At the home of artist William Kentridge: the thousand contradictions of Johannesburg

The artist reached the pinnacle of his career through what one critic described as a 'darkly imaginative circus' of prints, drawings, theatre, animation and music: a body of work that has been exhibited everywhere from the Louvre to the Met. Today, Kentridge's works on paper sell for an average of EUR 80,000, while his record is over EUR 1 million for a bronze sculpture. The best way to describe him is to consider him a master of impressive and fascinating total works of art that combine illustration and animation with theatre and dance.

Una cartolina per la mostra “Self-Portrait as a Coffee-Pot” del 2024 a Venezia. © Kent Andreasen

Just turned 70, Kentridge, although already a highly regarded artist, is now experiencing a renewed and unexpected moment of interest. On 1 May, he inaugurated at Hauser & Wirth in New York his first exhibition in the city with the gallery, A Natural History of the Studio: a series of 9 episodes of 30 minutes each, Self-Portrait as a Coffee-Pot, launched last year on the streaming platform Mubi, as well as sculptures and drawings used in their creation. In June, he will open The Pull of Gravity at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, his first major sculpture exhibition outside South Africa. The quarantine due to the pandemic was the driving force behind the work at Hauser & Wirth. "Not to travel for so many months, to be able to spend all that time alone in the studio - it was fantastic. In Self-Portrait as a Coffee-Pot he talks to himself as he explores the creative process in the studio: we witness the continuous erasing and overlapping of charcoal images that transform: from a cup to a fish, from a vase to a word. "You want to draw a masterpiece," he sighs during the work, in a moment of self-pity, "but you end up drawing... a coffee pot." Today, recalling that passage, he explains that 'it was about finding meaning in the world outside the studio. The studio was like an enlarged head, where thoughts echoed'.

Appunti, immagini e altri oggetti appesi a una parete nello studio di Kentridge. © Kent Andreasen

"William's exploration of the human body's memory, history and experience is extraordinarily powerful and poignant, especially at a time of such global precariousness and uncertainty," says gallery owner Iwan Wirth. "It brilliantly expresses human vulnerability and resilience, the impact of trauma and the possibility that there is hope."

At the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, The Pull of Gravity will instead deal more explicitly with the theme of politics. The exhibition was conceived in the wake of the war in Eastern Europe. "It had been a few weeks since the invasion of Ukraine and we were both horrified," says Clare Lilley, the gallery director. "This prompted us to put the theme of arrogance at the centre of the exhibition." There will be horse sculptures and bronzes more than 3 metres high, and walking figures with megaphones for heads.

Around Kentridge's studio, however, one can see rehearsals for another upcoming work. On the ground floor, his team has assembled a miniature, realistic replica of the opera house in Glyndebourne, Sussex, where his production of Monteverdi's L'Orfeo will be staged in 2026. "We always make big prototypes to see how the projections will look in the final version," he says as we listen to the contralto's haunting voice in Jordi Savall's arrangement of the opera. "The final part will include the orchestra and the singers, the set and the projection. There are many aspects to consider, we have been working on it for two years,' he explains. Upstairs, in a room carpeted with Persian carpets, two assistants are working on editing the remake of Faustus in Africa! by Kentridge and theatre director Lara Foot, which will be presented at the Edinburgh International Festival. The original debuted in theatres in 1995, a year after South Africa freed itself from the shackles of apartheid, and used puppetry, animation and the legend of Goethe's Faust to explore the bonds that arose in post-colonial Africa. If the questions he raises (without providing answers) seem to be reflected in the big questions of today, 'it is not because they are universal', Kentridge clarifies, 'but because they return'. The ebbs and flows of history.

La fontana del giardino fuori dalla finestra della cucina. © Kent Andreasen

Later, Kentridge took a flight to San Francisco to attend a performance of his chamber opera The Great Yes, The Great No. The fictionalised play recounts the wartime escape from Vichy France of illustrious cultural figures such as André Breton, Claude Lévi-Strauss and Wifredo Lam. As some dogs roam the studio (only one, a happily overweight Labrador, is his, the others are his assistants), I ask him if he plans to slow down, to which he replies: 'Every time I think I have to stop, I get a new idea...'.

Kentridge was born in 1955 into a Jewish family of lawyers who fought against apartheid: his father represented Nelson Mandela. His early years were steeped in politics. In the past, he recounted how, as a child, rummaging through his father's desk for sweets, he came across photographs of the victims of the Sharpeville massacre, whose families his father represented at the trial. He described it as "one of those moments when your understanding of the world changes radically". He studied Politics and African Studies at university before attending art school at the Johannesburg Art Foundation, and in 1975 began directing and acting in theatre productions. After a short stint in Paris to study mime, he realised that he would never become an actor. Upon his return to Johannesburg, he turned to film production: "I told my wife that we would have our first child once I made my first feature film," he says. "Luckily she didn't listen to me, otherwise we would still be childless. Instead we have three, and still no feature film on the horizon." His third life as an artist began in his early thirties: a series of animations drawn in charcoal, 9 Drawings for Projection, was first published in 1989 and earned him international recognition. Today, his works are part of the collections of the Tate Modern, MoMA and the Centre Pompidou.

Un plastico del set per “L’Orfeo”, realizzato in collaborazione con Sabine Theunissen. © Kent Andreasen

Kentridge invites me to stay for a cup of tea and a few slices of fresh mango. His staff gathers for a break and the room is filled with the gentle buzz of conversation, his labrador snoozes by the table. Although his output is prolific, he confides in me that he always questions the sense of creative fulfilment: 'The hardest part of being an artist is that you always need to have a void, a lack,' he says. "If you are satisfied, if you are fine the way you are, then you can just get on with your life. You don't need to keep doing all these millions of...," he says scribbling in the air the same quick, decisive strokes of his animations. "The first idea that comes to mind when you're working on a project seems clear, good, and then, as you go on, it's not. At that point you can either become more and more confident and strident, or you can accept that it doesn't work and you have to start again, finding new ideas even from the cracks,' he confesses. It is the urge to create 'something that goes beyond oneself and remains when one moves away from it'.