Invisible Hand

Currently based in London, Somers is a Zimbabwean ceramicist whose work is a critical reading of extraction economies and notions of domesticity within post-colonial contexts, with a particular lens focused on the country of her birth. Comprising three oversized vessels made during her stay at the GUILD Residency earlier this year, her new series is a compelling exploration of history, craft and identity.

Invisible Hand evinces undervalued yet crucial craft practices traditionally labelled as “women’s work”, such as weaving, sewing, stitching and mending. These activities, often dismissed as mere pastimes or hobbies, hold significant cultural and artistic value in both public and interior spaces.
The title references economist Adam Smith’s theory of the free market, which suggests that the pursuit of self-interest by individuals, corporations and legal entities indirectly benefits society as a whole, leading to economic growth and prosperity without the need for centralised coordination or direction. By using this title to make visible labour and efforts that are commonly devalued, Somers reaches for epistemological justice, questioning how “free” the market actually is.

Utilising techniques rooted in indigenous Zimbabwean artistry, this body of work is situated within the political and historical context of Binga, an area in Zimbabwe deeply affected by the colonial construction of Lake Kariba. Created by the erection of the Kariba Dam on the Zambezi River between 1955 and 1959, Lake Kariba is the world’s largest artificial lake by volume. Its creation submerged vast tracts of land, altered natural habitats, affected local wildlife, and displaced over 57,000 riverine people from both sides of its banks.

Employing basket-making methods from this region and translating them through the language of clay, Somers utilises weaving as both metaphor and mnemonic device. Clay as a medium carries a specialised capacity to hold memory and articulate notions of the domestic realm. It is quotidian,
and yet still extraordinary: the bricks that serve as primary building materials for domiciles are derived from the earth beneath them. So too, the stoneware objects that occupy the space. From the plates upon which we eat, to the vessels that we store away for special occasions, they all
consist of the very substrate upon which human habitation occurs.

The individual vessels, mammoth in scale, inherit their titles from Lucy Larcom’s 1868 poem Weaving. Larcom draws upon her experiences as a factory worker in antebellum Massachusetts, guiding readers through the weaver’s experience at the loom. The poem’s speaker, a white woman, observes the interaction between her body and the machine, questioning the extent to which she has been conscripted into the violence of the cotton market that upholds slavery.

Of Woof and Woe is a handwoven vessel standing just over one metre high. It borrows its title from the third stanza of the poem, which ends “But ever as I weave, the world of women haunteth me”. Pewter in colour with a pearlescent sheen, the vessel mimics soapstone, commonly used in
the carving of sculptures in Zimbabwe. Resembling a basket from the Binga region, it features two distinct weaving styles: heavy loops that turn into a more delicate three-strand clay braid. The repetitive use of the word “weaving” throughout Larcom’s poem is echoed in Somers’ technique, and generates imagery of incessant motion, transforming the act into one of compulsion. As the artist weaves, she makes large the miniscule threads that form our social tapestries. Here, weaving is social cohesion, meaning-making and memory-holding. She links her bodily movements to the broader network of marginalised women whose talents, effort and labour are diminished, mocked and erased.

The Weary Weaver, with its looping shapes and vibrant colours, is more reminiscent of Somers’ previous work than Of Woof and Woe. Informed by post-colonial Zimbabwean politics, the lines and colours of the vessel—green, yellow, red and white—resemble those of the flag of her birth. White rings loop through holes on the body of the vessel, allowing the viewer a glimpse of its interior. The title is lifted from the last stanza of Larcom’s poem, which highlights our collective moral burden and reminds us of the responsibility to support and stand in solidarity with those who are oppressed.

Somers asks us to question the ways in which the post-colony co-opts us into its campaigns of violence against marginalised peoples. She impels us to consider how ordinary cruelty can become. In a poem written by Somers to accompany the exhibition, the artist asks: “What tapestry are we creating and what does the story say? What exists at the ends and what happens in the fray? Which thread is pulled and not replaced? Who mends the holes when they tear away? Who wipes their dust from this trodden carpet? Who cleans the sheets on which we lay? Whose tangled
dreams get linked like lace, whilst others unwind and fall away?”

Invisible Hand by Xanthe Somers runs concurrently with In the Present Tense by Jozua Gerrard and An Open Letter by Mmangaliso Nzuza at Southern Guild Cape Town from 29 August to 31 October 2024.