- Oxford exhibition displays 110 sculptures depicting Rhodesian colonial atrocities
- 4 winning works selected from Chitungwiza Arts Center artists
- Zimbabwe's sculpture industry declined by 60% since 2000 land reforms
- Show funded by £10k grant from controversial Rhodes-linked college
Beneath the shadow of Cecil Rhodes' statue, Zimbabwean stone carvers are scripting a powerful counternarrative. The upcoming Oxford University exhibition features visceral sculptures depicting religious manipulation, mining slavery, and systemic sexual violence under British rule. These works from the Chitungwiza collective represent more than artistic expression – they’re a survival mechanism for an art form facing extinction.
Three critical insights emerge from Zimbabwe’s sculpture crisis. First, digital platforms now enable 35% of surviving artists to bypass traditional galleries. Second, younger creators blend Shona techniques with augmented reality installations. Third, Harare’s National Gallery reports bronze casting surpasses stonework for the first time since 1957.
The Chitungwiza Arts Center exemplifies these industry shifts. Once supplying 80% of Zimbabwe’s stone exports, its 47 active sculptors now rely on sporadic foreign commissions. Chairman Tendai Gwaravaza notes production costs have tripled since 2019 while tourist footfall dropped 72%. “We’re carving our history before it gets erased again,” says Wallace Mkanka, creator of the blinded-face sculpture heading to Oxford.
This exhibition coincides with heated debates about cultural repatriation. Over 15,000 Zimbabwean stone works remain in European collections, including 200 Rhodes-era pieces at London’s Victoria & Albert Museum. The Atlanta Airport’s permanent display – featuring 20 monumental sculptures – demonstrates the art form’s global appeal despite local struggles.
Economic realities compound artistic challenges. Zimbabwe’s inflation peaked at 785% in 2020, making quality serpentine stone inaccessible to 60% of carvers. Many now use recycled concrete and brick dust. “We’ve become alchemists,” laughs veteran sculptor Tafadzwa Tandi, whose Oxford-bound work incorporates rusted mining tools.
The Oxford Zimbabwe Arts Partnership aims to create sustainable markets. Their pilot program connects sculptors directly with UK buyers through QR-coded plinths. Early projections suggest artists could retain 85% of sale prices versus 30% through middlemen. However, the £200k needed for full-scale implementation remains elusive.
As grinders echo through Chitungwiza’s workshops, these artists balance preservation with innovation. Their Oxford showcase represents both a reckoning with colonial ghosts and a lifeline for Zimbabwe’s “House of Stone” identity. With global interest rekindled, the question remains: Can ancient craftsmanship survive modern economics?
