Kimathi Mafafo portrays Black women surrounded by natural motifs and sumptuous textiles. In her artwork, her subjects are often obscured by the vibrant flora. Mafafo explains that her works convey her personal stories as a Black woman and a mother of two. Born in the semi-arid town of Kimberley in the Northern Cape of South Africa, her lush and vivid creations, characterized by abundant greenery and flowing drapery, starkly contrast to the dusty mining town where she grew up.
Your father, G. Rocky Mafafo, is a respected watercolorist; how did his practice affect you?
I come from a very creative background. Growing up, I was deeply affected by my parents' engagement with the arts and the community. As a child, I became aware of how my father was actively involved in helping people understand their identity as Black individuals, especially in the aftermath of the apartheid regime. He believed it was important for the community to learn how to create things for themselves, especially during challenging times. His passion for sharing knowledge was genuinely inspiring, and he aimed to empower people through art.
My grandmother was another inspiring figure. She retired from a nursery and dedicated her time to helping the community. She would ride her bicycle to assist those in need, especially when ambulances were not readily available. Growing up in an environment where community service and artistic expression were prioritized profoundly shaped who I am today.
How did you grow to be an artist?
My father played a significant role in my artistic development. He had an art studio at home. We had a cottage room at the back of the studio where children, including myself, would gather. It was a customary experience for us, as he would teach us various art techniques related to his projects. I’ve always been very close to my father, and I learned a lot from him. Reflecting on my journey, I realize many of my stories stem from my childhood experiences.
But growing up in a small town, I desired to know more about the world. When I turned 18, I moved to Cape Town to pursue a college education, hoping to enhance my skills and gain qualifications through formal training. When I started college, I realized that my education there did not teach me as much as my father did. As I entered college, the energy and creativity I had experienced with my father were somewhat limited in the formal educational setting, and my three years there passed quickly.
Then, did you jump into fine art?
I went into fashion, and I enjoyed it. Cape Town is a vibrant place, and I was captivated by all the new experiences and opportunities around me. One of the things I got to explore was creating my clothing brand. But it was the beginning of discovering my voice and building my confidence. It felt like an inner calling, even if I struggled to fully recognize it at first. Eventually, I made a significant decision: I quit my stable job at the age of 25 or 26 to focus entirely on my art. It was a challenging choice, but I knew I needed to pursue this path to create meaningful work.
In your compositions, you use a lot of fabrics and embroidery, which are connected to fashion and craft as well. How do you find the balance between these categories?
Even if I feel I am an artist, sometimes I am not aware of the distinction between making craft and fine art. The industry and the people who sell artworks tend to make these categories. When I began my journey as an artist, I started as a painter, so I had an understanding of fine art, especially because of my background.
When I created my work, I didn’t consider whether it was craft or fine art. Instead, I aimed to tell the story of a woman using my painting skills. I didn’t consider whether I was making a craft or any of those labels. For me, what matters most is the quality of my work. I strive to ensure that my artwork resonates with taste because I’ve spent time honing my sense of color and how to combine different shades. Consequently, when I create my artwork, it naturally becomes beautiful, reflecting my taste. When I make, I do so with a specific standard in mind, following my innate taste.
Initially, I moved from painting to wanting to expand my voice and challenge myself, leading me to embroidery—specifically, hand-stitching and fine stitching. I learned from skilled artisans from Ghana and Nigeria because I believe that African people are exceptionally skilled at creating their own fabrics and incorporating beautiful patterns into their work. I approached my craft, intending to elevate it beyond simple covers or traditional crafts. My goal was to set a higher standard for my work.
I combined their expertise with my painting knowledge. Over time, my work has come to be recognized predominantly in museums, which places it under the fine art category.
You mostly depict Black women surrounded by natural motifs and sumptuous textiles. Why do you choose women as your subjects?
I'm sharing stories about myself as a woman, particularly as a Black woman. I aim to tell the story of a woman navigating her daily life—whether a housewife or a career-driven individual, juggling motherhood and professional responsibilities.
I want to heal others through my experiences. My titles, like "The Voiceless Woman" or "Withdrawn," are significant. I initially launched an exhibition called "Withdrawn." When I refer to being withdrawn, I'm reflecting on a period in my life where I felt compelled to leave everything behind because a voice was calling me, urging me to embrace my identity as an artist. To listen to that voice and express it through my artwork, I needed to step away from my hectic lifestyle in the central business district of Cape Town.
For inspiration, I sought out a peaceful location surrounded by mountains and beautiful foliage. In creating this narrative, I drew upon the figure of a woman with a background that embodies softness and warmth. She also wears a white veil in some pieces, symbolizing her struggle to find herself. This veil can symbolize various concepts, including marriage, discovery, and submission to a partner. It speaks to the experience of losing one's identity for the sake of a relationship.
This journey reflects my life experiences, where I found it difficult to voice my feelings at first, but I could express them through my art. The woman in my work, representing me as a Black woman, embodies my struggles. As she withdraws from her familiar safety, she seeks to rediscover herself in the greenery and foliage surrounding her. Ultimately, she finds solace in nature, allowing her to narrate her story and connect with others who have experienced similar struggles.
How can your personal experience be universal?
You can't fake a feeling and then try to determine that I'm telling global stories. I'm expressing what I feel in the moment. Though it features a Black figure, I believe my work is meant to resonate globally. Although the subject may be a woman from Africa, her message or story can resonate with women of all races—not just Black women. But it’s not something I planned.
When I first saw your works on Instagram, I had a very strong feeling that the woman was hidden by nature, nesting in the wild. How do you think about the connection between nature and the figure?
Nature is a place where you can connect with yourself and tap into your inner strength. When caught up in the busy world, you often forget to walk barefoot and connect with the Earth. Engaging with nature brings a certain energy that revitalizes you. In our modern lives, surrounded by concrete buildings, we lose touch with our humanity.
There’s a woman I envision who is surrounded by greenery but feels stifled. She's in a safe environment, dressed or wrapped in a blanket, almost like a deer. While in this safe space, she often senses that she could accomplish more if she stepped beyond her comfort zone. Outside this safe space lies beautiful foliage and flowers, symbolizing the abundance of opportunities available to her beyond the boundaries of safety. Furthermore, I perceive nature as mysterious, filled with intricate patterns, fractures, and lush greenery, inviting exploration and discovery.
And it also feels mysterious. What do you think about the unknown?
At first, when you lack confidence, it can feel daunting. It’s a scary experience. This leads to a mindset filled with fear and anticipation, where you're always watching for what might happen and planning your next steps. But later, as an artist, it becomes second nature to enter the creative process without fear. You learn to embrace the unknown, to surprise yourself, and to make mistakes. The beauty of those mistakes lies in their unpredictability. When I feel inspired, I dive into that unknown space, trusting myself because I've built a connection with who I am as an artist. I may deliberately make my life uncomfortable, pushing myself to break from routine and find new ways of creating. Embracing the unknown has become a safe space for me.
How do you balance between the chaos and the order?
In my household, things were wild and crazy. Sometimes, growing up this way is beneficial because it encourages creative ways of approaching the world. I feel there’s a sense of creativity that comes from living in an unstructured environment rather than being bound by strict rules.
When it comes to mixing my paint, everything blends together in a unique way. I enjoy experimenting with what I mix. While some prefer a more organized approach, I often take longer but achieve a clean result reflecting my artistic process. I may only sometimes have a structuring plan; instead, I allow my intuition to guide me. In my studio, I find patterns and rhythms in the materials around me and use whatever speaks to me.
As I've aged, I’ve found a balance between my studio and my living space. I appreciate having my studio for work, but I’m also learning to separate my creative process from my home life. I need to have a clear distinction between the two. While I enjoy the chaos in my artistic process, I now recognize the need for some structure as I mature.
You also need a little distance from the artwork because you need a clean eye when you see it again.
Nowadays, things have changed for me. When I started my career, I was always in my studio. Even when I had children, I would cook dinner and then return to the studio, often leaving around nine or ten at night. I dedicated myself to my art for seven or eight years, putting in hard work, but now I need to step back. I also try to think of it as a business. It’s essential to be consistent with deadlines and time management. I've worked with two galleries and noticed how sharp and professional those people are. If I want to be taken seriously as a fine artist, I must also meet those standards. Taking a break from the studio allows me to think about what I’m doing, plan effectively, and gain perspective on how the business side works.
How do you plan your works?
I first feel the feeling. Most of the things happen in my mind. There's something connecting with hope, with the universe, coming from somewhere that I don't know. Sometimes, I dream it. And I feel it. Then I take photos, put all the paint on the fabric, and then use the machine to navigate.
You know, the works talk to me when I'm creating them. That's why I like to work with three or four pieces at the same time. If this one doesn't talk to me, then the other can.
Sometimes your works are very silent, and sometimes they express a lot of energy, voice.
When I take on work, my energy levels can fluctuate. At times, I feel very inspired, and the music that fuels my creativity in the studio has a heartbeat rhythm. I channel the energy from my surroundings into my creations, often reflected in the candles I make. Other times, I produce quieter pieces contrasting with the more energetic works. This interplay between high energy and calmness allows me to explore both sides of myself as an artist.
How do you find your fabrics or materials?
I always prefer to select organic materials because they feel natural and I like how they twirl. The fabric itself has some character, so it can call me. I stay away from synthetic, plastic fabrics because I want my work to feel natural.
Nowadays, I buy it from one source. But when I started, I didn't know what I was doing, so I tried different shops. It used to be fun, but now there are deadlines. I cannot walk around all day, trying to fulfill my life in the market.
And what kind of colors do you prefer?
My color palette is inspired by earthy and natural tones, reflecting the vibrant continent I live in, which is rich in foliage. My colors come from the natural world and how light interacts. I’ve noticed that I sometimes gravitate towards very vibrant colors, like purples and pinks. These colors are alive and evoke feelings of joy and beauty. I believe that my artwork serves a healing purpose for viewers. As African people, we inherently possess vibrancy, and elements like the sun and what we eat significantly shape our essence.