GONÇALO
MABUNDA
 Untitled MaskRecycled iron weapons of the civil war 22 x 22 x 7in (56 x 56 x 17.8 cm) 2016 |  Untitled MaskRecycled iron weapons of the civil war 15 x 15 x 4in (38.1 x 38.1 x 10.2 cm) 2016 |  Untitled MaskRecycled iron weapons of the civil war 40 x 24 x 6.5in (101.6 x 61 x 16.5 cm) 2016 |
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 Untitled Mask |  Untitled Mask |  Untitled MaskRecycled iron weapons of the civil war 61 x 22.5 x 5in (155 x 57.2 x 12.7 cm) 2016 |
 Untitled MaskRecycled iron weapons of the civil war 45.5 x 12 x 6in (115.6 x 30.5 x 15.2 cm) 2016 |  Untitled MaskRecycled iron weapons of the civil war 32 x 20 x 5.5in (81.3 x 50.8 x 14 cm) 2016 |  Untitled MaskRecycled iron weapons of the civil war 18.5 x 10.5 x 4.5in (47 x 26.7 x 11.4 cm) 2016 |
 Untitled MaskRecycled iron weapons of the civil war 15.5 x 13 x 4in (39.4 x 33 x 10.2 cm) 2016 |  Untitled MaskRecycled iron weapons of the civil war 34 x 11.5 x 5in (86.4 x 29.2 x 12.7 cm) 2016 |  Untitled MaskRecycled iron weapons of the civil war 29 x 7.5 x 4.5in (73.7 x 19.1 x 11.4 cm) 2016 |
 Untitled MaskRecycled iron weapons of the civil war 23 x 14 x 6.5in (58.4 x 35.6 x 16.5 cm) 2016 |  Untitled MaskRecycled iron weapons of the civil war 15.5 x 13 x 7in (39.4 x 33 x 17.8 cm) 2016 |  Untitled MaskRecycled iron weapons of the civil war 23 x 17.5 x 7in (58.4 x 44.5 x 17.8 cm) 2016 |
 Untitled MaskRecycled iron weapons of the civil war 18.5 x 15 x 3 in (47 x 38.1 x 7.6 cm) 2016 |  Masque No.3metal and recycled gun parts 31 x 24 x 7 in (78.7 x 61 x 17.8 cm) 2014 |  War Thronemetal and recycled gun parts 42 x 27 x 24 in (106.7 x 68.6 x 10.1 cm) 2014 |
 Untitled MaskMetal and recycled weapons 22x13in 2013 |  Masque No.5metal and recycled gun parts 35 x 36 x 5 in (89 x 91.4 x 12.7 cm) 2014 |  War Thronemetal and recycled gun parts 32 x 26 x 19 in (81.3 x 66 x 48.3 cm) 2014 |
GONÇALO MABUNDA
1975 born in Maputo, Mozambique
The residual bric-a-brac of war are the found objects that Goncalo Mabunda recycles as his medium of expression. His country of Mozambique, like many in Africa, had lived through a devastating civil war when he embarked on gathering shards of national memory in the form of discarded weapons fragments, piecing them together into sculptures. Out of that he forged a fantastical iconography derived from African fetish traditions rendered in rusting steel. He welds together menacing instruments of death, bullets, pistols, parts of Kalashnikovs, into disarming objects, deceptively esthetic, fused to suggest a multiplicity of meanings, not least to suggest alternate uses, and indeed alternate visions of how his culture might have otherwise employed itself with ambient materials. The objects simultaneously invite and repel, obtruding from the universe of child soldiers whose toys they once were.
