previous spread, left: Everywhere is Cool, Serge Attukwei Clottey, 2016, plastics, wire and oil paint, 42 x 24 inches, copyright: the artist, courtesy Gallery 1957, Accra previous spread, right; current spread and the following two spreads: My Mother’s Wardrobe, Serge Attukwei Clottey and GoLokal , 2016; performative portraits: Fagot Koroviev for CCQ. (All garments: performer’s mother’s own); photographic and logistical assistance: Nii Odzenma and Sophie da Gama Campos.
In the Ga tribe, then our mothers die, tradition determines that their wardrobes must be locked up for a year. When the year is up, a mother’s belongings are shared among the female members of the family. As an only son, I did not receive any of my mother’s possessions and that link with her was broken. When I was growing up, my mum would make clothes for me using the same fabrics that she wore herself – fabric is not gender specific in Africa. Many of the men who perform with me have lost their mothers too. They have had to go to their aunties and their siblings to try and collect back some memories from them. It is mainly the women who search for water in Ghana. They collect and store it for their families, in the yellow plastic Kufuor gallons.
The plastic of the gallons and the fabric of our clothes have a lot in common, in that they constitute a protective layer we can’t do without. I use plastic in my tapestries as one might use fabric. Each brand of plastic has a subtly different colour and feel. The plastics will, most likely, have been made using oil from different continents. People use the gallons as chairs; kids play with them; people even use them as beds. They are infinitely versatile, but they are also incredibly resilient. The gallons will outlast us all. The question is, I suppose, what will future generations be using all this plastic for? Traditionally, fabric has been used as a form of currency in Africa. Even now it can be used as part of a dowry. Cultures and traditions change over time, and plastic will be
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