The Rape of Africa

Celebrity photographer David LaChapelle chose Naomi Campbell to represent how Africa is raped for its resources. Did it work?

A relief from "Critique of a global society fuelled by greed …" A detail from David LaChapelle's "The Rape of Africa."

David LaChapelle, he of the gaudy photography and expensive music videos, has a new show, “The Rape of Africa,” running in London. We are told, it is “an angry political statement,” by The Independent. The show is ” a tribute to Botticelli’s painting ‘Venus and Mars’.” The point is to announce him as a “serious artist”: “…On a personal level it announces LaChapelle as no longer a celebrity snapper, but an important contemporary artist more than capable of bringing intellectual and historical weight to his art,” observes The Independent’s Fiona Sturges.  One image has gotten a lot of attention. In it, the supermodel Naomi Campbell is Venus, the goddess of love. On the right, a white male model as Mars lies sleeping. Behind them are scenes of war. “The couple are flanked by children, two of whom carry machine-guns.” Sturges concludes, “the ravaged backdrop, the armed children and the piles of gold point to a land and a culture destroyed by global consumerism, notably the gold and diamond industries, and war. Meanwhile Campbell, in all her exotic finery, represents the objectification of African women, by Western culture, as their homes and countries are torn apart.”

“Critique of a global society fuelled by greed …” From David LaChapelle’s “The Rape of Africa.”

Sturges goes onto note that reactions to the image have been largely positive, but LaChapelle tells her everyone doesn’t approve: “One critic said that having Naomi Campbell sitting there looking beautiful wasn’t an honest representation of people in Africa.” LaChappelle tells Sturges:

I asked him: ‘If it was a woman with a distended belly and open sores, would that be more profound for you?’ We see those images every day, on the TV and in newspapers. I have this idea that you can use glamour and still have it represent something that matters. I believe in a visual language that should be as strong as the written word. It’s following the same idea as murals where you have a series of narrative pictures. They are telling stories and communicating with people, which is always what I have set out to do.”

The sense you get from the article is we are now meant to take him (more) seriously.

I appreciate (pop) culture, especially the ways in which it intersects with politics in and on Africa, more than the next person, but David LaChapelle somehow doesn’t seem to be the right person for this job. Of course, “this job” is routinely taken up by many North American and Europeans artists, celebrities, and the like. All one needs to do to stay relevant is say something “meaningful” about Africa.

The show runs until 25 May at the Robilant + Voena gallery in London.

  • To be fair, I did enjoy his 2005 film, Rize.

Further Reading

The people want to breathe

In Tunisia’s coastal city of Gabès, residents live in the shadow of the phosphate industry. As pollution deepens and repression returns, a new generation revives the struggle for life itself.

After Paul Biya

Cameroon’s president has ruled for over four decades by silence and survival. Now, with dynastic succession looming and no clear exit strategy, the country teeters between inertia and implosion.

Leapfrogging literacy?

In outsourcing the act of writing to machines trained on Western language and thought, we risk reinforcing the very hierarchies that decolonization sought to undo.

Repoliticizing a generation

Thirty-eight years after Thomas Sankara’s assassination, the struggle for justice and self-determination endures—from stalled archives and unfulfilled verdicts to new calls for pan-African renewal and a 21st-century anti-imperialist front.

The king of Kinshasa

Across five decades, Chéri Samba has chronicled the politics and poetry of everyday Congolese life, insisting that art belongs to the people who live it.

Drip is temporary

The apparel brand Drip was meant to prove that South Africa’s townships could inspire global style. Instead, it revealed how easily black success stories are consumed and undone by the contradictions of neoliberal aspiration.