“Do you know Solange?” I ask my Italian friend Ulderico. “The Rwandan woman who’s at every cool New York party?” He thinks for a second and replies: “Oh you mean the girl with the distant eyes who always sort of glances over?”
Invited to artsy parties in New York City, the Hamptons, and St. Tropez, Solange Umutoni is a diva and a socialite. With her long reddish-black hair, full red lips, blue-shaded dark brown eyes and smooth, ebony skin, she is an African beauty. This is only one side of Solange, though. She is also the sole survivor of her family from the 1994 Rwandan genocide.
The first time I met Solange, at one of Nouriel Roubini’s parties, she was fascinatingly aloof. She stood by herself and seemed difficult to approach. Through conversation, however, I was able to uncover a woman with depth and drive. I perceived a disconnect between her exterior and interior. She made an impression on me and I’ve felt the need to share her story.
After spending more time with Solange, I learned that her path to New York was filled with tragedy and loss. In the spring of 1994, after the assassination of the Rwandan president, the Rwandan Hutus declared war on the Tutsis. Solange, who worked for the UN Peacekeeping Mission, was evacuated with other UN personnel. Her family, with the exception of her half-brother, who had moved to the neighboring country of Burundi, did not survive.
After escaping Rwanda, Solange was dispatched to other UN Peacekeeping missions in Croatia and Liberia. When the UN asked her to go to Iraq in 1997, however, she decided to leave the UN and take up residence in New York City. Her status changed from diplomat to refugee.
When Solange says that she is alone in the world, there is no hint of drama. Though her reserve could easily be mistaken for coldness, I discovered she is full of imagination and her thoughts are in constant motion.
She has tried many different professions since arriving in New York City, from make-up artist to PR agent, and jewelry sales clerk at Tiffany’s to fashion designer. In the summer of 2001, Solange was introduced to the renowned psychologist and healer Dr. Catherine Shainberg. On meeting Solange, Shainberg exclaimed: “But you are an artist!”
Being an artist was something Solange had never considered. In Rwandan culture, Solange explained to me, artists are not highly regarded. Art is deemed mere handicraft—an activity only engaged in by peasants. Shainberg’s assertion made such a profound impression on Solange, however, that she began experimenting with paints. Soon, she signed up for courses at the prestigious Art Students League. Now, more than five years later, she has said goodbye to her teachers at the ASL, and shares a studio space with two other painters in Long Island City.
One gray Thursday morning in November, I accompanied Solange to her raw studio. She was wearing a heavy coat, and every once in awhile she would discreetly wipe tiny pearls of sweat from her nose. “I thought it would be cold and windy today,” she said, comfortably pounding the pavement in her red patent leather high heels. I was wearing sneakers.
Opening a heavy metal door, we entered the 1,000 square-foot space, furnished with a well-stocked wooden bar, a pool table, and a rectangular fish tank. The walls were laced with centerfolds of naked women; large windows faced east.
As we finished our Indian take-out lunch, Solange told me about her current project, “Constructing Deconstruction and Deconstructing Construction.” The series, which includes a painting called “Smile You’re in Pain” is inspired by Hermann Hesse’s novel, Steppenwolf. Solange loves Hesse and I assume she identifies with the passage when Hesse talks about “the artist’s two souls.” He says:
Their life consists of a perpetual tide, unhappy and torn with pain, terrible and meaningless, unless one is ready to see its meaning in just those rare experiences, acts, thoughts and works that shine out above the chaos of such a life.
Solange also refers to Franz Kafka, and even explicitly references him and his work in some of her paintings. Ironically, though, she has never read Kafka. However, it is clear that Solange is undergoing a profound transformation, not unlike Gregor Samsa’s in The Metamorphosis. In this classic 1915 novella, Gregor’s body slowly transfigures and dwindles into that of a cockroach. The book is a metaphor for self-punishment and self-imprisonment.
Solange’s experience can be seen as the parallel inverse of Gregor’s, a process of construction, instead of deconstruction. She is emerging from her cocoon of pain and transforming into a remarkable social butterfly. But this metamorphosis isn’t only on a superficial level—from refugee to socialite—it is happening in her paintings, as well. She understands she needs to go deeper, to work through the pain of her experiences and come out on the other side a more complete human being. She admits that the required “digging into herself” is a difficult process.
Solange generally creates twelve paintings as part of a series. Her first set was inspired by her powerful identification with East Berlin, where she spent some time a year ago. East Berlin, like Rwanda, is still undergoing postwar reconstruction.
I am not an art critic, and may not be the most suitable person to describe Solange’s paintings, but I saw a profusion of color. Some paintings invoke feelings of sadness, while others are more cheerful. I was most attracted to her black and white pieces. They made me think of the inside of a dilapidated house I once walked through in Suriname. The beams had collapsed onto the floor and created a maze of wooden obstructions, within the still sturdy frame of the house.
Some of her other works mix collages with bright paint and make oblique statements against violence, referring to world events, injustice, evil and disparities between rich and poor. Some are ironic or dramatic, while others remain ambiguous. Several are predominantly red, yellow and green, making African cultural associations.
Solange’s ouevre shows her complexity and also her reluctance to return to Rwanda. Because of her refugee status, she’s legally not allowed to go back—but even if she were, she says the trip would be too painful for her to make. Why did she, and not the rest of her family, survive? “The country was committing suicide,” she says. “And that was not my dream … not my nightmare.”
Solange paints to express her personal losses, but also to articulate the entire Rwandan tragedy. However, this is only part of her reality. Solange’s rich social and artistic life, her friendships with people from all over the world, and her frequent travels to Europe, also make her a Global Nomad. When I asked her if she feels like one, she smiled and says: “Home is where the Art is. You can be anywhere.”
Louise Bourgeois, the 96 year-old artist, told Solange that “the most important relationship in life is with your gallerist, as it is the only one that continues after life.” Recently, Solange has found an ally in Kipton Cronkite, the young dealer behind Kipton Art, the online gallery www.kipton.com. She is looking for more representation and would like to show her work in a gallery in Chelsea.
When Solange and I spent an afternoon together during Art Basel Miami Beach, one of the most important art fairs in the world, I recognized her great determination to achieve her goals. Her focus was clear: She would attend all the A-list parties, talk to the right gallerists and collectors, and generously distribute CDs of her work.
In fact, Solange left her hotel room early that morning, already dressed for the evening parties. Fully made-up and sporting a short green, flowing chiffon dress topped with a faux-mink bolero, she hit the Miami streets in her black, patent leather heels. “I don’t want to waste any time,” she said.