In 1955, William Kentridge was born into a white family in South Africa during the apartheid era. His grandparents were Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe who first settled in the United Kingdom before eventually moving to South Africa. His parents were both lawyers. His father actively spoke out against the government’s persecution of Black South Africans during the apartheid era, while his mother established a pro bono legal clinic in Johannesburg to provide legal assistance to the community. Growing up in such a family, he developed a deep awareness of justice. Given his family’s strong political involvement, it was only natural for him to major in political science at university.
But how did he become an artist? In his film Self-Portrait as a Coffee-Pot, he opens with a humorous self-deprecating remark: “I’m reduced to an artist.” While being an artist is often considered a noble calling, he playfully suggests that he has “reduced to” this role. Although he studied political science, he pursued art immediately after graduation, training in mime and film. However, frustrated by his inability to achieve his artistic ideals quickly, he returned to something he had loved since childhood—drawing.
After exploring various artistic disciplines, fate eventually led him back to drawing in his thirties. He infused drawing with a new language, a new life, and a new stage. Transforming drawing into stop-motion animation, he worked on large sheets of paper affixed to a wall, continuously drawing, erasing, and photographing each change. The freedom of drawing lay in the traces left behind after erasure—marks that became symbols of time itself. And the medium that best embodied time was the dynamic stop-motion film.
For Kentridge, drawing holds multiple meanings, as it is both black and white, can be black or white, and what he wants to create is the gray area in between. Politics often operates in absolutes—left or right, right or wrong—but through his art, he seeks to expand the vanishing or nearly imperceptible middle ground. He frequently states that art is a deeply political form of expression, and that ambiguity, vagueness, incompleteness, and uncertainty are precisely the most important essence and value of art. He even boldly declared that "art must defend the uncertain." Having grown up during apartheid, his artistic convictions were not welcomed by the South African authorities. Yet, as a white man from an elite background, he was not directly subjected to government oppression, allowing him the relative freedom to explore the tensions between art and politics.
In his work, certain artistic elements appear repeatedly, and he embraces this without hesitation. He believes one of the key roles of an artist is to re-present these elements in various tones and gestures—because an artist is the one who breathes life into materials.
Taipei Fine Arts Museum Exhibition Retrospective
William Kentridge’s first major solo exhibition in Taiwan was held at the Taipei Fine Arts Museum. Throughout the two-week installation period, designer Sabine Theunissen remained on site. Having collaborated with Kentridge for over two decades, Theunissen has an acute sensitivity to material and texture, a dedication that is also evident in Sibyl, where she served as the stage designer. Some of the elements present in this exhibition—such as tapestries, book pages, short phrases, and leaves—can also be found in Sibyl.
Like the stage design of Sibyl, the tapestries were not made by a single individual but through collective effort.Kentridge believes that, in addition to being an independent artist, he also enjoys the process of collaboration. Sibyl originated from his Center for the Less Good Idea, a creative hub he founded. The name “Less Good” is derived from a South African proverb: “If the best doctor cannot heal you, find the second-best.”This philosophy encourages openness to others’ ideas, making the creative process more complete and clearer, while also fostering a flexible, optimistic outlook on life.
In addition to his fondness for the texture and tones of old book pages, Kentridge also sees them as an extension of drawing. By layering projected phrases onto these pages, he adds a visible depth to both the act of reading and the meaning itself.
Before Sibyl, trees had already been a longstanding theme in Kentridge’s work. As a child, his home had a garden with towering trees, which he saw as the oldest members of the household. Silent yet profound, they offered him spiritual energy and inspiration. In his work, tree leaves are often composed of fragmented phrases—words that deeply resonate with the audience. In Chinese, the words for “book pages” and “tree leaves” are homophones, and in English, both are called “leaves.” Kentridge believes that each book page holds a message, an essential phrase that is both abstract and tangible.
In City Deep, Kentridge explores the decline of South Africa’s mining industry and its economic recession. The barren landscapes and sparse trees sharply contrast with the lush forests seen in his European-themed works. He is keenly aware that his homeland has absorbed countless abandoned bodies, and his perception of objects is shaped by these memories and histories
Origins of Sibyl
Entering the 2010s, Kentridge moved away from the sharp satire that characterized his earlier critiques of apartheid. However, the post-apartheid social turmoil and the complexities of transitional justice had a profound impact on him. For South Africa, transitional justice represented not only a new beginning but also a fresh political battleground.
Between 2017 and 2018, the Rome Opera House planned a revival of American sculptor Alexander Calder’s 1968 ballet Work in Progress. Kentridge was invited to create a “companion piece” to be performed alongside it. Given two years to complete the work and after immersing himself in Calder’s art, he chose “rotation” as the central theme, interpreting it as a reflection of instability and uncertainty.
The concept of ‘rotation’ reminded him of two earlier works: one, Da Capo at the Teatro La Fenice in Venice, which used projections to illustrate how chaos momentarily gives way to order through rotation; the other, a performance in Florence featuring a piece about the Sibyl, also accompanied by projected visuals. These examples illustrate the trajectory of his creative process, blending past inspirations—especially the swirling book pages and tree leaves—that would later appear in Sibyl.
Although he drew on his past works, the creation was far from complete. He brought these ideas to the Center for the Less Good Idea, where he collaborated with contemporary Black South African artists. The forms of expression included projection, dance, sound, and music, with the opera’s libretto—the lyrics that convey the protagonist’s emotions—presented through projections. Kentridge has a deep affection for South Africa and believes its artistic vitality remains underappreciated globally. His collaborators were not limited to traditional musicians but included jazz artists, performers, and dancers. Rather than taking on a leadership role, Kentridge introduced the concepts of “rotation” and “Sibyl,” allowing the team to freely explore these ideas, while he focused on projection design, presenting the elements in a cinematic style.
Fate, Algorithms, and “Less Good”
Sibyl revolves around two core themes: fate—whether we have choices and the ability to choose—and algorithms. Regarding fate, the “collapsing chair” serves as an interesting metaphor: how do we know which chair is the right choice? The underlying message is that, regardless of our decision, we must confront our fate. Interestingly, this idea resonates not only with ancient myths but also with contemporary discussions on algorithms. Yuval Noah Harari’s 21 Lessons for the 21st Century summarizes 21 key insights about artificial intelligence and the interconnection of information. This is precisely what Kentridge alludes to. He draws significant inspiration from the concept of “fate,” believing that humans should not limit themselves with self-imposed constraints. As our personal data gets collected and interconnected, we unknowingly fall under manipulation. For Kentridge, the only resistance is through stupidity—because AI does not account for human folly, imperfections, or errors. This ties back to the concept of “Less Good”: resisting control, keeping a second choice open, and approaching situations from a “less good” perspective. This is his way of challenging fate, from the mythological to the modern era.
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