It's not enough. Most commercial gallery shows would provide heartier fare than this, and they would do so 10 times a year. The ICA is a major museum with a huge public to serve and an international reputation to consolidate. It needs to be more ambitious. (Revealingly, having provided no catalog of its own, the ICA included in its press material a glossy publication printed by Hlobo's dealer in Cape Town with reproductions of his much more substantial showing there earlier this year.)
Happily, Hlobo himself strikes me as very ambitious. The most prominent work here is a large stomach or womb-shape sculpture suspended from the ceiling, bathed in a delicate pink light. It is made from black rubber, with various valves and nipples attached, and its thick surface is embroidered with meandering lines of colorful ribbon.
Several apertures in this large, hollow organ are partially blocked by folds and flaps. Peering inside, one sees a cavernous interior dotted by hundreds of pinpricks of light (these are created by the needle punctures). A kind of alimentary canal connects the "gut" to a hole in the wall, on the other side of which is an aperture surrounded by a delta of brightly colored, loosely crocheted ribbon and thread.
The work's Xhosa title, "Umphanda ongazaliyo," means "a vessel that never fills up," and one could, if inclined, find various bodily metaphors at play. Certainly, the ICA curators are so disposed: "Hlobo explores universal metaphors of nourishment and strength, both mental and physical," they tell us, and plenty more in a similar vein.
In truth, however, Hlobo (still in his early 30s) does not really "explore" these metaphors, nor does he put much effort into giving them formal articulation. He just serves the work up and invites the merchants of "meaning" to do their thing.
