Front Row with Alexander Milne

Image courtesy of Alexander Milne

Front Row with Alexander Milne

“I think the reason that men are so very violent is that they know, deep in themselves, that they’re acting out a lie, and so they’re furious at being caught up in the lie. But they don't know how to break it…They’re in a rage because they are acting out a lie–which means that in some deep part of themselves they want to be delivered from it, are homesick for the truth”

– bell hooks in 'The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity and Love'.

The common tale of masculinity is that of repression. A tale as old as time that is heavily due some re-scripting. I refer to this quote only as a jumping point for this discussion, as the following guest's work has grown to include a far larger scope, but I believe what remains is his pursuit of the truth. When I first came across Alex's work, I was struck by a pang of heaviness. An image of a man as he embraced a woman, he is not present in their moment of embrace. Instead he stares at me, as if I not only were a witness to his apathy, but maybe the reason for it. I had encroached on their moment of tenderness and carried the shame of doing so. So I fled the scene (his page) and tried to distract myself with less affronting offerings. But the pervasive nature of his work taunted me like a rough clothing tag pricking at the back of my neck. Blunt pencil markings, impressions so urgent that they puncture, the use of violent reds and mournful blues on yellowed and aged pages that held their own personal wits and wisdoms. Intentionally torn apart before being put together to write a new story, Alex’s story.

Crucifiction, 2023.

Dog-eared paper, athletes in strain, heads blown to bits, hands that reach out, boxers marred with blood, staples clawing to hold it all together. And the young boys, we can’t forget the kids! I hold the belief that the perception of children as innocent is an overly romantic one. The only thing cementing their lack of depravity is their status as immobile and illiterate. A question on perception. If only to be seen through the eyes of those who know us. To be seen through their eyes as perfect and pure. Like the guest's image of Travis Bickle adorned with Betsy’s eyes.

Alex’s work is an honest exploration of the push and pull between connection and alienation, stripped of all pitying and coddling. Making space for the dark and light within us all. The light waiting to be sparked by those who share our desires. The same light that's dimmed when forced upon those who share moderate affection with us. The same light that might lead us to crumble like wax.

I had the absolute pleasure of engaging with Alex and pestering him about his work and creative impulse. So please enjoy our urban legend of all things guilt, identity, beauty and despair.

Masc series, Cyanotype on calico hoods, 2022.

Before we begin, could you briefly introduce yourself?

AM: My name is Alexander Milne, and I’m an artist from Johannesburg. I work with drawing, collage and printmaking.

What are three words that aptly describe yourself? And what three words would you ascribe to your art?

AM: Stupid. Clever. Stupid.     for both.  

Grawlix, 2024.

I have made my own assumptions on your conceptions of masculinity and manhood by your affinity to particular characters in your work. What is it about characters such as actors, boxers and cowboys do you particularly find yourself drawn to?

AM: I buy a lot of books with pictures in them, and those were the ones I had at that point. I used each of them for different reasons, but I was looking at masculinity in media, so I guess I was drawn to those because of the media attached to them. I liked how artificial and visceral they were. Super-natural. Boxing photography is really great. Especially in black and white, with really nice rich ink. They look like Francis Bacon paintings. I don't know if I’m still as drawn to those specific examples, but I’m definitely still drawn to the ideas of archetypes or characters.

Xerox Fetish, 2023.

Do you believe you were born or made to be an artist? I ask this in relation to the fact that your mom played a seemingly active role in introducing you to Santu Mofokeng and Josef Koudelka by gifting you their first photo books.

AM: I don't think so. You’ve got to make that happen yourself. I’m naturally creative, and my parents were supportive of me studying art which is nice. My mom collects a lot of books from charity shops, so when I started being more interested in art she gave a couple. I had a good start in terms of influences for sure. That's essential I suppose. Your pool of reference as an artist is very important. Thanks mom.

Sentinel Island, 2023.

Through your collage work I would say you are in the business of meaning making, where decay and birth are one, breaking down in order to build. I have had a similar fixation through my personal writing, specifically the power of repetition - how words seem to gain and lose meaning the more you use them. 

Are there any differences you’ve found for example in your collage work, where your starting point is  appropriated images that resonate with emotions that you are preoccupied with at the time, versus text-based work like Sentinel Island (2023) where your authorship is more blatant?

AM: Yeah that’s true, they feel very different. Authorship freaks me out a little bit. Text stuff is a lot harder for me to do. I don’t like hearing my own voice. Text and typography in visual art is hard to resist, when it’s done right it's the best. But most text work is ass. It’s blunt or lazy. Which is a pity. I struggle to communicate directly a lot of the time.

It's easier to communicate with images. I can ramble. I borderline have a speech impediment. Or a meaning impediment. Images are good for alternative communication and meaning making. Appropriating images comes a lot more naturally to me. Cutting them up too. It's easier for me to communicate that way. It's like an inside voice. Non verbal. Caveman style. This what me mean. Ooga-ooga. It's gotta work for me. But, sometimes you have to be direct. Visual metaphors can also become tired. I like to go back and forth. Use a combination.

XAI, 2023.

I'm really stirred by your text-based works, they are seemingly unassuming yet provocative. Could you share more about your pieces XAI (2023) and Grawlix (2024)?

AM: Yeah, I liked what you said earlier about words losing meaning. Xai-Xai and Smoking Kills (SK) are two bars in Melville, right by UJ. So for a really long time, if anyone asked, “What are we doing after this”, those were the movements by default. I was sick of it. It became a really well worn phrase, like even when I say it now it flows very easily. I printed it on the old felt blanket from our printmaking press, both were worn out from the repetition. I’m not trying to psycho-analyze the jol, but I liked the idea of slowing down the obvious or Auto-matic. It is corny for sure, but the idea of having your identity based on where you jol, or spend your money, is what it's about. A community based identity is not going to last.

And Grawlix is back to that struggle to communicate. Grawlix is used in comics like Asterix and Obelix when a character is swearing or saying something nasty. It's like an aestheticised censorship, which I wanted to make my own meanings out of. It looked like a language in and of itself. I’m communicating in a very cryptic way, but there’s still a kind of desperation to be direct and understood. Speech bubbles are good containers for that. So Grawlix does mean something specific, all of those symbols are specific. I’m not going to tell you though. You can probably figure parts of it out.

Installation images, 2023.

What have people's responses been to pieces such as the Whitegeist installation? Why have you found it necessary to host conversations about your identity as a white South African man in this way?

AM: I had to explain it to a couple of people, most people laughed. I don’t know if it started out of necessity, the topic has already been beaten to death, but I do think it's necessary to change the approach.  It started off as a joke with my friend, to refer to the white Zeitgeist; a white collective consciousness. The other one was two kids arguing over who’s dad was more racist, and which of them was more upset about it. It's meant to mock those narratives of self flagellation, or virtue signalling. Educate yourself and be aware of yourself; but White guilt is for losers. It doesn't serve anyone.

Fatigue, 2023.

Fatigue is one of those images that became seared into my brain and psyche after seeing it. The repression seen within the character as he is in a vulnerable state of anguish and self pleasure, with the added tension brought by the presence of others who seem to be watching him. What seemed to make this image a further compelling admission of shame is the flower encased in a speech-like-bubble pointing at his groin and the comical tear drops he is expelling. What role do you think humour plays in your work? 

AM: That’s a really good analysis, damn. That's just how I communicate. Humour is a very good device for observation. It makes you pick up on things. I think a lot of humour is based on how you deliver an observation or a thought. So it's about delivery maybe? I don’t want to over analyse it. It's a way into sincerity for me, I think. Which is frustrating for me sometimes because humour can undermine sincerity if you use it too much. It's not like I was trying to make anyone laugh with Fatigue, I don’t think it's a funny image, but there are elements which are comical I guess. 

That's just how I think about or process things. Those comical juxtapositions do work in my favour though. Like with those cyanotype masks, on that Robert DeNiro/ Taxidriver one, I made him blush and gave him the eyes of a woman. I was for sure trying to mock that sigma male loner stuff, but at the same time it added this new dimension that made it a lot more unsettling and emotionally complex.

Untitled, 2023.

Your works Crucifiction (2023), Coffin (2023) and Untitled (2023) deal quite intimately with death and divinity. What particularly about those themes do you find compelling or rather challenging?

AM: Yeah I grew up very religious. That's gonna be there forever. I don’t know. I’ve got a complicated relationship there. Using those images isn’t brave or shocking anymore. I don’t intentionally seek them out, they just show up. When you feel compelled to make work with those themes of religion or death there's a lot of temptation to be overly aesthetic. So it is a bit intimidating, because I wanted to do it in a way that was at least mostly true to the way I felt, without becoming edgy. People in my life were coming and going a lot at the time. I was bummed out. A bit grumpy. 

Are there any pieces of media you have been inspired by lately, film/music/art/books etc?

AM: I watch a lot of movies. I watched Ponyo again the other day. Ponyo rules. I wish I had something more niche for you. Oh! I watched a movie last night called “Hard to be a God”. The whole thing is on youtube. Miserable. Some really beautiful images though. It feels like a nightmare. If you have three hours and you hate yourself, scope. Lights off. 

Coffin, 2023.

Finally, this is not usual but in the hopes of making this a more equal and vulnerable exchange, is there any question you would like to pose to me?

AM: Yeah, I like your blog. You work a lot with irony and auto fiction, does that format ever frustrate you, considering your subject matter? Even if it frees you up in the writing process?

Not at all! That being said, writing in that form is all pretty new for me so that's subject to change. I love the internet and I love sharing my life on it. But I’ve found that sometimes I divulge more than I'm comfortable with, and as I get older I'm just not into that. This way only my closest friends can decode a lot of my references, it’s our little secret, but those details aren’t necessary to have in the grand scheme of my stories. My greatest goal within my writing career is to make reading entertaining, and I believe there is a depth to superficiality. 

Installation images, 2023.

In terms of subject matter, purity and perversion have their own explicit moral implications. I believe the role of mortality in art, especially in our contemporary times, has to be an observational rather than persuasive one, otherwise it’s just propaganda. Autofiction allows me to do just that, whilst still incorporating fantasy and play. I have written pretty head on about my experiences with rape and emotional abuse for example, pretty dark topics. But similar to your work, married it with humour, with lines like ‘Bus Driver, Move that bus!' A reference to Extreme Makeover. Silly, nostalgic and my way of honouring how life will always continue. Celebrating the bitter sweet nature of humanity in hopes of fostering connection, like we have today.

Thanks again for sharing a piece of yourself with the FRM family. I look forward to watching the trajectory of your artistic career!

Whitegeist, 2023.