Figure 1. Remy Jungerman, INITIANDS, 2015, painted wood, cotton textile, kaolin, and glass jars, 244 × 284 × 41 cm. Acquired with the generous support of the Mondriaan Fund and Stedelijk Circle, 2019. Exhibition view Tomorrow is a Different Day. Collection 1980 – Now. Photo: Peter Tijhuis. © Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam.[1]
Figure 2. Wall label for Remy Jungerman included in the exhibition Tomorrow is a Different Day. Collection 1980 – Now. © Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam.
At the Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen (National Museum of World Cultures), Jungerman’s work Bakru (2007) is presented in the exhibition Our Colonial Inheritance (fig. 3). The text accompanying the work (fig. 4) mentions that the artist’s “artistic idiom combines Winti rituals, Maroon motifs and elements drawn from European modern art.” Overall, this text dives deeper into the cultural signification of each element of the artwork, particularly those representative of syncretized[2] Afro-Surinamese culture.
Figure 3. Remy Jungerman, Bakru, 2007, wood, textile, paper, plastic and plant materials, 220 × 300 × 38 cm. Collection Wereldmuseum. © Remy Jungerman. CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 .[3]
Figure 4. Wall label for Remy Jungerman, Bakru for the exhibition Our Colonial Inheritance, Wereldmuseum Amsterdam. Photo: Olombi Bois.
Although the text at the Stedelijk Museum mentions the artist’s cultural background, as cultural and racial readings are the arguments displayed in the room, the scope of this museum is centered on the aesthetic and art historical value of works. Therefore, the texts in this room advise the aesthetic reading of Jungerman’s work, which contrasts the way the Wereldmuseum contextualizes Jungerman’s work. Furthermore, the Stedelijk mentions the artist’s Surinamese background, implicitly weaving it into their text, which opposes the Wereldmuseum label, where the factual entry states this explicitly. These two label examples inform visitors of the artist’s Surinamese roots without specifying the extent of the artist’s Surinamese ancestry. The labels at the contemporary art museum only benefit the context of the gallery, aiming to show diversity in the museum.
The Wereldmuseum label follows a more classic format, stating the artist’s name (year of birth [and year of death if applicable]); title of the work; artist’s national background; the object’s year of creation; the mediums with which the object is made; accession or collection number. In this case the information is presented as such:
Remy Jungerman (1959); Bakru; Suriname/Netherlands; 2007; wood, textile, paper, plastic, botanic materials (coconut); AM-701-2a.
The Stedelijk Museum instead labels objects with the following information: the artist’s name (year of birth [and year of death if applicable])/ title of the work, year of creation/ the mediums with which the object is made/ and acquisition information. Here presenting Jungerman’s work as:
Remy Jungerman (1959)/ INTIADS, 2015/painted wood, cotton textile, kaolin and glass jars/ acquired with the generous support of the Mondrian Fund and Stedelijk Circle, 2019.
Even if the artist’s cultural background and national identity are still mentioned and associated with his name, this is not done as explicitly at the Stedelijk as it is at the Wereldmuseum. Not including the artist’s cultural background in the factual entry of the work means that if the text contextualizing the piece did not mention where the artist comes from, this information would be omitted. The acknowledgment of an artist’s cultural or national background depends on whether the curators want to make a claim about it, and whether they wish to write an explanatory text for the work. These two labels show that the Wereldmuseum associates cultural background to the artist, whereas the Stedelijk Museum relates cultural background to the artwork. This comparison sheds light on the crucial role played by labels in the way content is presented to visitors in today’s museums. Therefore, the central question I aim to answer in this article is: Why and how do museums choose the information they include in labels?
My argument will be divided into three sections. The first will focus on the arguments against including artists’ nationalities in labels. The second will counterargue the first by elaborating on the different arguments for this information to be included. And, finally, the last section will examine the need to change the approach to labeling objects and artworks.
The practice of not mentioning artists’ cultural or national backgrounds is a response to the academic need for new methodologies in the field of art history, fitting the decolonizing processes of institutions, their exhibitions and collections. Including artists’ nationalities could encourage a cultural reading of the artistic work. Museums may choose not to include this information in their labels to help prevent differing treatment of artists belonging to the Western canon and those who do not.
Art historian Darby English points this out in his book How to See a Work of Art in Total Darkness, where he uses Black artists as an example of an identity that tends to be overly labeled; the same can be said about artists from other nonwhite communities. He suggested that the tension between the artist’s identity and the exhibition space is one of the leading causes of differing treatment between white and Black artists.[4] He points to the problematic role that labels play, which has today resulted in museums choosing not to display such national and cultural information in their labeling practices.[5] Those concerned with current debates on representation and discrimination in the exhibition space are often the ones to omit this information. This solution—not displaying this type of information—has become one of the easiest ways to appease the demands of some artists and visitors.
One effect labels can have on the interpretations of exhibited works is limiting this reading to the framework the text presents. This becomes especially restrictive when national or cultural information is stated, meaning that the reading of the work can be limited to one based on where the artist is from. English develops this reasoning by elaborating on how the visitor can fix the work they are seeing through their understanding of this identity.[6] Thus, once a work is associated with the artist’s ethnic background, it comes to replace all meaning the artist might have wanted to represent instead, which gives the label a sort of isolating effect on the artist and the artwork.
Cultural readings can influence the interpretation of artworks, especially those created by non-Western artists. This is why institutions such as the Stedelijk Museum no longer include national and cultural background on factual labels. Rather, if and when deemed necessary, this information is mentioned in the contextual label, or in the exhibition catalog.
The premise of the exhibition When Things Are Beings at the Stedelijk Museum[7] was to highlight the stories objects can tell and the life objects can have. The focus of this show was on the artworks. Therefore, when it came to wall texts and labels, the interpretation and contextualization was focused on a social and art historical reading of the artworks, rather than on the biographical details of the artists.
The artwork titled Messengers of the Sun by Antonio Jose Guzman and Iva Jankovic (fig. 5) reflects these dynamics. This piece has two parts—the object displayed in the exhibition and the performance that was shown after the opening—both the result of an ongoing collaboration between the two artists. The installation presents different pieces of textile with different patterns stitched together, one of them shaping into a kimono. The description of the work, both in the exhibition catalog and the text accompanying the work in the exhibition, elaborates on the different cultural allusions made through the work and the performance.[8] Most of these cultural element’s trace to the transatlantic slave trade, making clear reference to the Black Atlantic[9] interaction (Western Africa and the Americas). The catalog describes the different syncretized elements of the piece and elaborates on the embroidered scriptures taking inspiration from the origin of gris-gris.[10] Nevertheless, there is no description or reference to the artists’ cultural background, who in fact both have “hyphenated” nationalities. Guzman is Dutch Panamanian, born in Panama, and Jankovic is Dutch Yugoslavian, born in Serbia.
Figure 5. Antonio Jose Guzman and Iva Jankovic, Messenger of the Sun, 2002, exhibition view When Things Are Beings, Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam, 2021. Photo: Gert Jan vaan Rooij. © Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam.
Instead of exhibiting the work as a representation of the artists’ cultural backgrounds, the curators’ choice not to mention their nationalities helps highlight what the piece really represents. While denouncing slavery, the inhuman behavior and violence, there is a particular focus in the piece on celebrating the syncretism and transculturation that was born out of this cultural exchange. This labeling choice can be understood as a way to preclude the reading of the object through the identities of the artists, which English argues seals the object in the identities’ representational space.[11] In other words, including the national information on the label would allow the perception of the work to be replaced by the visitor’s conception of these identities.[12] This would result in the projection of meaning, instead of allowing meaning to be generated through the analysis of the piece in conjunction with the text.[13] If the work were to be read only through the artists’ nationalities, the reading would overlook the artists’ global argument alluding to different syncretized cultures.
By choosing this labeling practice, the museum returns agency to the artists. Nationality is not the immediate approach through which the work is read, even though it might have played a role in the creation of the piece; following English, this becomes a way for “restituting the subject to ‘relationship to self’ and ‘performances of self’ in which race informs but does not determine aesthetics and politics.”[14] As the museum is not approaching the art pieces through that perspective, it becomes the viewer’s choice to reflect on whether they might want to know where the artists are from, and independently research this information.
During the Black Artists in America Symposium, hosted by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1969, a debate sparked between artists William Williams, Sam Gillian, Jacob Lawrence, and Tom Lloyd. They debated whether using Black art as a genre, making an identity a label through which an artwork can be read, gives it a political and thus sociological value and approach.[15] Making this type of information available, according to English, results in a displacement of race as a “central location for our interpretation of the work,” which further results in a dismissal of what he calls the “multiple categories [artists] occupy.”[16] He further explains that placing race as a central reading of a work brings a speculative historical analysis of the category’s attainment of an authority with which it would articulate the Black artist’s project before she, and it, have the chance to speak for themselves.[17]
A label’s social categorization of an artwork takes away the artist’s agency to speak for their work. This further results in an isolation of art created by artists who do not belong to the white Western Euro-American canon.[18] As English characterizes it, integrationism justifies itself by acknowledging that there now exists a history of aesthetic practice which is all the harder to reckon with the more one allows notions of “African American art as a distinct form of expression” to determine it.[19]
The author affirms that “we simply cannot see Black artist’s work until we throw it into relief against the transformations it undergoes in our inevitably social involvement with it.”[20] This argument alludes to the need to state a sociological difference to understand how these practices are distinct and how they are related to the canon to which it is compared.[21] Therefore, if national identity were to appear on a label, it could be reduced to a visual representation, which in turn is reduced to the artist’s identity and their societal status by inhabiting this.
National labels can create a one-dimensional reading, resulting in ethnicity being the only element considered when interpreting an artwork. This argument is supported by English’s statement that “Black aesthetics and the Black arts movement extended sharp views on the Black artist’s responsibility to Black culture, encouraging artists to make ‘their own history.’”[22] One of the main arguments is how a reading based on an artist’s ethnicity is stereotyped by the assumptions and expectations visitors have of this identity—mainly because single narratives overpower the possibility of an identity inhabiting what English calls “multiple meanings” of a cultural identity, a claim alluded to earlier.[23] These multiple meanings point to the diverse categories that a person can inhabit and can be representative of, which shows the reductionist capacity single labels can have. This argument shows how labels can be limiting for an artist and their practice by reducing them to a stereotypical depiction of their cultural background.
A result of this stereotyping is that meaning is projected instead of understood. Stereotypes based on the maker’s ethnicity inform the reading of the work even when this was not the artist’s intention. This argument is also explored in Subject to Display: Reframing Race in Contemporary Installation Art, by art historian Jennifer A. González, as she defends that objects can also “be epidermalized.”[24] The scholar elaborates: These stereotypes come to stand in for subjects not merely in the form of commodity fetish, but as part of a larger system of material and image culture that circulates as a prothesis of race discourse through practices of collection, exchange and exhibition.[25]
According to these scholars, race and ethnicity become the only way through which an object is read when this information is available. By choosing not to label artists’ identities in the exhibition space, museums and institutions aim to avoid stereotypes that overpower the reading and value of an artist and their work.
The label is ubiquitous in exhibition spaces: It is everywhere, not limited to a small text next to the artwork. A label can also influence the reading of a space. On a macrolevel, the museum first and foremost holds an external label, which informs the visitor of the type of institution they will be entering—whether it be an ethnographic museum, a Western contemporary museum, an archaeology museum, an Italian Renaissance art museum, a historic site, or an independent art space. These external labels predetermine the content visitors will study or “consume” upon entering the space, and the approach the reading of these objects will take. Implicitly, the label manifests itself in the expectations visitors might have when entering the museum. The external label will anticipate the type of approach visitors should engage with when approaching the exhibited objects—for example, an ethnographic approach to an artwork shown in an ethnographic museum, instead of an aesthetic or art historical one if the work is exhibited in an art institution.
Both the Stedelijk Museum and the Wereldmuseum have works by Dutch Surinamese artist Jungerman. These examples show how external labels influence the creation of internal labels in museums, exhibitions, and their distinct galleries, each presenting an overarching argument informed by the type of label the building holds. The discursive space created among these different museums changes, and so does the treatment of the objects internally.
The outcome of clear external labels is that visitors need less contextualizing information in the exhibition spaces, as the museum already encourages a specific approach. In art museums, one could assume that the identity and cultural background of the makers becomes a secondary focus. In contrast, an ethnographic museum would lean more toward culture and ethnos being of primary importance.
Labeling a space can also be done internally through the different exhibition rooms. A perfect example of this would be where Jungerman’s work is exhibited in the permanent collection display of the Stedelijk Museum. The wall text in this room has the title “Breaking the White Frame of the Museum” and further explains that this space focuses on the display of Afro-diasporic heritage in Dutch art, including works by Remy Jungerman, Michael Tedja, and Gillion Grantsaan (founders of Wakaman); Marcel Pinas; Iris Kensmil; Patricia Kaersenhout; and Charl Landvreugd. The title and the approach stated in this text informs the visitor that what they will see in this space is an artistic expression by nonwhite diasporic artists. There are two issues visible with this room. First, the title indicates a need to exhibit artists from different cultural backgrounds other than white. The result is only showing one among the many different diasporic communities in the Netherlands, suggesting that the white frame is only broken by Surinamese artists. Those from other former Dutch colonies, or those representing the wave of international artists based in the Netherlands today, shown in the exhibition When Objects Are Beings, are thus not considered as breaking the white frame of museums. Second, although artists’ nationalities are not mentioned in the artworks’ labels, this detail still informs the reading of the exhibited works because of the external text, in which the artists and the gallery are presented.
Having this information on the art pieces’ labels could be considered redundant since the gallery presentation already accomplishes that role. The space is an excellent example of how “racial gazing,” done through a nationality or ethnic label, can seal an artwork in a “representational space.”[26] It additionally shows how, even if a label might not display the artist’s cultural or national identity, the space where the work is displayed can fulfill that role as much as the label does, defeating the purpose of omitting national information on the object label.
If labels do not figure in the exhibition space, the artwork and the artist can be universal; the art and the artist can fit better into a globalized context because the object’s particularity and singularity, in relation to the cultural background of the maker, is taken away. However, some museums continue to have labels that inform visitors about artists’ nationalities. Other curatorial practices choose to have this information on factual labels and, in some cases, further explore this information in longer interpretative texts. Here I will explore the different ways visitors, institutions, and artists benefit from having a national or cultural identity affiliated with works of art.
By refusing to include national information on artists’ exhibition labels, one could argue that this adheres to a claim for universality, which English has thoroughly explored. However, one of the ways this view can be countered is that difference can create unity. Political theorist Iris Marion Young discusses this in her book Justice and Politics of Difference.[27] Young’s reasoning opposes the universal treatment of artists, as “the politics of difference sometimes implies overriding a principle of equal treatment with the principle that group differences should be acknowledged in public policy.”[28] Instead of an approach demanding the equal treatment and reading of artists and their practice, as developed by English, Young argues for an approach focused on highlighting differences so that they can coexist equitably. For Young, these differences are a way to recognize groups’ rights to “promote their full participation” or, in other words, give them agency.[29]
Culture and diaspora scholar Rinaldo Walcott develops a similar reasoning in his book Genres of Human, in which he explains that “the struggle to think about cultural differences outside of conceptions of multiculturalism is a significant denial of our present order of knowledge and modes of being human.”[30] He further suggests that this multiculturalism can “produce genres of the human for which our only hope of an engagement beyond those categories is to ethically recognize them as meaningful to all.”[31] Through difference, through these different “genres” of humanity, unity can be created, and thus they can both coexist and prosper. Walcott explains that this sharing of cultures and identities is “not necessarily utopic or egalitarian; in fact much of it recalls the brutality of previous encounters”[32] —pointing to how cosmopolitanism and differences derive from the caste system created during colonization.
These arguments tie closely to that of mutual respect. By respecting differences without racist biases, different cultures and practices can thrive. These thinkers’ arguments point to a hopeful mentality in which, instead of hiding differences to avoid judgment, these differences should instead be highlighted to promote education, resulting in respect for others.
Studying Walcott and curator Okwui Enwezor in this context presents a school of thought that argues that an explicit display of singularity, the culture behind the objects presented, is valued, and thus this singularity can be accepted globally. By this, it is understood that the unity created through difference can also be considered global. Walcott begins to present the concept of cosmopolitanism by quoting philosopher Seyla Benhabib, who defines this concept as:
For some [ . . . ] an attitude of enlightened morality that does not place “love of country” ahead of “love of mankind” [ . . . ] for others, cosmopolitanism signifies hybridity, fluidity, and recognizing the fractured and internally driven character of human selves and citizens, whose complex aspirations cannot be circumscribed by national fantasies and primordial communities.[33]
Nevertheless, this concept has its intricacies, given its rootedness in the distinction between the West and the rest. As Enwezor explains, cosmopolitanism is entangled with internationalism, which is “a rubric that places the West in the position of achieving internationalism at the expense of the rest, who are not ushered into a higher order of Man.”[34] By describing how other scholars define cosmopolitanism, Walcott unravels the complexity of this concept’s implications as, while highlighting cultural diversity, it does so through an entanglement in Western colonialist perspectives. He explains that the complications behind cosmopolitanism are “the terms under which European modernity continues to shape all of humanity.”[35] This translates into it stemming from an “assumed un-complicatedness of belonging, identity, and nation becomes the grounds of regulation, containment, and refusal.”[36] This means that when cosmopolitanism is not practiced well, questions and judgments of identity overpower a reading through a Western European perspective, paralleling English’s argument. Walcott therefore pleads that the conceptual use of cosmopolitanism must acknowledge that these differences were created by “an already deeply racialized modernity.”[37] The use of cosmopolitanism does not come as a solution to racist practices; the argument of unity through difference is rooted in colonial and racist origins. Even so, Walcott’s use of this concept shows a way to live with these differences through acceptance.
In a similar vein, Enwezor develops an argument around the global aspect of identity-based curatorial practices. He explains that the creation of “the new in the context of decolonized representation” comes from the acceptance and development of the new “relations of cultures and histories, practices and processes rationalization and transformation, transculturation and assimilation, exchanges and moments of multiple dwelling,”[38] and the persistence of artists to remain associated to their identities, cultural and national. Here, the curator speaks of the relationality created between the new and the old, and how these two contradictory approaches inform artistic creation for some artists. This means that even when an artist speaks of topics deeply contemporary and explores modern forms, most remain loyal to a discourse deeply rooted in their cultural and national background. Later, he argues that:
the development of new multilateral networks of knowledge production—activities that place themselves strategically at the intersection of disciplines and transnational audiences—has obviated the traditional circuits of institutionalized production and reception.[39]
Through this argument, Enwezor highlights transnationalism’s effects on the development of culture. This effect, he later explains, is something that a museum or any exhibition space cannot deny or disassociate itself from, as these institutions are informed by this cultural entanglement.[40]
Both scholars—although warning of the complexities of the global as an idea, given its colonial and racist origins—emphasize that the display of identity-based practices, when done correctly, can support the argument that unity can be created through difference.
Thus far, I have explored the different sides of whether to label contemporary artists with their nationality in museums’ exhibition spaces. The complexity of this issue, I suggest, demands a new approach, for which I propose a contextual label that can help counter the miscommunication that can be created between the museum and its visitors. I here propose a series of questions formatted in a flowchart (fig. 6) to determine whether an artist needs to be labeled with their nationality and, if so, how to render justice to this textual ethnical representation correctly. These questions all aim to answer whether the information needs to be placed in the factual label. The flowchart can be used for any artist or maker, not solely responding diasporic artists.
Figure 6. How to create a contextual label? Mind map created by Olombi Bois, 2023
Although the posed question—Why and how do museums choose the information they include in labels? —seems to overly complicate a task that has been following the same system for decades, it shows the complexity of cultural and national representation in the context of Western museums. The history of othering and allowing stereotypes to inform readings of artworks has long been detrimental for artists who do not belong to the Western canon. Still, removing all identity labels takes away the artist’s agency; instead of helping solve the issue of the differentiation between “the West and the rest,” it covers up a history of systemic racism that remains unresolved. My proposed flowchart can satisfy both existing arguments for this problem, as it helps curators consider whether cultural or national information is necessary while showing them in which context this information can help the reading and understanding of an artwork. This scheme additionally shows the complexities of uncovering how to label a diasporic identity, as the treatment of it is not only delicate but also dependent on the context in which the artwork is shown.
Nevertheless, in this situation, it is still essential to wonder what happens when things go unsaid. Asking this question allows a moment of reflection to judge whether omitting certain details can be detrimental to the artwork, the artist, or the museum. What happens if this information does not figure in association with the work? Can it still be read the same way? Does it change the interpretation of the work? Although difficult to answer, the idea behind the flowchart is to help discern whether the exhibition, the context, or the discursive space where the work is shown demands this information to be displayed. Yet this tool can only do so much: Labels are only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to representations of cultural and national identities in museums.
Disclaimer
This text is an abridged and edited version of the author’s master’s thesis. The full-length original document can be accessed in the Utrecht University Student Theses Repository.
Olombi Bois is programming and research assistant at the Research Center for Material Culture. Her research interests focus on identity representation by Caribbean, and Caribbean diasporic contemporary artists. Identity here defined as the exploration of being Caribbean and of Caribbean descent. Olombi aims at investigating how through visual explorations of the “ajiaco” of identities in the archipelago, one can uncover not just colonial legacies, but also the anti-colonial endeavor to distance from stereotypes and singular affiliations of the Caribbean as a victim of colonialism.
[1] “Intiadas, Remy Jungerman,” Stedelijk Museum, accessed June 12, 2023.
[2] Different cultures merged into one representation.
[3] Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen Collectie, accessed June 12, 2023, .
[4] Darby English, How to See a Work of Art in Total Darkness (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press).
[5] English, How to See a Work of Art.
[6] English, How to See a Work of Art, 6.
[7] When Things Are Beings, curated by Amanda Pinatih and Britte Sloothaak, with the help of intern Jasmijn Mol, was shown from November 2022 to April 2023 at the Stedelijk Museum.
[8] When Things are Beigns, ed. Gwen Parry, (Stedelijk Museum, 2022).
[9] Black Atlantic describes the fusion of black cultures with other cultures from around the Atlantic. “Black Atlantic,” Tate, https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/b/black-atlantic, accessed January 14, 2025
[10] Jack Smith, “Projects,” in When Things Are Beings, ed. Caroline Van Beek (Amsterdam: Stedelijk, 2023), 86.
[11] English, How to See a Work of Art, 31.
[12] English, How to See a Work of Art, 34.
[13] English, How to See a Work of Art, 75.
[14] English, How to See a Work of Art, 42.
[15] Romare Bearden et al., “The Black Artist in America: A Symposium,” The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 27, no. 5 (1969): 256.
[16] English, How to See a Work of Art, 11–12.
[17] English, How to See a Work of Art, 28.
[18] English further touches on the sense of purity in this argument by saying that, “without question, a great deal of Black art’s apparent necessity can be explained by reference to racism’s ceaselessly inventive way of isolating Black art’s realities from the spaces whose purity would conserve by doing so.” English, How to See a Work of Art, 8.
[19] “Integrationism, which justifies itself by acknowledging that there now exists a history of aesthetic practice which is all the harder to reckon with the more one allows notions of ‘African American art as a distinct form of expression’ to determine it.” English, How to See a Work of Art, 19.
[20] English, How to See a Work of Art, 20.
[21] English, How to See a Work of Art, 20.
[22] English, How to See a Work of Art, 64.
[23] English, How to See a Work of Art, 17.
[24] Jennifer A. González, introduction to Subject to Display: Reframing Race in Contemporary Installation
Art (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2008), 5.
[25] González, introduction, 5.
[26] English, How to See a Work of Art, 31.
[27] Iris Marion Young, Justice and Politics of Difference (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1990).
[28] Young, introduction to Justice and Politics of Difference, 11.
[29] Young, introduction, 11.
[30] Rinaldo Walcott, “Genres of Human: Multiculturalism, Cosmo-politics and the Caribbean Basin,” Silvia Wynter: On Being Human as Praxis, ed. Katherine McKittrick (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2015) 193.
[31] Walcott, “Genres of Human,” 193.
[32] Walcott, “Genres of Human,” 197.
[33] Seyla Benhabib et al., Another Cosmopolitanism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 17–18.
[34] Walcott, “Genres of Human,” 196.
[35] Walcott, “Genres of Human,” 196–97.
[36] Walcott, “Genres of Human,” 196–97.
[37] Walcott, “Genres of Human,” 197.
[38] Okwui Enwenzor, “The Postcolonial Constellation: Contemporary Art in a State of Permanent Transition,” Research in African Literatures, 34, no. 4 (2003): 71.
[39] Enwenzor, “Postcolonial Constellation,” 73.
[40] Enwenzor, “Postcolonial Constellation,” 76.
