of Cinthia Mulanga

Experimental in her creation, Cinthia’s paintings evoke a narrative rooted in Afrosurrealism that allows her to spark dialogue between her juxtapositions of black beauty standards and stereotypical notions of what constitutes beauty in both the art world and real life. Her work often examines the emotions and thoughts shared by women in conversations of self-acceptance and beauty, utilizing mixed materials—from textile fabric to acrylic paint, from photograph cutouts to charcoal—as vehicles for unwordable expressions.

In our brief but delightful conversation, Cinthia blithely shares her thoughts on living through paintings, using the Barbie doll as a character silhouette, and, most importantly, overcoming nuanced misconceptions of what beauty should mean or look like.

In the work you create—assessing notions of both beauty and assumed perfection—the detailed collages, lingering sense of automatism, mixed materials in your patina, and even more, your careful distortion in symmetry and compassion established in an enclosed space point to the sense of a contemporary rendition of Afrosurrealism being established. Would you consider this a fair observation?

Yes, I would agree. I think because of the many art movements we were taught in school, I was exposed to pick from many, and I was particularly drawn to anything that surrounded both realism and surrealism. There’s an unexplainable element within it that shifts your mind’s eye, and I also enjoy not telling the viewer the whole story, allowing them to make answers for themselves. I also think combining both real and surreal, mixing fantasies and realities, allowed me to depict what truly goes on in women’s minds in one space without it being so concrete visually.

What do you think embedding that in your processes did for your work?

I mean there are a lot of ideas that I have that I’m not sure how to fully express. I think I go bit by bit with every single painting, but working through a surrealist approach, I don’t have to know every single reason why I put something there, it just happens intuitively. It just makes sense. I also see that as somewhat of an extension of women’s life.

Taking it back to the start—acknowledging that your brother played a crucial role in your development as an artist, what else led you to become an artist?

I went to a print-making institution which is where I learned most of my initial art skills, in the general aspect. Before then, I was at a little artist school studio which is where they teach the younger ones to paint, in hopes of one day becoming a well-known artist—that’s where my recommendation to the print-making school came from. All that served as my foundation, in addition to my brother teaching me how to draw, as he was a self-taught artist. When we started the little artist school studio, I saw he made money selling his work and doing auctions. I figured I’d also try it myself. During that time I was in high school and at the time, my dream was centered around anything fashion, law, or journalism. Though things happened that made my options limited to something in fashion or a completely different route. I ended up going to the artist studio and we’re here now.

I’m also aware, as you’ve spoken about it in the past, of your mother being a beauty therapist, and I’m curious, how do you think that might’ve inspired the work you create?

When she owned the salon back in Congo, I would watch her make wedding dresses, do makeup and nails, and so much more, and I heard some of the conversations. They were always around beauty, life, and how women felt about themselves. It was a lot about how they looked and felt, often compared to others which I felt was something that needed to be changed. For example, sometimes people would say at the end of the day it’s just nails, but for some women, it’s so much more than that; it’s how they express themselves and how they feel confident in their own beauty. My mum’s work also inspired my paintings, not only because of the beauty industry, but she also worked in marketing and similar fields, so there was a lot to do with presentation.

Why is it important for you to pull your juxtapositions of perceived beauty standards and stereotypes into dialogue with one another?

My friends and I always have these long conversations that always come back to the same “What then?” situation, and I think because of that I overthink a lot, but with my paintings, I’m given an outlet to destress from it and give myself some form of assurance to really calm down a bit. I also want to be able to see how the things that are existent and the things that we worry about interact with one another. Like Instagram culture in comparison to real-life you know? Am I going to feel ugly when I put my picture next to an Instagram model? How am I going to feel? How should I feel? It’s also for the little girl in me to see how the insecurities are playing out and overcoming themselves.

How does using the Barbie doll as your character’s primary silhouette reference speak to your larger point about the misrepresentation of blackness and beauty in both art and the real world?

I think even as adults, there’s still some kid within us, and so for me, the Barbie doll is still being used or referred to as this perfect girl which creates the wrong idea for girls. You don’t have to look like it to be confident in your beauty. In the beginning, when looking at what the Barbie doll stands for, it always came back to conversations about how black women are viewed in comparison and what the symbol of beauty was—how the black women viewed themselves. So, it’s all about changing the notion of needing to look a certain way to be confident in yourself.

Would you say embedding personal photographs into your art also reconstitute how we view the concept of self-portraiture in art?

First, in class, we were always advised to use our own references and avoid plagiarism. And then, we began taking photos of ourselves to inform the look of our artwork. I was also inspired by a lot of cool work on social media, mostly in regard to composition. I also see it as being able to live through my work.

Is there a sense of vulnerability within that, even without you explicitly displaying an image of yourself?

Yes, I think I feel very vulnerable regardless of that. Sometimes I live through those figures, and other times I’m hiding behind them. It’s easier to present yourself as someone else so I think that’s also the purpose my characters serve, whether it’s emotions or thoughts being portrayed.

A select number of your works also feature dull, unsaturated colors, often in monochrome tonality; and while a few delineated your art’s underpins of misconception and challenging single stories, a piece from 2020 titled “In Your Space” conceptually discusses climate change and its disastrous effects. Could you speak a bit about that painting?

That painting actually wasn’t planned. We had a school project talking about climate change, and at the time, I wasn’t really sure I was going to do it because this kind of topic requires a certain level of research to really express it in painting: causes, who is or isn’t being affected, to what extent is the effect, and much more. Each person was meant to reinterpret it in their own way. I used it in my usual space because it brought the issue closer to the people to who the painting was directed, adding the nasty and rough aesthetic to it. The dull colors were to evoke some sense of deep emotion because you can’t be happy when there’s a lack of vibrant colors. It’s supposed to be somber and humbling. It hits you directly. I wanted the person looking at the painting to feel the filth.

Within your work too, incorporating the collages and image cutouts, you’ve managed to sublimely involve facets of the larger world in your art through mundane objects or little pieces placed into a frame, creating a global narrative within a local environment…

At first, when I started, I would include a lot of these things for aesthetic purposes, like filling a room when you first move into a house. It started changing as I began looking at sentimental objects and pieces outside the space that I’ve interacted in that could also be brought into my work. Like cocktails being added in was representative of conversations women had because it was something present when the girls get together, and you know you also need something strong to talk about certain subjects. So, it’s either in reference to something or something from the outside world I’ve experienced and engaged with beyond just viewing.

One thing you’ve also done amazingly is being able to engage with all your notions and underpins within the singular space, and I’m curious, what informed that decision in using the domestic indoor space as the scenic world of your work?

It goes back to me as a child moving a lot, so we’ve seen the inside of so many homes which come with different structures, different people, and in turn, different values present in each one. Home for me always comes down to stability and calm, so I can be myself in this space but, at the same time, also feel challenged in that same space. I think I’m also searching for stability and calm within my work, as it is something that was sort of lacking when I was younger, even though I was with my family.

What is your hope that the work does in the lives of black women and girls?

Reflection is always important. I think taking time to work on yourself and your surroundings is what I hope is taken from my work, in addition to being content and grateful in a way. I think because there's also so much going on conceptually with my work, I just hope that whoever is viewing it can just enjoy how it makes them feel.

Art

Pamela Sneed’s Speaking Tongue opens at Dashwood Projects

November 15, 2024

Pamela Sneed’s latest exhibition, Speaking Tongue, will be on view at Dashwood Projects from November 20 to December 21. The show features twenty watercolor and ink paintings inspired by her recent trip to Kenya, where she was deeply moved by the elegance of giraffes, the landscapes, and the energy of Nairobi.

Blending her background as a poet and visual artist, Sneed’s work reflects on themes of identity, nature, and connection. Her paintings capture the beauty and spirit of the animals she encountered, alongside reflections on her own experiences as part of the African diaspora.

This exhibition marks Sneed’s first solo show with Dashwood Projects and will be accompanied by a new book, also titled Speaking Tongue, to be released in December.

By Enzo Holdt
Artworks by Pamela Sneed

Art

Tiebreaker - Alvin Armstrong

November 15, 2024

There is a moment of silence right before the play. Just before the racket strikes the ball as it hangs weightless in the air, breathless and charged. It’s the fleeting yet decisive instant that can alter the course of the match, determining who wins and who loses.

Alvin Armstrong depicts this crucial moment in his new exhibition Tiebreaker, symbolizing the risks and rewards of competition. It’s an implication of something else at stake, where athletes push not only their bodies, but their spirits to the absolute limit.

The dynamic figures embody the strength, grace, and agility juxtaposed by the vibrant color palette evoking not just the joy of competition but the charged energy of the court.

Tiebreaker is opening Thursday, November 16th at Anna Zorina Gallery.

By Rea Brayshaw
Artworks by Alvin Armstrong

Art

The Things People Are Ashamed To Take Photos Of: The Photography and Films of Yuhan Cheng

Yuhan’s latest exhibition of photo and video work titled 窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里 takes its namesake from what could’ve been a mundane encounter. A month after moving to New York City from Chengdu, China, they stumbled across an abandoned fish tank left curbside. It reminded them of “the rotating fish in a tank that faded into the background of their mother’s home in Chengdu”, a thread connecting childhood familiarity that transformed into a symbol of greater significance in adulthood. A tank is a world within a world; a microcosm secluded from the broader chaos of the outside. Since then Yuhan has captured the other kinds of “fish tanks” closest to them in their photography and short films. Not literal ones necessarily– but intimate confined spaces in Chengdu and NYC where time stands still.

In the midst of taking snapshots of loved ones, Yuhan decided to turn their tender but examining lens on themselves. They realized shooting self-portraits unraveled a deeper understanding of their own nonbinary gender and queer sexuality. Yuhan admits in one of their short films “I hide from looking at my own body.” Yet, in the seclusion of their room which doubles as a dark room, Yuhan began to develop their first nude photos chronicling the subtle wounds; bitten cuticles, bruises, and scrapes they’ve accumulated involuntarily, once again documenting the things people choose to hide.

窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里, debuted at FAR-NEAR Studio Hours a gallery in Chinatown focused on expanding the art world's view of Asia and Asian artists curated by Lulu Yao Gioiello. The event merged Yuhan’s works from the past three years, including 70 photographs, three short documentaries, and one installation. There was something uncanny about the gallery’s atmosphere – from the dollar store teal green curtains obscuring every window to the clusters of framed photos mimicking how photos of relatives are displayed in one’s childhood home, to the darkened lighting that was both disorienting and cozy. All these details were meticulously chosen to imitate the rooms depicted in Yuhan’s films and photography. In other words, the audience was invited to Yuhan’s “fishtank”, to share the odd balance of comfort and unease of being known intimately. We talked to Yuhan at Cafe Reggio to understand how their latest body of work came into being.

Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity.

Ora Margolis— Were any memories/childhood experiences you had in Chengdu important to how you've developed as an artist?

Yuhan Cheng— Growing up in Chengdu, especially in a military household, shaped and gave me a source of contention how I understood my identity. There was always a sense of conflict when it came to my body and feeling like I didn’t quite fit the expectations around me. This tension has been a driving force in my practice, pushing me to explore identity and belonging in my work.

Tell us a bit about your latest exhibition Outside the Window, Inside the Tank at Far. What headspace were you in when taking these photos?

YC— Outside the Window, Inside the Tank is about the fluidity of self; our bodies, our environments, and our identities. The idea of water as both a symbol of confinement and freedom is central to the photos and film that comprise the exhibit. This fluidity much like how I see my experience moving between Chengdu and New York, where similar feelings follow me no matter where I am. Water mirrors the body, the frame, and the room, which are all containers of the self.

Previously, you’ve said you wanted the exhibition space to look "like your room". How did you make that happen and why is your NYC room important to you?

YC— My room in NYC is an extension of my identity. It’s where I feel vulnerable and where I explore myself most openly. It’s a manifestation of my sense of self. I recreated certain elements in the exhibition—the green sheer curtains, the dollar store shower curtain with bubbles, and the center installation depicted a self-portrait deteriorating in water, reminiscent of a fish in a tank. This room, like any other room or container, magnifies the tension of self-exploration.

Has your idea or comfort with your gender identity and /sexuality changed since you’ve delved into photography?

YC— Yes. The process of photography and filming has been a mirror to my own understanding of self. Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity. The process of photographing my queer friends and then myself allowed me to come to terms with who I am.

How did you and Lulu Yao of FAR-NEAR Studio meet, and what makes her a good collaborator?

YC— We first connected when I reached out with my series Princess of Funan River. Lulu understood the struggles and complexities in the work and she invited me to expand on those ideas with her. Our collaboration has worked because Lulu truly resonates with the themes I’m drawn to, like fluidity, transformation, and the intimacy of navigating belonging.

After completing Fish Tank and Remnants of an Amateur Film, what kind of movie do you want to make next?

YC— Right now, I’m more focused on writing. I need to understand what I want to say before making another film. Writing helps me find clarity;it’s a crucial part of my process.

What kind of camera do you use and why?

YC— I use a Canon AE-1. I started with it and I still love it. It's small, spontaneous, easy to use, and light. It allows me to capture moments naturally without overthinking.

What's your biggest fear?

YC— Being disconnected from my sense of self, from others, and from the things I love.

When do you feel most like yourself?

YC— It’s during those fleeting moments when I complete a project. That feeling fades quickly, leaving me searching for the next project to reconnect with that sense of fulfillment.

How do you want people to feel when they interact with your art?

YC— I want them to feel whatever resonates with them. I don’t want to prescribe the experience; it should feel right for each person.

Your work focuses on the close knit communities that surround you or various metaphorical “fish tanks”. What communities do you feel closest to?
YC— The queer artist community, both in Chengdu and NYC, has been a source of comfort and understanding for me. There’s something about shared struggles and shared creative language that feels like home.

What's the biggest difference between living life as a queer artist in NYC and in Chengdu?

YC— In both NYC and Chengdu, I’m learning more about myself. NYC offers a sense of freedom, while Chengdu is home, a place of comfort and history. Neither place defines me but both are significant parts of my path.

What are your next moves/goals?

YC— I want to continue exploring both film and photography, expanding my narrative style and experimenting across mediums. During my show, I found new ways of seeing my photographs such as by adding a window screen between frames or letting a self-portrait fade and grow mold in water. These approaches allowed me to see my work not just as 2D images but as 3D objects.

I want to keep pushing the boundaries of how photo and film can interact, and I’m also interested in trying photojournalism. My focus remains on collaborating across mediums and continuing to accumulate experiences that I can translate into sincere honest work.