Decadence | Printed stills

Collaborated show with Diane Victor, Gordon Froud, Paul Boulitreau, Angus taylor, Musha Neluheni, Rosemarie Mariott and Jaki McInnes at Grande Provence wine farm, Franschoek in the Western Cape.

The playwright Sheridan says, ‘Won’t you come into my garden? I’d like my roses to see you.’ My invitation to the viewers of this small decadent exhibition.

Decadence is not a portrayal of decay or of things falling apart, but rather of indulgence. Decadence is concerned only with the surface matter or the skin surface. This decadent skin shows no lines or has no scars. It shows no sign of decay, mortality or even time. The indulgence of a sense of beauty, subtlety and refinement is not affected by circumstances and context. It transcends the notion that art should have a social contribution. There is the reflection of the self and there is no attempt to communicate or hide grandiose ideas. It is style and refinement which are the hallmarks of decadence. ‘There is no sin except stupidity’, says Oscar Wilde. And further, ‘It is better to be beautiful than to be good, but it is better to be good than to be ugly’.

The body is not moral. Focusing on the quality of the surface enables one to step outside a moral framework. That is no pleasure to moralists. The perpetual refinement of all that is elegant, superficial, skindeep gives pleasure to the eye. The very refinement of luminous, reflective surfaces can be offensive to outsiders. The decadent are unapproachable, their taste ensures they stay in the golden light of the mirror.

Touch is not what the decadent engages in, but the pleasure of looking, laughing, wittily dismissing ‘Old Mortality’. The cover of the skin never hints at the obscenities of ageing, decaying, crumbling, fragmenting. The tastelessness of graceless movements is smoothed away in the polished turn of the head, the shrug, the fall of the shoulder.